#I WILL BE THINKING ABOUT THIS ALL DAY

[ecstarry]

i need marauders love island au okay i need theeeeem idc if i have to dumb them down i want them all going from couple to couple and for everyone shitting on production aka dumbledore like pls just picture their confessionals okay this is the chance for every ship ever to have it's moment

[balkanradfem]

I love you and all the things you write. When I see your username on my dash the world stops because I know whatever you've written is about to be so insightful that I'll ponder it for the rest of the day or so articulate that you've explained something that was fuzzy in my mind for weeks

That is one of the nicest things you could have said to me. So much love for you anon.

[goldensunset]

i swear i can’t go a week without a shadow clone of myself attacking me

[wolfsbanesparks]

you could make a case that Blaze and Satanus want the Rock of Eternity not because they need it for anything, but because it's the only thing left that Shazam could give them. he's denied them care, affection, guidance, and he definitely doesn't love them, so what is left to take but his power?

even if Shazam had raised them, he most likely would not have given them the Rock of Eternity. that space is reserved for his champion. but they feel that they're owed something from him, and at this point it doesn't really matter what that something is.

also if you're running with the idea that Billy was orphaned as a result of a relative cheating him out of his inheritance, it makes for a nifty parallel.

I think this is a really good way to look at it. And a great way to add nuance to their characters.

A lot of Blaze and Satanus's anger at Shazam stems from his rejection of them and the deliberate refusal to give them what they believe is their birthright as his children. It think it makes a lot of sense that those feelings are compounded by the fact that Shazam made the choice to deny them any affection, condemning them because he sees them as inherently evil because of who their mother is.

At the heart of a lot of the evil the two of them do is this need to prove themselves, to prove that they are as great if not greater than their father. Controlling the Rock of Eternity is equal parts a power grab and a middle finger to Shazam. Which is why they are doubly angry that some random human child was granted the one thing they believed Shazam could give them.

And not for nothing, by rejecting them at birth, Shazam all but guaranteed that they wouldn't have any good influences in their lives, which made his belief that they are evil a self-fulfilling prophecy.

And I absolutely love the parallel you've drawn here with Billy and Ebenezer! It's such a good way to create understanding and empathy between them! Billy may initially see them as pure evil (as Shazam had) but this may be a way for him to understand that things (and people) are so rarely black and white. Even if that empathy doesn't go both ways, Billy would know what it's like to have someone who was supposed to care for you take everything from you at a very young age and would try to make things right.

[chyyy66]

A car started parking right in front of my car in our basement, and every time I look at it , it reminds me of you.

I'm being a total creep.

But also

OH MY GOD STOP !! I MIGHT START CRYING I LOVE THIS !!!

This is literally the cutest thing ever

[lunarlegend]

how to make myself unemailable

[novelconcepts]

Polite reminder that even if the rest of your comment is the nicest thing in the world, if you’ve layered in something you don’t like about the story/author, that sentence

✨in size 500 font

backlit in neon

dancing about in a top hat✨

is probably gonna be the only bit the author takes away from your otherwise lovely comment. It is generally kinder to just…omit that part, if you’re trying to get appreciation for a fic across.

[pussypopstiel]

i showed my 19 year old sister (who’s a boomer at heart) that i forced to watch supernatural (and ship destiel) your profile name and her smile just. faded. and she was like “w. what does. huh?” so thank you for that because it was amusing.

HELLO

[crowisinthetrash]

[the letter is paired with a small bouquet of freshly picked wildflowers and a bag of sweets]

To my dove,

Happy Valentine's Day. Do not fret about spending the day without me. I should be there not long after this letter arrives. I could not imagine spending such a holiday without you, my love.

I have missed you dearly. I do have plenty of new stories from my travels if you're open to hearing them. Maybe over a picnic or over dinner, I could tell you them. We shall do whatever it is that you want today, alright?

I love you so much. No matter where in Teyvat I roam, my home shall always be wherever you are. As such, I shall return to your arms time and time again. It's been so long since we've last been together that I'm tempted to stay with you a while longer this time. I doubt you'll mind that, hehe.

I'll see you soon, dearest.

Yours,

Kazuha

[Hey, Crow! I hope you have a wonderful day today! -- violetsareblue-selfships]

AWWWW THANK YOU ^^

and to those who see this, I hope you had a great Valentine's Day ^^

[theineffabletardisof221b]

AHH

“Charles, it’s alright.”

[bumblingbabooshka]

Vulcan teen on Vulcan [tiktok] saying "I have just lost track of my father in the grocery store." The camera turns to show the viewers the grocery store in which almost every single older middle-aged man has a bowlcut and long robes. Camera turns back to show the teen's face which is expressionless and yet communicates all it needs to.

[mithrilbookofmystery]

we are mutuals and have never talked but i smile every time i see you in my activity feed <3

ougouughhggou??? 🥺 this is so nice of you, thank you so much

[endusviolence]

Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.

[fanaticsnail]

Oh. My. Goodness.

Scottish Kid.

Scottish Kid.

I don't think I could be more in love with Eustass Kid right now if I tried. He's spectacular in this fic.

This was so exceptionally well written, I am at a loss for words.

Sanji getting his hands dirty, dutiful and caring for his special person. Kid being absolutely feral in pure fight-mode. I am obsessed.

one piece boys rescuing you pt. 2

☆ characters: sanji, kidd

☆ up next: waking up with the one piece boys

☆ summary: you end up in an awful situation where your life is put in serious danger. will they be able to save you in time?

☆ content: physical violence, slight SA implications, gory imagery (blood, wounds, injuries, etc.), mutual pining, angsty, happy ending, mdni

☆ a/n: i am the proud leader of the scottish!kidd agenda and like to imagine him using scottish slang and having a thick accent so this required some extensive research into scottish swear words lol. chebs (tits) is my favorite. enjoy!

part 1

Sanji:

Zoro nodded, wordlessly, resting against the doorframe. 

“Careful you don’t catch her in the crossfire.” 

Sanji said nothing. He opened the door and walked in, closing it behind him. 

For the first time in his life Zoro’s presence brought him a degree of comfort. He knew he could handle whatever awaited him by himself, but he would be a fool to deny that the swordsman was further guaranteeing your safe return home. 

He descended a small set of stairs into a dark, damp basement. The walls were lined with a sickly yellow mold and the smell of rot had sunken into the cracks of concrete, filling the room with the thick, metallic smell of drying blood. 

His stomach churned knowing that you were somewhere here.

A door lay slightly ajar at the end of the hallway, pale yellow light pouring out from it. 

He approached the door, pushing it open with his free hand. 

Merde. 

He was greeting with a sight that made his head spin in a way it never had before. He steeled himself, biting back the urge to vomit at the sight of what they had done to you. 

Five or six men, whose faces he didn’t care to look at, stood around the room surrounding you. 

The outer corners of the dirty cloth that had been wound around your mouth as a gag were soaked through with blood. Sanji felt heat climbing up his throat and settling into the space behind his eyes translating itself from mere anger to blind fury. 

Your hands were bound too tightly behind your back leaving your elbows bending at unnatural angles and your shoulders jutted forward as though they were being torn out from your skin. 

He began to undo his tie, watching from the corner of his eye as one of the men- the apparent leader- began loading his gun. His breath was shaky and uneven, the inhales and exhales never dealing with an equal amount of air. 

He never took his eyes from you as you doubled over and took small gasps of air. In the midst of his disbelief he made a mental note of each injury you seemed to have. Broken wrists, dislocated shoulders, broken ribs, cuts and bruises covering most of you- the most upsetting of which were the purpling fingerprints around your neck.

He would return every injury done to you tenfold. As he took another inhale from his cigarette he realized that you were losing blood from another wound to your side.  

The few-days-old injury to his left eye, bloodied and mushed, the broken finger on the hand wrapped around his gun, the dried trickle of blood pouring out of his left ear. 

Atta girl. He knew you wouldn’t have gone down with a fight. Sanji took a moment to glance at the others in the room, all bearing similar injuries, and couldn’t help the smirk that settled onto his face. 

One of them said something, perhaps a snarky remark meant to question his confidence, or an insult meant to diminish it. He wasn’t sure. Nothing other than you was registering in his blurring mind.

It was the sound of a faint drip, drip, drip that sealed their fate. 

As Sanji turned to see your tears hitting the floor his vision blacked. 

He felt the unfamiliar feeling of hot blood covering his hands- the very ones he’d sworn to never use in battle. 

The feeling of flesh tearing beneath his fingernails, his fingers grabbing whatever mass they could get their hands on and tearing. 

You turned your head toward the floor, trying to block out the sounds of gore and violence that echoing within the four damp walls that had held you prisoner for the past two days- not because it scared you, no. But because you did not want to face the pure satisfaction that the scene unfolding before you brought. It was too much to watch someone else carry out the revenge that was rightfully yours. 

You laid your forehead against the cold floor, sweat dripping from your forehead. God, you were exhausted. You let your body hand limp, allowing yourself to rest as best you could now that Sanji was here. 

You weren’t positive- the old digital clock that was on the desk in the corner seemed to not work properly- but by the time Sanji finally stopped, bending down to wipe the blood off of his hands onto the shirt of one of the men, you guessed that thirty six-ish minutes had passed. 

You held still as Sanji undid the restraints against your hands, letting yourself fully fall onto the floor. 

You sighed, savoring how good it felt to feel the cold, wet cement pressing against your shaking body. The floor, which for days you had been dangled over, teased with, now welcoming you onto it. 

A warm, sticky hand under your chin broke the pleasure. Sanji tilted your chin slightly upward to look at him. 

“Mon coeur,” he said, voice shaking.

“Sanj’,” you responded, closing your eyes and resting your head into his palm. 

“Can you sit up? I’ll carry you out.” 

“I can stand,” you said, more aggressively than intended. But you didn’t need to be treated like you were fragile. The fact that you were even alive was a testament to that. 

Sanji drew back, offering you only a silent hand in case you needed any assistance getting to your feet.

You struggled, taking deep breaths as you shakily made your way onto aching feet, feeling like a thousand nails were being screwed into your skin. 

Sanji tucked a hand under your armpit, resting it gently against your hips- your ribs were too cracked to risk applying any pressure to your sides. 

You winced, eyes shutting as you let the ebbing pain pass through you, placing one foot in front of the next. 

You made it to the door before you spoke.

“Let me have a smoke, will you?” 

You reached for the cigarette between his lips before he could answer and took a deep inhale, ignoring the hot white pain that seared through your chest as you did. 

One of your captors, the one who tied you up, was lying by the door. Eyes open and glazed over, mouth swelling like a dead fish left out in the hot sun. 

You bent down, enduring the pain sent by your body, a desperate attempt to make you stop moving. 

You pushed the lit cigarette into your captor’s open mouth, watching the ash burn his tongue.

You stood back up, leaning against Sanji. 

“Carry me?” 

He nodded, picking you up ever so gently, his hands providing you with a sense of security that you had spent the last several days losing any hope for. 

“One last thing, Sanj’,” you said. 

You closed your eyes, cementing this place into your brain. The stench of blood, now fresh and coppery. The humid air that stuck to your skin. 

Whispering, more to yourself than anyone, you uttered a final word.

“Rot in hell.”

Sanji carried you up the stairs and out the door. 

It was only when you saw the first hint of sunlight that you allowed yourself to fully indulge in the comfort of his presence. He was here, you were safe, he had you. 

Zoro was waiting for you with Chopper when you got outside. The sun felt both heavenly and hellish. It’s warmth proof that you were still alive- that blood flowed perhaps too freely through your bones. And it’s brightness, which so highly contrasted the mildewy lamplight of the room you were stuck in, a confirmation of what you’d gone through. But the harsh rays were suddenly replaced by cool shadow and you opened your eyes as Chopper did what immediate work was available for him to do. Sanji stood over you, the sunlight pouring over him from behind his head, a worried look on his face. 

You closed your eyes again, the tiredness of your body finally catching up with you. 

Zoro, who up until this point had said nothing, placed a hand on Sanji’s back. A gentle touch that offered a surprising sense of grounding. 

“Your hands,” he observed. Sanji looked down at them, caked in dried blood and small, stringy pieces of… skin, maybe? Flesh? He tried to recall but everything was a blur. 

Sanji shrugged, “Didn’t notice.” 

He looked at Zoro who gave him a curt nod and they both turned their attention back to you. 

A memory played out before you. 

I must be knocked out, you thought. It was crystal clear, so unlike a dream that you momentarily felt you might actually be reliving it. 

The white light of the fridge in the kitchen cast you in a glow as you rummaged through its contents. It was rare to have any leftovers with this crew. There was some fruit- none of which you liked. Milk, eggs, carrots, pork, nothing. Ingredients upon ingredients and you knew better than to start trying to cook. 

“Hungry?” 

You turned, startled to see Sanji lighting a cigarette in the doorway. 

“Yeah.. Not many options though.” 

Sanji came to stand beside you, beginning to do his own rummaging. He began grabbing several things, a head of cabbage, carrots, pork, butter, heavy cream… 

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna start cooking. It’s nearly three in the morning!” 

Sanji smiled at you, taking out the set of kitchen knives you’d gifted him just two months prior for Christmas (a gift that left his nose bleeding for nearly half an hour). 

“Ah. I couldn’t sleep. And besides, it is my job to feed you if you’re hungry.” 

You smiled and took a seat at the counter, watching him cook. Normally you might offer to help but you were far too hungry to allow your lack of expertise to ruin your own meal. 

He moved with such mesmerizing fluidity, the art was clearly a second nature to him and to watch it was captivating. The cutting of vegetables, the smell of cooking meat, the view of his forearms flexed as his hand gripped the handle of the knife, the tease of his happy trail when he lifted his arms to reach for something and his slightly small pajama shirt lifted. 

Sanji was enchanting- but so were you. 

Your head tilted to the side as you rested it on your hand, a small smile set on your lips. Your shirt was the exact opposite of his- too big on you- and was hanging off of your shoulder. Sanji did his best to not stare at your collarbone, and the line it painted that led up your pretty neck. 

“What’re you making anyway?” 

“Garbure,” he said, simmering a pot on the stove, “It’s a french soup. Sort of a cleaning-out-the-fridge thing. But it’s amazing when made well.”

You hummed, “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Honestly? I heard you in the kitchen and figured I’d make you something to eat.” 

“You’re an angel.” 

He looked up at you and the two of you smiled. A light jolt of electricity ran down your back. 

God, was he always this handsome?

“I think so?” 

“What?” 

“You… asked if I’m always this handsome- That was for me right?” 

“Oh- Fuck, I-I hadn’t meant to say it out loud!” Your cheeks darkened and you let out an embarrassed giggle.

“I’d ask if you’re always so beautiful but I know the answer is yes.” He ladled the soup intj a bowl and set it in front of you, serving one for himself as well. 

You leaned your head against his shoulder as you ate. 

“Mmmf- ‘S good!”

Your hand snaked through the opening between his bicep and chest to rest on his arm, giving it a light squeeze. 

“Thanks Sanj’.”

He smiled, and leaned his head against yours.

“You know, you’re the only one who calls me that. Makes me feel special.”

“You are. Who else can make ‘garbage’ this good?”

You added a french accent. 

“Garbure!” he corrected, laughing. 

“Right, right. That.” 

Maybe it was the soup or the feeling of Sanji’s hair against your forehead- both a warm and physical proof of how much you were cared for, but you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so full. 

The rest of the memory is blurry. 

You can recall the weight of sleep seeping into your body, more and more of your weight being shifted on to Sanji. 

The feeling of his hands under you, carrying you to bed. Or was that now- as he carried you into the Sunny’s infirmary? The last thing you remember- if this was even a memory anymore- is the feeling of a kiss being pressed upon your cheek. 

You woke up in one of Sunny's medical rooms with very little pain.

“I made sure you got the bed by the big window,” Sanji said from the chair he’d pulled up next to your bed, “You joked about it once.. That if you ever got hurt you’d want the room with it.” 

It looked like he’d spent the night. You were in new clothes but he wasn’t. Dark circles lined his eyes.

You smiled at him, “Thanks… For everything. I’d still be there if you hadn’t-”

Your eyes welled with tears and your lower lip was trembling, like your body recognized that within these four walls any emotions would be welcome.

Sanji placed his hand over yours and rubbed his thumb up and down your wrist. 

The tears flowed freely now, as you looked down at his hands. 

“Sanji…” 

He had started washing them but the moment Chopper told him you were stable he abandoned the project altogether. His hands were cleaner but browning bits of red gunk were drying in his nail beds. 

Your eyes were wide as you waited for him to say something, your breath shallowing.

He sighed. He didn’t want you to be reminded of anything that had to do with what you’d gone through.

“Yeah,” he said, at a loss for words. 

“I’m… sorry.” 

You weren’t sure what to say. But your heartbeat picked up as he squeezed your hand.

“Don’t be, mon ange, I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. We all are.” 

You laid your head back down, chewing your lip. 

“I’m glad it was you. That found me.” 

Sanji’s chest tightened. 

He’d come to terms with how he felt about you, a feeling both amplified and confirmed by the sound of your voice. His time spent around you affected him deeply beyond flirty remarks and nicknames. He was reduced to so very little in your presence, a nervous bundle of love sickness and desire. 

And you were glad he found you- that he rescued you. 

“So am I.” 

You turned to look at him. 

It didn’t really have to be said- it was there. 

In his hands dripping with filth and violence, and on your face teary-eyed and thankful. In the lingering touches and glances the two of you have been sharing for the year you’ve been a part of the Straw Hat crew. 

Neither of you had to say ‘I love you’. It was there. 

Sanji pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

“I made soup,” he said smiling at you, “Garbage.” 

You nodded, lightly laughing. It hurt your ribs.

“I can warm some up for you, if you’d like?” He stood up, preparing to leave.

“No- Can you stay? Please,” you said. 

Sanji smiled, “Of course!” 

You scoot over on the bed making space for him, which he happily took. 

You laid your head onto his shoulder, and grabbed his hand. You felt him freeze up when you did, and laughed. 

“You just saved my life and saw me at my lowest- is holding my hand too much?” 

Sanji chuckled, “You’re right. How about this then?” 

He brought a hand underneath your chin and you locked eyes as a smile spread across his face. He dipped his head down and pressed a kiss to your lips. It was soft, and chaste. Perfect. You placed a hand against his neck to prevent him from pulling away and deepened the kiss, slipping your tongue past his lips. You felt a small moan escape him and smiled against him. When you finally pulled away a thin string of saliva connected your lips to his.

“Hot,” you said, giggling. 

Sanji’s pupils were blown wide and his cheeks pink. A few beads of sweat had gathered on his forehead and he tugged his tie loose. 

“You okay, Sanj?” 

“Yes! More than okay- I just, I wasn’t expecting that.”

You nodded, holding his hands. 

“Well, I would like to shower and… I take it you haven’t showered yet either.”

Sanji gulped, “Um, no. I haven’t.”

You smiled, admittedly proud of yourself for flustering him out of his flirty act. 

“Would you like to join me?”

Poor thing, he tried his hardest to maintain eye contact and keep up his civilized demeanor, but the steady trickle of blood that had started to pour out of his nose gave him away. 

“Yes!” he yelled, “Mon dieu, tentatrice de femme, yes, please. I would love to join you.”

You laughed, getting up out of bed. 

“Mind carrying me?”

“Of course, my love!”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck as he picked you up, “It’s nice to have you back, perv.”

He blushed, “What can I say? An offer like that from a woman like you is enough to fix anyone up.” 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, walking you out of the infirmary toward the showers. 

Kidd: 

You were going to kill him. If you got out of this alive you were going to kill your captain and tear his other arm off. You knew that, one way or another, this heist was going to go wrong. It was messily planned, Killer hadn’t been consulted, and Kidd was motivated primarily by anger and a bruised ego. 

You sighed, somewhat resigned to your fate, and leaned back against the wall, trying to ignore the barrel of a shotgun that was resting against your temple. 

“Mind backing up with that?” 

The pirate holding the weapon shot you a faux-sympathetic smile, “Sorry, baby, Captain’s orders.”

He trailed a finger down your back, causing you to struggle against the cuffs. He dropped his hand and laughed at your reaction. “You’re disgusting,” you spat at him. 

He nodded. “Yeah, and you’re stuck with me here. So better watch that mouth.” 

Your wrists ached, it had been a while since you last felt the weight of sea stone against your skin. It was worse than you remembered. You could feel every muscle in your arms straining above you from where the chain that linked the cuffs hung on a nail. The first time you were handcuffed, the marines had caught you stealing but you were only fifteen, not yet a pirate, and lucky enough to have ran into a notoriously easy going captain who let you off with a warning. Those handcuffs were metal, tight against your wrists but not physically draining- if anything, you were only riled up at the inconvenience of having your hands tied. Sea stone was different. A naturally occurring mineral found in the depths of the ocean weaponized against you and other power holders. When you first felt sea stone a few years after, tight and heavy around your wrists, the fatigue stuck with you the most. How humiliating it was to not only be powerless but to have the will to fight drained from your body. You’d only narrowly escaped and swore to never be rendered so powerless again. 

Yet here you were, silently praying that Kidd would walk in soon. This heist was a bad idea from the start but you’d only agreed because you had stupidly assumed that Kidd had acquired accurate information. Your anger had somewhat subsided as you approached your third hour in captivity, it was too tiring. Hopelessness had begun to spread. 

The entire heist was Kid’s idea in the first place. A poorly executed revenge plot that you and Killer had tried to discourage. 

“That’s them?” you asked, pointing to a group of pirates. 

“Aye… First year we spent in the New World those bawbags got a few good shots on us. Heat came out with a few broken bones and it took us around a month to get Victoria back up and runnin’.” 

“Ohh, I get it. They hurt your ego and you want to get back at them. That always ends well.” 

Kidd scoffed, rolling his eyes at you.

“No- it’s luck. They have the map we need… and a lot of treasure that I wouldn’t mind taking.” 

“See!? Ego. If this was just about necessity we’d take the map and leave. I’m telling you that this is a bad idea.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. He’d had a nonstop headache since you joined the crew. 

“Alright! Alright. Jesus, woman! Killer won’t say yes either way so I need your cooperation. No gold, no treasure. We’ll just grab the map and be on our way.”

“And by we I’m assuming you mean me?” 

He flashed you a smile that made your chest tighten.

“Aye! And if you’re caught they wouldn’t hurt a bonnie lass like ya’ anyway.” 

“Oh, I’m sure. They seem like great people.” 

“Don’t start getting smart with me,” he said, pulling out a piece of paper. 

There was a diagram of a building on it, with a room in the back circled in red ink. 

A thick metal finger landed on it, “Here’s where the map is. This building is relatively unimportant to it so they assign their lower level lackeys to guard it. There’s two guards outside each door, four guards on this one. I’ll distract all except the four by pretending to steal some other shit. They’ll recognize me.”

“And I come in through this window I’m guessing?” 

A window at the end of the hall led right to the room you needed to access.

“Aye. You’ll be alright handling the four of ‘em. But you need to keep one conscious to show you where exactly the map is. Once you’ve got it- run. They’ve got a few devil fruit users in the crew and they’ll be at the scene fairly fast. From there we can bolt.” 

You thought about it. The plan seemed quite out of character. It was extremely unlike Kidd to avoid a fight even in circumstances like this. But maybe he had other reasons…

As though he read your mind he answered, “Look, if it was just me I'd kill every son of a bitch on that crew. But I don't want ya' getting hurt.” 

You sighed, “This is a terrible idea. Your information is twenty percent reliable, at most.” 

“If you follow my instructions and we stay near each other we’ll be fine.”

“Hm, so you’re scared I’ll get hurt, huh?”

You laughed, watching his brows furrow and his cheeks go pink.

“No! Kind of, it's just 'cause you’re weak and I don’t want to have to worry about ya'.” 

“You’re still mad about losing the arm wrestling match to me, huh?” 

He scowled, folding his arms across his chest- refusing to answer. 

“Alright, cry baby let’s go.” 

Kid’s information was wrong. The four guards were the devil fruit users. You’d managed to knock two of them out relying on haki alone, but the two left were stronger. If only you could isolate one of them. Your devil-fruit worked well in close distance one on one fights, but you were mentally unprepared for this fight and the two in front of you were logia-users. You were badly beat up and struggling to stay on the offensive. Your dodges were growing slower and slower, your attacks weaker and weaker. 

Fuck, you thought, trying to stay calm and think of your best course of action. You needed to get into the room they were guarding, if you could just create an opening that caught them off guard. 

You reached for the pocket knife you kept tucked in your boots- it was a dirty move but it would have to do. You faked an attack on one of the two conscious pirates, before quickly changing directions and throwing the knife directly at one of their unconscious crewmates. They both ran in the direction of the knife to defend their crewmate, giving you the perfect opportunity. You slipped past the pirate closest to the door, shutting it behind you and jamming the handle shut with a chair. You had ten seconds tops- a chair wasn’t going to come close to stopping a logia user. Luckily for you, they had made the mistake of assuming no one would get past them and left the map out in the open, on a table with a bunch of other papers. You swiped it, quickly rolling up a loose piece of paper to imitate the map. Right as you finished tucking it into your shirt you felt a hand wrap around your neck, your vision blurring. Damn it, you thought. 

You could faintly hear the voices of the two, ‘What should we do with her?’

‘She didn’t manage to take anything,’ they laughed. A small smile settled onto your face. 

‘She’s pretty, huh?’

You felt something heavy clamp down on your wrists. What little energy had evaporated, and you blacked out. 

You were starting to lose track of time. Three, maybe four hours had passed? You had no way of being sure other than the burning numbness that had spread throughout your body. Your arms were aching in a way you never thought possible, and you had been taken to a second location, you were sure of it. If you were in the same building as before, Kidd would have found you hours ago. But there was no doing anything now. The pirate watching you had kept his distance, aside from an occasional taunt or revolting brush of his fingers. He was now settling in the corner of the room, silently watching you, his gun’s aim never leaving you. You decided that staying quiet and avoiding eye contact was the best course of action, and beating his ass would only be a thought worth entertaining once you were out of the cuffs. 

“So how does a pretty lady like you end up in a situation like this?” 

He broke the silence, much to your disappointment.

You didn’t say anything.

He stood up, coming closer to you. Your stomach churned and you looked down. 

“I asked you a question,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. 

“Fuck. you.” 

You heard the crack of his fist against your jaw before you felt it. It was dizzying and left your mouth bloody and aching. You winced, running your tongue over your now split lip. 

“What’s your name?”

He tucked his gun into his pants. You braced yourself. This was going to be a long night. 

“Your name, baby, what is it?”

You spit the blood that was pooling in your mouth onto him. 

This time it was an uppercut to your stomach. You couldn’t even double-over in pain. The third hit was to the other side of your jaw. 

You stopped counting once they went over eight. You tried to think of something else, anything else.  Killer’s baked goods, Heat and Wire’s terrible joke collection, Kidd’s latest invention or screaming match with you. You’d seen them all only hours ago but your heart was aching. You missed them.

Your mind kept going back to a few weeks ago, replaying a memory you had been trying to forget. 

You were headed to the kitchen, you remember it was warm out- or was it raining? You went with raining. You took more time than usual to make your way up to the kitchen, meandering through the halls and tracing the old wood with your hands. The sound of hushed voices caught your attention, bringing you to a stop outside of your captain’s room.

“Why don’t you talk to her about it?” 

Kidd laughed loudly, more-so to make a point than anything. 

“And say what?  I know I’m an arse and not your type but I’m madly in love with ya’ please don’t kick my arse?” 

Killer chuckled, “That’s one way to do it. Or, you know, you could just be genuine and tell her the reasons why.” 

“‘Cause she’s a tough lass- and a bonnie one, at that, a bit too good for me, no?” he said. Your heartbeat was resonating up in your throat and your mouth ran dry- who were they talking about? Kidd had only ever taunted you for being one of the stronger members on board. Your heart contracted in your chest and a deeply unsettling sense of jealousy creeped its way into your system. You tried to shake it off- it’s not like you wanted your captain to be in love with you. You definitely weren’t in love with him. 

“… I dinnae Kil’,” you heard Kidd continue, “I might be a mean son of a bitch but I don’t think my heart could handle a rejection like that.” 

“You definitely couldn’t,” Killer agreed, laughing, “But I don’t think you’d get rejected. Worth a shot if you ask me.” 

Your brain tried focusing on other things, but you always came back to your captain. Hot-headed and irrational and eighty percent of the reason you were in this mess in the first place. He had you captivated. But it was enough. You felt yourself dancing the line between conscious and not and decided to savor these memories, these  snapshots of a life on the sea. You didn’t hear when Kidd finally came in, staining the walls with a spray of red blood as he tore through the man who had dared lay his hands on you. But when you noticed the lack of hits being thrown your way you looked up. 

Kidd had experienced heartbreak before- many times, but very few things compared to what he felt when he made eye contact with you. If a heart could physically break, tear and twist and shatter, that’s what Kidd felt seeing your face, bruises and bloodied. You took note of the red staining his metal hand. It was painted in multiple shades, light crimson to dark, sticky brown. He’d been at it for a while. 

He rushed to your side, picking you up by the waist and removing the handcuffs from the nail on the wall. Your arms had been numb for an hour or two now. You wished they weren’t so that this release might have felt more satisfying. 

You collapsed into Kidd, who kept his arm wrapped around you, bringing you into his chest. 

“Shh, Y/n, I’ve got ya’ lassie,” he said, voice wavering. 

“Kidd,” you said, wincing as you tried to sit up, “The map-”

“Don’t worry about the map,” he said, picking you up off the ground, “I’m getting you on board. I’ve already called Killer, he’s meeting us about half a mile away.” 

He sat up against the wall, legs spread sort and placed you in between them, your chest against his back. 

“Let me see your hands,” he said. 

You placed your hands in the palm of his metal one, shutting your eyes and he cracked the sea stone around your wrist. The cuffs fell off in pieces around you. 

He stood up, taking you in his arms, “How ya’ feeling?”

You coughed, the change in positions overwhelming you, “Like a million bucks.” 

“Atta girl.” 

Everything was muddy, your awareness, your vision, your memory. You clung to Kidd’s neck, tucking your head into his chest. His heart ached- you were scared. 

“You’re alright, Y/n. I’ve got ya’,” he said, “Won’t let anything happen to ya’.” 

You nodded, but your body refused to relax. At any moment, you told yourself, you were going to open your eyes and be back in that room. Kidd was your lifeline, a solid, physical reminder that you were safe now. 

Killer was understandably furious when he saw the two of you climbing on board, Kidd with some cuts and bruises and you, barely conscious in his arms. He was smart enough to put two and two together and realize that Kidd had ignored his advice. He was on the verge of telling you two off, but one look at your state kept him quiet. You don’t remember much after that, as you fell in and out of consciousness. A feeling of disgust settled deep within you as your mind replayed the way your captor laid his hands on you, and was only soothed at the memory of Kidd’s touch. Of how gentle he was. The next four days passed in a similar fashion. You were much too out of it to know, but Kidd spent the majority of his time by your side. He established his longest arguing streak with Killer yet, by insulting all of the food he brought you insisting that “she doesn’t like that.” He made sure that you got new blankets every few hours, forcibly making Heat warm each new blanket. No one got much sleep until, finally, Kidd decided you were stable enough and retreated to his office to mope. 

You woke up around an hour after Kidd finally left, and got up later that night after. Killer helped you to your feet. The feeling of the cool wood against your bare feet was relieving. 

“Where to madam?” Killer said.

“His office.I have a word or two for him.”

“Whose idea was it, anyway?” 

“Seriously? Whose idea do you think such a stupid stunt like that was?”

“Fair enough, but you were stupid enough to go along with it.”

“Fair enough.” 

Killer dropped you off in front of your captain’s office. 

“Best of luck,” he said, “And... I'm glad you're okay. You had me worried.”

You gave him a quick hug, “Thanks Kil'.”

You opened the door, closing it behind you. 

Kidd turned around to scowl at you. His prior softness already having been replaced with his usual attitude.

“Can’t be bothered to knock?” 

Your hands balled into fists at your side. You marched across the room toward where he was sitting, and landed a heavy slap across Kidd’s face. He staggered two steps back and landed in his seat.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered, rubbing his cheek, “I deserved that.” 

“I told you! I fucking told you it was a bad idea and that your information was most likely innacurate. You risked my life and, even worse, your own. The crew could’ve lost everything, you selfish asshole!” 

He sat silently in his chair, avoiding eye contact with you. His cheeks were pink, one significantly more so than the other. 

“We should have called Killer like I said to and had another person with us- it was idiotic to have gone into that with just the two of us. Did I mention yet that I told you so? But you refuse to listen to anyone other than yourself, you absolute boar.”

The silence hung heavy in the room and you felt pride swell in your chest- you’d never seen your Captain so quiet before. 

“That was the stupidest decision I’ve seen you make in a long time,” you took a deep breath before reaching in your pocket, “But it paid off.” 

Kidd’s head turned to look at you, confusion was plastered over his face. 

You pulled the map out of your pocket and placed it in front of him. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly. 

“Thanks for the change of clothes,” by the way, you said sarcastically, “I smell great.”

No doubt he had given up on the map the moment he saw you in that room. He took note of the bruises around your wrists and gently grabbed them without thinking. 

“I’m… sorry,” he said, rubbing his thumbs on your wrists.

God, he could be stupid. But there was no one else you’d follow after as readily. 

You crashed into him, wrapping your arms around his neck with tears pooling in your eyes.

“I’m just glad you’re okay!” 

You felt him stiffen, not having expected you to hug him. 

“I was so worried,” you continued, “That something had happened to you.”

He wrapped his arms back around you, sinking into the weight of your embrace. 

“So was I.” 

You heard him sniffling, and rubbed his back gently. 

“Crybaby.” 

“I’m not cryin’,” he said, voice shaking. 

He squeezed you one last time before letting you go. 

You stood up, facing him. His eyeliner was running. 

It was quiet again, though this time it was much more awkward. You’d yelled at him plenty of times before, but never had you embraced like that. Your pink cheeks now matched his. This time you looked away from him. 

You felt a slight pull at the back of your neck and realized Kidd was pulling you by your necklace closer to him. 

You obeyed and sank down into his lap. Your mind was telling you this this was abnormal, an overstepping of boundaries. Kidd was your captain and friend. You shouldn’t be in his lap hugging him. But it felt so natural. Like the most casual thing in the world. 

“I was terrified,” he said quietly, “That I- That we might lose you.”

You rested your cheek against his, savoring how warm it was.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“Oh trust me, I know,” he laughed, “You’re a rather tough lassie.”

Your ears perked up at that, and very quickly went red. 

“Oh,” you whispered. 

“What’s that?”

“You were talking about me the other day.”

Kidd paused for a second, “Was I?”

You giggled. 

“She’s a rather tough lassie,” you said, imitating his thick accent, “And a bonnie one at that. A bit too good for me, no?”

“Oi, oi! I was talking about someone else,” he said, his cheeks darkening several shades. 

You pinched his cheeks, “Well, that’s too bad. I would’ve said that I feel the same way.” 

He perked up, “Oh, yeah? How’s about I describe this tough lassie and ya tell me if the description fits.”

You smiled.

“Right, she’s about this tall,” he held up his hand to your standing height, “Sittin’ on my lap, and just about the prettiest girl on the sea. And I owe her enormously for my latest fuck up because if anything had happened to her I’d have gone absolutely mad and jumped right on overboard.” 

Your smile softened, and you stared at him for a moment. 

“Sounds about right,” you said. 

“Well, then.”

You leaned in toward him and moved slowly, just in case. Just in case he changed his mind or wanted to backtrack or wasn’t sure. But your lips touched and your captain showed no signs of regret or hesitation so you deepened the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and savoring how he grabbed onto your hips. The kiss grew more and more heated, his grip on you stronger and stronger. You pulled away for air, gasping for breath. Kidd’s lipstick was smudged, and he brought a thumb up to wipe it off of your lips. His hand rubbed gently up and down your back. Fatigue began to take over as you let yourself indulge in the comfort of Kidd’s presence. Despite having been bedridden for several days your body was still mentally and physically in survival mode. Only now with a strong set of familiar arms wrapped around you could you finally relax. 

You laid your head down onto his shoulder, closing your eyes. 

“Tired?” 

“A bit.” 

“Sleep, lass. I’ll carry you to bed.” 

And you did. 

You woke up the next morning feeling more rested than you had in years, a thanks from your body for the break. 

The bedsheets surrounding you were unfamiliar, not your own. 

But the strong hand draped over your waist answered any questions you had started to form. You wiggled back until you felt your captain’s chest against your back, and held his hand, tucking it under your chin. 

“Mornin’ sweetheart.” 

“Good morning, Kidd.” 

[soaked-doors]

the history book on the shelf is always repeating itself

[humblegoatart]

there’s no way someone else in the dandadan fandom hasn’t already drawn this but i had to roll with the vision when it struck me