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macbethsymphony · 5 months ago

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The Swordsman and the Blacksmith | Chapter 18

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Chapter wc: 2.4k

Chapter rating: SFW-ish

Content/Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Fem!Reader, Enemies to lovers, SLOW slow burn, Eventual smut

Summary: Your skills as a blacksmith have made you desirable to both the government and pirates. You know you have to leave this island if you want to escape your fate, but that doesn't make the choice of leaving any easier. Roronoa Zoro is intrigued by your skills as a blacksmith. Your work is like nothing he's ever seen before. Unfortunately, you're hot-headed and he's rude and you both definitely hate each other.

Chapters [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15][16][17]

Masterlist

Slowly crossposting from AO3 Feel like binging the rest of it? it's all there!

Chapter 18: You're Drunk

You sat alone on the deck of the Sunny, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight as you sifted through page after page of research. The weight of the knowledge pressed heavily upon you, each word a reminder of the darkness your abilities could conjure.

Chopper had been revolted when he’d looked at it moments before. You now understood why. The blatant disrespect for human life was baffling, disgusting.

Your fingers traced the jagged edge of the black-bladed dagger resting beside you, its presence a tangible symbol of the atrocities the marines had brought into the world. With a heavy sigh, you lifted your glass to your lips, draining the last remnants of the amber liquid within.

You closed your eyes as you attempted to process the horrors contained within the documents, the pain, the suffering. The silence of the night enveloped you, broken only by the gentle lapping of waves against the ship's hull.

“Everything alright?” Sanji's voice cut through the stillness, concern evident in his face as he approached, wisps of smoke curling from his lips into the nocturne air.

You glanced up, meeting his gaze. You watched as white tendrils contrasted with the darkness of the twilight sky, enticed by the alluring sight of the swirling smoke. "Does it help?" you asked, a hint of curiosity in your tone, gesturing towards the cigarette dangling from his fingers.

Confusion flickered across Sanji's features at your unexpected question. "What?" he replied, caught off guard by your inquiry.

"Smoking," you clarified, reaching out tentatively for the cigarette.

Sanji hesitated for a moment, his expression reflecting a mix of surprise and uncertainty, before wordlessly offering you the cigarette. As you took a cautious drag, the acrid smoke filled your lungs, an unfamiliar burning causing you to cough and sputter violently.

Sanji couldn't suppress a laugh at your reaction, the sound echoing softly in the night as he watched you with amusement, a flicker of warmth in his eyes amidst the darkness.

“Oh gods” you rasped between coughs. “This is foul.”

You laughed along with the chef.

"Maybe smoking isn't my thing," you admitted with a wry smile, handing the cigarette back to Sanji.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "It's not for everyone," he replied, tucking it back between his lips and taking a long drag.

Leaning back against your chair, you let out an exhale, the weight of the research still heavy on your mind. "Thanks for checking in," you said, genuine gratitude in your voice as you turned to Sanji. “This is terrifying,” you admitted. “But I’m alright.”

Your eyes scanned the deck habitually in search of the swordsman unsuccessfully.

“He’s up there,” Sanji pointed at the crow’s nest.

You couldn’t help the little huh of confusion that crossed your lips nor the blush that settled on your ears at the chef’s amused smile.

“We got another one?” You gestured at the half-empty bottle on the table.

He grinned at your request. “Anything for you mademoiselle,” he cooed.

You shambled up the ladder to the crow’s nest clumsily, stumbling through the trap door.

“I come bearing gifts,” you announced after an annoyed scoff graced your ears.

As you stuttered into the makeshift gym, you couldn't help but feel a rush of embarrassment at your less-than-graceful entrance. Zoro's amused grin only added to your flustered state, and you couldn't resist shooting him a playful glare as you regained your composure.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," you muttered, rolling your eyes as you approached him.

Zoro's grin only widened at your antics, but there was a warmth in his gaze that eased the tension in your shoulders. Despite the chaos and uncertainty surrounding you, there was a sense of familiarity and camaraderie in this moment, a reminder that you were not alone.

You reached into the bag slung over your back, retrieving the half-empty bottle of liquor you had brought with you. With a flourish, you presented it to Zoro, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"We got another full one too," you declared, holding out the unopened one in your other hand with a smirk.

Zoro's expression lit up at the sight, a pleased look crossing his features. "Looks like you're finally learning," he remarked, accepting the offering with a grateful nod.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at his response, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I swear you’re the worst influence on me, with all of your drinking,” you stated as you made your way over.

He scoffed at that. “More like you need to learn how to drink, without getting wasted every time,” he joked softly.

“That would take the fun out of it,” you said jovially, ignoring the jab.

You settled beside Zoro with a soft thud, your shoulders almost brushing. “Any luck with Uragiri?” You asked, eyeing the sword in front of him.

He took a long gulp out of the bottle in his hand an annoyed expression on his features. “Not yet,” he answered bitterly.

You laughed quietly. “Stumped? I can help if you beg,” you joked.

“I’m not gonna beg,” he mumbled against the glass.

You snorted. “It’s an eager little one isn’t it,” you mused anyway. “It yearns to please to a fault.”

The silence dragged on, his gaze on you, trying to grasp the meaning of your words. He chuckled. “You always talk in riddles when it comes to your swords,” he remarked with an annoyed tint to his voice.

You smiled, unable to deny the truth to what he'd just said. “Fine,” you sighed. “I’ll explain it in a way you can understand, swordsman.”

You took a slow sip seeking what you wanted to say.

“I was young when I forged it” you looked at the blade, memories playing in your eyes. “It was over a decade ago, I guess… but that’s not the point” you rambled on your hand reaching for the steel.

He didn’t urge you on, waiting patiently for your mind to make sense of your thoughts.

“What I’m trying to say is it’s the same as I was. Eager to please that is.” Your fingers danced along the edge. “Or terrified to disappoint.” You mumbled as you remembered the frequent and violent wrath of your mentor. “You need to be reassuring and kind but firm and guiding.”

You glanced at him, gaze hazy.

“It’ll match your commands then, that’s how it reverberated my haki,” you finished, an expectant look in your eyes.

As the weight of your words hung in the air, a playful smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. "Of course, you wouldn't know anything about being reassuring and kind, would you, swordsman?" you teased, your tone laced with a hint of mischief.

Zoro's eyebrows furrowed in feigned offense, but there was a glint of amusement in his eye. "Hey, I can be just that when I want to be," he retorted, his voice tinged with mock indignation.

You chuckled softly, the sound dancing between you in the quiet of the crow's nest. "Oh, I'm sure you can," you replied, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "But I wouldn't want to overwhelm you with all that tenderness."

Zoro's lips twitched into a smirk, his gaze locking with yours in a silent challenge. "Tenderness is overrated," he declared, his voice low and husky. "I prefer a more... direct approach."

A shiver ran down your spine at the suggestive timbre. You couldn't help but meet his stare with a playful glint in your eyes. "Is that so?" you countered, your own tone taking on a teasing edge.

With a boldness that shocked even yourself, you closed the distance between you, your movements slow and deliberate as you leaned in closer to him. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your skin, sending shivers down your spine as you felt the heat of his proximity.

"Careful, swordsman," you murmured, your words barely above a whisper, your lips tantalizingly close to his. "I might just take you up on that direct approach."

Zoro's breath hitched, his gaze flickering with a mixture of surprise and anticipation. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against your cheek in a gentle caress that sent heat coursing through you.

Before anything could progress further, you leaned back with a playful smile curling your lips. "Are you squirming, swordsman?" you teased, your tone laced with mischief. "I think I like that."

A low groan of annoyance escaped Zoro, though the hint of amusement in his eye betrayed his facade of irritation. You laughed at his reaction, the cheery sound echoing softly against the windows.

"You're impossible," he remarked, entertainment coloring his voice as he shook his head in mock exasperation.

You couldn't help but giggle at his response, a sharp contrast to his own low laughter.

Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you sighed, gazing out into the twilight beyond the crow's nest. Your hand found the dagger at your side, unsheathing it and twirling it idly in your fingers, its weight a constant reminder of the darkness you faced.

With a determined exhale, you set the dagger aside, deciding it could wait. It was not something you should deliberate so carelessly. Its plea for freedom, something you wished to honor. Instead, you reached for the bottle you had brought along, the amber liquid offering a temporary reprieve from the pressure of the incessant deliberations in your mind.

“I’m glad I chose to come with you guys,” you admitted, eyes still lost in the obscureness of the exterior.

He hummed in acknowledgement.

You took another sip, your gaze drifting back to the swordsman beside you. His sharp features were highlighted by the soft glow of the moonlight, casting intriguing shadows across his face. You couldn't help but notice the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed down the contents of his own bottle, the gesture strangely captivating.

Your eyes surveyed his lips, remembering the way his breath had ghosted yours back in that storage closet. So close yet so far.

Suddenly, the words spilled out of your mouth before you could stop them, shattering the silence that hung between you. “Wanna fuck?” you blurted out, the question hovering in the air, heavy with unexpected intensity.

He choked, the abruptness of your question catching him off guard. Coughing fiercely, a crimson blush crept up his cheeks, betraying his flustered state.

Seizing the opportunity, you moved leisurely, straddling him as he struggled to regain his composure. You waited patiently, a knowing smile playing on your features as your fingers traced the sharp contours of his jaw. Your lidded eyes flicked between his gaze and his lips, anticipation simmering in the air.

“Do you wanna fuck, swordsman?” you repeated, leaning in closely once his breathing steadied, the words hanging between you like a bold challenge.

“You’re drunk,” he replied, his hand moving softly to play with the delicate skin of your nape, his fingers tangling gently in your locks.

An amused smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. “You said that last time too,” you observed with a small frown.

He closed the distance between you imperceptibly, his smile hovering at a tantalizing proximity to your lips. "I don’t fuck drunk girls," he stated, his breath intoxicatingly warm against yours.

Undeterred, your fingers grazed down along his Adam’s apple, tracing a path across his collarbone. “I may be drunk,” you began, your hand laying flat over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath your palm. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want, swordsman.”

In a bold gesture, your other hand found its way to his, silently directing it along the bare skin of your outer thigh. You guided his touch lazily, leading it to the rising hem of your short skirt.

“You’re drunk,” he started to reiterate, his voice stiff with restraint as he leaned back against the wall. “And I don’t fuck drun-”

But before he could finish his sentence, you closed the gap between you, capturing his lips with yours.

A surge of electricity coursed through you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering between you for far too long. His initial resistance melted away, replaced by a hunger that matched your own, his lips moving eagerly against yours.

The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady blend of sea salt and the liquor you had shared earlier. With each kiss, the world around you faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of you locked in a moment of mutual desire.

His hand, which had hesitated at your touch, now explored with a newfound confidence, tracing the curves of your thigh beneath the denim of your skirt. His nails grazed the soft skin near your ass, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

You pressed yourself further into his chest, seeking more, wanting to melt into him. Your hands found their place at his nape, fingers twisting in his hair with need. The grip in your locks tightened almost painfully as he deepened the kiss, his tongue dominating yours dizzyingly.

You moaned, a wanton sound muffled between you. You felt his satisfied grin on your lips at your compliance. For a timeless moment, you were lost in each other, surrendering to raw unbridled passion. There was only the two of you, bound by a connection that transcended words and reason.

But just as suddenly as it had begun, the kiss came to an end, leaving you both breathless and reeling in its wake. Zoro's gaze, dark with desire, met yours in a quiet exchange that spoke volumes, a silent acknowledgment of the unexpressed truths that hung heavy in the air between you.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved, the weight of the moment lingering like a tangible presence in the space between you. Then, with a reluctant sigh, Zoro pulled away slightly, his eye softening as he searched yours for any sign of regret or uncertainty.

Gently, he pushed you off, his touch tender yet firm as he rose to his feet and stepped away from you. He grabbed Uragiri from the ground before turning from you, his footsteps echoing softly against the wooden floor as he made his way toward the trapdoor of the crow's nest.

"You're drunk," he repeated, his voice a low murmur that lingered in the air, disappearing as he descended down the ladder, leaving you alone in the quiet solitude of the crow's nest.

You let yourself fall back against the windowed wall, laughing in disbelief.

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Masterlist

#the swordsman and the blacksmith #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece x reader #zoro x reader #charlou writes

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sudokuplayer · 1 year ago

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MY LOVE IS A WEAPON THROWN ONTO THE OBLIVION OF YOUR BODY (taken from booklet of original art and essays by Sufjan Stevens, written to accompany his new album Javelin)

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1.MY LOVE My first love was an involuntary sound – the music of the spheres – a subdued, white-noise shuddering of my heart, a fluster of hummingbird vibrations that I could taste in the prenatal hemispheres of my mouth, body against body and brain against brain, two conjoined selves conjuring an off-shore thunderstorm in the horizontal distance, dazzling with flashes of metallic music and elemental chaos in the safe harbor of my mother’s womb. There was no light and no dark, no semblance of simile or semaphore. There was only the blurred and audible presence of a distant and divine voice hovering above the waters where I balanced between the prism of absence and presence on an inflatable dirigible of sea foam, wandering into the oleaginous abyss with a half-smile of hazardry and wizardry – my maiden voyage into the “unbeknownst” of oblivion. For what did I really know at this point in my primordial mindlessness? Nothing at all. I was struck dumb, created from ignorance and ether, first without function or features, then without order or form. I was sensation and consciousness postponed, a wet and placid portion of monotonous fruit cut in quarters awaiting heaven’s blessing. My only occupation at this point was to occupy, be occupied, preoccupy, and prevail nature in a womb-world of benevolence and buoyancy. The music of the heartbeat of the universe danced me to sleep. Within this realm, I was love and life supreme, undivided by thought, word and deed, a small promise kept until the act of doing would undo me for good. My birth was my undoing. And then I was born into oblivion.

2.IS I remember in college, falling in love for the first time, two spring months of rapture, residing on the tail end of a helium balloon. I was so giddy about everything: washing the dishes, tying my shoes, scrambling eggs, binding books, pulling berries off juniper trees. My infatuation had such an arrogant persuasion on the world around me. Everything as metaphor ascribed with romance. I remember, while mowing lawns on the college campus, finding an injured fledgling crow by the dining hall. I carried it to the biology lab, where we called a woman who ran an animal sanctuary from her home. She met us on a bike with a wicker basket. “You are doing the universe a great favor,” she said, holding the bird to her breast, like Mother Goose. The event provided endless fodder: for prose poems and folk songs and long conversations on the roof of the aspirin factory, where we got drunk on Boone’s Farm sangria, speculating on cosmic intentions and the order of the universe. So much meaning, so little time. I was young and dumb and in love. Guided by a perverse curiosity and a voracious sensation-of-the-imagination pivoting at the tip of my tongue, I marveled at the mysteries of life laid out before me, awaiting in the calm commotion between innocence and experience.

3.A WEAPON And then experience pummeled me. Many years later, after the long-suffering exhaustion of life had driven me into the bleak underbelly of realism, my most profound thought was sad and static: that nothing really matters, nobody loves me, and loneliness would always be my most devoted companion. In my new sobering worldview, absent of love, I began to encounter everything as an object without meaning, without modifier. The homeless man selling day-old newspapers on the subway was just a homeless man selling day-old newspapers on the subway. There was no metaphor, no rapture, no cosmic intentions. I had to ask myself: does this make the man, the newspaper, the subway, or myself any less meaningful? No. Quite the opposite. For what resided in that substantial vacancy where I was always prone to symbolize the world to death is exactly what I needed right then: Opportunity. Presence of Mind. Peace On Earth. Stable Stoicism. Absence of Metaphor. Responsibility. And Hard Facts. That was my prayer: to shake off the doting artistry of an over-eager poet with a proclivity to create dreams from doldrums; to approach the world as a concrete object, a thing to be held, not a thing to behold, or allegorized; to remain at peace and in careful jurisprudence in spite of the resentful intonation of my overarching loneliness that devastated innocent bystanders with all the magic castles of the imagination. I told myself: I must snuff out the candle of candy-corn dreams. I must soldier on like a dead-end daydream undeterred. I must be steadfast in the stolid presence and essence of common sense and survival. I must be true to life internal and reside in resignation at last.

4.THROWN My second love was less ecstatic, but more tragic: the “gift” of sight – an elemental flash of lightning, which struck me like a bag of metal shavings thrown out onto ice reflecting back at the centerpiece of my sternum. A sucker punch to the chest. My cold consciousness came into sharp focus, rattled by illuminating waves invading everything around me. The light was loud and extraordinary. And even with my eyes closed, my pupils began pontificating at the pornography of sight, and I was momentarily carved into madness. Seeing is believing is birth. I shuddered and shirked at the tangible evidence of something else – the others – the imposition of a sensation outside myself, in which everything was separated into opposable armies: the land from the waters, the air from the earth, the seasons from the doldrums, the seen from the unseen, sin from sainthood, light from dark, good from evil. Everything was put in its place by the curse of namesake. The world was now before me, beneath me, above me, and ultimately against me, a pressure foot pressed down on all sides. I felt a cold claustrophobia, empty and alone, trans-natal and tragic, baffled by the violence of this new environmental context. And to think I was just a silly beansprout of a thing shivering under the medical lights, squirming like an open earthworm, now tasked with this terrible act of naming. God gave me a pen and a pad of parchment paper. “Transcribe your feelings and your findings,” she said. “Do your thing. First thought, best thought.” I did as I was commanded, a dutiful sea urchin inching its way to the possibility of words and wisdom.

5.ONTO A world without language was once the indication of certain death. Soundless, voiceless, nameless vapor. A typography of empty vessels. The void! But now, what of the tragedy of names, spoken into existence with the demystification of words? I was culprit and complicit, identifying all the divergences, differentiations, variations, permutations, diversities, dichotomies and double entendres. Categorizing the animals, cutting them down to size, organizing the parts of the body with the parts of speech, a fanatical grammar-game of possession, domination and death. I had to ask myself: Is this manner of identification in the name of higher knowledge even if it disregards purpose, analysis, and compassion (observation absent of intention)? And how could it be undertaken without idolatry and ulterior motive? I desired the objectivity of the photography of the baby-brain, whose fuzzy visionary reception was a delightful nebula of perfumed consciousness and joy. I wanted to see the world coherently and without discretion, discernment, reduction, and deduction – unintelligible intelligence. Instead I began to perceive how intimate knowledge generates prosperity (fullness) and progeny (fruitfulness) – of ideas and offspring. To be “made known” was to be consummated: “Adam knew Eve” – intercourse as discourse (knowledge as physical/sexual engagement). To know someone was to take possession (to gain access, in confidence and with confidentiality). The exchange would potentially unveil the secret knowledge between lovers (the nominative ordinances of arousal) – wherein posterity would become the observable antecedents of this sacred wisdom, and pleasure would be its misfortune (of infatuation and love, of chaos and order). My sexual discourse began to die a slow death of observation and objectification, a nonsense category of substances seen and deemed believable, predicating a cosmic break from the universe: a psychic rebirth, from which invisible things transformed into figures of speech, wherein figures of speech were left dead in the wake of rivulets and rivers, drowning in a molten waterfall of dread, where they would meet their maker in linguistic whimsy. My death was now new life. My reincarnation, a reverse sublimation. I was made known; therefore, I knew nothing.

6.THE For a short time, my pet peeves were my shortcomings: dry skin in the morning – brushing off the bed sheets with bits of outer insulation from my body. Was I molting? I needed to drink more bitter herbs, I thought. I had chronic stomach pain, below the clavicle, a small fist of air. Sweet antacid, mint leaves, fennel seed tea. Invisible Anxiety. The pain in my leg: a hypochondriac’s dream. Soothing myself with palm oil and camphor. Small applications on the surface. At dinner with guests, supplementing aspirin with ice-water, saying very little otherwise, a friend agreed with everyone’s assessment: “Yes, sometimes you are cold and unfeeling. You could warm it up a little.” My apparent coolness – was it a matter of objective safety? That remote vacancy which I brought to every engagement, keeping the world at arm’s length, the anthropologist’s vantage point, sustaining the presumptive: was that my vocation – the judicious spectator, an odd outlier outlining all this activity while staying behind the line of sight? As the youngest sibling, I was always evaluating my older sisters with fierce judgment from the corner of the room, just out of reach: eavesdropping on phone conversations, catching glimpses of padded bras, curling irons, and maxi pads passed between casual doorways. Taking stock of the panoply of premature adulthood (teenage pregnancy), unruly rebellion (sneaking out at night), clumsy and combative excursions with our wicked step-mother (cat fights with elegantly finger-nailed fisticuffs). I watched from a dutiful distance, careful not to engage, harboring a catalog of tragicomic events and all their moral assessments in order to avoid the worst-case scenario for myself. I was in the world, but not of it. I learned from the mistakes of others: that I was nothing more than a mistake waiting to happen, potential energy. I learned from the mistletoe to keep watch overhead so as to avoid the dangling modifier of accidental affection. I learned from the stone in my shoe to keep walking through the pain with a staggering refrain in my step, a constant reminder of the brokenness of my body and the indefatigable self-loathing of my own self-consciousness.

7.OBLIVION My third love was a surprise affection – ticklish touching and tender swaddles of terry towels and cotton cloth wrapped in armfuls of goose down feathers transfixed in the careful undertaking of childcare. A sensual delight! I was an object to be objectified, a thing to squeeze and prickle, caress and carry about in a breadbasket. I grew from a pinecone to a pine tree, from a newt to a dinosaur, from a poppy-seed to a poppy flower bursting with fireworks. This love then transferred its fornications onto something wet, wild and ornithological – a flying, feathery python ascending to its countenance as a bastion of bridegrooms in a flaming aviary chariot of leathery kisses all aimed at my elbows. Hope is a thing with bird feeders. So I watched the feathered fowl crowd around the seeds and suet, grubs and grains with dinosaur intensity, beaks and claws doing their vast prehistoric business with messy execution. My lovers cawed at their community of plumy mishaps like transcendental mother hens: nuthatch and creeper, tanager and titmouse, blue jay and junco gallivanting together like an armful of woolen throw blankets clapping the dust from their ornamental features. Our fairy dance of foreplay lasted for days. Cat calls as birdsong with balloons, iambic pentameter poems, chimes that rhymed with clanging crystals hung on fishing line, and all the fanciful costumes with sequins and fringe, flowered bell bottoms, metallic body suits, reggae music, ballroom dancing, charm bracelets, diamond rings, glimmering little earrings with fly-fishing ornaments, and, on the last day, a very long and serious monologue about global warming. Our lovemaking was quick and witty, a little slutty and clumsy – nothing more than a jaunt, a quick choreography of slaps and body slams, two pigeons in a mosh pit, working things out in juvenilia. Nature had done its work. Afterward we lounged together in the afterglow with soft pillow talk and dreams of nest eggs and parenting, protecting, foraging, feeding, and changing diapers, all the domestic labors of love. But for now, in a warm bird bath, sunning ourselves with a glistening glow, I could only think of the sweet bliss of here and now, the wetness of loving kisses on my nape, my neck, my back, my rump, my foreshortened wings and a sweet nectar nightcap. Hope is a thing deferred, but a dream fulfilled is a tree of life.

8.OF My fourth love was peripatetic: a suitcase stored in an overhead bin on an airplane. Things beget things beget responsibilities. I procrastinated my life by traveling far from it. A day before the voyage, I stayed up late in the polar forces of the night, diligently packing the baggage on the couch, opened up like can of tuna fish, a glass of lemon juice on the nightstand (master cleanse), the Siamese cat washing itself, the dollar store dishes in the sink, my dirty clothes in a paper bag. The last time I had left for this kind of trip, my things were in boxes in one room on the second floor of a gated town house in God-knows-where, New York. Now everything had been transferred as in a swap meet, boxes upon boxes, things upon things, other voices, other rooms. The living room was a labyrinth of speculative journeys, a crossword puzzle of travel prompts. Outside, gale force winds rose to the occasion, knocking on the windows like unwanted guests. I imagined the weather overtaking everything in an apocalyptic frenzy: cups and saucers trembling in tongues, plastic wrap coming undone in a transparent wedding train, pillowcases falling over our heads like hard hats, ceiling fans circumnavigating the neighborhood like helicopter rides, the colored crayons on the kitchen shelf thrown asunder to make slapdash hieroglyphs all over the window panes, the mysterious penmanship of the gods! My mind was preoccupied by disaster, a force majeure, an act of God, a ball of yarn, and the four horses of the Apocalypse. I wanted nothing of it: this origami suitcase lifestyle of travel and transition. I wanted to be here and now. I wanted silence, solace, and stillness. I wanted the simplest of things: a bowl of vanilla ice cream, a warm bath, and a quiet place to sit and stitch my hand-crafted cross-stitch of rainbows and sailboats framing a sexy cartoon portrait of Dionne Warwick diligently working the lines for the Psychic Friends Network from way back in the 1990s, when every solution to every problem was just a phone call away.

9.YOUR History repeats itself, defeats itself, cheats itself, berates and beats itself. I am not historic. I am histrionics. I must hate my mother and my father. I must hate myself and take up the cross and be born again. In this way, my fifth love was an immutable shadow following me with sticky tricks and schemes, a cancerous contamination of the mind that could only be cured with the deadly venom of a cone snail. I couldn’t quite shake it, the cobalt-blue memory of a ghost haunting my sophistry, a prescient reminder that the knowledge of faith and the substance of hope were right behind me this entire time (and not something to pursue, or follow, like an ornamental object on the horizon, dazzling, elusive and alive in the distant future). The Divine Inside was a “previously known encounter.” I could never see it face to face, but only feel it in my shadow, the former patterns of an aura left behind, pushing forward, pursuing, persuading, steering and navigating my memory through the valley of the shadow of death. I wanted so desperately to “have and to hold” the real substance of things (evidence!), the physical, intimate engagement with the body and the blood, which I actively sought out in transcendental activity, prayer and supplication, the sacraments, the feasts of the saints, a metaphysical substance to salivate and sublimate within the natural order of things. But this was a false pretense. God is not natural, but supernatural. The real material of divinity is ineffable, unassailable, unknowable, unutterable, and unreal. The evidence of providence is not within our line of sight, nor within our grasp, but instead beyond and behind our physical kinesphere. It is unapproachable, unspeakable, unobservable, and ultimately “erstwhile”. And yet still we continue to feel it “under our skin” and “within the universe” of our own personal history: The Past/The Passed/The Repossessed. God is our delayed consciousness – the nameless, faceless dichotomy of our secret truth. And we are made in its indistinguishable appearance. Therefore our own true “image” is without a name or a face – a baseless, shapeless cloud hovering above the waters, a countenance of empty atmosphere (signifying nothing) – a gothic apparition, a vision of love, a dance of the eternal travesty of life, a burrowing beetle of impenetrating curiosity. Digging for the true grit of life in the eternal dirt of the universe.

10.BODY My last love was a kind of science fiction. I was out running errands at the mall when I saw a fleet of lampshades falling like flying saucers from the sky. The alien robots came to me in an escalating beam of light and said: “We come in peace! The obverse seeks to make its face shine upon you, while the inverse hides in shame.” They did their thing with my body, prodding and poking around for some good news, but at first I would have none of it. I struggled and squirmed under nylon restraints strapped onto a stainless steel operating table. I was a basket case of curmudgeonly vitriol, pointing out everything that was wrong with the world around me: Fossil fuels. Cancer. Money. Greed. Sales Tax. Frozen Yoghurt. Religion. Varicose Veins. Junk Mail. But the alien robots were unflappable. They said, “We just need a little DNA, not a diatribe,” while swabbing the insides of my mouth with a cottony Q-tip. Then, after careful intubation and a slow drip of aesthesia, I eased into the abyss. They removed my clothes and covered my body with a marshmallowy spray foam. They swaddled me into a warm cocoon of maroon goo, where I remained in stasis to the end of the ages, slowly resuming into the soft, pillowy features of my former self – pre-natal, premature, pre-conceived – a slippery and succulent primordial membrane of soupy warmth and illuminating agency awaiting, once again, the cosmic journey laid out before me like a yellow-brick road of possibilities – the secret oblivion of love, the “unbeknownst!” Within this pinprick vision, I saw a tapestry of afterbirth in afterglow as an addendum to an immaculate after-thought of rapturous joy. I was born-again in fullness and truth. I was a peanut. I was a pretzel. I was a pan-fried shrimp. I was pandemonium personified. I was once again myself waiting to happen again and again and again and again and again … until the end.

— Sufjan Stevens

#sufjan stevens #javelin

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biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer · 6 months ago

Note

hello >_<!! Since this account made me obsessed with Geo i found the courage to ask a request :3 (imsorryifit'snotcomfortableforyou😭)

Geo x Clumsy GN!reader (like, falling into the thinks you would least expect, so me frfr)

Bumblerbee (Geo x Clumsy! MC/Reader)

First and foremost, welcome to the Geo cult appreciation blog, Anon. Secondly, do not be shy to ask me whatever request you desire, I'm happy to be getting anything, and the fact you entrust me with this is an honorary privilege in itself. ❤️ φ(*⌒▽⌒)ﾉ

Anyway! I hope you enjoy Anon! d=(´▽｀)=b

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Bumbler: someone who makes mistakes because of incompetence.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

Geo was mildly concerned when you fell down the stairs. Then you smacked into a pole. Then you tripped on a branch.

All in the span of 13 fucking minutes.

It was honestly mildly respectable, how often one can simply bumble, trip and tumble around like you did.

You always seemed to be elsewhere mentally, not focused on your surroundings, or daydreaming away in that gorge- pretty head of yours.

People often made fun of you for it, labelling you as the school's klutz.

Unfortunately, said people who targeted you were also the same girls who liked to pick on Brittney; so when she and Crowe made you the groups' newest appendage (due to the fact Brit felt protective over you), he then began to bear witness to your marvellous collapses every time he saw you at lunch.

He expected you to cry when he first saw you fell, scraping the skin off your shins, but you instead winced and seemed to take in the fact you were an existing, living being; and you'd try to not slip away into your thoughts again.

He decided after a while that your mettle for falling must be sturdy, if you don't simply learn to pay attention to your immediate vicinity after each time it happened.

Eventually you and him held a conversation, and he acknowledged that you were...surprisingly capable.

You were intelligent, witty and even mildly attractive.

And you didn't make him want to commit arson everytime he saw you, so he grew accustomed to your existence.

Then he started enjoying it. A bit too much.

The amount of times you're either reading or otherwise preoccupied and on the verge on slipping, bumping, or falling into/onto something is astonishing.

So he eventually pulls you aside and bluntly tells you to pay attention to your surroundings, lest you one day get hurt. "You're an idiot. What happens if you bludgeon your head in? Get a concussion?" "Ohoho! Is Geo worried about my safety?" "No. I am simply tired of watching you make a circus out of yourself." "So you do care!" "I do not." "Liar, why did you pull me aside then?" "Shut up."

Anyway, he decides if you won't take care of yourself, he's gonna supervise you.

Then he notices the little skips in your step, the faraway glances you give at the sky when you deem it pretty (which is fucking always, to his dismay).

That's when you got stung by a bee.

And also when he started referring to you as a bumblerbee.

His bumblerbee.

People were obviously discombobulated at the fact he was essentially tailing you everywhere you went, but all he had to do was gift them the most malicious side-eye he would conjure.

(Geo would side-eye so hard though holy shit).

If you were distracted, he would make you tell him about your day, desiring for you to start rambling to him so he can take notes find out more about this clumsy bumblerbee that he's invested in.

Eventually your charm gets to him. He starts becoming more and more fond of you (pff, as if he wasn't already).

He now basically is always ready to firmly stop you from falling/bumping into something.

Until he realises you also get pushed down stairs for shits and giggles.

And these people already harmed Brittney, so obviously he already knows their addresses, credit card numbers and their workplaces.

If they end up temporarily disappearing/hospitalised, he had nothing to do with it.

And Geo has no reason to lie, now does he?

(Don't answer that).

Likes to watch you read, or better yet, tell him about your thoughts, he wants to know every single little detail about you what you like, dislike, want to set on fire, etc.

Acts nonchalant, but is secretly trying not to melt into a puddle.

His desire to protect you from other worthless people (and inanimate objects) is inhumanely strong. Expect him to start showing it more often as the months go by.

Asks you out when you give him a potted plant. He didn't even realise he did, he was too excited.

(You said yes. Obviously. I mean, you don't have a choice; but do you care? No! You love him too).

Will probably accidentally call you bumblebee at some point (you never let him live it down, dw). Geo really likes making sure you don't trip, after all, it means he can be close to you for as long as he wants. Which is forever. And you're more than happy with that.

#geo subaru oogami #reminder that geo is superior #geo oogami #tkatb #the kid at the back #tkatb vn #tkatb x reader #tkatb geo #naur but bumblerbee is a banger idea ngl #uh praying i wrote the clumsiness part well enough eheheh

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miradelletarot · 5 months ago

Note

Hello my lovely!

Here is a song to hopefully inspire you. Sending you love. <3

OK my dear @sorceresssundries. I truly hope you like this. I'm deeply sorry it took me so long to finish this, but I yeeted my soul from the depths so I could finish it. (Not beta'd so please no one come for me if there are any mistakes or anything.)

Just letting y'all know...It's sad, but tender. But also sad. I'm sorry, but also suffer with me.

Also uploaded to AO3 SFW, but cw for implied death. Words: 1453 ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Somewhere

Gale opened his eyes, blinking a few times until he adjusted to the sunlight that filtered in through the open window.

He sighed once he realized that he was once again alive to see another day. With an outstretched hand he slid his fingers along the empty sheets where Tav used to lay. The sheets were cold and vacant, but if he tried hard enough he could still smell their unique fragrance embedded into the mattress. Yet another reminder that they were no longer by his side, another day he must wake up alone.

Every day took more effort than the last to rouse his aging body from the bed that slowly became his prison. After a while, he fell into a routine. He’d wake, longingly caress Tav’s side of the bed, pad over to the bathroom and stare into the mirror vacantly studying the man before him, a man he no longer recognized. The years have clouded his eyes, his long hair and beard were unkempt and wiry, and it seemed a new wrinkle would appear every day. Why did he bother looking? There wasn’t anything to see anymore.

He shuffled to the kitchen and stared into the larder only to sigh and walk out without anything to eat, retreating to the terrace with a book that he would barely read.

Books were nothing more than words on old pages, strung together in meaningless clusters without form or understanding, food lacked flavor and excitement, his natural curiosity waned until it vanished into the unknown depths of forgotten brilliance. But there he would sit, the terrace his only refuge, and the comfort of holding a tome he’d never actually read.

The words on the page began to bleed together resembling spilled ink to his tired eyes. He sighed and set the book aside, resting his hands in his lap as he closed his eyes. For a moment, he took in the sounds of the sea below, slipping into a trance from the rhythmic ebbing and flowing of the waves rolling along the shore.

Astra navigabimus. More than anything these days, that incantation was the only thing that brought solace. Gale preferred his time in the Astral Sea, the most beautiful illusion he ever conjured, especially when he made Tav.

He stood at the edge of the astral waters, his bare feet kissed by gentle laps of water as he took a moment to center himself, and gaze into the expanse of his new reality.

Off in the distance was the small boat he brought Tav to their first time in the illusion. His crows’ feet deepened as he smiled longingly. He walked across a narrow path of stepping stones, traversing the empyrean sea until he reached the aimlessly floating craft.

Once he climbed in he could feel the depths of the water beneath him as the boat rocked, taking a deep breath and relaxing his shoulders as all the stress and tension he left behind in the material world melted away. His body ached a little less here, the weightlessness of the world around him made him feel anew.

“Gale, my love!” His eyes sparkled as Tav materialized before him, conjured together with shimmering stars and swirling colors. “You came back to me.” They smiled, their longing evident in their ethereal gaze.

“Of course, dearest. My heart beats only for you, my love.” He extended his hands to Tav, his fingers delicately tangling with theirs.

The longer he stayed, the more detailed Tav’s form became until they resembled their mortal body, though never quite becoming as real as Gale desired.

“Gods I miss you, Tav.” “I miss you too.”

He leaned in to press his forehead to theirs only to be met with no resistance, and merging with their celestial manifestation. His hands slipped from theirs as he leaned back, retreating from their incorporeal touch. Yet another reminder of what he’d lost, what he’ll never get back.

Tav reached out and placed their hand on Gale’s cheek. “You look tired, my sweet love.”

He sighed as he leaned into the tingling sensation that resembled their mortal touch. “Perhaps I am, but I’m worlds better now that I’m at your side.” His eyes softly closed as he leaned into the feeling, illusory as it may be, he didn’t care.

Tav watched him, their gaze curious and almost vacant, silently observing the withering man before them. After a moment, they pulled their hand away as it came to rest in their lap.

Gale’s eyes shot open as the tingling feeling vanished instantly. For a moment, he was reminded of the emptiness he felt when they died. He slowly turned his head towards the shore, just beyond it a swirling void daring to suck him back in, and return him to the dismal existence he left behind as he sat in meditation on his terrace.

“Gale? What troubles you, sweet love?”

“I should go back,” he whispered as he turned his somber gaze back to Tav. “I cannot stay long. You know that.”

Tav rested their hand on Gale’s, the other tilting his chin so he could meet their starry gaze. “Stay with me. Please don’t go.” Their eyes swirled like shimmering pools of stardust, capturing Gale in a mesmerizing, breathless reverie. “I love you.”

Gale released a soft, shuddering breath as their words drifted over him. “Gods I love you, too. More than anything,” he breathed. “Then stay.” Tav’s insistent plea was like a prayer. “You made this place for us. For me. It’s so lonely without you.”

“I’d drift along this endless sea with you forever if I could, my love.” “Then come with me.” The boat remained steady as Tav stood and extended their hand out to Gale. “Leave the boat behind, and come with me.”

“Leave the – I don’t know if I can…” His brow furrowed as he considered Tav’s words.

“You can. I’ll be with you. Just take my hand.” Tav’s face fell as Gale stared at them in disbelief. “Remember what you said to me once? ‘Don't be alarmed – I’m here with you.’” They paused, gently raking their fingers through his hair and caressing their hand down, coming to rest on his cheek. “I’m right here. I’ve got you. Just take my hand…let me show you the world you created for us.” Without tearing his eyes away from Tav, he reached up to his cheek, and wrapped his hand around theirs. The boat rocked as he stood, and he froze. Uncertainty flickered in his aging eyes as he wrestled the war between the safety of his tower, and the blissful peace of his illusion. The water rippled out from the boat, and he watched as they grew and faded out in the distance, far beyond where he’d ever gone before.

But Tav would be his anchor, his guide, his beacon. Tav was his reason for living those many years ago. They were always his light. Never leaving his side, even when he didn’t realize how much he needed their strength. Their compassion.

Tav watched him with that same vacant, ethereal gaze, their wisping form patient and still.

Gale let out a deep, shuddering breath. “Alright,” he whispered. “Alright…I’m with you, my love.” He smiled as the fear in his chest gave way to an eerie sense of calm and safety washed over him. “Show me more.” Tav burned brightly, smiling with unbridled joy. It had been years since Gale had seen that smile. They stepped out of the boat and stood on the water. “It’ll be alright. I have you.” He took another breath, steadying himself before he stepped over the starboard side of the boat. The water rippled as his feet touched the surface, and he tightened his grip on Tav’s hand on instinct.

“Are you ready?” Gale took a moment, letting the words sink in. He had expected to feel more scared and uncertain, but all he felt was peace. Safety. Like the journey he was about to embark on was the most sure thing he’d even done in the world. “Yes, my love. More than anything.”

Tav stepped closer, lifting their joined hands slightly as they laced their fingers together. A bright light emanated from their bond, and Tav leaned in for a kiss. Gale sighed softly as their lips met his, closing his eyes as he melted into Tav’s embrace.

Little by little his corporeal form faded and drifted into the sea as Tav’s light poured into him. They pulled away and smiled, gazing at their love before them.

He looked younger. His tousled hair flowing like stardust, eyes bright and swirling like nebulae.

“Come, my sweet love,” Tav smiled. “I’ve so much to show you.”

#Mira's ask box #ask mira #bg3 prompt #bg3 prompts #writing prompt #moot request #gale x tav #gn!tav #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #bg3 gale #baldur's gate 3 #gale #baldur's gate gale #baldurs gate #gale romance

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merrock · 19 days ago

Text

event: Hallo-Week

location: all around Merrock

date & time: October 25 - November 3

ooc duration: same dates

It's time… to get your spook on! We know how much this town loves Halloween, so we've rounded up as many Merrockites as possible to get fun things happening in town, whether it be movies, spooky fun activities, party nights, or anything that your haunted little hearts desire.

Please note: for the kids, trick-or-treat will still be happening on Halloween (October 31st), so make sure that you have candy ready to go, to treat them right! Or else… you might find yourself getting a trick. You can go door to door, do the trunk-or-treat, or head to the nursing home to get candy!

Dive under the cut for a complete list of things happening in and around Merrock from October 25th until November 3rd, and have fun!

DOWNTOWN

bookends -- book sale on all horror novels

brownstone inne -- ghost stories in the hotel lobby (& refreshments)

cityview park -- pumpkin carving & painting contests, various craft stations set up (for adults and kids)

cobblestone cafe -- pumpkin spice everything

the holiday shoppe -- 50-75% off all Halloween decor

mack's -- special seasonal pumpkin menu

merrock railway -- haunted train ride

the mirage -- spooky karaoke in the speakeasy (come in costume!)

mods -- flash tattoos & face painting for kids

stubs -- nightly Halloween movies (see below!)

touchback -- spooky cocktails & drinks

town hall -- Halloween safety demonstrations

vibrations -- monster mash party night all week-long (come in costume!)

STUBS:

All movies will be available on the Stubs app, as well, for you to watch at home! There is a small charge for each film, but the money goes straight to the theater. Early films will play at 6PM, late at 9PM.

October 25 -- Casper, Friday the 13th.

October 26 -- Beetlejuice, Pet Sematary.

October 27 -- Addams Family, Nightmare on Elm Street.

October 28 -- Scooby Doo on Zombie Island, Psycho.

October 29 -- Nightmare Before Christmas, Scream.

October 30 -- It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown, Carrie.

October 31 -- Hocus Pocus, Halloween.

November 1 -- Coraline, Child's Play.

November 2 -- The Haunted Mansion, The Exorcist.

November 3 -- Rocky Horror Picture Show, The Craft.

ALSO AVAILABLE: Monster House, Halloweentown, Goosebumps, Practical Magic, Sleepy Hollow, What We Do in the Shadows, Ernest Scared Stupid, Scared Shrekless, The Witches, Death Becomes Her, Poltergeist, Happy Death Day, Jennifer's Body, The Crow, The Lost Boys, Rosemary's Baby, The Conjuring, The Invisible Man, Trick 'r Treat, Totally Killer + more.

COASTAL AREA

anchors away -- seasonal drinks and pumpkin beer

breathe in -- yoga & pilates with the Sanderson Sisters (come in costume!)

cassidy's candies -- mega discount on all Halloween candy

from brush to canvas -- autumn/Halloween paintings exhibited

the lighthouse -- ghost stories at the top of the lighthouse

the marina -- haunted boat rides (murder mystery style)

mawk tales -- seasonal spooky mocktails all week

sea breeze -- special Halloween flavors available

SUBURBS

aster playground -- pumpkin painting, various kids games set up

benny's -- massive Halloween decor & costume sale

children's museum -- various halloween-themed activities

community center -- costume closet open for takers

the creamery -- black & blue milks available, halloween ice creams

cul-de-sac diner -- halloween-themed meals (& specials for kids)

flour co. -- decorate your own pumpkin cookies

the fun spot -- horror skate nights (come in costume!)

the great escape -- horror escape rooms

memorial library -- spooky story reads, horror book displays

pinecrest cemetery -- cemetery tours (not haunted; respectful)

treasure chest -- 50% off all fall and Halloween decor

COUNTRYSIDE

the barn at lake malory -- haunted houses; family friendly (for kids & easily scared adults who want to take it easy), supernatural/fantasy (medium), slasher (scary).

handpick'd -- specials on seasonal wines

harmony ranch -- haunted hay ride & corn maze

hideaway market -- trunk or treat sponsored by takato's (come in costume!)

lavender lane -- pumpkin, mums & fall favorites on deep discount

little chapel -- ghost stories (with surprise haunting)

north shore -- trick-or-treating with senior citizens (come in costume!)

paradise gardens -- seasonal fall/halloween displays

pet haven -- free treat to all pets that show up in costumes

pine grove gardens -- true merrock horror / scary stories

state park -- spooky walks along the trails (very kid friendly)

the wheel -- 50% off all halloween related items

ADMIN NOTES: have at it! If you want to post costumes, they can be done any time through the week, whether you're partying at Evolution, dressing up to work at your business, or just want to get spiffed up for actual Halloween. Please tag them with #merrockfashion. Socials can be tagged with #merrocksocial, as well. Please do remember to tag anything with trigger warnings if it veers into triggering things, such as excessive blood! You can do other things for Hallo-Week, like having a slumber party and watching movies at home with your bestie, roasting pumpkin seeds, going out to toilet paper someone's house (please have permission), this is the perfect time to just have fun with anything that has to do with Halloween! <3

#merrockevent

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zorosjuicymelonsx · 9 months ago

Text

Finding You

A/N: Happy Valentines Day!

Dropping in with another chapter! When I'm writing this story, I honestly feel like such a Zoro scholar with how much I sit there and think about how he's feeling XD ya boy is not very expressive but he's still my pookie bear <;3

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, I don't think this is much of a warning but just in case; you get a bit of acid in your throat from anxiety/shock if ya know what I mean or ever experienced it. There is some fighting but I've not gone into the whole blood thing so its just actions but I know some of you guys do not do well with blood.

Without further ado, I'll be back next week to drop the next one!

Chapter Four Previous Next

A few weeks had passed since your arrival and you managed to settle in with everyone…all except for Zoro. Since your duel with him, he’d made every effort to ignore you. From aired hellos when you greeted him passing by to moving seats away from you at meal times when you tried sitting next to him to him spending more time in the Crows Nest away from everyone.

As disheartened as you felt, you knew you couldn’t force him to talk to you. You assured everyone that you were okay. You spent most of your nights trying to wrap your head around the possibility that something could have tampered with his memory, removing all signs of you in his head. The mere thought of the endless possibilities made your blood boil and kept you from falling asleep soundly.

To keep yourself busy and away from living in your own head, you’d throw yourself into sketching; deciding to start a new project involving drawing everyone on the ship secretly and framing them to hang in the galley. You were able to draw Luffy fishing, Usopp training with his slingshot, Nami in her study working on her maps, Franky fixing the mini-Merry and Chopper taking a nap in his infirmary. You were grateful for your memory as it was getting harder to remain inconspicuous, almost getting caught by Brook whose lurking ghost form had almost given you a heart attack but not before you were able to slam your sketchbook shut and lecture him on how not to sneak (or fly?) up on people.

You’d also been spending more time with the girls on the deck lounging in the lawn chairs, the concept of relaxation foreign seeing as you’d spent so long journeying around the world. Aside from your usual training which you conducted almost every morning, you asked Jinbe to train you in fishman karate, fascinated by the art which he graciously agreed to do for you.

Today, you had planned to sketch and relax to take a break from your usual training schedule.

As you made your way up to the table on the deck, your sketchbook and pencils ready in your hands, you could hear Sanji and Nami in the kitchen quietly speaking. You moved away from the gap in the door, positioning your back against the wall with your ear inline to listen in. You knew you shouldn’t but you couldn’t help after hearing the concern laced in both their voices.

“Nami-swan, we really need to get a stronger lock for the fridge.”

“Sanji-kun, we need to make do with the supplies we have until we get to the next island which won’t be for at least another week.” Nami sighed out heavily.

You frowned at the topic of the conversation, instant guilt seeping in as you felt responsible for the food shortage. You’d outlined that Sanji probably shopped for the 10 of them, an additional person would add strain especially when an appetite like Luffy’s existed. An idea came to mind and you decided to end your eavesdropping. You moved off the wall and peered your head into the kitchen. This caught Sanji and Nami’s attention, both offering bright smiles of welcome to you.

“I’m sorry, I was listening to your conversation. i-I think I can help.” You offered a small apologetic smile.

You explained your idea to use your devil fruit ability to conjure a hole onto an island you visited before from memory that you knew you could get food supplies from. You explained that your ability allowed you to revisit places out of memory or to visit random locations but at your own risk.

At first they both sat in silence thinking of your proposition. Then Sanji protested against the idea and was adamant they could make supplies last till then. Nami counter argued and saw sense in this idea to save them time and strain. Sanji looked at Nami hesitantly before sighing and nodded in agreement.

“Is there anyone you want to bring with us?” You asked Sanji.

“Not at all Y/N-chan, I’ll get ready for our trip.” Sanji said excitedly, his eyes bore hearts at the thought of spending time with you. He danced away to the pantry to get his bags and ready himself for the trip.

“I’ll have someone near the hole ready to take the bags off you guys. I’ll brief the others.” Nami said as she got up and gave you a hug of appreciation.

You hugged her back, grateful for the opportunity to prove yourself to everyone.

You left Nami and Sanji, dropping your sketchbook off back in your shared room. You then headed to the area of the deck where you’d previously made the hole. As you took a deep breath in, clearing your mind and holding your right hand out, you envisioned the other side. You chose to picture a quiet open space of land on an island you’d visited a year ago that you knew would only be a short walk away from the market.

You wouldn’t be able to close the hole until you and Sanji were completely finished so choosing a secluded area was a must away from prying eyes.

With the hole open and ready, you turned back to the door that went below deck to see Sanji approaching you with some empty bags in his hands. Behind him, you could see Nami, Usopp and Brook holding Luffy back. You had to hold back a laugh from the kerfuffle.

With Sanji now standing next to you, you turned to him, gesturing to follow you as you jumped into the hole. As you now stood on what now appeared to now be secluded farm land, the path to the market however remained the same as you’d remembered it. You looked at Sanji who now stood next to you, smiling before pointing to the pathway as you started walking. Sanji briefly stood in awe at the hole, the coolness of the smoke clouds prickling his skin.

“Ohhh Y/N-chan is so talented! MELLORINE.” Sanji sang out, taking out his box of cigarettes from his pocket to pull out a smoke as he started walking to catch up with you. You were usually not a fan of the cigarette smell but you became quite used to it and found yourself thinking that it would be quite weird not to smell smoke from Sanji.

You briefly explained to Sanji that they would need to be swift as keeping the hole open for long periods of time would affect your energy reserve. With this, Sanji vowed to do his best, zooming past you on the path to the marketplace that could be seen from their current distance.

Meanwhile…

“Witch let go of me.” Zoro keened forward, teeth bared out and his ear hot and sore from Nami pulling him from it. He just wanted to nap. Nami stomped forward, her grip still tight on Zoro’s right ear towards the hole you left on the deck. Zoro noticed the hole, feeling a sense of panic twinge him at the thought you were behind the hole.

Both reaching the edge of the hole, Nami let go of Zoro and pushed him down to sit on the floor.

“Now you’re going to sit here and wait for Y/N and Sanji to come back. You should be grateful, your wife offered to help us out.” Nami lectured, and Zoro let out a ‘ha?’ despite being completely aware of what was going on. He’d overheard Nami briefing everyone and he wanted absolutely nothing to do with it despite feeling slightly grateful that you offered to help.

“Why do I have to do it? Isn’t it Jinbe’s turn to help anyway?” Zoro argued, rubbing his hand against his ear to soothe it.

“That's when we get to the next island and quite frankly I’m fed up of watching you avoid Y/N like she's diseased. Now you wait here and if I see you even moved an inch you’ll be sorry.” Nami threatened with her fist balled to his face before walking away, briefly turning her head back to dart threats from her eyes.

He huffed, sulking as he crossed his arms and sat cross legged against the ship. Since his duel with you, he avoided you. Whilst Zoro had accepted that you and him were married, his mind in his resolve that he didn’t want to commit himself to anything or anyone but his ambitions. What he couldn’t explain was the dull ache he felt in his chest whenever he was actively avoiding you and seeing the brief displays of disappointment that flickered on your face. He was adamant it wasn’t guilt or regret. He rarely felt those emotions and when he did, they were much stronger. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was but he chose to ignore it.

Time had passed and Zoro was feeling restless, becoming more annoyed that it was you and especially the shitty cook he was waiting on.

“Fuck this.” Zoro angrily mumbled to himself.

On a whim, he sat up on his knees and decided to crouch over to stick his head in the hole to see for himself what the hold up was. He briefly felt a chill run down his cheeks and neck as he plunged his head into the clouds of smoke.

Now Zoro was rarely surprised. He hadn’t anticipated that as his head reached the other side of the hole he would come face to face with you on the other side. His breathing halted, voice choked in his throat holding back any sound as his eye met with yours. He noticed how wide your eyes were with shock, you clearly hadn’t anticipated seeing anything come through the hole. He was so close in fact, he could feel the warmth radiating from your face onto his from the flush of pink that bloomed on the apples of your cheeks.

After a few more seconds, he quickly shot his head back out of the hole, landing on his bum as his whole face burned with embarrassment. He didn’t have quite enough time to recover his breath completely before noticing a masculine hand poking through the hole with a bag in grip. Zoro jumped into action and reached out to grab the bags, setting them to the side until all the bags were collected.

Once the bags were set and he thought it was over, out of the corner of his eye he noticed you trying to emerge through the hole, your smaller hands were gripping on the edge of the deck. He sensed you were struggling and before he could stop himself Zoro stood up, grabbed your wrists and pulled you out of the hole, bringing you to stand in front of him.

You were too embarrassed, trying your best to avoid his eye. He noticed the flush that was still painted on your cheeks. His eye traced over your features briefly, noticing the smoothness of your skin and the thick curl of your lashes. You could feel his gaze on you and eventually built up your courage to look up at him. His large frame towering over yours as your eye bore into his grey iris. Your eyes flickered to his scar, you’d been tempted to trace over it with your fingertips. You’d wondered what exactly happened to his eye but despite that, you couldn’t deny that it added to his ever-growing handsomeness.

You gave him a small smile but didn’t quite get enough time to thank him before Sanji jumped up from the hole, anger evident on his face as he walked to stand in front of the swordsman.

“Oi marimo, what the fuck were you thinking? You almost gave Y/N a heart attack with that stunt!” Sanji began shouting.

“None of your damn business cook.” Zoro bit back angrily.

You reluctantly moved away from Zoro and Sanji, their impending fight would surely go on for some time as you turned your attention to the open hole.

Once the hole was closed, you slowly sat down on the deck and laid back with your eyes closed, your attempt to hold onto the last bit of energy dissipated.

Zoro didn’t know what made his mind wander back to you during his argument with the cook. His eye had gone past the blonde hair to see you lying on the floor. Abruptly ending his petty fight with Sanji, Zoro walked past the cook to go over to you. Sanji looked back at the swordsman fuming, clearly not satisfied with the ending to their fight. Upon seeing you on the floor and realising why Zoro stopped, a quiet ‘shit’ came out of Sanji as he also made his way over to you.

“Y/N-chan, are you okay?” Sanji asked worriedly.

You looked up to see Sanji and Zoro watching you. You politely nodded, not wanting to make a fuss.

“I’m okay, I just need a min-oof.” Cut off mid sentence, Zoro picked you up bridal style and carried you over the deck towards the girls cabin ignoring the cooks swearing behind him. Zoro really didn’t understand what possessed him to do this. It was like his mind lost control and it had been pure instinct that led him to this.

You let him carry you, all your energy was spent and you were too lethargic to protest against it. You had to stop yourself from snuggling your face into his chest, remembering how much you missed being close to him. You ended up hearing a couple ‘ooos’ coming from Nami and Usopp.

‘You didn’t even know they were watching you…how embarrassing!’ You mentally groaned knowing Nami would definitely tease you about this later.

The sounds across the ship dimmed as Zoro continued to head under the deck.

After a quick wrong turn and correction in direction, Zoro finally made it to the girls cabin. He pushed the door open with his back and walked over to the first bed he saw. He gently laid you down, carefully unfastening your sword from your waist and leaning it against the bedside table. Your head hit and slowly sunk into the pillow, your head and body feeling heavy. Before you could say anything, Zoro grunted out a quick ‘thank you for the food trip’ and left the room swiftly. You couldn’t do anything but stare at the door he left. The exhaustion kicked in, lulling you to sleep for the rest of the afternoon.

After closing the door, Zoro’s grip on the door handle tightened.

‘Why did I do that?!’

Zoro thought, questioning himself.

Zoro felt overwhelmed and decided he needed a drink.

————————————- ⚔️✨ ————————————

Night fell as you slept peacefully for what you predicted was at least a few hours. The abrupt sound of breakage and shouting, hearing unfamiliar voices was what woke you from your slumber. Opening your eyes without letting yourself blink out the sleep, your adrenaline kicked in as you rushed out of bed and grabbed your sword. You slammed the door open, letting it hit the wall behind as you ran out to the deck to see the commotion. What you could only describe the scene unfolding in front of you was chaos; the Sunny had been invaded by pirates! You could see your crew scattered around fighting against the invaders, noticing one of the sails was set on fire that lit the ship in the darkness of the night.

“Oh my god.” You whispered under your breath amongst the sounds of clashes and scrapes of weapons.

Taking a quick breath, you lunged with your sword at a group of unsuspecting pirates quickly bringing them down. You felt the floor vibrate behind you from the sound of running, whipping behind you to see you were almost about to be jumped by another group of pirates until Luffy swung his stretched leg to kick them off the ship into the sea. You looked up to see your captain swinging across the ship like a monkey, truly living up to his name.

As you scanned over the rest of the ship, you saw your crew were holding their own fights until you noticed Chopper was struggling to hold his against another group of pirates. You ran towards him, shouting for him to duck as you slashed the pirates across their chests, dropping one by one to the floor. You quickly glanced down at Chopper to see he was alright, he looked shaken up with tears in his eyes filled with appreciation. Just as you were about to grab him and take him to safety, another pirate walked into your vision.

“Go Chopper, I’ve got this.”

You quickly signaled Chopper to leave as you readied yourself, the young doctor not needing to be told twice as he ran to safety.

Bringing your attention to the pirate who now stood a few feet away in front of you, you noticed he was well kept for a pirate compared to others you had met before. You couldn’t deny he was handsome, his black hair kept short, his strength illuminated through the strong body covered in fine, expensive silk. You didn’t let that distract you as you felt his dark energy practically seeping from him. He held a large, bejeweled royal blue sword in his right hand.

‘Why did he seem so familiar?’

You readied yourself, your sword held strong in your grip. You weren’t going to let him hurt anyone.

“Angel, it doesn’t have to be this way. After all, I’m only here to claim what's mine.” His deep voice resonated out as he grinned.

“Don’t fucking call me angel, who are you?” You angrily bit back as you pointed your sword at him.

“I’m Enver…we’ve met before but you don’t seem to remember me.”

“Why are you here?” You eyed him suspiciously, scouring your memory to try to pinpoint where you could have supposedly met him with no luck.

“Why, I’m here for you.” His voice exhumed confidence. You tried to swallow your anxiety down, feeling acid lodged in your throat and your heart beating faster than it ever had before.

“What do you want with me?” You cautiously persisted, trying to keep your voice from breaking.

He chuckled darkly before taking a step forward and leaning in to face you at your level.

“To be mine.”

#one piece fanfiction #one piece #roronoa zoro #romance #memory loss #slow burn #zoro x reader

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blackmoonlightexpress · 1 year ago

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TTEOTM Easter Eggs Part 2 (Production Details)

Anyone still rewatching Till the End of the Moon? Here's another round of easter eggs!

(1) Does this shot look familiar? In Ep 1, we see a visual reference to the first teaser poster released back in Nov 2021.

(2) In Ep 1, we already see Xiaoyao Sword formation, which Cang Jiumin learns from Zhaoyou in Ep 30.

(3) In Ep 2, we are introduced to Ye Bingchang, who is feeding the poor. What is she serving? Congee. (Not poisonous, of course)

(4) Throughout Ep 3-7, there are many shots of observing crows which explain how Tantai Jin gets his intel, e.g. the location of the dream demon's forest, his maid Yingxin's plot to poison him, Ye Xiwu's plan to set up her sister with the unplesant fifth prince, or Ye Xiwu and Xiao Lin's conversation about TTJ.

(5) When we first encounter Mingye in his dragon form, he is shown holding tightly onto a broken clam shell.

In addition, the dragon has two eye colors: TTJ enters Bo're dream through the black eye (half god) and XYW enters through the red eye (half demon), foreshadowing Mingye and Sangjiu's fate.

(6) Sangjiu actually manages to drag Mingye (drugged and drunk) all the way back to her own bedroom to complete her wedding night.

(7) Tantai Jin finds out that the congee Ye Xiwu cooked for him is poisoned through the butterfly that dropped dead after tasting the congee. As you may recall, TTJ's mother has an affinity to butterflies. There's a fan theory that this is his mother protecting him.

In fact, the butterfly also shows up in Ep 6 when Ye Xiwu goes on an acid trip conjures an illusion to cheer up Tantai Jin.

(8) During Tantai Jin and Ye Xiwu's wedding night where the Dragonheart Shield flew out to protect Tantai Jin from the three final nails, we briefly see Mingye's eyes as though he is protecting him.

(9) In Ep 36, an impressive one-shot-through sequence is shown to represent the evil and suffering of the world. We follow a sick man who is too poor to buy medicine. We've actually seen the man and the montage before as he was kidnapped by the dream demon and his experiences harvested to grow nightmare flowers in Ep 3.

(10) In TTJ's own Bo're dream, we see YXW's father walking around with crutches even though he was physically fit and died fighting TTML's army. That is because the dream was created in TTJ's mind, and TTJ never found out that he was faking the injury the entire time.

(11) Sangjiu and Mingye's wedding is an exact mirror of Tantai Jin and Li Susu's wedding, from the entrance on a flying carriage to the procession. Even the dancers are the same!

(12) Ye Xiwu's grave in the Jing mausoleum says "beloved wife of Tantai Jin", but TTJ's grave only says "husband of YXW". TTJ wasn't sure he was loved by YXW at that point (but it would also be slightly presumptuous of him to etch that after the events of Ep 39.)

#till the end of the moon #black moonlight holds the be script #luo yunxi #chang yue jin ming #cdrama #chinese drama #tteotm #bai lu #tantai jin #ye xiwu

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hauntingmothgirl · 5 months ago

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About me <3

Im a 20+ year old girl with a love for vintage, history, and all things spooky.

I am a pirate enthusiast, cryptid lover, divorced dad music listener, horror buff.

My interests are: ┃dnd┃vampires┃gaming┃cryptids┃creepypastas┃anime┃horror games┃2000s horror movies┃paintings that make me cry┃halloween┃bones┃dark photography┃Religious imagery in art┃y2k┃anything vintage┃my kitties┃moths┃halloween┃the undead┃Jesus┃cosplaying┃moths┃weeping angels┃true crime┃bone┃saws┃possums┃rats┃bats┃occult┃fantasy┃ghosts┃sirens┃wendigoon┃basically any monster��clown figurines┃victorian dolls┃the medieval┃crows/ravens┃goth clubs┃mythology┃atlantis┃mermaids┃dragons┃vikings┃old hollywood┃diaries┃silent hill weather┃any church or gas station on a foggy night┃comics┃the creepy┃the paranormal┃1800s┃

Tastes:

┃goth┃emo┃scene┃y2k┃post punk┃gothic rock┃screamo┃new wave┃darkwave┃classic rock┃punk rock┃pop punk┃midwest emo┃yallternative┃2000s rnb┃rap┃essentially anything┃50s-60s music┃

Fav characters:

┃misa amane┃draculaura┃sibby┃love quinn┃harley quinn┃Alice cullen┃starfire┃catwoman┃dracula┃chica┃bridgette bardot┃barbie┃wendigoon┃hawkhatesyou┃tinkerbell┃bela dimitrescu┃loeylane┃cjades┃

Games:

┃skyrim┃resident evil┃silent hill┃outlast┃fallout┃alice madness returns┃bg3┃fnaf┃mw2┃

books:

┃haunting adeline┃pride and prejudice┃the seven husbands of evelyn hugo┃my life at rose red┃blue is for nightmares┃im thinking of ending things┃the haunting of hill house┃the hunger games┃

Artists:

┃kesha┃halsey┃avril lavigne┃evanescence ┃paramore┃melanie martinez┃flyleaf┃billie eilish┃lana del rey┃ethel cain┃stevie nicks┃ptv┃sws┃creed┃

Media:

┃deathnote┃berserk┃soul eater┃the phantom of the opera┃nosferatu┃jersey shore┃the conjuring┃the roommate┃disturbia┃rose red┃midsommar┃13 ghosts┃house of wax┃the messengers┃twilight ┃jeepers creepers┃H20 years later┃labyrinth ┃ghost ship┃haunting of hill house┃YOU┃gothika┃thebatman┃scream┃RED┃coraline┃monster high┃ncis┃criminal minds┃alice in wonderland┃sanrio┃nana┃supernatural┃gilmore girls┃bridgerton┃ahs┃mlp┃the crow┃k-12┃priscilla┃

hehe did this for fun :)

very long but pls interact im very friendly

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londondziban · 1 year ago

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London's Masterpost

About Me:

☆ Hi everyone! My name is London or Dziban. I’m a 19 year old fanfic writer who posts over on ao3 when I have time. I'm a gay trans man who uses He/They pronouns!

☆ Stranger Things is my special interest!

☆ Fandoms I'm (actively) in and may post about: Stranger Things, Six of Crows/Grishaverse, The Maze Runner, Ghostbusters, Marauders Era, Bridgerton, PJO, The Hunger Games, Arcane, Scream, and Shameless (US)

They are me, I am them:

☆ Mike Wheeler ☆ Wylan Van Eck ☆ Newt (tmr) ☆ Dipper Pines ☆ Eloise Bridgerton ☆ Wirt (otgw) ☆ Katniss Everdeen ☆ Jo March ☆ Suzuki Shou (mp100)

☆ PSA: I am currently taking two final courses for my A.A.-T in English and I am preparing to move six hours away for my remaining years of undergrad. I have some stuff in the works, but my time to write for fandom is pretty limited. Please bear with me

Dziban's Writing -

WIPs:

Apple Juice and Peach Oneshot. Elmax/Elumax, background Byler. Coffeeshop Au Sequel to And At Every Table, I'll Save You A Seat Wake Up Call Oneshot. Byler. Ghostface AU. Caller Will, Killer Mike

Stranger Things Fics:

Not Just Another Birthday M. 1/1, 6,245 words. Byler–Mike Wheeler is turning 18 and he has some thoughts about it. Trick or Treat! G. 1/1, 2,371 words. Byler–Bylerween day 6 You Reminded Me of Brighter Days G. 1/1, 3,565 words. Byler–Bylerween day 3. May be continued Why's the Music So Loud? (Take It To the Lawn Now) M. 1/1, 3,185 words. Byler–Bylerween day 2 The Only Time I Ever See Him (Is When He's Behind Me in the Mirror) M. 1/1, 9,417 words. Byler–Bylerween day 1. May be continued When the Days Were Long and the World Was Small T. 1/1, 2,478 words. Byler & Jancy–the horrifying ordeal of being caught having snuck out...by your sibling who also snuck out I'm Fine With My Spite and My Tears, and My Beers and My Candles M. 1/1, 2,185 words. Platonic Madwheeler–Post UD/Vecna And At Every Table, I'll Save You A Seat T. 1/1, 10,982 words. Byler–coffeeshop AU Snap Out of It T. 1/1, 5,687 words. Byler–Mileven gets Murrayed You Take My Hand and Drag Me Head First M. 1/1, 7,362 words. Byler–Mike has always been protective of Will A Crooked Love in a Straight Line Down T. 1/1, 1,610 words. Byler–MikeWillEl can't kill a single spider Holding Me Closer 'Till Our Eyes Meet G. 1/1, 1,768 words. Byler–Mike band AU Why They Lost Their Minds and Fought the Wars G. 1/1, 2,544 words. Byler–established relationship, domestic fluff I heard that you fell in love or near enough M. 1/1, 8,301 words. Byler–Post UD/Vecna

Marauders Era/Harry Potter:

Kiss me! (Tonight?) M. 1/1, 9,773 words. Rosekiller ft. Jegulus –Every year during the last week before hols break, mistletoe gets conjured to hang above the heads of people with unspoken affection. What do you do when you look up and realize mistletoe has been conjured to hang between you and your best friend? Well, you can ask Evan Rosier. Shears Microfic. 1,058 words. Trans Regulus–Sirius helps Regulus with his first proper haircut, background Jegulus Peppermint Microfic. 1,103 words. Established Wolfstar–Sirius cares for a sick Remus, mentions of established Jegulus and Rosekiller

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letmelickyoureyeballs · 8 months ago

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Beta Reader About Me

This is going to be a more in-depth post about me as a beta reader, which will be linked in my pinned post.

First off, hello call me Shark or Spruce! I'm 19 and go by he/they pronouns. I am open to beta reading for people, whether that's stuff on here or AO3.

What I'm willing to do:

Grammer/Capitalization/Punctuation

Cheer reading(pointing out what you did well and what I'm excited to see)

Identify plot inconstancies/where something needs to be clarified

Help with canon/characterization(if I know what/who it is)

American/Midwest information and more specifically Wisconsin information

Pretty much anything else you wish me to help with

*Depending on the fandom and length of fics, some of these will differ in doability*

I am generally ok with any kind of content that you write, but I do have some fic turn-offs. *Note that not everything on this list means I won't beta read for you, but I would like more info/details around them if they are in your fic to see if I'm still comfortable helping*

Mpreg/Anything pregnancy-related

Kid fics(when the main pairing has a kid, not kid-focused fics)

Really dark stories with no happy endings(depends on the story, but I'd prefer a happy/fulfilling ending)

Major Character death

Anything that is meant to hate a certain group/subgroup of people

Really long fics over 100k words

Some things that I am comfortable reading. *Not a comprehensive list*

Omegaverse

Reader Insert

G-E rated fics

Original characters

Canonverse

Alternate Universe

Gore and violence

Potentially triggering topics

I will again read pretty much any fandom you write for including original works, but here are some fandoms that I would be able to help more in-depth with:

The Witcher(Show, Third game, All the books), The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, Halo(Game series), Marvel, Venom, Star Wars/The Mandalorian, Transformers, Call of Duty, How to Train Your Dragon(Iffy on third movie), Spider-Man/Deadpool(Spideypool), Percy Jackson/The Heroes of Olympus, The Hunger Games, The Divergent Series, Maze Runner, Narnia(Movies only, I don't know anything in the books), Pride and Prejudice/Emma, Disney/Pixar movies, The 100, NBC Hannibal, Rise of the Guardians, Good Omens, Our Flag Means Death, Beastars, Titanfall 2, Red Dead Redemption 2, Baldurs Gate 3, Divinity Original Sin 2, Hazbin Hotel, Critical Role(I've only watched Campaign 1 and 3, and the TV show), Once Upon a Time, Anne with an E, Harry Potter, Six of Crows, Twilight, Star Trek, The Conjuring series, Descendants/High school Musical, Guardians of the Galaxy, Oceans Trilogy, Andrew Garfield's Spider-Man, Top Gun, Stranger Things, Fast and Furious, Moon Knight, Bridgerton(Show only)

I will read WIPs/completed works, multi/single chapter works, original works, and anything in between.

If you are interested or have any questions you may DM me. If you do, please provide whether I would be helping with a WIP or completed work, and whether there are any deadlines I need to be aware of. Please also include any warnings I should know about, and what you would want me to help with. I would also prefer to work on Google Docs if possible.

*Even if you are not interested, please reblog for others to see*

Edited July 18, 2024

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crookedcrowclub · 11 months ago

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Review for A Conjuring of Light by V .E. Schwab

5/5 ⭐️

WOW.

reading this felt like reading a crossover novel of all my favourite characters from the previous two books because each of them were so incredibly fleshed out that this could’ve been anyone’s story. it feels as if i’ve met these characters and had conversations with them because they seemed so tangible.

Plot & Pacing

what book 2 lacked in terms of plot and pacing, book 3 more than made up for it. the story picks up right where book 2 left off and the momentum doesn’t slow down one bit. it only kept getting better with surprises and twists at every turn. if you know me, you know that books are my sole sustenance when it comes to escaping the horrors of reality and ACOL swept me off my feet from the very first chapter!

Characters

the character dynamics were much more nuanced and their interactions were TO DIE FOR (!!!) not to mention, they all had insane chemistry with each other and some wholesome moments thrown in as well. kell, lila, and holland have cemented themselves as my ultimate disaster trio and i just couldn’t get enough of them.

the flashback scenes gave a deeper insight into each of the characters’ backstory and i ended up caring more about them than i imagined. holland’s especially packed a punch. his chapters were agonizing to read, emotionally charged and tugged at my heartstrings. i saw him as the villain at the beginning of this trilogy but it turns out, he’s an anti-hero who deserves to be happy after everything he’s been through. his chapters alone were a solid 5/5 stars for me, and he has earned a top ten spot in my Most Favourite Fucked Up Characters of All Time 😌.

as for lila, she had it all: beauty, brains and brawn! but besides that, we also see her come to terms with her attachment and abandonment issues that she’s struggled with since book 1. her arc was moving yet powerful. most of it strongly resonated with me because it hit too close to home. delilah bard is basically me but in different font and i adore my knife wife so much 🫶🏼.

kell’s daring persona that i sorely missed in book 2 made a sweeping comeback and his character was even more striking than before! unlike in the previous book, he was very level-headed in this one and took on the fitting role of a natural leader who guided his team in their quest to defeat evil. he kinda reminded me of kaz with the easy way he almost always got the final word. his chapters were poignant with direction and focus, which was refreshing to read.

i was thrilled that we finally got alucard’s POV (!!!!) i like his character but sadly, he didn’t really stand out in the book for me. it felt as if he was merely a plot piece to keep the story going. things were happening and he was just kinda there. either way, i enjoyed being in his head and learning more about his past.

rhy was less annoying and bratty (thank goodness) which i think had a lot to do with alucard’s presence at the beginning. he also had lesser chapters in this book but he started growing on me around the 70% mark. i liked how resilient he was in never giving up or cowering in face of adversity and how much he cared for his people. towards the end, he proved to be a well rounded character with a satisfying arc.

side mention: the minor characters (hastra, lenos, tieren, maris, ned, maxim, emira, even cora!) were amazingly well developed and despite their limited page time, they stole the show all the same! i would deadass be down to read each of their spinoff stories if the author ever decided to write them.

Conclusion

overall, ACOL struck a perfect balance between character-driven and plot-driven storyline to the point where the characters ceased to be fictional and started seeming like actual people in my head. not only that, this trilogy felt like getting a warm hug from an old friend because it reminded me of six of crows and a couple other YA novels which i loved during that time. it was nostalgic reading it even though i’d never read it before.

as for the ending, it was satisfying but the suspense was over quick. i wanted to see more action in the final fight scene after all that buildup but either way, it was fulfilling to see my beloved characters find closure after everything that happened. i can see where the continuation trilogy is headed and im beyond excited to read it!

ANOSHE✨

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tanjir0se · 4 months ago

Note

you mentioned a fic in one of your reblogs!! an entertainment district au with giyuu and shinobu,

and i wanna read it so so so bad- could you lmk the name and where to find it?

Hello!!! Thank you for your interest! _(:3 」∠)_

I actually never published the fic! I think it’s my first KNY fic ever, it was kind of me coping with not knowing what happened to the kids after s3ep11 Never Give Up so honestly I kinda dropped it like it was hot once that season ended!

It was part of a larger speculative fic where I basically just made up a backstory for Giyuu (I didn’t know anything yet). In it, as a child he had a brother and sister growing up, Goichi (older) and Kanoko (younger), who were killed by a demon when they were 13 and 5 respectively. Throughout the fic he’s been receiving letters from Tanjiro thanking him for his support and has struggled to find a way to respond.

(If you’d like I can post another installment later on, but I didn’t want to make the post too too long lol)

Here is the scene where he discovers the boys in the ruins of the Entertainment District!

✨✨✨

“Tomioka? Are you in there?” Shinobu’s voice, uncharacteristically serious. Giyu bolted upright and attempted to shove his unruly sleep-worn hair back into its ponytail at his neck.

“Yes.” He said. She didn’t hesitate in sliding the door open and taking a step inside. As soon as he saw her, his heart leapt into his throat.

Her hair was down, though she was in the midst of tying it up into a hurried and messy version of her usual butterfly-framed bun. Under one of her arms she was cradling her wooden elixir kit, and her sword belt was hanging loosely on her hips, as if she’d thrown it on in a hurry. “I’m going to Yoshiwara with the Kakushi.” She said.

He waited, not breathing, remembering Tanjiro’s letter. Undercover in an Oiran house…Yoshiwara. Giyu grabbed his sword and held it with a white-knuckled grip, never taking his eyes off Shinobu.

“Uzui and Tanjiro.” She continued, confirming his worst nightmare. “All four of them…”

Giyu felt his head spin and wished he could sit down. It was as if the floor had dropped out from beneath him and he was in free fall. Throat clenched, he stared at her with his mouth open, trying to spit out the only question he could even think to ask. “Are they—?” His mind conjured horrific images that continued to stun and disorient him. Tanjiro’s sun-bright light snuffed out and smoking.

He stared at her for so long that his eyes began to water. Stunned and terrified into silence, the instant between his ask and her answer felt like years.

“I don’t know.” She admitted. “The city has been destroyed. The four of them are still missing.”

Missing. Giyu repeated the word in his mind and tried to find his feet beneath him. Better than dead, he supposed. Stiffly, he nodded and placed his sword into his belt, then turned toward the door where Shinobu had already turned back, heading out of the mansion. At the last moment he turned back, seized both of Tanjiro’s letters as well as his unsent reply, folded them into his pocket, then followed Shinobu’s lead toward the battleground.

She brought him up to speed on their journey to Yoshiwara, the both of them sprinting faster than seemed possible. The demon presiding in the city was a twelve Kizuki, or rather two. Two in one? It didn’t matter, and Giyu barely listened to the specifics. He still hadn’t been able to get the image of Tanjiro’s corpse out of his mind. He even found himself praying the nightmarish visions would remain just that: merely a nightmare.

She’d learned of the situation from Uzui’s crow, sent by one of his wives. It had detailed as much of the battle as the sender and the crow itself knew: upper level demon, poisoned blood art, massive explosion. Missing. That word again, squeezing Giyu’s chest with every heartbeat. Missing. Missing. Missing.

Though he didn’t share Urokodaki’s nose, Giyu could smell the smoke thick in the air as they approached. Dawn was breaking, but the closer they got to the town the darker the sky became until the new morning sun was choked completely out by thick red smoke. Embers still danced in the air and fire crackled and nipped at what few structures remained. Shinobu and Giyu slowed to a stop.

Kakushi and citizens alike were shouting and running and trying to sort through the rubble for survivors—and bodies. A trio of women at what was left of the city’s gate were apparently leading the effort, though they were all clearly injured themselves. One of the least injured, a woman in purple, limped to greet them, leaning heavily on a broken piece of wood as a crutch.

“Lady Kocho.” She said tightly. Her voice was hoarse and pained. “Master Tomioka. Thank you for coming so quickly.” Giyu moved beside her and helped her stand.

“Hinatsuru,” Shinibu breathed. “Tell me what happened.”

“M-most all of the citizens were already evacuated. Lord Tengen and Tanjiro beheaded the poison demon. They were too fast to see, but Zenitsu must’ve beheaded the belt demon too. The demons’ dying attack was an explosion of poisoned blood. The buildings collapsed, we couldn’t find them in the rubble.”

Giyu helped her to the ground, as she was clearly losing the stamina to continue standing. Shinobu opened her tincture box and began mixing substances. “Who all has been poisoned?”

“Makio and I were hit by one of the poisoned slashes during the blast.” She nodded at a woman in red lying on the dirty ground, her head being supported by a woman in blue. “Lord Tengen and Inosuke, the boar-headed child, definitely, though Inosuke seems to either be immune or highly resistant. It’s very likely that Zenitsu has been poisoned as well. And T-Tanjiro—”

Giyu leaned forward in frightened, aching, horrified anticipation. The tears at the edges of the Hinatsuru’s eyes were not a good sign. “Lady Shinobu. Tanjiro was gravely injured before the blast even came. Stabbed through the throat by the poisoned blade. He and Lord Tengen were very close to the blast, and Tanjiro couldn’t even move before it went off. Of course I have hope, but—”

Her voice, thick and pained, cut off. Shinobu was already drawing a pink liquid up into a syringe and flicking the air bubbles to the top. Giyu looked up at her helplessly and continued to watch her even as he spoke to Hinatsuru.

“Where did you last see them?” he asked quickly.

“The town plaza, near where the trolley station used to be.” Shinobu poured off several vials of her new antidote and handed them to Giyu with a small syringe kit. The action was wordless but Giyu understood and gently allowed Shinobu to take over his place holding Hinatsuru up. He stood and clutched the antidote vials tightly in his fist, looking toward the area where the smoke was the thickest. Without a word, he leapt onto the rooftops and sprinted into the fire.

The smoke became thicker and thicker until Giyu couldn’t see far enough ahead of him to continue at such a speed, but a broken down and burnt out trolley car signaled that he was getting close. He slowed to a jog and searched, heart pounding in his throat. Without Urokodaki’s sense of smell or Uzui’s keen hearing, he could rely only on instinct to locate the four missing slayers.

The air around him was scorching, so hot on his face and hands he would’ve thought his own haori was aflame too. Still, he managed to cup a hand around his mouth and call out into the hell around him.

“Tanjiro!” He yelled it at the top of his voice, but the call still felt pitifully small against the walls of flame and ash and broken buildings. “Uzui!” His voice faded into the crackling fire around him. The silence was oppressive. His eyes burned from the smoke and the heat. Giyu glanced down at what once was the street below his feet and swallowed when he noted that he was leaving bloody footprints in the ash, having walked through several large pools of it.

“Tanjiro!” he screamed again. This time, he got a reply, though not from the person he was calling.

“Put me down!” someone was saying. He knew the voice, even weak and choked in pain. “You’re worse off than me, dammit!” The protests were interrupted and contradicted by a string of wet and painful-sounding coughs. “And you’re not even asleep!” Giyu stopped and turned toward the sound.

“Inosuke?” he called. The boar didn’t respond, but a strange yellow shape was materializing out of the smoke. Giyu almost gasped at what he saw.

Zenitsu, the yellow boy who always seemed to be shaking in fear, was staggering beneath the boar’s weight on his shoulders, carrying the injured boy from the fire and the rubble. Blood dripped from the end of his haori-turned-kimono and smeared his legs, which nearly buckled with every step as he picked his way over rubble and embers. Blood covered his shoulders and arms and matted down his hair, though none of that was his.

Knowing what he knew of Inosuke, which, granted, was very little, Giyu figured he must be gravely injured to allow himself to be carried, even if he was protesting the whole way. His boar mask was still on, though his head was hanging limply against Zenitsu’s back. Blood poured from the half-open maw of the boar’s face, ran in rivers down Inosuke’s pale arm and dripped off of his limp fingers.

Giyu jogged toward them, prompting Zenitsu to look up from his focus on his own feet. The moment the kid’s bright honey-brown eyes hit him, they filled with tears.

“Master Tomioka!” He cried in relief. “Thank god you’re here!” He finally allowed his legs to buckle, but Giyu caught them both before they could hit the ground. Zenitsu bowed his head and allowed Giyu to pull Inosuke off of him. Inosuke coughed and he could feel the boy’s eyes on him behind the boar mask.

“Not this guy again.” he complained weakly, voice marred by the blood in his throat.

Giyu ignored the jibe and pulled out two antidote vials. “Were either of you poisoned?” Zenitsu’s hands shook as he held them in front of him anxiously, eyes flicking fast between Giyu and his injured friend.

“I’m okay!” he practically shouted. “But Inosuke got stabbed through the chest with the poison blade.”

“I’m the lord of the mountains.” Inosuke insisted, his voice fired and tight. “A little poison won’t stop me!”

“Maybe.” Giyu conceded evenly. “But a stab wound to the chest might.”

Inosuke scoffed, though the sentiment was lost in the rush of blood that followed it. Zenitsu whimpered beside him but did not shy away, instead removing the belt from his makeshift kimono and practically shoving it into Giyu’s hands.

“Here! Use this!” By the time he said it, Giyu was already pressing it tightly into Inosuke’s wound with one hand and drawing up the antidote with the other. Even if he was immune to the poison, better safe than sorry.

“Don’t worry about us.” Inosuke’s voice was uncharacteristically serious as he raised a hand to press the fabric into the wound himself. “Tanjiro was much closer to the boom. You help him.”

Giyu couldn’t help stop the surprised and frightened look that he could feel on his face. “Where is he?”

“Close. I can feel it.” That wasn’t really much help. Zenitsu gripped Inosuke’s arm tightly for a moment, his round eyes conflicted and frightened. They seemed to have some kind of silent communication, because after a moment, Inosuke nodded tightly and Zenitsu turned those eyes to Giyu.

“I can help you find them.” He said. “I’ll be able to hear them under the rubble.” Giyu didn’t miss the reluctant way his hand lingered in Inosuke’s arm before he stood, wavering on his bloodied and bare feet. He nodded at him and followed as the kid closed his eyes and cocked his head to the side, listening silently.

Wordlessly, Zenitsu took off walking, eyes still closed, and Giyu followed. The air still burned around them and somehow there was even more blood on the ground than a few blocks over. Even Giyu could smell it in the air, wincing each time Zenitsu walked over a pool of it, swallowing the acid in the back of his throat at the smell of it wafting in the superheated air. Again, he pictured Tanjiro bleeding, broken, and worst of all still. And what of Nezuko? Could that box of hers survive such a raging fire? Broken wood and twisted metal was everywhere. It was very easy to imagine her being torn to shreds by the flames and poison. If he looked down the wrong alley would he find bits and pieces of her scattered everywhere?

A pink ribbon in a pool of blood. His tiny, pale, yellow-ribboned sister drowning in red.

So lost in thought, Giyu almost didn’t realize when Zenitsu suddenly spoke. “Heartbeats!” He said abruptly. He turned his head to the side, positioned his body aligned toward a nearly pile of debris. “Two heartbeats. One is slow. The other is quiet.”

Zenitsu began running and Giyu followed. “No, there’s three. One is wrong. Not human—“ he gasped “That’s Nezuko! They’re here!” He opened his eyes again and stopped in his tracks. They were standing in front of the ruins of what once was a large building of individual apartments.

Giyu’s own heartbeat felt loud and frantic in his ear as he fell to his knees and began to dig. Zenitsu followed suit. They both tore into the pile, throwing beams and metal and debris over their shoulder, slicing their palms open on broken glass and ignoring the pain. The deeper they dug the louder Zenitsu’s ragged and frightened breathing became, as if echoing the rise in volume of the heartbeats they were digging towards.

Giyu paused only slightly to wipe his bloody hands onto his uniform, and in the brief moment that he wasn’t digging, the wooden slab below him suddenly twitched on its own. Giyu paused, and Zenitsu stopped to watch as well.

The slab suddenly went flying. If Giyu hadn’t moved out of the way it would have hit him square in the head and probably knocked him off his feet, and indeed it did just barely catch the end of his ponytail, slicing it cleanly short. In the small space left opened by the wooden slab being pushed away, Giyu and Zenitsu both gasped when they saw who—or rather what—was responsible for pushing it.

A pale, pink-clawed and blood-stained hand reached up at them from the darkness. Writhing, clawing, it scraped and scrabbled around on the debris around it until one of them remembered how to speak.

“Nezuko!” Zenitsu shouted. He leapt forward and grabbed her hand tightly in both of his. While he held onto her hand, Giyu set his jaw and peered into the space it had come from, reaching in and ripping out debris with abandon until a pair of glowing pink eyes could be seen peering back up at him from below.

“Nezuko,” he called down to her and was surprised at how tight and desperate his voice sounded, but didn’t care. “Can you help us get Uzui and Tanjiro out?”

He saw her nod—those bright magenta eyes bobbing up and down—and heard her soft grunt of agreement. With her pushing from below and the two of them ripping debris off the top, within a few moments they were able to unearth enough of the bottom layer to finally get a view of Uzui and Tanjiro. Once they were close enough, Nezuko climbed through the passage of debris, aided by Zenitsu’s grip on her arm, and climbed up to join them as they laid eyes on the missing slayers.

At first, all they could see was Uzui; it appeared the Hashira had used his body to shield Tanjiro from the falling debris. Uzui was so soaked in blood that his blue-white hair had turned the same color as Tanjiro’s. Any flesh that wasn’t bloody had purpled and rotted, surely a side effect of the poison coursing through his system. He turned his head slightly to the side, and Giyu could have cried in relief to see Uzui’s bright purple eyes slide tiredly upwards and land on them.

“Uzui!” He shouted, because there wasn’t much else he could say. “Can you move?”

Uzui turned his head away from them and looked down. It was only then that Giyu even noticed that Tanjiro was lying beneath him. He couldn’t see much of him other than a limp hand—had he always been this small?—a slack mouth, flowing with blood and purpling into the hollow of his throat, and a pair of half-open red eyes, gazing into nothing. Beside him, even distracted by trying to ensure the smoke around them was thick enough to shield Nezuko from the rising sun, Zenitsu gasped in horror.

“Kamado.” Giyu heard Uzui murmur. “It’s time to go. Our rescue party is here. Flashy entrance, no less.” His voice sounded as if every word was a battle to push out of his throat. Tanjiro didn’t respond, and Uzui turned his head back upwards, toward Giyu and the others.

“Yes.” He said. Giyu watched with a tight throat as Uzui wrapped his left arm around Tanjiro’s waist and reached up with his right to pull them both upwards. Giyu reached down to grab Uzui’s hand but Uzui grunted and practically threw Tanjiro forward so they could pull him out first. Giyu’s hand found purchase on the back of Tanjiro’s haori. Zenitsu’s made it onto the top of Tanjiro’s arm, and Nezuko’s hand found its way to her brother’s wrist. The three of them managed to pull Tanjiro from the rubble.

Giyu passed Tanjiro to Zenitsu and Nezuko, deliberately keeping his eyes focused on Uzui rather than the broken and bloody body that now lay sprawled across their laps. He reached into the hole again and locked his hand into Uzui’s, a task made considerably more difficult by the hot blood all over Uzui’s hand. He pulled with everything he had, lifting Uzui with him, and Uzui threw his other arm across the debris to help leverage himself out of the hole. All three of them gasped to see that his arm stopped abruptly and grotesquely at the wrist, his hand having been severed clearly through. Once Uzui was safely out of the rubble, everyone turned their attention back to Tanjiro.

If it weren’t for the frankly frightening rattle of his breaths in the back of his throat, Giyu would have thought Tanjiro was already dead. His once golden skin was sickly pale, his haori and uniform and hair and skin was soaked through with blood, more blood than felt possible. Zenitsu held tightly onto his friend, tears beading up and rolling from his eyes. Nezuko gripped her brother’s hand. Without her muzzle, her tightly clenched teeth and horrified wince was as plain on her face as daylight.

Giyu stared in shock. He saw Goichi, covered in blood, ocean eyes looking up to nothing. He had thought Inosuke’s wound was horrific. Tanjiro’s chin had been skewered straight through into his mouth like a fishhook. Blood ran both from his mouth and his throat and pooled on Zenitsu’s lap. There was a deep laceration in his left shoulder, so deep that Giyu was almost surprised Tanjiro’s left arm was still attached to his body. He could see exposed ribs through the margins of the wound. Somehow, it had stopped bleeding. Whether that was Tanjiro’s doing or the edges had simply managed to clot already was anyone’s guess.

“Tanjiro…” Zenitsu whispered brokenly. Giyu felt himself shaking but kept his jaw clenched tight. There was nothing they could do to stop the bleeding; most all of it came from inside his mouth. Knowing Tanjiro, he’d probably pushed himself too far in a rage and torn himself apart. There was little to be done about that. But from his ripped-out throat, purple toxin was beginning to spread, and if nothing else, they could fix that.

He wordlessly pulled the vial set from his breast pocket and retrieved two more syringes with antidote. They clinked together quietly, his hands shaking. He tried to offer one to Uzui, whose ragged breathing over his shoulder was becoming increasingly labored, but he pushed his hand away and nodded toward Tanjiro.

“I’m fine. The boy first.” He insisted. Giyu simply nodded.

He was so focused on Tanjiro that he barely heard the Kakushi shouting from the distance, drawing nearer to their location. Giyu tried to keep his eyes on the vein he was injecting the antidote into, but found them wandering to Tanjiro’s face, slack and sallow. They looked nothing alike but all Giyu could see was his own brother, surrounded by red. He felt the blood weighing down his haori and cooling on his skin. Ocean blue eyes staring up through blood.

Last time he’d lost a brother there was nothing Giyu could have done. He’d been frozen and silent. He would not be helpless again.

Tanjiro grunted slightly and closed his eyes as Giyu finished injecting the antidote. He could have sworn he saw the boy’s hand grip his sister’s a little tighter. As he was turning his attention to Uzui, the Kakushi’s voices became louder.

“There! I see them!”

“Quick, bring the stretchers!”

“Please, don’t try to walk by yourself!”

The last statement was closer than the others and prompted Zenitsu to turn, then gasp.

“The god of the mountain doesn’t need help walking!” Inosuke was jogging toward them (leaving a trail of blood behind him), though now with his boar head under his arm rather than on his head. His chest and back were wrapped with a combination of bandages and Zenitsu’s belt. Ignoring the Kakushi’s protests, he stumbled over the rubble and came to stop beside Zenitsu and Nezuko, and knelt down.

“Tanjiro.” He breathed, putting his hand on Tanjiro’s forehead gently, almost as if bestowing a blessing on his friend. Giyu finished injecting Uzui with the antidote, then stood.

The Kakushi reached them and began to separate them; with Zenitsu’s help they moved Tanjiro to a stretcher, and though it took a little convincing from both Zenitsu and Uzui, Inosuke allowed the Kakushi to lift him onto a stretcher as well. Giyu watched Uzui rise to his feet, wavering a little, then hold out his hand for Zenitsu.

“Can you walk?” He asked. Giyu was surprised at the very real tenderness in Uzui’s voice, the patience in his eye while he waited for Zenitsu to respond. Zenitsu set his jaw and grabbed Uzui’s hand, using all the rest of his strength—and Nezuko’s help—to pull himself up. He whimpered lowly in the back of his throat and tears stung at his eyes, but he managed to get to his feet.

“Good job.” Uzui helped him down from the rubble pile and let the Kakushi take him from there. Once the three of them were taken care of, Uzui exhaled, then wavered, then fell to one knee. Giyu heard him grunt in pain, and jogged down from the pile to help him, but once he got closer to him he knew there wouldn’t be anything he could do. With the horrifying state of Tanjiro and the other Kanoe, it was easy to overlook how grave Uzui’s injuries were.

Giyu waved the Kakushi over and knelt down beside Uzui. From the look of things, he’d been prepared to give anything to protect the boys and Nezuko. He’d already given a hand, and nearly his life. Giyu examined the pained expression on his face, then helped him onto the stretcher.

“Thank you, Uzui.” He blurted as the Kakushi lifted him and made for the city’s gates. Uzui nodded just before he let his head fall limply onto the stretcher.

Giyu was left with Nezuko as the sounds of the Kakushi faded away. He stared at the trail of blood they’d left and suddenly, even in the oppressive, dry heat of the air, he felt cold. He suddenly remembered letters in his breast pocket. They felt heavy.

It didn’t feel real. How could everything have gone so wrong? The kids were all still breathing, but even that wasn’t a guarantee that things would stay that way. Somehow the worried ache in his chest had only worsened to the point that he felt he could hardly move.

He could feel Nezuko’s eyes on him. He needed to move. He needed to lead them out of there. At the very least he should say something. His vision had turned red, his heart was in his ears, and the world seemed to have come to a dead halt.

Then, a hand in his.

His lips parted and brow raised as he turned to see that Nezuko had claimed his hand in hers, no longer looking at him but straight ahead. Her jaw was set tight and her eyes shining, she was silent but gripped his hand tightly and resolutely, like they were old friends. He thought of the way Tanjiro had signed off his letters.

Nezuko says hi! Your friend, Tanjiro Kamado.

Giyu couldn’t seem to tear his eyes off of her, and stood there staring for so long that Nezuko finally turned to meet his gaze, probably wondering why they weren’t moving. Her expression only made it more difficult to find his feet beneath him. Tenderness, maybe. Recognition, as if seeing through him and into someone else. Trust, definitely. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like that.

Reaching out for Kanoko but being torn away before he could get to her. Her screaming his name, calling for help. Her tiny hand and yellow bows soaked in blood.

Giyu set his jaw and in a motion almost too small to see, tightened his grip on Nezuko’s hand just a little. “Let’s go.” He murmured, and led her back through the flames.

#later when tanjiro wakes up Giyuu is there tending his wound insisting on doing it himself #(aforementioned scene where his haori acts as a blanket)#and when tanjiro asks why he’s there Giyuu just pulls his own unsent letter out and is like #‘you wrote me. I wanted to make sure you got my answer’#and tanjiro asks him to read it to him because he’s. exhausted and half dead lol #kny #thank you for the interest!!! I love to scream!!!#this was my very first KNY fic ever!!!#my stuff #postcards from stupid town

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