#I will train harder on my journey now more than ever

[peter-vorobyov]

Did you tell the Kentucky police about the sacrifices? If not, I think you should. I think they'll be really entertained.

They caught me in the middle of slaughtering a deer in the woods and asked me about the Abbey. I don’t think they know about anything else.

[d3arapril]

[reup] birthday girl | p.b

pairing: paige bueckers x f!reader word count: 4.6k warnings/tags: alcohol consumption (they're tipsy), switch!paige, oral (r!receiving), fingering (p&r!receiving), sex toys (p!receiving), spit, language, assplay (r!receiving) ᡣ𐭩 as many of u are aware i accidentally deleted my account - luckily i have managed to recover this gem! if you're thinking hm i swear i used to follow her - YOU DID! please re-join me on this journey and please re-indulge yourselves in this dirtiness for BDB PB's birthday. reblogs are appreciated more than ever given the circumstances lol ! :D love u all x

You sway slightly on your feet, the alcohol making your head feel lighter than it should as you fumble to light the candle on the heart-shaped cake. Your socks shuffle on the cool kitchen tiles, the slight friction grounding you as you flick at the lighter.

"Need help?" Azzi peeks over your shoulder to watch you flick at the lighter. When the small flame finally ignites, you both let out a victorious "Ah!"

"Nope," you pop the p, turning to smile at your friend. "I got it!"

You'd organised a small get together with close friends for Paige's birthday at her request. Not too much, she'd insisted when you'd first asked her what she wanted to do. So, of course, you made a list of those she actually liked and invited them over.

Now, you're standing behind Azzi as she leads you out of the kitchen and shuts off the lights. You hold the cake up with both hands, lips in a tight line as you focus on holding it steady. Admittedly, you'd all had a bit more to drink than originally planned. Tiktok's were filmed, drinking games were played and shots were consumed.

The girls break out into an out of tune rendition of happy birthday as soon as you enter the room, toothy grin plastered across your face when you lock eyes with Paige. She's smiling right back at you and although the room is dark you can just make out the blush on her cheeks.

She blows out the candle and her index finger swipes through the icing decorating the edge of the cake. She sucks it into her mouth, eyes still trained on yours. "Mm," she makes a noise in her throat. "Tastes good."

It's almost like slow motion, the way her mouth closes and her tongue comes out to lick at her lips. It's all you can focus on– her. You shake it off, not letting yourself get lost in the moment in front of all of your friends. You place the cake down onto the table and just like that the party continues, more drinks are poured and the night wears on.

A few hours later, most of the girls have called it a night. Now, it's just you, Paige, Azzi, Kayla and Kk remaining. You're squished between Paige and Kayla on the couch, Paige's right leg slung over yours. You're trying your best to listen to the conversation going on around you, but the mere feeling of Paige's skin on yours makes it harder to concentrate.

"You want another?" Paige’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. She gestures to the red cup loosely clutched in your hand.

You glance down at it and shake your head. "Nah, I’m good. I think I’d actually like to remember tonight," you say with a chuckle.

Paige laughs softly, her hand giving your thigh a playful squeeze. "Smart move." She turns to Kayla, nudging her gently. "What about you? Tapping out?"

Kayla glances at her phone, her eyes widening slightly as she reads the time—1:29 AM. "Wow– I didn't realise it was that late." Kayla yawns as she stands up, ruffling at Paige's hair. "It's not your birthday anymore, Bueckers."

"It's still my day, though." Paige pouts, leaning her head back to look at Kayla. Always such a big baby.

"Yeah, yeah, birthday girl," Kayla laughs, ruffling Paige’s hair before heading to the door. She glances over at Azzi, who’s now half-asleep, sprawled across Kk’s lap. "You guys heading out too?"

Azzi and Kk exchange tired glances before they, too, gather their things. After a round of group hugs, the door finally closes, leaving you and Paige alone in the now-quiet living room. You survey the aftermath; red cups litter the floor, empty bottles are stacked haphazardly on the coffee table.

“Jeez,” you mutter, shaking your head at the mess. “This’ll be fun to clean up tomorrow.”

Paige hums in agreement, her arms suddenly wrapping around your waist from behind you. She pulls you back against her, resting her chin on your shoulder. “I had a good night,” she says softly, her breath tickling your ear. “Thank you.”

"No need to thank me," you smile. "I had fun, too. Did you have a good birthday?"

"The best," her arms squeeze you a little tighter, nose nudging at your cheek. You lean back into her, hands covering her own. "Thank you baby."

"Anything for you," you smile, tilting your neck back to look at her.

"Really?" her head tilts towards you as she presses a kiss to your cheek.

"Always."

She hums, her hands sliding down to your hips, squeezing gently as she leans in closer. "Not to be greedy," there's a pause as she gives you another squeeze, lips ghosting down your neck. "But where's my gift?"

Paige grins against your neck, the curve of her lips brushing your skin. “Maybe,” she murmurs before her teeth lightly nip at the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

"You gonna give me something good?"

Her lips are against your pulse point now, sucking the sensitive skin into her mouth. A sigh escapes your lips and you reach your hands up and back, fingers tangling in her hair. Paige's hands roam your body, trailing up and down your sides before one cups at your breast.

"Paige," you moan softly, her name escaping your lips as her mouth finds yours. The kiss is slow and deep, both of you still tasting faintly of vodka and cherry, the alcohol mixing with the heat between you. Her hand cups your jaw, angling your face just right as the kiss intensifies.

She pulls away first, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips. Her breathing is ragged, voice low as she pants, "Bedroom."

Your fingers interlock with hers, feet padding softly against the floor as she leads you down the hallway. Her thumb rubs soft circles into the back of your hand and it's a subtle reminder of how much she loves you.

Paige stops outside of her bedroom door and pauses. Her eyes are soft and there's a smile gracing her lips. "What?" you smile back, free hand reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Nothing, just." her hand lifts and squeezes your wrist. "I really love you, s'all."

You roll your eyes, playfully. "You're such a sap,"

"You gonna let this sap eat your pussy, orrrr..?" she smirks as she drags out the word, opening the door to her room and pulling you in. She pushes it shut behind you, tipsy fingers fumbling with the lock.

The room is surprisingly bright, the main light still on from when Paige must've last been in there. "You left the light on," you say monotonously which earns you an eye roll from Paige. She doesn't respond, just flicks her head towards the bed as an instruction for you to get over there.

"Someone's eager." you grin, walking backwards until the back of your legs hit her bed.

"Mhm," Paige hums, stepping closer to you. She pauses for a moment, as though she's figuring out her next move. "Turn over."

Your knees are weak as you flip yourself over, resting on your hands and knees. She wastes no time, making quick work of pulling your leggings and panties down your thighs. She lets out a moan at the sight of you, exposed and waiting.

"Damn," she mumbles under her breath, hand running along the curve of your ass cheek, giving it a squeeze. "Now this is a birthday cake."

Your head drops between your shoulders, laughter shaking your frame. "Wow, P. That's corny."

"Shut up," she's giggling, too, but there's a tone of authority in her voice. The sound of her kneeling behind you is audible and the feeling of her presence looming over you is enough to keep you quiet.

Her hands grip at your ass again and squeeze, nails digging into the soft skin. Your fingers curl into the sheets, a gasp leaving your lips. A stray finger traces a pattern across the dimples in your lower back, lower, lower until it brushes over the puckered hole you're both yet to try. Yeah, she's pressed her thumb against it more times than she'd like to admit but she's never 'breached the surface' as she'd say.

"You gonna let me have here?" she leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to the base of your spine. "It is my birthday, after all."

You hesitate, hand letting go of the sheets to reach back for her. "What about you?"

Paige squeezes at your forearm, "I'll get mine, don't worry."

She moves your arm back down beside you, hands coming to rest on either side of your ass. She pulls your cheeks apart, breath warm against you. "Can I?"

You moan out a yes, dropping your forehead against the mattress. Paige wastes no time, head dipping down and licking a fat stripe up your pussy, tongue sliding between your folds. She's sloppy, spit mixing with the slick that now coats her chin. She's moaning into you and you wish you could see how this looked from the outside.

You're shaking in front of her, fingers twisting and tugging at the sheets. She pulls away for a second, gathers the mixture of her spit and your juices in her mouth and spits it back onto you. She rubs it in with her thumb, digit ghosting over the ring of muscle.

"Fuck, Paige," you groan, shaking hand blindly reaching back to pull her closer, push her away- you weren't even sure at this point.

The girl hums, thumb stilling. "You want me to put it in?

You nod, cheek flat against the mattress.

"Speak to me."

"Please, please." you beg.

"Please what?"

"Fuck," you groan, inhibitions leaving your body. "Do anything, please. Eat my pussy–my ass, please, please–" You're so desperate you can barely even recognise your own voice.

"Relax baby," Paige coos, leaning down to press a kiss to your ass cheek. "I got you."

You feel her pull away and you're about to protest, kick your feet out at her and cuss her out until you feel her shuffling around on the bed behind you. You use the little strength you have remaining to push your head off of the bed and you see her lying on her back, half of her body hanging off of the bed. Damp fingers squeeze at your ass, dragging you back just enough so your pussy is directly over her mouth.

She's back at it like she never left, sucking your clit into her mouth and massaging her tongue over it. Her thumb finds home against your ass again, pressing against your hole as her tongue teases over your folds. The pressure is immense, the tip of her thumb slipping past the tight ring of muscle and you choke on air. You're not sure if it's a good or bad thing that you can't breathe, everything in you constricting, heart hammering against your chest.

You press against the mattress and hold yourself up, now fully kneeling over Paige. You brush the blonde strands from her face, your girlfriend's eyes fluttering open to lock onto yours. As soon as you make eye contact you hear feel her moan into your pussy, thumb sliding an inch deeper.

Your hips grind against her at their own accord, fingers now knotted in Paige's hair as you moan out into the cool air of her room. Your stomach tenses, thighs working overtime to hold you up. The chord in your stomach grows tighter and you open your mouth to warn Paige that you're about to cum but your words get lost in the mess of moans and pants and incoherent syllables.

It washes over you like a tidal wave, orgasm rattling your entire body. Paige moans into you the entire time, tongue messily sliding over your pussy as she laps you up. Her thumb leaves your ass with a pop and she presses her head back into the mattress just enough to be able to breathe out a "You good?"

Shaking legs shuffle you down her body until you're sat on her stomach, grimacing at the stickiness between your thighs. Paige can't help the laugh that leaves her, hands rubbing up the fronts of your thighs as she takes you in.

"You look fucked."

"Well," you pinch at her side, "You fucked me good, birthday girl."

She wiggles her eyebrows at that, hands leaving your thighs to grip at your ass cheeks. She squeezes, tongue licking around her lips. Her lids flutter shut as she tastes the remnants of you against her, lashes fluttering against her cheek.

You watch her silently from above, fingers trailing across her chest. Her shirt sticks to her skin slightly, sweat beading across her body. "Want this off?"

She nods, eyes opening. "Please."

You clamber off her and watch as she pulls the shirt over her head, throwing it into a random corner of her room. Her sports bra follows and she mindlessly rubs her hands over her chest, grateful she's no longer constricted by the material.

"So," you start, pushing her back by her shoulder and ghosting your lips across her nipple. She's flat against the bed again and you're perched beside her, ass up and feet kicking out as your tongue peeks out to lick at the sensitive nub. "How do you plan on 'getting yours'?"

You recite the words she'd said to you earlier and she snickers, back arching slightly when you suck her nipple into your mouth. "I got something-" she sucks in a breath when your teeth bite into the swell of her breast, pink mark left in their wake. "Something in the drawer."

Your eyebrows perk up at that, leaving one last kiss against her tit as you climb off the bed and saunter towards her bedside drawer. You pull open the rickety drawer and there's a purple wand staring right back at you.

You turn back to look at her, watching as she shuffles up the bed, head now resting on the pillows. "How long have you had this?"

Paige shrugs, a smug look on her face. "Got it a couple days ago. A gift from me, to me."

You fish it out of the drawer and inspect it, it's fairly heavy- three heart shaped buttons on the purple rubber handle. "Have you used it?"

"Nah," she taps her fingers against her stomach, nonchalant. "Wanted to use it with you."

You let out a hum of approval, turning back to face her. She's propped herself up on her elbows, legs bent at the knee and open. Her thighs are spread wide, fabric of her navy shorts stretching across the expanse of the muscle.

You sit at the end of the bed, turning the toy on and letting it vibrate against the palm of your hand. "It's intense," you muse, not able to mask the smile growing on your features. "Did you deliberately choose this?"

Paige's blush deepens, feet kicking out to hit your thigh. "Shut up, no."

You can't help but laugh at her, crawling forward and leaning down to press a kiss just above her bellybutton. She's watching you carefully, waiting to see what you're going to do.

"This is new," you say, watching the way her breathing changes with every gentle touch. "I usually have to work to get you like this, but you're so–" you bite down on her skin, letting her feel the dull ache before sucking at the mark. "Are you becoming needier in your old age?"

"Fuck you," she spits, but there's no real venom in her words. Her abs are drawn tight and she's got her hands fisted by her sides; she's clearly desperate. "It's my birthday, be nice."

"Need I remind you," you flick the waistband of her shorts and boxers against her skin, pulling at them slightly to hint at her to lift her hips. She does as you wish and you slide them off of her, abandoning them at the end of the bed. "It's not your birthday anymore."

Paige makes a sound in the back of her throat, hips raising as she tries to get you to touch her. She's been on the edge since she saw you walking towards her with that cake in your hands, the amount of love you have for her so evident in your expression that it drove her fucking insane. She feels her entire body burning up, thighs shaking as her hands clutch at the sheets.

You settle comfortably between her legs, head dipping down to press a kiss to the inside of her thigh.

"What do you want me to do? I'll let you pick, my treat."

She rolls her eyes at that, breath shaky as she answers. "Use the thing."

You lean forward, lips ghosting over hip bone. You breathe out a laugh, tongue licking against the skin. "The thing? Like the movie?"

You feel Paige tug at your hair, an annoyed whine leaving her throat. "Stop fucking with me, please."

That's enough to satisfy you, dipping down lower to place a chaste kiss against her clit. She sucks in a sharp breath at the feeling, hips canting up to catch your mouth. Your tongue peeks out to lay flat against it, slowly moving your head up and down to provide just enough friction to make Paige's toes curl.

"Fuck," she breathes out, head tilted back against the pillow. "Need more."

Your right hand blindly fumbles around the bed for the wand, left hand now busy rubbing slow circles into her clit with your thumb. Her abs ripple, chest heaving from the feeling of it all. It's so much, yet nowhere near enough at the same time.

As soon as you press the on button the toy springs to life again, loud vibrations humming out into the air of the room. It almost makes your entire arm shake from how intense it is but you prevail, sitting up slightly to trail it between the valley of her breasts.

"What're you-" Paige cuts herself off, the both of you not able to contain your laughter because she sounds like some sort of fucked up robot when she speaks, the vibrations distorting her voice.

"Just," you lift the toy away from her chest to press a kiss to her lips, both of you smiling against each other. "Relax, enjoy it babe."

You trail the wand further down her body, letting it rest just above her clit. Her hips tilt up again, head lolling forward so she can watch. Your free hand presses against her stomach, keeping her flat to the bed.

"I said, relax."

"I am relaxed."

You scoff, not giving in to her attitude. You keep the wand where it is, just out of reach from where she needs it most. You move the hand from her stomach and let your fingers tickle against her inner thigh, inching closer and closer to her pussy. Your fingertip trails against her folds and, as you expected, she's soaked. It wasn't too often you'd swap roles like this, let her fully relax whilst you took control of the reigns but you knew she enjoyed this. Loves letting you do whatever you want to her.

You let a single finger dip between her folds, sliding up, down and then sinking inside of her. It's not much of a stretch from how wet she is, slides in easily. You pump the singular finger in and out slowly, eyes trained on Paige's face.

She's got her eyes screwed shut, head still lolled on her shoulder. Her eyebrows are furrowed, lips in a slight pout. You hover the vibrator just above her clit and when you press it down against her, her eyes shoot open and eyebrows raise in shock.

"Holy shit," she gasps, one hand wrapping around your wrist whilst the other shoots up to grab at the pillow beside her. "That's– fucking hell."

Her mouth is wide open, tongue hanging out just the tiniest bit in a daze. The room is filled with the sounds of the toy and her moans, her hips lifting off of the bed to chase the sensation. You press the wand down harder, letting it buzz against her clit. You can feel it vibrating through your arm and the vibrations are strong, making you wonder just how powerful it is. You make a note to get her to use it on you, next time.

You move the toy against her in slow circles, slipping another finger into her pussy and curling them up. "Good?"

Paige's chest is flushed, heaving with each deep breath she takes. It's almost like she doesn't know what to do with herself, head tipping back to the pillow and then tossing to the side. "Yeah," she breathes out, voice hoarse. "Good."

Your thumb reaches up to press at one of the buttons to increase the intensity, vibrations now pulsing against her. She whines, high pitched and strained as it all becomes too much. Your fingers curl faster inside of her, the squelching from her pussy just audible over the vibrations from the wand.

Her hips tilt up faster, feet slipping against the mattress as she chases the feeling. If she could see herself she'd be embarrassed by how easily she's succumbed to the pleasure, scrambling against the bed pathetically. She can't think straight, only able to focus on the feeling of her orgasm approaching.

"It's-" she can barely get her words out, sweat making her body glisten. You watch her with a smirk on your face, satisfied. "I think-"

"What's wrong, babe?"

Paige's eyes are rolled back in her head, head tipped back and neck on show. There's a blue vein stretching across the length of her neck and you find yourself leaning over her and dragging your tongue against it. Paige jumps at the feeling, broken moan leaving her chest. The hand that was wrapped around your wrist moves to your shoulder, blunt nails biting against your skin.

You're still moving the toy in slow circles, rubbing it against her clit. Paige is moaning, groaning- gravelly noises leaving her throat as the hand on your shoulder moves to your hair. She moves her head to face you, watery eyes boring into your own.

"Gonna cum," she whispers against your lips, barely audible over the noise from the toy. "Fucking–feel it in my chest."

You bite at her bottom lip, teeth pulling at her pout. Your nose presses against hers as you watch her unravel, watch a tear spill from her eye and drip down her cheek. "Yeah, birthday girl?"

Your fingers speed up, curling so quickly you fear they might end up cramping. Your wrist begins to ache from holding the toy, too but you keep going because it's all worth seeing your girlfriend like this.

The blonde lets out a combination between a cry and a moan, thighs squeezing around you and keeping you trapped as she cums. The vibrator slips a little from how wet she's become but you're quick to put it back in place.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she's chanting out to nobody in particular, thighs tightening and feet kicking against your back. You let her do it, let it happen as she goes silent. You feel it before you hear it, her hips rolling up and thighs shaking against you as she floods your fingers, and then- "I'm fucking-fucking cumming, oh shittttt."

The words leave her through gritted teeth, fingers finding their way under your shirt to scratch against your skin. You lean back to watch her in all her glory; head craned back against the pillow, nipples hard and hair matted against her forehead.

Your fingers slip out of her first and you sit them on your tongue, licking around them and moaning from the taste. You turn the vibrator off and chuck it beside Paige who is breathing so heavily you think she might pass out, eyes closed and lips dry.

You rub a comforting hand against her thigh, a soft touch to keep her grounded. You cast a glance down to her pussy and you can see the wet patch underneath her on the bed, dark and soaking into the cotton sheets.

"Wow," is all she says, body relaxing against the bed. Her eyes open and she softly smiles as soon as she sees you, shaking hand resting atop of your own. "Happy birthday to me."

You opt to lay beside her, leg kicked over her thighs with your head resting on her shoulder. "Feeling okay?"

"Honestly," she tucks her chin in to look down at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Best birthday gift ever."

"Doesn't count if you brought it for yourself, though." you counter, tilting up to look at her. You catch her rolling her eyes at you, the hand she'd settled around your waist digging in below your ribs.

"'Kay, where's my gift from you then?"

"Don't be greedy, Bueckers." you tease sliding out from beside her and walking towards where your bag was abandoned several hours ago. Paige lets out a whistle as she watches your ass as you walk away from her, rolling onto her side.

"Where you goin'?"

You ignore her, rummaging through your back to look for the jewellery box you'd so carefully wrapped last weekend. Much to relief you find it still intact and spin around, holding it behind your back as you saunter back towards Paige. You make sure to grab her clothes on the way, throwing them in her direction.

She raises an eyebrow at you, pulling just her boxers back up over her legs and an oversized t-shirt over her head. You do the same, keeping the box in your hand as you put her shorts on.

"A gift for little old me?"

You have to resist rolling your eyes at her, crouching down so you're at the same height. You hold the small box between you both and hold your gaze with Paige, watching as her eyes light up in anticipation.

"I remember looking at them a while ago," you start, thumb stroking against the patterned paper. "So I got 'em."

Paige frowns, unsure of what you're talking about. She takes the box from you, unsteady fingers pulling at the wrapping paper. She discards the paper beside her on the bed and opens up the box slowly, eyes widening when she sees what's inside.

"You didn't-"

"Don't say a word." you cut her off, knowing she was about to go on a spiel about how she didn't deserve this, how you shouldn't have spent the money, blah blah blah.

"How did you remember?" there's a hint of shock in her voice, as though she couldn't believe you'd remember something that she thought was so insignificant.

You smile at her, taking the box from her and pulling out one of the rings. They're just two simple silver bands with a small heart etched on the inside; nothing too flashy but you vividly remember Paige fawning over them in the store. "We should get matching," she'd suggested to you, nothing but a passing comment.

The ring slides onto her finger with ease and you thank the Gods above that you'd picked the right size. "Feels like we're gettin' married," she snickers, holding her hand up to admire the ring. "Lemme put it on you."

"Nuh-uh!" you whip your hand away from her, wiggling your fingers in the air. "I need to wash my hands after your little performance."

Paige laughs, shoving at your shoulder with no malice. She stands up from the bed, groaning from the ache in her legs. She wraps hand around your arm and pulls you up and into a hug.

"I love you," she mumbles against your shoulder, squeezing you tight. "Thank you, for everything."

You pull back slightly, scratching at the nape of her neck.

"I love you too," you lean in, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Happy birthday, baby."

[eureka-its-zico]

Chaos in Their Bones: Wanted

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: After the defeat of Arlong, at Arlong Park, the five of you promised to yourselves, and each other, to achieve your dreams on your way to the Grand Line helping Luffy search for the One Piece. It seems simple enough, except for the minor detail that you died. Coming back from the brink of death, Zoro and the others have noticed you haven’t been the same. You aren’t sure if it’s Death himself chasing after you or something far more sinister. But facing your inner demons won’t be the only fight you’ll have to worry about when family comes calling. 

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Genre: established relationship, idiots to lovers, angst, mentions of smut, (will add stuff later) it’s an adventure, y’all!

Words: 6.3+

A/N: Hello my darlings! It is I! Your resident clown! I hope you are all doing well!! Finally, I have finished the prologue to my version of One Piece filler. I am so incredibly excited to share this with you guys while we wait for the next season of OPLA to arrive! I’m even more excited to share in this journey with all of you. This first chapter is pretty heavy and gives a brief backstory to what took place in season one with CITB, just in case anyone comes in reading this one first.. I’ll always do my best to make sure there are proper warnings in place for each chapter and, if I ever happen to miss one, please let me know. Now, let us properly get on with our new adventure.  As always, I hopeyou all enjoy this! Much much love, Jenn

p.s. shout out to @deadneverlander for always being my clown bestie and the bestest editor-in-chief

Warnings: mentions of previous torture, trauma, and gore

Chaos in Their Bones Master List

It was odd how the body adjusted to change before the mind realized what was happening. How Zoro could barely remember when he’d strictly stopped thinking of just singularly him and began to think about them. The one specific goal he’d carried with him his whole life - an armor that entombed him - suddenly no longer held the same weight as it had before.

Zoro was part of a crew now. It felt unbelievable when he thought about it, but he wasn’t a part of just any crew.

Zoro was a part of Luffy’s crew - his first mate. 

Kuina always told him he needed to lighten up. Get some friends. If only she could see him now. A band of misfits who’d become family. 

(Except for the waiter. Zoro still wasn’t sure about that guy.)

That one word, family, bounced around the inside of his skull, shattering every ounce of the solitary life he still tried to hold on to. After Kuina died he used their promise for a solid reason for his loneliness. It protected him - shielded him from having to go out and be a part of the world. While others thought he led a lonely life, Zoro believed it was simply a life free from distractions. A life centered around one goal,  a promise, and that didn’t allow room for error. 

And then everything changed the minute a boy in a straw hat stumbled on him tied up in a yard. Zoro recalled how instantly he’d found Luffy annoying; a pest. A nuisance in the form of gangly limbs and possibly too much leg, until Luffy asked him one simple question: “Is that all you are? Is that all you want?”

It surprised the hell out of him when he’d considered answering him. It surprised him even more when he did. Luffy didn’t laugh when Zoro told him, either. Instead, he listened and looked at Zoro like it was more than a possibility. Anything felt possible when you were with Luffy. The words spilled out of him with such conviction he was sure they could raise Kuina from the dead. He wasn’t sure why he’d even answered Luff. Once he did there was no denying his words had solidified a belief in Luffy that Zoro’s dream wasn’t just a possibility, but that Zoro would succeed in doing it. 

The only person who’d shared in his dream believed it would become a reality the harder they trained, had been Kuina. Sharing your hopes and dreams with another person was one of the deepest connections you could inadvertently make. Suddenly, just from sharing a few words, your entire being was stripped bare. Open for everyone to see down to the very marrow of your bones who you were and, because of this, Zoro didn’t share lightly. He couldn’t risk someone laughing at him or telling him he never stood a chance. 

The Demon Pirate Hunter would burn the heavens down if it meant he could get what he wanted.

So, Zoro waited for Luffy to laugh in his face. To try and curse his spirit along with his dream. Instead, Luffy believed just as vehemently as Zoro believed in himself. The possibilities were endless. One distraction - addition - to his life was something he could handle. 

Then Zoro stumbled upon you and having just one more distraction didn’t seem all that bad.

 Suddenly, being the world’s greatest swordsman wasn’t all he wanted. 

He wanted you too.

The universe seemingly conjured you into existence - a magical pain in his ass. The more he’d tried to deny his feelings, the more annoyingly louder they grew. If fate was real, it had a terrible sense of humor - reminding Zoro a little too often that even the best-laid plans carried detours.  

Neither of you was willing to admit that the universe seemed to be playing a cruel joke. The universal bingo card the two of you carried, chock-full of goals and aspirations, and not a single mention of…well, not a mention of either of you were on it. 

Zoro didn’t believe in fates. Magical beings who dictated your future and the outcomes of your life and the supposed powers they wielded in who entered and left. He could be incredibly stubborn. You called him hard-headed. He just liked to think of it as knowing what he wanted. The universe proved to beat him at his own stubborn game, however. He’d been a fool to try and reject what everyone saw, but Zoro and you…the two of you felt it. 

Falling in love with you had been as easy as breathing.

He tried to deny it for so long - his tunnel vision widening just to catch glimpses of you - bright and warm and alive to cast sunshine into the hollowest parts of him. The ones he’d left empty ever since Kuina died. He protected himself from having to feel that overwhelming feeling of grief again. No matter what anyone said, it never got better. It didn’t get easier. You just slowly learned to live with the empty space their loss created and, because of this, Zoro never allowed people to get too close. 

His drinking kept him languid and carefree.  

Zoro didn’t believe in magic. 

It wasn’t in his nature to believe in things he couldn’t see - couldn’t feel their weight in the palms of his hands to make or break his world. The very idea of magic alone was the biggest unseen force he could think of. But when you looked at him, cheeks rosy with a blush he gave you, he swore he’d become a believer. The world was brighter, anything was possible, and the stars in your reflected a constellation of every step you’d ever taken that led you to one another.

He didn’t think it was possible for his world to shift - to change - all over again until that night in your room. 

Zoro stood there paralyzed - transfixed. Cool, remain cool were the words that darted through his head but how could he? He’d spent all day endlessly teasing you. Every chance he got to bump against you, shamelessly removing his shirt just to feel the hunger of your gaze slid over his skin, or to dip his hands low, impossibly lower, was a chance he had to take. Just to make your cheeks flush that pretty pink hue that was just for him. 

He wasn’t an idiot. He didn’t miss the heat that shimmered underneath. How could he miss it when he’d felt it too? The pleasure in knowing he was the cause for every heavy breath that rose in your chest. Pupils blown wide and body preening at his touch. No matter the breath that stuttered out of you or the looks you gave, Zoro remained in control. 

Perfect. Control.

Until he’d opened his door to find you covered only in a towel, droplets cascading down your skin and those eyes - god your eyes - looking at him like that. 

Cool. Play it fucking cool. 

He’d repeated it to himself over and over. A mantra that wasn’t much of a mantra because he was failing miserably. Even after he admitted he’d been waiting to hear you make it safely back to your room. He would’ve left it at that - teasing you one more time to have that good ol’ blush of yours see him off to bed. But then his eyes caught the way your hands protectively tightened on the towel. 

The way you self-consciously hide the worst of the damage that Arlong - that fucking fishman - and his men had done. You tried so fucking hard to make everyone believe you were okay. The wounds on your body practically all but healed, while some were slowly beginning to show they’d remain as scars. He worried that you’d see yourself as less because of it. How could he get you to see that your scars were beautiful because those scars meant that you were still here. With him. 

But Zoro knew the scars that plagued you the heaviest were in your mind. 

You thought you were less because of them but, god you were so much more because of them. And suddenly, hiding inside the safety of his room didn’t matter anymore. 

Zoro had to show you - make you understand - how remarkable you were. Arlong and his men could never take away the way his breath still caught - trapped and frantic - in his throat every time he looked at you. You’d been doing it since that first night at Kaya’s: his eyes held prisoner as his gaze helplessly followed your every move.

Even when you were a brat and stole his glass of wine.

He didn’t think it was possible for the feelings that brewed behind the safety of his walls could get worse. To overwhelm and flood his senses until what little common sense he had left evaporated completely. 

He was wrong. 

That night, Zoro learned the only thing prettier than your blush was the sounds you made. Just for him. 

Always for him.

He knew everything changed that night in your room. And how could it not? The desire to touch you, show you with his mouth, his body, all of him, every piece of himself that you’d claimed, just how much you were a part of him. How deeply you’d woven yourself into the fabric of his being, hollowed out his bones, and made a home. 

There was an unmistakable connection Zoro felt towards you. It was something new that he’d never felt. He didn’t know what to call it. Love? How could one word seem to hold so much weight? The power to plant flowers in the garden of his rage or completely shatter it. There was no fucking in between and that was frightening. 

Fucking terrifying

Zoro couldn’t formulate words to describe the invisible teether that coiled around you both. Or the fear it created. A terror like a serpent that constricted tighter and tighter around his heart, more and more with every passing second. If Arlong could take you. If he could…you almost…

No no, don't fucking think it! Don’t speak it. 

The reality was it could happen again. 

The fear of someone taking you - hurting you -  became all too real. 

He’d almost lost you. 

Zoro would never admit to it. Say it out loud or allow it any space during his waking day. But when he was asleep the fear threatened to slip through his control. It formed itself into nightmares that painted out every outcome that could’ve happened in vivid detail. Painted in tragic detail into the whites of his eyes on how close he’d come to saying goodbye. 

Save me… pirate hunter…

He had saved you, hadn’t he? 

That day haunts his waking hours even now. It’s what wrestles him awake even with your head tucked underneath his chin, his arm draped across your back, and the steady beating of your heart pulsing against his chest. He’d arrived busting through Arlong’s gate with Luffy and crew, his breath caught in his throat not knowing what they’d find. 

What greeted him was the last thing Zoro thought he’d find. Your body, crucified, arms painfully splayed to make a perfect T shape. Gore. It was the only way his mind could describe it - screaming at him not to look. You were a decorated gory masterpiece. All the light and sunshine of who you were was dimmed in a blanket of blood. The stench of burned flesh clung to his nose the way the taste of chopper lodged itself in the back of his throat. 

You seemed so lifeless. So fucking lifeless. Zoro felt his knees threaten to give out on him in seconds. You couldn’t be alive. It shouldn’t have been possible, but he listened as the chains chimed at your movement. A fucked up wind chime of dread and hope that carried on the wind and told him all he needed to know. 

You were alive. 

Zoro could still save you. With that knowledge blacking out all reason, Zoro created hell inside the walls of Arlong Park. He would do it over and over, becoming a demon, a king of monsters,  to burn down the world if it meant saving you. 

And yet…it almost hadn’t been enough. 

There were times Zoro wondered if this is how you felt as you watched him give himself up to Mihawke. He could still remember the look of agony that bloomed across your face. The way it stole the spark Zoro loved to see in your eyes, bleeding them dry until all that was left was an emptiness that he gave you.  

Zoro had willingly gone to death. 

And you saved him. 

You cared for him even then - when he didn’t deserve it - after everything he’d done to try and prove to you, and himself, that the universe was wrong. It was just a sick joke to believe that fate itself had woven you both from such different clothes to somehow make each other whole. Zoro gnashed his teeth, swore, and fought his own demons to try and prove he didn’t need you - want you - but he’d been a goner the second he opened the guest room door. 

Plus, it didn’t hurt that you packed one hell of a punch. 

Zoro could still feel your knuckles connecting perfectly on his nose. The impact of it shocked him so hard it’s what caused him to lose his grip on the well. It was a damn good hit. 

He’d woken up to the emptiness of a bed Zoro shared with you. In the privacy of the cabin you both now called home, Zoro would admit dread tied his stomach in knots. That it spurred his legs to swing over the edge of the bed and his hands to furiously move around the room looking for clothes. All thoughts he used to have about pretending he wasn’t looking for you - searching for you - when he always had been, dissipated with his next breath. 

Even still… Zoro had almost died and came back more or less himself. Deep down, however, In the dark recesses of his mind, a nagging voice reminded him endlessly that something was… off. Something was wrong. 

Wrong with you.

Zoro hated that he even entertained the thought. In the privacy of his own head, it still felt like a betrayal. A dishonor of the trust you’d placed with him. He tried to knock the thoughts away because now wasn’t the fucking time. You were missing – again – in the middle of the night. He had to find you but no matter how hard he knocked away the nagging thoughts of growing questions, the voices persisted.  

Nami was the first to notice, which wasn’t surprising. She was always carefully crafting plans and backup plans with backups to the backup plans if those fell through. Zoro came to understand the second they stepped into a room, that Nami was twelve steps ahead of everyone else. Her eyes scanned the room for marks - the weakest links in the chain of command - so that was why it wasn’t surprising, not in the least, that Nami noticed the oddities about your recent behavior first. 

“She’s doing it again.” “Doing what again?” Every time Nami brought it up, Zoro couldn’t keep the irritation from shifting heavily in his tone. The annoyance at throwing around large sacks of grain that the waiter just had to have turned his mood even more sour. More than the fact Usopp somehow magically disappeared from having to help load all of this below deck.  Zoro followed Nami’s gaze until it landed on you. A hand wrapped around the rope of one of the sails with your eyes turned out towards the sea. Zoro imagined a passing ship would think you were a statue the way you barely moved. Shit, he even started to worry if you were even breathing. Unlucky for them, this wasn’t the first time you’d started doing this. Your eyes focused out on the ocean, almost as if you were searching either the water or somewhere farther.  “She’s just looking at the waves.” “No,” Nami replied, a shake in her head reflecting the word. Just the one word alone held a lifetime of worry as her eyes cautiously watched your head tilt. A motion that spoke volumes of words being carried on the wind and you were listening. “It’s like she’s hearing something, or someone, speaking.” “Yeah, it’s the sound of the birds above us. I think they’re called seagulls,” Zoro shot back.  Zoro didn’t know why he needed to protest their concerns so much. Zoro had his own but when it came to you a protectiveness he couldn’t fathom seized every last available brain cell. Their words sent his body immediately to defend you even though Nami’s concerns only voiced the ones he was too afraid to say himself.  His words earned him a glare from Nami as she moved next to him. A hand playfully smacked his shoulder, but her eyes never strayed from you.  “No, you asshole, not the birds. It’s like someone is… talking to her.”

Zoro had thought Nami was crazy. She had to be. You were fine. She was just being a protective mother hen again, which she’d promised you she wouldn’t do anymore. The look on his face must have said the same thing causing her eyes to narrow in on him all before her chin jutted out towards your direction. He wanted to call Nami crazy, but when Zoro glanced back at where you stood, your head was cocked further to the side. Your lips parted, eyes focused, like you were about to reply. 

A few days after that incident on the deck you began talking in your sleep. It started off as grumbles and grunts until it graduated to lazy words and, finally, short sentences that burst from between your lips in reply. Sometimes though, the voice that came out of you… it didn’t sound like your own. The words hissing and breaking from your lips in jagged whispers that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. 

The worst part was, if Zoro asked you, you’d never remember or know you’d done it. Zoro had promised to save you, and he had. So, why did he feel like he’d been too late?  

And that thought alone is what startled him awake. 

Zoro finally located a pair of pants that he’d thrown haphazardly in his earlier haste to get into bed. Your scent was still pressed into the sheets - pressed into his skin. It was enough to inform him you’d been there beside him. He hadn’t been dreaming - not that he would since you’d both agreed that him sleeping over in your room just made sense. 

He didn’t bother putting on his boots. The only thing he made sure to grab was the Wado Ichimonji that rested on his side of the bed. You’d strictly forbidden him from sleeping with it in the actual bed after you woke up with the hilt pressed against your ribs. 

The sheets had long since gone cold and that told him wherever you’d gone, it’d been a while since you’d left. Zoro wasn’t known for having tact or being quiet. If he was being honest, Nami often called him a brute and she wasn’t incredibly far off. He didn’t have any plans to quietly walk out of the bedroom or make his footsteps dainty soft like a whisper. He didn’t have time for pleasantries. 

He didn’t bother wasting time looking for you in the kitchen. There had only been a handful of times he’d caught you bravely traipsing around the waiter's kitchen. Banging his beloved pots and pans around like you had a death wish. Zoro wasn’t too keen on hearing him bitch later about the sanctity of a man’s kitchen and his utensils after Sanji had caught you. Zoro was, however, willing to admit the food you’d prepared that night tasted a thousand times sweeter knowing Sanji would be having a heart attack about it later. 

No. By now, Zoro knew there was one place and one place only that he would find you. 

With the swaying of the ship under his feet, Zoro made his way towards the stern. The Wado clutched tightly in his fist in a weak attempt to keep him grounded. He ran a hand through the mossy haphazard strands of his hair in hopes of soothing its messy state but knew he was only making it worse. His fingers tugging too violently like he could rip his thoughts out by the roots. 

There was nothing he should be worried about - you were fine. He was going to walk up those stairs and find you just enjoying the night breeze. It was what he needed to see because he didn’t know what to say if he didn’t find you standing there. How he could fix it if you weren’t admiring a view; waiting to share whatever was on your mind. 

One by one he released his hair from his fingers. The ache of his scalp was enough to help focus him back into the present. To ground him just enough for when his eyes finally landed on your frame. 

You weren’t standing at the edge of the stern, safely behind its railing like he imagined, or admiring the view of the midnight water. Instead, your legs were precariously over the side of the Merry. So painfully close to the edge that one wrong move, a simple shift in the wind or the way you were sitting, and you’d simply go over. 

An image of you going over, a sudden flash of your body disappearing into the darkness below, sent his steps widening, eager to reach you. To close the remaining distance between you, as if it would ever be enough to keep you there.

His bare feet thundered loudly across the remaining feet that were left between the two of you. The heavy thumping scraped away whatever chance he had at catching you off guard. The sound alone should’ve been enough to draw your attention but when he arrived at the edge of the banister, one hand holding on to the ashen wood while the other curled around your shirt - his shirt. After all this, you still hadn’t acknowledged him. 

Your eyes were locked on a horizon of midnight - obsidian, endless, with promises of nightmares etched out of brimstone lying underneath. Your head tilted, just like before, just like it always was, listening to something none of them could hear. 

Zoro wasn’t much of a praying man, but he found himself silently making one as he sucked in a breath. 

“It's a little late for a midnight stroll, don’t you think, Snowdrop?”

You weren’t surprised Zoro found you. 

You knew he would. Since the minute you woke up in bed curled up beside him, an arm tucked behind his head while the other draped itself loosely over your shoulders, pressing you closer, that once you left he’d be up. Maybe not right away, but it will happen. Gradually or all at once. 

Even in his sleep, Zoro searched for you. His fingers stroked the curve of an arm; swirling into the crease of an elbow. His nose buried itself in your hair or the sensitive spot just under your ear. Zoro searched for you as vigorously in his sleep as he did while he was awake. 

You expected him to come find you. It wasn’t a surprise when the sound of padding feet on cured wood imploded the silence you’d come in search of finding. His presence was unforgiving heat across your skin. Unspoken questions hanging between you. A part of you prayed he would ask them. Another part of you hoped he didn’t. 

Maybe that was the voice that made you wish he hadn’t found you. That Zoro had stayed blissfully asleep enjoying the blanket of restful sleep instead of the restlessness of whatever you now had to offer. The thought gnawed on your nerves, brewing an annoyance that soured the comfort you’d found looking into the vast darkness of the waves. 

During the day, everything was bright and inviting. The sea most of all. Its multitude of hands that rolled against ships and overlapped wave after wave to create a white froth was a silent beacon to come explore. It promised relief from the scorching heat of the sun and an endless supply of food to fill a starving sailor. Underneath all of that brightness, however, you could feel the darkness that took shape in the form of monsters underneath. Sea beasts that swallowed entire ships with crews. Sirens seducing men and women from their beds with a song - pulling them screaming, lungs heavy with water, down into the deep. 

It was this darkness that began to call to you. A disease that infiltrated your body slowly, without warning so as not to cause alarm, until it completely plagued every sleepless hour. You weren’t aware it’d been happening until the third night you’d woken to the spray of the ocean on your face. You found yourself standing on the rail of the ship. The threat of a harsh wave possibly sending you over was imminent. Yet there you stood, your arms splayed out at your sides, waiting for an embrace that hadn’t come. Yet, when you opened your eyes it wasn’t terror that turned to ice in your veins. You knew the ocean wouldn’t claim you.

It couldn’t. 

You didn’t belong to this graveyard. You belonged to something else. There was a power that resonated below the murky depths. A force that felt ancient and terrifying. It felt like it created the dark; and devoured it until it became whole again and again. It writhed and moaned like the damned, as it searched for more life, more souls, to devour and own. This blackness demanded worship like an old god and that same darkness was what called to you now.  

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to be: a sacrifice or a sacrificer. But one thing was clear. Whatever it was, it was inside of you and it was calling you home. 

Naan strived to make sure she was careful - that you were careful. She shared warnings in the forms of stories and fairytales as a child to soften the terrifying meaning that lay underneath. All this time she painstakingly put in to make you understand and, in the flash of a second, it took less time for you to choose Nazifa’s life over your own. 

It’s what Naan had taught you to do: protect others. How could she ever think, or believe, that you made the wrong choice? How could you regret saving someone’s life? Saving people was who you were, who Naan raised you to be, down to the very marrow of your bones. 

Naan’s trade was never forced on you. She never held you back from thoughts of going to school, leaving the island, or if you wanted to learn a different trade. It was always very clear it was your choice to spend hours in the garden and in the forest scrounging for ingredients. Your choice in agonizing over the creation of your book of remedies. It felt natural. Your whole purpose is wrapped up in easing the pain of the dying and the chill of the sick. 

But this darkness…it touched what was yours. It cascaded oil thick, blackening the seas of your memories. The shared dances in Naan’s kitchen as she taught you how to move across the floor, ‘like a young lady’. The spring in her gardens, surrounded by bergamot and cardamom. 

Every last memory of joy and hope and happiness was suffocated until the only thing left were nightmares. This darkness – this sickness – writhed under your skin. It changed who you believed you were, who Naan loved and cared for you to be, and stripped it all away. 

Brick by brick every belief you held was knocked loose and replaced by something grotesque; vile. It whispered ways to silently kill those you loved aboard the Merry. Townsfolk and villagers whenever you stopped for supplies. It slithered black chords of strength in your muscles, seizing your hands to tear apart and break dressers. The doorknob to Luffy’s room completely caved in as you struggled and fought to not take that final step inside. 

The voices were growing louder with each denial you gave them. Each life you refused to take - each villager you saved instead of maimed - turned them rabid. The whispers grow into shrieks:

Belladonna to strip a man of pride and the air from his lungs - closing up his throat with froth and screams. Mosswood burns the mouth and twists the gut making them turn liquid.

‘We can break them. Grind their bones into dust. Lay it like powder on our skin. Let us make them putrid! Skin soft and pliable like pudding - flesh that caves at the touch. One touch from us, from you, OUR TOUCH,  and we can rot them from the inside out. Listen as their tongue turns liquid and they gurgle liquid sweet! Let us rot them! LET. US. ROT. THEM!’

It whispered and screamed until you thought you would go mad. It took every ounce of willpower you struggled to hold on to your sanity. Not to claw at your ears. As if it would ever be enough to make the whispers just stop. 

Something inside you came back wrong. You were wrong. You thought about the possibility that you might be imagining it. This call of chaos - of sinister dread - swirled inside of you like a whirlpool threatening to suck everything down around you. The more you tried to ignore it, the louder it grew. The voices were no longer murmuring - their words were convoluted - gargled as if held underwater. 

Now they were screaming, demanding to be heard, and they were always the loudest when you were sleeping.

You were so lost, so completely lost, consumed with your thoughts, these fucking voices, that you weren’t sure when your body turned to face him. Maybe Zoro had asked you a question or been asking questions. The usual mask of careless indifference he wore was there, but it was easy to spot the worry that etched itself into the fine lines around his eyes. 

His brow creased, drawn tight, which reflected the dark panic that was pooling to the surface in his eyes. If you didn’t answer him soon he was going to shake an answer out of you. Just to hear something. 

What could you say? 

“Do you hear them too? They’re whispering for me to do things and the more I ignore them, the more their fingers seem to dig holes in my mind.”

No. 

You couldn’t ask him that. It sounded crazy. You would sound crazy, and maybe you were. This whole thing felt like a waking nightmare. You thought you could keep it at bay as you attempted to work through it. There had to be a scientific explanation for something like this or at least a psychological one.

Death came to claim you. You’d felt the clutch of cold hands eager to drag you away, drag you down into the earth kicking and screaming. It felt greedy. Excited. 

But you came back. 

Maybe this madness was a form of penance. Maybe this truly was what it was: madness. 

You couldn’t look at him anymore as you tried to swallow the bitter truth down. Underneath, however, you knew you lived in a fantastical world where boys were made of rubber, Devil Fruits existed, and so did magic. 

But what did that make you? You with your voices of chaos. 

Death bringer, They whispered, clamoring against your skull. 

What if the part of you…the dark part Naan always feared would consume you, festered like a cordycep eating its way through your soul until there was nothing left? What if it ate and ate until you were just…gone? The only thing left was an imposter who’d taken your place.

The thought was enough to make your mouth desert dry. Your heart clamoring against the ribs in your chest demanding for you to take it back! You weren’t being eaten starting from the soul and outwards. You were in control. Perfect control. 

“I’m okay.” The words croaked around an unused throat forcing you to clear it and try again. “I’m okay.”

“Who are you trying to make believe that? You? Or me?”

When Zoro looked at you, like he did now, all the world grew quiet. The sound of the ocean, her waves, and the lapping at the hull of the ship all died away. It was harder to catch a breath, the air denser somehow, as everything came grinding to a halt. 

The only thing that mattered in this moment, in every moment, now and always, was the way he looked at you. But the moment didn’t last - it couldn’t - when the current underneath your feet began to pound against the hull of the ship. A seismic rhythm that vibrated through your body in earth-shattering ferocity. 

You looked out across the water around you and found her unchanged. Her waves thrashed at their own speed to collide against the Merry before they rested back down into the murky midnight of the water. 

“Zoro, do you feel that?”

The need for confirmation that it wasn't just you who felt this primal call was palpable. You grasped at whatever reasoning made sense but there was none. A sharp sting on your fingertips brought a hiss of pain from your lips. Your eyes darted down to find that same inky blackness that had burned the flesh of the face of the fishman like acid was crawling up your arms. You tried to swat it away as a fresh flood of panic gripped you. 

“Zoro!”

Your eyes flew up to look for him beside you. You wanted to reach for him - you needed him to hold onto you - but if you touched him would you hurt him? Would you kill him? 

Fear and panic constricted your throat turning your next sentence into a delirious garble of words. All attempts at civility and calmness ended when your vision centered on his body next to yours. Zoro was covered in the thick black ink - your darkness. You heard the sizzling of muscle and tissue melting away. The wet sound of flesh hitting the deck. You watched as a piece of his cheek, the top of his eyelid, slid down his face as his hand reached out for you. 

“It’s going to be okay, Snowdrop.”

The horror of what you were seeing grabbed a hold of your throat and worked the earlier sounds free. It knocked them back down to be digested to allow them to come back up at something brand new. 

A scream housed from despair and grief tore through your body and released itself there on that deck. A panicked heart filled with regret left you shattering into a million pieces and it wasn’t until you were sitting up in bed, thrashing around in the sheets of your shared bed, that you realized it was all just a dream. 

Your eyes bolted open but the frantic terror that left your heart thundering in your chest was still there. It made you search the room like crazy, grasping for things that were real. 

Zoro was standing by your desk. His hands fastened the last button of his shirt while a cool set of eyes watched over you. It was then you felt how your body was coated in sweat; your hair clinging to your neck and cheeks. The shirt you’d worn to bed sticking in thick hot clumps against your skin. 

“What happened,” you rasped. 

Zoro finished with his shirt but didn’t make a move to answer. The Wado was secured at his hip and you watched him drop a now free hand onto the hilt. A comfort you could only assume he needed as he showed no immediate sign of replying. 

After a long pause, Zoro let out a sigh as he moved towards the bedroom door. 

“I found you sleepwalking on deck. Again,” he replied. His voice was all smoke and velvet. It should’ve brought you comfort hearing him, but it wasn’t hard to notice the cracks that formed around his words. “This is the eleventh time you’ve woken up screaming, Doc.”

“Zoro–“

“After we get supplies at our next stop I’m asking Luffy if we can turn around.”

He spoke to the door. The decision he was making seemingly cost him his own grief as your own. You threw the sheets back. Your legs scrambled to make it over the side of the bed before he could completely exit the room. 

“Turn around for what?”

You wanted to sound tough, demanding even. Instead, you just sounded small. Scared. Your mouth dried up around every word, every sentence, you tried to formulate. The sick idea that he was trying to say goodbye, to let you go, making it damn near impossible to even breathe around a thought. 

“To find someone willing to give me some answers.”

Zoro didn’t wait for you to reply with the usual weak promise of telling him. It was only when you were ready to share and that could be never. He was tired of waiting and didn’t bother to wait to hear an even weaker response before Zoro walked out the door and quietly shut it behind him. 

As always, thank you all so much for reading! Reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated.

Taglist: @honeyoru @oneandonlyizabelle @shanshan4143 @naomihatake @tombraiderjones2505 @illusory-segurity @hippieele @nadlx33333 @fancifulrealist @litlebruh @jonnelpunk

[darylbae]

hi new tumblr writer :3

I would give anything for vampire daryl (perhaps gender neutral pronouns)

smut, angst, fluff, idc. just give me vampire daryl (please)

pretty little thing — daryl dixon 🩰

in which vamp!daryl finds you in the woods, but doesn't have it in him to feed on you

note: im new to vamp!daryl so this will be very short, however if you like it i can make more!!

Daryl has had urges. Urges to feed, urges that are biologically something he can't help. He's always had these urges, since before the world fell apart, however it was easier to maintain back then. Now, with resources being limited, it was harder. It was even harder to keep this from the people around him. Nothing tasted like human blood. No deer, squirrel, or rabbit would ever taste as good as a human.

Daryl would wake up early to feed, and go to bed later than the rest of the group. He'd managed to hide it well, nobody had questioned him yet. Even when the people they'd butt heads with would disappear and no longer be an issue. Blood on him, on anyone, wasn't out of the ordinary anymore. It was another early morning, Daryl had his crossbow slung on his arm. He walked with purpose, not having fed on any human in a while was making him ravenous. His boots crunched on the leaves as he left the rest of the group, finally getting into the woods to look for something filling. With his heightened hearing, he couldn't hear much. Couldn't smell anything close by. So it would be a long journey ahead of him.

He'd trekked through almost half the woods now, after picking up a sound a while ago, he believed to be getting closer to it. He growled to himself, just wanting the metallic taste sat on his tongue again. It had been so long. There it was again. That sound. That faint whimper in the distance. He'd picked up speed, trying to be light on his feet, but it was no use. He needed it. Now. There you were, clutching a tree with tears rolling down your face. You were a treat. He'd approached you, and of course you were apprehensive, like all smart girls were. But you were so desperate, that you'd reached out for him. "Please..." You yelped, putting all of your weight onto him, "my leg, it hurts." Daryl held your waist, looking down at the blood sliding down your leg. Like a warm chocolate drizzle on a cake, you looked good enough to feast on. Daryl noticed you had only shorts on, not entirely practical for the world you live in, and a jacket with a utility vest wrapped around you. Boots too, great choice. He could smell you, so sickly sweet. "Aren't you a pretty, little thing?" You looked up at him, brows tilted upwards and pure innocence in your eyes. "What happened?" He asked, pushing you backwards gently to lean on the tree behind you. He'd brushed some hair away from your face, before slowly bending down to be level with your wound. A gash on your thigh, not deep enough to be fatal, but needed to be wrapped up. The smell of you, of your blood, was getting to him. He needed it, more than he needed air in his lungs. But he couldn't. Usually his impulses were impossible to control, he'd be onto a human before he could even blink, but you... He wanted to enjoy you, he didn't have the heart to hear you cry again, because of him. He'd dragged his thumb up a line of blood that had trailed down your leg, bringing it to his mouth to enjoy. You were so out of it from blood loss that you hadn't even picked up on it. And if you did, you were past caring. You were still crying, as he'd stood back up, his height very much towering over you. "I need t'wrap it up," he stated, his eyes trained on the curve of your neck. The perfect space to have a little taste. "Ya gonna to have t'come back with me." You just nodded. You were probably going to bleed out, so either way you'd die. So you were betting on this man being good. "Want me to carry ya?" He asked, and you nodded, unable to put any pressure on your leg. Smirk plastered to his face, he inched closer to you. He was breathing you in, slowly feeling himself becoming addicted to your scent. He wanted to have you around, to enjoy you more. He'd have to feed another way.

[mothandpidgeon]

Aunt Flo's First Visit [pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader]

MASTERLIST - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

Pairing: pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After Sarah gets her first period, Joel is determined to be a supportive parent despite the fact that he doesn't know the first thing about menstruation. But when he goes to the pharmacy to shop for supplies, he finds himself in way over his head.

Words: 2k

Rating: G

Warnings: period stuff and everything that comes with it

a/n: This is really fluffy and a little silly. I saw a tik tok by a menstrual product company about a customer trying to find the right thing for his daughter and it just gave me such Joel energy this happened. I haven't finished any fic in MONTHS because I'm working on my book and that's not finished either so it feels really good to complete something. (If you want to keep up with my publishing journey, I'm mainly documenting it here.) Please enjoy.

Also, I challenged myself to write in present tense bc I never do and I really was struggling so pretend the grammar is all correct. Thank you.

Joel knows how to do a lot of things. He can manage a crew, change a flat tire, and build just about anything. He never considered himself smart by the classical definition but he knows how to make a car battery from scratch despite the fact that he got a C in chemistry. 

If somebody had told him a decade ago that he’d one day be paralyzed with fear in the feminine hygiene aisle, he would’ve laughed. But right now, Joel would give all his knowledge along with his left arm if he could just figure out what the hell he ought to buy for his daughter.

He knew this day would come eventually. It’s his own damn fault he never prepared himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he must’ve expected Sarah to just know how to handle it. Being a single dad wasn’t a walk in the park but he couldn’t imagine how much harder it would be if Sarah wasn’t so damn self sufficient. Even at 13, she can get herself fed and dressed and off to school without help. Of course she could figure this out on her own.

But Joel was reminded that Sarah’s still just a kid when she finally told him that she’d gotten her period for the very first time. She was so embarrassed to admit it, Joel practically had to drag it out of her. 

He was angry with himself. He should’ve been ready, wished that he knew the right words to say. Joel promised himself he would put things right so she wouldn’t feel like she ever had to hide anything from him. 

That was a lot easier said than done, he realizes now.

Joel stands in the aisle overwhelmed and confused. Boxes and soft packages in friendly, pastel colors stare at him from the shelves. He’s never spent much time with the feminine hygiene products, not unless he was scooting by them to pick up a little carton from the family planning section. He hasn’t bothered to learn about that stuff. Women’s stuff. He’s not disgusted by menstruation, isn’t afraid of it. It’s just one of those things he never had to deal with. 

Without Sarah’s mom, though, he’s had to figure out plenty of girl things. He can remember the lesson on managing Sarah’s curls from the kind woman at the hair salon. Names of Shampoos and oils that felt foreign were now routine and he’s mastered using the combs and clips that looked more intimidating than some of his power tools. But he struggled for a good long while before that kind stylist took pity on him. 

And here he is again, flying blind into the female whirlwind. 

There’s so many options on the shelf. Words like HEAVY and gentle and sport. And the prices. Christ! He thought the hair stuff was expensive.  

Joel’s head is spinning but he has to get it together. He’d vowed long ago that he would be Dad and Mom too. That’s what his daughter deserves. 

Just a year ago, he hovered outside of the dressing room at the mall as Sarah tried on training bras. 

“Did you find one? You were in there for a while,” he said when she emerged.

“Dad,” she replied in that tone she was using more and more often, the one that told him to shut up.

It isn’t the changes to her body that scare him, all of the subtle ways she’s becoming less familiar. His little girl is growing up and he mourns her childhood. It won’t be long before she’s driving, going off to college. Maybe she’ll have a daughter of her own but Joel hopes she’ll wait longer than he did, have a chance to make a life for herself.

Speaking of which, he realizes he’s going to have to sit her down for a real talk about boys next. He better get ready for that one. Explaining where babies come from hadn’t been too difficult. Condoms and venereal diseases are a whole different ball game. Teenage boys are gremlins– he’d know– and Sarah’s so smart and pretty, she’s going to have to be careful. 

Joel doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at the shelves when a woman appears in the aisle, another shopper. She’s got her keys looped around a finger, headed straight for the tampons, her flip flops smacking against the bottoms of her feet. Joel has a box in his hands. He doesn’t even know what he’s picked up, it’s just got the least intimidating packaging and the price is reasonable. He can’t help but catch the woman’s eye and the look she gives him is a little wary. It must be obvious that he’s out of his depths. But she gives a polite, tight lipped smile and proceeds to ignore him as she approaches the pantheon of period products. 

He watches as her eyes dart around the shelves and quickly she makes a selection, plucking up a box clad with pink and purple silhouettes. So easy. Well, it must be easy for her. He wonders how many times she’s visited this part of the pharmacy, if her mother brought her to the store when she was Sarah’s age and showed her all the options. 

His free hand fidgets at his side and he swallows dryly. He feels like an idiot but he reminds himself that he’s got to do this. For Sarah. The woman is already half way back to the end of the aisle by the time he’s found his voice. 

---

“Excuse me, miss. Could I trouble you for a second?” you hear from the man behind you. 

You turn around, confused, but there’s nobody else that he could be talking to. Here you thought you could get in and out quickly. You’re cranky and tired and all day you’ve had toe curling cramps. It hits you like a ton of bricks every month. All you want to do is get home to your couch to watch some crappy reality tv. 

But this lumberjack of a man– broad shoulders wrapped in a flannel shirt– is giving you puppy dog eyes. You’ve never been hit on while holding a box of Tampax Pearl but there’s a first time for everything. 

“I apologize. This is real awkward,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck with a big hand. “I’m trying to get something for my daughter but I’m a little lost.”

His voice is warm and sweet and he’s handsome as hell but you keep your distance. 

“Didn’t she tell you what to get?” you ask. 

His expression grows even more bashful and his voice lowers. 

“I’m afraid it’s, uh…well, it’s new territory for both of us,” he admits. 

You can’t help the sympathetic smile that forms on your lips. Some poor preteen girl just got welcomed into the cruel arms of womanhood. It will be all downhill from here. Wild mood swings, angry breakouts, blood leaking through her favorite pair of pants. At least, it seems, she’s got her dad on her side. It takes a lot of balls for a guy to pick up a box of tampons let alone stop a stranger and ask for help. 

You’d like to tell him that you’re too busy to help– you can hear your Haagen Dazs calling you all the way from the freezer– but you at least owe it to this kid to help him out. 

“What’ve you got?” you ask, nodding towards the powder blue box in his grasp. It looks so little in his big hand. You walk back towards him and take a look. “Oh. Nice try but I wouldn’t go with that.”

He regards his choice again. It’s kind of adorable, the way the corners of his mouth frown as he squints at the words on the front. “What’s wrong with these?” His words aren’t defensive, he’s genuinely curious. 

“Tampons can be pretty tricky when you’re that age. And those don’t even come with an applicator,” you explain. You remember trying to use a tampon that first time. You’d never put anything up there before and it stung like hell.

“Applicator?” His brows furrow and you can see fear in his brown eyes. 

“So you can put it…in,” you tell him and motion with your finger, jabbing your pointer upwards. 

His cheeks go pink. Ears too. You try to suppress a giggle as his brain short circuits for a second. His throat works as he swallows and places the box back on the shelf— gingerly, like it might explode. 

“Which are the ones that don’t…go inside?” he asks. 

It’s impossible to keep from grinning. 

“Pads,” you say. 

He nods. 

You choose a package and place it in his hands. It’s a multipack, everything from light to heavy, and no wings so she doesn’t feel like she’s wearing a diaper. 

“Try this,” you say. “She might not like them. It takes some trial and error.”

He reads over the circle in the corner that claims it’s 100% Leak Free! You can see he’s still overwhelmed but he’s far less nervous. He really is good looking and you have to wonder how he doesn’t have a woman in his life to help him out.

“This many?” he asks. 

“She might need more.” You shrug. “Just stay away from the scented ones. And you have Tylenol at home?”

“I think so.”

“How about a heating pad?”

He shakes his head. 

“Go get one,” you advise. 

He blows out air and then steels himself with a nod, ready to face the red menace. 

“I’m awfully grateful for your help,” he says and you can tell by the look on his face, he means that. 

You feel your own cheeks heat. 

---

Joel ends up behind her in the checkout line after securing an electric heating pad and grabbing an extra bottle of Motrin. 

“What do you think?” he asks, showing her what he picked.

“Good job,” she tells him. Her smile is tinged with amusement but his chest still swells with pride. Maybe he’s not such a failure of a father after all.

Now that he’s less bewildered, Joel can’t help but notice how pretty this woman is. She’s dressed for comfort without any make up as far as he can tell but that smile and the kindness in her eyes is what does it for him. If they met under different circumstances, maybe he’d try to flirt. Not that he’s had the opportunity to practice recently. It’s for the best, though. There’s absolutely no way the combination of bumbling idiot, single parent, and menstruation makes for a romantic connection. Besides he’s here on an errand for his daughter.

Joel tries to keep his eyes from wandering over her as the teenager behind the register rings her up, the pink box and two bags of M&Ms. She gives Joel one last smile before leaving the store. 

He thought he might feel embarrassed buying nothing but period supplies but he’s too busy thinking about how helpful she was. Sarah would just about die from mortification if he told her a complete stranger gave him a crash course in maxi pads. He chuckles to himself. 

“Hey!” someone calls as Joel approaches his truck.

It’s her, the woman from the pharmacy, crossing the parking lot. Joel smooths his hair.

“These are for her,” she says, handing him one of her bags of candy. “Chocolate helps.”

Joel gives a soft laugh as he weighs the M&Ms in his hand. “That I knew,” he says. 

“And, uh, here,” she tells him, holding out the long receipt. 

Joel takes the paper. On the back she’s scribbled her name and phone number. 

“You know, I don’t know. I just thought– if she has any questions. Or maybe if you do,” she says, shrugging. She’s much less confident now than she was in front of that endless selection of menstrual products. It’s cute and makes Joel feel a little less like an idiot for the way he was fumbling a few minutes ago. 

“I owe you one,” he says.

She shakes her head. “Just be patient,” she warns. “She’s gonna be a bitch but don’t take it personally.”

Joel grins. 

“You’re a good dad,” she tells him and he doesn’t know how to respond to that.

She’s already backing away towards her car and waves again. 

Joel looks at her number, once again finding something he doesn’t know. He’d give his left arm to figure out how soon is too soon to call. 

---

MASTERLIST - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

[thattimdrakeguy]

Hey,

So if it's not too much to ask, can you give me a summary on the Core Four's personalities? I really wanna know for analysis reasons, I'm re reading all the core 4 young justice and teen titans books and trying to decipher my favorite one.

I can give you the personalities as intended by their creators no problem, Person Newtonote.

Now as you read you might think "Oh, hmm, that doesn't add up with what I've read" when it gets into the Young Justice and Teen Titans books, but that's 'cause different writers write different things, and some writers understand some characters better than others, and some of it is just plain character development, or in worse case writers doing what ever they please 'cause they don't care.

I'll let you judge when what happens.

Onto what you've asked though, I'll try to keep it simple as I can while still being detailed:

Tim Drake:

My personal favorite, that much is likely obvious.

As intended, he is an idealistic young boy, and dreamed of Robin as an even littler boy (he's pretty small for his age). He's clever, and resourceful, and thinks very very highly of the legacy of Robin. It's his heart though that got him his job as Robin, and his compassion and genuine passion for the role of Robin. And he displays what many may call boy scout tendencies. Even admitting to original Robin Dick Grayson that he enjoys helping old lady's cross the road (or something like that.)

Being raised in private schools, without a lot of friends (He's shown having no friends until he goes to public school to my knowledge), he's a pretty naive and oblivious, trusting person. And it's through out his journey's he has to learn how dark Gotham City can get. Though compared to the other Bat-Family members of this era (90s) he's very much the heart and light-hearted youthful energy to it.

His social ability is mostly perfectly fine, he's no complete weirdo. Kid can get friends easy peasy. Easily likable to folks. Endearing. But he has an oblivious side, and can get ahead of himself. Has a habit of getting spiritually adopted by people who instantly want to protect him. Anyone from Batman, to former CIA agents, and even villains. He's just got that babyface on him, and button nose.

He also deals with anxiety in terms of being Robin, being worried that he may be stripped of the job, or let people down, or mess something up. And sometimes that lends him having a lot of insecurities about himself. While having some prior training in martial artists, and implications of having taken gymnastics, also a former boy scout, he still doesn't naturally take to the role like all other Robins around him. Which means he has to try a lot harder to have his keep.

In the Bat-Family in this era (the 90s) he's the heart, and baby to everyone. They're uber protective of him, and take him out of the action when they deem it to be too much for someone like Tim. Within Young Justice he puts on a heavy Robin persona to hide what he's really like. Making himself out to be a more Batman-esque mysterious leader.

When really, he's a dorky, fanboy, who loves Kaijus, Crocky the ??? Crocodile I guess (Basically Barney the Dinosaur), super heroes, cars, Warlocks and Warriors (Dungeons and Dragons), sports, comics, Sci-Fi, fantasy, and cartoons. Self-admitted geek, with some popular interests in there.

Think of Tim as sort of Autistic kind of. He's never officially said to be. But when you read his origin, it's definitely a legitimate way to interpret him. Though I believe his uniqueness is intended to really be molded by Tim's passion, and obliviousness from a lack of parental figures in his very young life.

Tim is supposed to be an optimist, as told by his creator, but to be real a lot of writers seem to forget that, even when making jokes about how he's optimistic compared to others. I think sometimes the writer's own cynism leaks out into him. So remember that...despite a lot of writers forgetting it. Be better than them.

Cassie Sandsmark:

My personal second favorite member, but, please, make up your own mind here.

She's a rebellious teenage girl, and tomboy. She stays up pass curfew to party, but is at heart a good hearted individual who truly wants to help. This comes at odds with her stubborness and headfirst attitude. She hates being treated as a kid. And shows a great deal of intuition and cleverness. She's also a babysitter. Seemingly a good one too.

Her need to prove herself can put itself ahead of her own logic though. And she buts head with her very stuffy mother who doesn't appreciate Cassie's care-free nature. She means a lot to Cassie, and Cassie wants her approval. Cassie's natural being is...very much in contrast to what her mother would prefer though. It's fun.

A lot like Tim she's also shown to be a Super Hero fanboy. For her it's specifically Wonder Woman and the Flash, while with Tim it's basically anyone the writer decides he hasn't met offscreen yet.

Through her journey's she learns to contain herself though, and better use her powers.

Bart Allen:

The most teenager-y teenager you ever seen. He has ADHD, but not the uber-hyperactive, talkative, hugger you see in some more modern misunderstandings of him.

Originally he was pretty quiet. Super popular in his school. Girls loved him and considered him a pretty boy. But in reality he has no social knowledge, because he was raised in basically a video game for two years. He's essentially an alien learning to fit in with human civilization. So he's incredibly reckless without intention. It takes him awhile to truly process the concept of death and related repercussions. So he's sort of dangerous.

He can be quite surly, and mean spirited on occasion. But like most heroes, he has a good heart that comes out in the end. It's just simply the 90s and being Anti-Authority is the norm. His name is Bart after all. Underneath that is a young man who does sweet things when he has it in him.

Just don't think of him like a baby like how a lot of people make him out to be. He's a teen's teen.

Original Bart, like original Tim, and original Cassie, to me, is the best version of the character. The most nuanced, and interesting.

Oh, and minor violent streak on Bart too. Started a fight before, and stuff like that.

He cares inside. That has to count for something right?

Kon-El:

Hot-Headed pervert. Over-confident. Fame hungry. Lady magnet. Stubborn. Head first. Sort of a prick. But again good hearted.

I haven't read him as much as the others, because I don't personally care for him. Then in the early 00s with Teen Titans they decided just to make him an angsty young Clark, which is personally boring.

I don't have a lot of great things to say about him. His solo is very dated, and overtly sexual. Something I have no interest in reading.

He's at his best in Young Justice though, where he isn't written as jail bait by a writer who thought it'd be great if he dated grown women to fulfill teenage boys dreams. Instead you get to have fun with a very flawed character without the distracting perversion...mostly.

Punk styled. Loves dressing like a punk. Until he doesn't. Ruh-roh.

--

Again though, different writers write different things. They catch onto different things more than others, some are plain neglectful, others don't care, some want to change stuff for the sake of it. It's comics, you'll be lucky if it's consistent.

But on my years of studies, all that is what the character's where intended to be by their creators. So a lot of it is a starting pad, but it's also the purest form of them you're going to find.

[beegalactica]

Comparison is the thief of joy.

In a world where it seems like everyone else is doing so much better than you, how do you stop comparing yourself to them? You know it's unhealthy and unhelpful but you just can't seem to help it. Don't worry, I've been there and I know exactly what it's like.

Why We Compare Ourselves

Whether we're comparing our appearance; from our eyes to our hair, to even the shape of our fingers; or the grades that we get; the outfits we wear; or the person we are; I believe comparison stems from our insecurities. We may feel like we're not enough in our own right, so we look for people we think are better than us to justify it.

For me over this past week, I've been comparing myself a lot, and that's fine. I can be this confident and self-assured person, but I I still have moments where I don't feel like that - it's just how life works.

My first point of comparison was with a grade that I got in class. I got the second highest and of course, the first thing that popped into my mind was not how good I did on my own, but what I didn't do that relegated me to second place. Reflection is great for improving and bettering yourself, but you know that it has crossed the point into harmful comparison when you start to think: "I'm better than this person at x, y and z so how could they do better than me here?" We often resort to mentally trying to put the other person down so we don't feel so alone 'below' them, but that perpetuates unnecessary negativity.

My second point of comparison had to do with my 'love life'. There is a guy that I like, but we didn't work out, and now the thought of him possibly getting with someone else made me feel so low. It felt like a rejection in the worst way. It felt like the world was saying to me that "I wasn't good enough", not that the timing wasn't right or that it just wasn't meant to be. Obviously, I spent a lot of my time looking at the girl, thinking about all the ways she was prettier than me, taller than me, skinnier than me, etc. I started trying to pull her down in my mind, thinking of all the flaws that she 'had', to hide the fact that I was just insecure that I wasn't enough on my own.

But I refuse to let these events take a toll on my mental health and turn me into a bitter, jealous person because I know that I'm better than that, and I know that you are too.

How To Stop Comparing Yourself

To be honest, I don't know if I can ever get to a point where nothing can faze me at all, because I am human at the end of the day. What I do know is ways to cope and stop myself from spiralling as a result:

Accept the situation - accept the fact that it is what it is. I believe that things happen in life to teach me a lesson or to show me how I can come out of it stronger, and the first step in that journey is to accept that it happened. If things are meant to work out in the end, they will.

Plan your next steps - what are you going to do to give yourself peace of mind? In my case, I'll just have to work harder but also learn to congratulate myself more for the things that I do. I will also have to take some time to figure out why I have these insecurities and work on ways to uplift myself.

Affirm, affirm, affirm - I believe positive affirmations are amazing because who knows you better than you? If I say that I am a smart, hardworking person who is perfect just the way they are, who dares to tell me that I'm not? If I say that I am enough, how can anyone prove that I'm not? Sometimes your biggest enemy can really be your self-concept, but you need to train it to face setbacks and use them to further prove that you are above it all based on the way you deal with it.

Don't act out - don't become a hateful person. It can be hard because we think that it is the only thing that will make us feel better, but it makes us the same as all those other people who seek to pull others down to uplift themselves. Don't let a temporary event change your character.

Comparison is inevitable because the way that our world works is rooted in competition - who is the best? who is the prettiest? who is the smartest? But if you can answer all of those questions saying that you are, then don't let little things get you down. Life is all about growing and evolving, but don't forget to take a moment to celebrate your strengths and remind yourself of just how amazing you are.

You are enough.

I am enough.

[mama-qwerty]

Knuckles Series - My Way

Okay, so overall, my whole family had fun watching it together, and there were things I liked about it, and things I thought could have been done better.

So how would I have handled the series?

Buckle up, this’ll get long.

We open the same way (without Sonic’s voiceover – let Knuckles explain things and get us into his mindspace) and see Knux training in his home-built obstacle course. Once he’s done, he feels victorious, before his smile drops and a new expression clouds his features as a thought occurs.

Now what?

He’s the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy. He’s bested countless opponents, survived harsh environments and any challenger who came forth. He successfully completed his quest to find the Master Emerald, allowing his tribe and ancestors to finally find peace.

But that’s something he can’t understand how to cope with.

Peace.

He’s never known it. All his life has been a struggle, a fight, a battle to be waged and won. Now that he is safe, without constant bounty hunters after him, without fearing being tossed into an arena to fight for his life, what does he do with himself? What’s next?

This is when he heads back to the house to ‘battle’ the handymen. Maddie tries to soothe things over, but they drive off, and she makes her way to Knux, who’s celebrating his victory over the ‘trespassers’ with Cool Ranch Doritos.

Now, instead of her getting frustrated and just walking off to talk to the others about the “little red barbarian”, she sits down with him and tries to have a real talk. Tries to get to know him, and understand him better. He’s still in the kind of arrogant, boastful, “I’m the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy” mindset, so he’s not really listening. But she tries.

Next thing you know, he’s on the roof with Ozzy and Sonic goes up to chat with him. He meditates, does the fighting pit and Iron Throne, and gets grounded. All that can stay the same.

Here’s where we diverge.

Sonic comes up, gives him the “Just relax” speech, and Knuckles does some grumbling about it before sitting near the Master Emerald. He vents a bit about how he can best any challenger, but doing nothing is harder than any battle he’s ever faced. He just doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he prays to his ancestors for guidance.

The ME glows, and his father appears before him in a vision. Dad tells Knuckles he is so proud of him, and when Knux questions what he should do now, Dad tells him that the time for fighting is at an end. That echidna weren’t always warriors—they were protectors once, using their strength to keep those weaker safe.

Knuckles contemplates this, and asks what that means for him. He has already pledged his life to protecting the Master Emerald, what else is there?

His father smiles, and shakes his head.

“My son, there is so much you have missed as you journeyed to finish our quest. You were so young when I left you. Do you not remember the village? Our tribe? We had songs, and history, and traditions that brought us a sense of belonging and togetherness. We were more than a tribe. We were a family. A home. Any man is stronger when he has those he cares for at his side. Those he trusts.”

Knuckles bristles at this. “I was hunted for most of my life. Constantly searching. I have no home. No tribe. Not anymore. I am alone.”

Dad shakes his head again. “That is not true. But I fear you will not believe me, so you shall have to come to see that for yourself.”

Knux gives a harumph. “The honor of the echidna falls to me alone.”

“Our honor was tainted by the actions of some so long ago that the truth has become lost. Your quest is ended. Your fight, over. You’ve returned what was once used and lost by those with ill intent. Your actions are noble. That is where true honor lies.”

Silence settles for a moment, before Knuckles speaks again, softly.

“I miss you. I . . . was not prepared for what I found in my journeys.” He paused. “For what found me.”

“I know, my son. I curse my own stubbornness for not turning back once the battle looked too lost. For leaving you so alone. I beg your forgiveness for being such a fool.”

“You were a warrior. Your brothers in arms needed you.”

“I was a father first and foremost. My son needed me more.”

More silence. Knuckles looks so much younger now, his face relaxed and pensive, his body no longer rigid and proud. Now he’s just a lost child, missing his father, and unsure what his future holds.

“You must stop living your life for us,” his father says, his voice soft. “You’ve completed our quest, and I am proud of you for that. But this was not the life I wanted for you. I have seen how some can become so focused on battling to the death, they forget to live life in between. I want you to live, my son. I want you to find happiness and light in your world. I want you to seek out those weaker than you, and lend your strength to them.”

Knuckles is quiet for a moment.

“I have done things I am not proud of. Trusted those who betrayed me. Hurt people. Been tricked into helping those who are evil.”

“The fault lies with those who have tricked you, or betrayed you. Not with you for trusting them. You have a pure heart, my son. Like your mother. Do not let the actions of others cause that heart to grow cold.”

So they finish up their little heart-to-heart and Knuckles decides to take his father’s words to heart. No time like the present, so he sneaks out of the house to wander the town and see where he can help.

MEANWHILE

I haven’t gotten Wade’s story all figured out, but maybe he’s feeling particularly down today because it’s the anniversary of when his dad abandoned him. He tried to go to the bowling alley to try and recapture that feeling of being with his dad, but it’s not working and only making him more miserable. He gets smack talked by Susie (or whomever) and feels so dejected he just leaves.

Now, normally when Wade moves through town, he’s all smiles and greeting everyone. But today he’s quiet and sullen and walking like he’s got a little rain cloud above him. No one seems to really notice or care, but Knuckles notices and decides to follow.

He watches as Wade throws his bowling ball into the trash. Curious, Knux digs it out and follows him back to his house. Wade goes in, goes to the kitchen, opens the fridge to grab a beer, and when he closes the door Knuckles is just there, scaring Wade half to death. (I have a headcanon that Knux can be so stealthy he seems to just appear sometimes.)

Knuckles asks Wade what troubles him, which launches into the whole “I used to love bowling with my dad, until he just left” backstory. Maybe Wade’s been writing letters, trying to get his dad to contact him, to at least get an answer for why he left. But he’s never heard back.

Wade’s father’s abandonment is what’s caused Wade’s meek and people-pleasing personality. Maybe he thinks he angered his dad somehow or disappointed him and that’s why Pete left. So Wade never wants to do anything to anger or disappoint anyone else. But this way of life is making him miserable, because no one takes him seriously, and he’s treated like a joke. He knows this but doesn’t know how to change.

Knuckles sees the obvious answer. “If your father’s disappearance is what caused you to lose your confidence, then confronting him would help you gain it back.”

Wade’s not so sure, but lets Knux talk him into going on a road trip to Reno, where Pete’s competing in the Championship Bowling thing.

They still stop at Wade’s mom’s house—because his sister is a big reason he feels inferior—and his mom is exactly the same because I love her, but his sister has got to have a personality change. Maybe she’s always been jealous of Wade because he was the favorite child, or she’s a bit angry because Wade always held out some hope that Pete would come back (which in turn, gave their mother that hope, which Wanda never shared and thought a waste of energy). Wanda holds a lot of anger toward Pete for running out on them, and because Wade and Pete were so close, she transfers a lot of those bad feelings to Wade.

She’s not in the FBI. She’s not some bratty kid in a grown woman’s body, being a real bitch to Wade. But she has anger and bitterness toward Pete, and thinks Wade’s trip to see him is a waste of time. And maybe she pulls him aside and tells him this, as a way to try and save him from being hurt again. Maybe she even tells Knuckles that this is only going to end up making Wade feel worse.

As the siblings bicker and argue, making Mother Whipple feel bad, Knuckles has had it and declares that they will fight to hash out these negative feelings. He hands them both Nerf bats, and they just pummel each other as they spit out everything they’ve felt. Eventually an epiphany happens, and Wade yells “I just want to know that he didn’t leave because of me!”

Everyone freezes. Wade goes on to say that ever since his dad left, he’s always thought it was his fault. Because he wasn’t what his dad wanted. Because he did something wrong, or wasn’t good enough, or something. And he knows that Pete leaving hurt his mom, and his sister was mad at not only their dad but him too, so he tried to be ‘good’ and not make others mad. He was always afraid to be himself since then, because if his own dad didn’t like him, then what hope did that leave for anyone else to?

Wade felt forced to change who he was in order to survive. That’s something Knuckles can identify with.

Basically, the whole thing would be both of them coming to understand that family legacy doesn’t necessarily mean that’s who they have to be. That they can choose who they are, without some expectation hanging over them based on their ancestors. That their strength comes from within, not from being the best warrior (Knuckles) or having his father’s approval (Wade).

And that you can still find your home and family, even if it’s been a long time since you’d been part of one.

We don’t even necessarily have to have a dedicated antagonist in this. It could be a form of Man vs Self, where they find themselves in situations that their current behavior exacerbates.

If there is an external villain, maybe something a little different, like a collector of exotic animals gets wind of Knuckles being out of the protection of Green Hills, and sets out to nab him for himself. Or it could be someone who wants Knux for his secret fighting ring or something. This could bring up bad memories for Knux, of being captured and sold as a child, and forced to fight in arenas for the amusement of others.

All in all, instead of having GUN as the villain of the week (again), with some dude who’s using Knux’s own power against him (again), this could have had a more introspective feel that didn’t fall into the “kids have to fight some big baddie” trope. The enemy they’re both fighting is within themselves.

The whole point would be for Knuckles to realize that he didn’t HAVE to fight all the time, and discover that there’s more to him than just being the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy. That he’s allowed to have fun, to have preferences and new experiences that in no way have anything to do with training or besting others. That he’s allowed to discover who he is, and get back in touch with the child inside he’d been protecting all these years.

I want him to see things in wonder. I want him to explore the world, to be captivated by things he’s never seen before. To feel comfortable letting his guard down, being close with others, and just being a little silly.

I want him to learn that it’s okay to be a kid. And I want Wade to learn it’s okay to be a grown up. Because Knuckles grew up before his time, and Wade kept himself from growing up for fear of being like his dad, or being abandoned again.

I think there were some good kernels in the series, perfect for the fandom to take and run with.

I’m not sure how much I’ll play with the events of the series, but I have had some scenes with Callie meeting Wade’s family percolating.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

So I've been meaning to ask this question for a while. During the time skip do the straw hats like eventually give in to the fact that Lucky needs to grow stronger. After what had happened to them? Like would they be more willing to let her train so she could defend herself? Or would the whole thing only make them train harder and their obsession grow stronger? Would Lucky be sent on her own or with another crewmate?

Okay time to spoil my plans for the timeskip, something I told myself not to do but I have zero self control so here we go lmao

They are very torn on the matter. Logically, yes, they understand that Lucky growing strong would be a benefit, but they aren't exactly logical when it comes to their feelings towards her. Being away from her for too long would leave them feeling like they're in withdrawal, so they struggle to bring themselves to do it.

Fortunately for them, they don't need to make the decision. "A" makes it for them. One second Lucky is watching her crewmates argue over what to do with her, the next second she's on a ship surrounded by people she's never met. This is when Lucky finally gets to figure out who "A" is and meets her.

The reason "A" does this is because she's taken a special interest in Lucky. She spies on all of the people she's granted wishes for over the centuries, but usually not for long. Most peoples' wants are dreadfully boring to her. Wealth, fame, and power are the usuals. It's become cliche. Now, wishing for love is hardly unique, but typically it comes from the place of a scorned lover or perversion. Lucky's wish came from a place of soul crushing loneliness and a desire to have someone that simply wanted to keep her around... It struck a cord with "A". It made her mind go back to a point in time that she prefers not to think about.

She sees Lucky as a sort of kindred spirit, a relatable protagonist. She has been enthralled by watching her journey. The chaos that has come from her wish has been unimaginable and extremely entertaining. So, she's willing to get more involved than ever before. She gives Lucky a place to stay for the next two years, as well as the opportunity to train with one of her crewmates. A weapons specialist and collector who was the previous owner of the urumi that Lucky has. The two years of training with her will be much needed given that the urumi is a notoriously difficult weapon to master. Lucky won't actually be good at using it until after the timeskip.

Don't mistake any of this for kindness or generosity on "A's" part, all of this comes with a catch. You see, she's made quite the investment with Lucky... it's only fair that she gets something in return. She doesn't want much, just a guarantee that she will continue to be entertained for the foreseeable future. "A" gets her fellow crewmates to hold Lucky down while she plucks the amulet off of Lucky and extracts her specific wish from it. The wish is then forcibly implanted into her chest, an excruciating process that leaves Lucky feeling like she was recently branded for about a week after. You see, it would be a shame if Lucky were to ever lose the amulet and stopped racking up obsessive suitors and friends, so "A" makes sure that is no longer a possibility.

Lucky is then returned to the Thousand Sunny. When everyone asks where she has been and what happened... Lucky can't recall. She learned how to use her urumi, and two years have definitely passed... but she can't remember a god damn thing that happened during them. Or why her chest hurts so bad.

[ang3lb1iss]

Notre Dame | paris paloma | Part 1 of 2 

Word count: 2.7k 

Pairing: James Potter x F!Bestfriend Reader 

Summary: Hogwarts years | You were James’ best friend since first year. Throughout your years at Hogwarts, you had started to develop a crush on James, but you refused to act on your feelings due to the fact James only ever had eyes for Lily. Now you're sitting at his funeral, reminiscing about the past and you can't help but feel regret and guilt. 

Authors note: This is my first fic /one-shot so forgive me if it isn't that great to read, I just found it fun being able to interpret lyrics into stories about characters I love. The story loosely follows the Marauders scenes in the HP movies. I picture James with either a scouse accent or a really chavvy London accent, but you can picture him however you want. I apologise in advance if the tenses get mixed up, the story is made up of the reader looking back on the past and reliving certain moments. 

______________________________________________________________

‘I'm in the rafters looking down  It's cold up here  Between walls of stone  I made my home’ 

The church is cold and dim. Especially in the upstairs seating, which is where you are situated. As you try to listen to the speeches full of childhood memories and happier times, you can't help but lose focus and think about the what-ifs and how things could've gone differently. If you had never met James in that cabin on the way to Hogwarts, you wouldn’t be feeling this pain and heartache, but you also wouldn’t have had such a joyful and exciting time at the school. Hindsight is a funny thing after all. “What if it was me and not Lily? Why wasn’t it me? Why did I have to fall for him?” You wonder what the answers to these questions could be, but the harsh truth is that you never will, and you will live with the never-ending ambiguity until the day you die. 

‘And the air hangs heavy with the incense  Feathers fall from pigeons  Cooing in the tower’ 

Your first year, you remember it all so clearly. You were looking to find a cabin for the journey to Hogwarts, but the majority were filled, and in the rest, there were stone-faced older kids that openly sneered at you anytime you walked past them. Until you found his cabin. 

 He was the only one in there and you thought that he looked somewhat friendly, so you decided to take a chance. It ended up being one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. 

 He welcomed you in with a bright smile on his face, despite looking like his face would split with how wide his smile was, he asked you the standard questions, “What's your name? What house d’ya think you'll be in? D’ya want to be mates?” Of course, I wanted to be friends with him, I probably would have been miserable without him in my life but then again, I wouldn’t be so heartbroken now. Hindsight is a funny thing after all. 

You can recall the way his eyes gleamed when he introduced himself as James. James. Tears sprung to your eyes, making your surroundings go blurry. You can't help but miss the way he proudly said he was a Gryffindor “where dwell the brave at heart” and how Slytherin was full of “evil prats and I'd rather die than be in Slytherin.” You had always admired his pride and how he never let anything upset him too much or for too long. 

That is of course until Lily Evans became more vicious and spiteful in her rejections and jabs. Whenever James was insulted by his “Lilyflower” he let it break down his nonchalant persona and let it cut him deeper than any knife ever could. His Lilyflower. The common factor in all your suffering, you couldn’t blame her of course, it wasn’t her fault that a big oaf like James Potter fell in love with her. But it's not like that fact softened the blow in any way. 

You decided to stop that train of thought before you cried even harder. Instead, you choose to remember when the Trolley Lady came to the door and being breath taken at the assortment of sweet treats. Upon looking in your purse which was just a pouch, you’d realised that you didn’t have enough to get the Bertie Botts Every flavour Beans that you would've liked, with disappointment quickly replacing your awestruck expression, you had declined and took to looking out the window instead of having to see the trolley taunting you with all its colours and designs.  

That’s when you heard him. 

“We’ll take the lot of ‘em” you heard him say and you had insisted that he shouldn’t be wasting his money on you, but he simply drowned out your pleas and focused on the shock of the Trolley Lady. He was always so generous. 

After much reluctance and countless Thank you’s, you'd decided to have a few cauldron cakes and indulge in a chocolate frog when a small timid boy opened the compartment door and asked if anyone had seen his toad, he introduced himself as Peter Pettigrew and he ended up sitting with the both of you for the rest of the journey while you had pulled out a book to read and ended up falling asleep with your head leaning on the compartment wall. 

‘I rarely go down there, the view's just so beautiful from here  And I can see everybody at their worst points  At their worst points’ 

You start to remember the moment you openly started looking at James differently. It was the end of third year, and he had just won the quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin after declaring during dinner in the great hall that Gryffindor was 100% going to win and he would “wipe his arse with the slithering bastards”.  

You also remember his mumbling and moaning about having to go to detention and you remember him being too busy laying his head on your lap when you both were in your dorm and going to sleep while you read a book. 

 But there he was on his broom hovering above the crowd that had formed to celebrate the win with him. The noise of screams, chants and shouts reverberated across the entirety of the school grounds. The thought of it making you shiver. While James was practically the same shade as the snitch by how brightly his smile was beaming, you were perfectly content with watching him from the Gryffindor stands and away from the chaos that was the Quidditch pitch. 

To this day you can still feel the way your heart skipped a beat when he looked up and smiled at you. At least you thought it was at you. You noticed his wet hair, whether it was because of the rain, him sweating or a combination of both, you didn’t care. His curly dark brown hair that normally looked so fluffy and messy that you just wanted to run your hands through it and make it somewhat tidier.  

His arms that made his jersey look to be too tight, it made you picture scenarios with him being able to carry you places when you got too tired, fighting someone who tried to hurt you. You are still quite ashamed to admit the times when you got flustered at the thought of him using them to pin you against a wall and having a heated makeout session in a broom cupboard. 

Thoughts aside, you had decided to retire to your dorm for a quick nap. The cold can be very tiring. You gathered your things and stood up only to see Lily Evans, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew sat together directly behind you. You hadn't even noticed them while you watched James previously. 

Lily and Peter said hello while Remus only managed an awkward tight-lipped smile. You and Remus didn’t become friends until your seventh year when you both bonded over being unrequited lovers. The reason for this being that you always felt like he could see through you. He knew things about people before they even knew it themselves which always made you paranoid that he could see your feelings for James and tell him, and as a result, ruining the best friendship you ever had. At least I don’t need to be paranoid anymore.  

Your mind skipped to fifth year, when you were sitting with the Marauders on a warm sunny day, exams had just ended, and you all were just waiting for the results to be calculated. That’s when you heard the boys get up and walk over to a nearby tree. You looked over and saw a mop of stringy black hair and a pale face with an expression of distaste painted on his face. Snivellous,, the foul git.  

You had chosen to stay far back enough that you could still see what happens clearly but ensured you weren't too close as to avoid McGonagall's wrath if she were to show up at the scene.  

The next thing you knew was that Snivellous was hanging upside down in mid-air. Levicorpus. You remember coming across the charm in the library with Sirius and James while looking for more spells for future pranks. You never got involved in the pranks because you didn’t fancy sitting in a silent room for an hour for detention or, Merlin forbid, whatever task Filch might've issued you with. 

There was always a slight rift between you and Sirius because of your refusal to get involved in pranks, he would never have outwardly said it in front of James or Peter because of their loyalty to you, but he disliked how you would only ever consider helping them if James had asked you. You were the only girl in Hogwarts he couldn’t sway with his charm and good looks. And Merlin did it get him jealous. Not that you had noticed back then at least. 

You ended that tangent before it made you spiral down a rabbit hole of confusion. You thought back the past, Snape was being held high by none other than James Potter. His fluffy green Slytherin socks and the sparse leg hair upon his dry ashen legs, were left on display for everyone to see. You had wondered what provoked James into performing such a spell. But your question was left unanswered as your attention had gone to Snape being dropped back onto the ground and Lily Evans being called a “Filthy Mudblood.” by her old childhood best friend. 

If anger meant seeing red, then James wasn’t seeing anything but of blind rage. “Don’t you dare call her that word you vile, disgusting creature.” There was an array of insults and cussing until Lily had brought him back to his senses. She told Snivellous to piss off and she waited until he was far enough away to round on James and unleash the anger that had been building inside her for years. 

You couldn’t hear what she said due to the fact she had put a silencing charm on the area but based off what James whimpered and whined about while he dreamt in your bed with you for comfort, she had probably said something along the lines of “I would rather kill myself then ever be your girl, Potter.” Hindsight is a funny thing after all. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of your heart at the fact that his soul had latched onto Lily and not you, not even giving you a chance.  

That was the night you realised that you would never get the guy. You will forever be condemned to loving James Potter. Your life will continue to be tormented with the possibilities that could've happened, the dreams that made you weep with despair and the everlasting longing and desire slowly encasing your heart until it breaks and shatters. James Potter was the light of your life, but he also caused the darkness that it left behind. James Potter was the sun, but now everything has gone dark. 

‘I'm not a sadist, I enjoy just being able to be witness of the loneliness and fear  I abhor in case there isn't one  In case there isn't one’ 

After that night, after your tragic discovery had become the only thing running through your head. You had pathetically tried to recover the way you saw James before you fell for him. You tried for 2 long years with no luck. He still had your attention and heart, and yet he didn’t realise he had either. So, when the Marauders split for the night, you decided to ask for help. 

You were suffocating with the grief and the mourning of what could've been. And you needed someone to help you breathe. 

With Peter and Sirius headed to the dorm, James doing his Head-Boy patrols with Lily, it was only you and Remus left in the library, the map and the invisibility cloak set to the side until you both decided to leave. It turns out you didn’t even need to say anything because Remus knew exactly what was going through your head. 

He saw the adoration in your eyes when you looked at your best friend, he saw the longing and upset you tried to hide when you heard him constantly talk about marrying Lily and having “Mini Potters” with her. No matter how well you tried, you couldn’t help but subtly display your inner turmoil. 

And Remus saw it all.  

“You're in love with James, aren't you, I see the way your eyes shine brighter, and your smile gets bigger when he enters the room. But he doesn’t love you back and you know it. I know you know it. And I know you’ve known it for years now. But I know what it's like, it feels like a constant weight on your chest and when they walk in the room, it disappears even if you try to hold it down, but then their presence, their joy, their affection for someone else, drains you, the energy you put in to try make them notice your love just gets brushed away until eventually it leaves you so empty that you become a hollow shell of the person that fell for them all that time ago.” 

“I can't tell you how to get rid of it simply because I don’t know how to, but I can offer you some advice that I should've taken before it was too late. Leave, Leave them alone. Leave their life. It'll suck balls for the first while I'm sure but by staying you're degrading yourself. All your insecurities and the suffering you're facing now will pass. This is doomed love sweetheart. You're slowly breaking down. Leave. Before you can't piece yourself together again.” 

And with that he leaves the library. 

How are you supposed to leave his life? How are you supposed to keep him out of yours? The questions won't stop plaguing your mind, do you take Remus's advice and move on, or do you ignore him and feel your heart pull and crack every time you see him. The choice will be the most difficult one you will ever make and yet it’s the one that needs to be made. 

You walk into potions the next day, you thought that it would help make a choice if you avoided him for a day as a trial. Instead of sitting in your normal seat, you walked over and sat beside a Ravenclaw who you believed was called Pandora.  

The Marauders walked in and sat at their tables; you avoided James’ gaze when you looked over to you in confusion, but Remus diverted his attention elsewhere. You had inwardly thanked Remus for helping you out. 

As the lesson went on everything got worse and your decision became clearer and clearer. 

Since the year started, James had started to think twice about the pranks, he acted more mature in general and overall started becoming a man. All of this was for Lily of course. You couldn’t help but ask yourself if he would do the same thing for you if he chose you in the first place. 

You were taking notice of all the little things that you're usually too delusional to notice. 

How every time he made a joke or laughed; he would glance at Lily. You could feel your heart in your throat. 

How he would wink and smirk at her when he got an answer correct. A tear forms in your eye. 

How he would look over at her to make sure she understood the topic. Another tear forms. 

How he whispers the answer in her ear if she doesn’t know it. Another one 

How he shines with pride when Professor Slughorn appraises her. Another. 

More tears form until you couldn’t stop them anymore. Thankfully the class was dismissed, and you quickly left before the tears fell and left a salty trail down your cheek. A representation of your life back then. Although in thinking that you can't help but notice that it didn’t get any better. Hindsight is a funny thing after all. 

[hybriddh]

The Weight of Silver by HybridDH

second, second, second.

Is that all I am?

Is that all I’ll ever be?

A shadow in someone else’s victory,

A quiet name, a quiet smile,

Holding back the hurt all the while.

second, second, second…

It’s okay, I tell myself,

If they’re happy, I’ll stay on the shelf.

Their joy means more than the place I stand,

I’m just here—offering a steady hand.

I did my best, gave all I had,

But maybe second isn’t so bad.

second, second, second.

I’m learning to be fine with that,

No need to wear the winner’s hat.

As long as they shine, as long as they glow,

I’ll stay behind, I’ll let them go.

What’s a trophy but a piece of gold?

I still have warmth; I’m not left cold.

But… sometimes…

Sometimes I wonder,

If I could have done more,

If I could’ve pushed just a little harder,

Would I have stood at the top, instead of under?

Would the world have seen me, too,

If I had been bold, if I had pushed through?

second, second, second.

I carry the weight, I bite my tongue,

It’s alright, I tell myself—I’m still young.

There’s time to win, time to shine,

But what if it’s never mine?

What if second is where I always stay—

A step behind, watching the day?

SECOND, SECOND, SECOND!

WHY IS THAT ALL I EVER HEAR?

I DID BETTER, I WORKED HARDER—WHY ARE THEY THERE AND I’M STUCK HERE?!

I WASN’T JUST CLOSE, I WAS PERFECT, I KNOW I WAS!

YET HERE I STAND, IN THE SHADOWS, BECAUSE… BECAUSE WHY?!

SECOND, SECOND, SECOND!

I AM NOT OKAY WITH THAT!

I WANTED FIRST, I DESERVED FIRST!

WHY SHOULD I WATCH FROM THE SIDELINES,

WHILE THEY BATHE IN THE LIGHT, WHILE THEY RISE?!

THEIR VICTORY FEELS LIKE MY LOSS,

AND I’M THE ONE PAYING THE COST!

SECOND, SECOND, SECOND!

DON’T THEY SEE?! DON’T THEY KNOW?!

I GAVE EVERYTHING, I BENT, I BROKE!

BUT NO ONE CARES FOR THE SECOND PLACE NAME,

THEY ONLY REMEMBER WHO WON THE GAME!

I AM BETTER THAN THIS!

I SHOULD HAVE WON, I WAS THE BEST!

BUT I’M HERE, SILENCED, LIKE I NEVER GAVE MY ALL.

IT WASN’T LUCK THAT PUT ME THERE,

IT WAS BLOOD, IT WAS SWEAT, IT WAS TEARING MY SOUL BARE!

AND YET, WHAT DO I HAVE TO SHOW?!

A SILVER BADGE? A HOLLOW GLOW?!

NO! IT’S NOT ENOUGH!

IT’S NEVER ENOUGH, AND IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MINE!

I WANT WHAT’S RIGHTFULLY MINE,

I DESERVE TO BE FIRST, NOT FORGOTTEN IN TIME!

I’M TIRED OF SMILING WHILE THEY TAKE MY PLACE—

IT SHOULD BE ME, NOT A SHADOWED FACE!

second, second, second…

The anger simmers, but begins to fade.

It was all I could be, for now.

Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be okay somehow.

The fire inside still flickers bright,

But the rage cools in the softening night.

I tried my best, I gave my heart,

And even though I wasn’t first, I played my part.

Next time, though…

Next time, I’ll try again.

I’ll climb the ladder, I’ll take the win.

second, second, second.

The sting has dulled, it’s quieter now.

I’ll rise again, but I don’t need a crown.

I’ll fight, I’ll push, I’ll grow in skill,

And soon enough, I’ll crest that hill.

I won’t let this hold me down,

Won’t drown in thoughts of defeat, no frown.

This isn’t where my journey halts—

It’s just a pause, a lesson from faults.

I’ll push, I’ll stay strong,

Even if the wait feels long.

I’ll earn my place, I’ll earn my crown,

No more self-pity, no more looking down.

second, second, second…

It’s where I stand today, but not forever.

I’ll rise higher, I’ll sever

These chains of doubt, this silent sting,

One day, I’ll be first—just watch, you’ll see everything.

If I fall short again, I’ll rise once more,

Because second today doesn’t shake my core.

I’m more than this, I know my worth—

And one day, I’ll take my rightful first.

No more anger, no more pain,

Just focus, steady like the rain.

I’ll train, I’ll push, I’ll give it my best,

And one day, I’ll stand above the rest.

second, second, second…

I’ll wear it for now, with a quiet grace.

But I know deep down, I’ll find my place.

The time will come when the world will see—

I’m not second forever, and soon I’ll be free.

So, I’ll keep moving, I won’t slow down,

I’ll earn that gold, I’ll earn my crown.

Because today’s defeat is tomorrow’s drive—

And with each step forward, I’ll truly thrive.

[losingabs2000]

Diary of a Future Dad Bod

As a lover of WG stories, with the help of one of the AI apps, here is a story!

Diary Entry - Day 1:

Today marks the beginning of a new journey for me. I've always been on the slimmer side, but I've decided to hit the gym and transform my body. It's time to add some muscle and sculpt the physique I've always desired. I've taken my initial measurements as a starting point:

Weight: 160 lbs

Chest: 38 inches

Waist: 30 inches

Biceps: 12 inches

I've started a workout routine focusing on strength training and weightlifting. I'm excited to see how my body responds to the challenge.

Diary Entry - Day 30:

It's been a month since I started hitting the gym regularly, and I can already notice some changes. My muscles feel firmer, and my strength has increased significantly. My dedication is paying off.

Weight: 165 lbs

Chest: 40 inches

Waist: 31 inches

Biceps: 13 inches

I've had to tighten my belt a notch as my waist seems to be filling out slightly. My shirts are starting to fit better, especially around the chest and shoulders. It's a small victory, but it's motivating me to keep pushing harder.

Diary Entry - Day 60:

Two months in, and I'm amazed at the progress I've made. My muscles are growing, and my body is transforming. I've gained some weight, but it's a healthy weight gain that's reflecting in my physique.

Weight: 175 lbs

Chest: 42 inches

Waist: 32 inches

Biceps: 14 inches

I've had to invest in new clothes as my old ones are becoming a bit snug around the arms and chest. It's a great feeling to see the shirts stretch around my muscles. The transformation is becoming more apparent, and I'm proud of the changes I've made.

Diary Entry - Day 90:

Three months of dedication and hard work have resulted in a significant transformation. I've become beefy, sporting a dad bod style body with well-defined muscles. My efforts in the gym are paying off in ways I never imagined.

Weight: 185 lbs

Chest: 44 inches

Waist: 33 inches

Biceps: 15 inches

My clothes no longer fit the same way they used to. My shirts are snug around the chest and shoulders, and my jeans feel tighter around the thighs. It's a good problem to have. I'm enjoying this new look, and the compliments I receive from friends and family are a constant reminder of my progress.

Diary Entry - Day 120:

Four months of consistent training have transformed my body beyond my wildest expectations. I'm now sporting a muscular physique, and I feel more confident than ever before. My body continues to change, and I'm embracing every bit of it.

Weight: 195 lbs

Chest: 46 inches

Waist: 34 inches

Biceps: 16 inches

Finding clothes that fit well has become a bit of a challenge. I need larger sizes to accommodate my muscular build. The sleeves of my shirts hug my biceps tightly, and my pants now require a wider waistline. It's a constant reminder of the progress I've made and the effort I've put in.

Diary Entry - Day 150:

Today, I reflect on the remarkable journey I've undertaken. I've reached my desired goal, and I couldn't be happier with my dad bod style body. My muscles are bigger and more defined than ever, and I've gained a sense of self-confidence I never had before.

Weight: 200 lbs

Chest: 48 inches

Waist: 35 inches

Biceps: 17 inches

Shopping for clothes has become a whole new experience for me. Finding clothes that fit my muscular frame has become a priority. Shirts that used to hang loosely on me now accentuate my chest and arms, while pants require a larger waist size to accommodate my muscular thighs. It's a constant reminder of the progress I've made and the transformation my body has undergone.

Diary Entry - Day 180:

Six months have passed since I began this incredible fitness journey, and the changes are nothing short of remarkable. My body has settled into its new shape, maintaining a balanced combination of muscle and a touch of fat that gives me the desired dad bod style.

Weight: 200 lbs (maintained)

Chest: 48 inches (maintained)

Waist: 35 inches (maintained)

Biceps: 17 inches (maintained)

I'm amazed at how my body has adapted to this new lifestyle. The once-loose shirts now cling to my well-developed chest and arms, showcasing the results of my hard work at the gym. Even my jeans have taken on a different look, hugging my legs snugly and highlighting the muscular definition.

Diary Entry - Day 210:

Nine months into my fitness journey, and I continue to feel proud of my body's transformation. The combination of muscle and a little extra weight has given me a sturdy, strong appearance. I embrace my dad bod style with confidence.

Weight: 205 lbs

Chest: 49 inches

Waist: 36 inches

Biceps: 18 inches

My wardrobe has seen a complete overhaul. Gone are the days of fitted shirts and slim-cut pants. Now, I opt for looser-fitting clothes that flatter my muscular physique. It's a different style, but one that suits me perfectly.

Diary Entry - Day 240:

Almost a year has passed since I embarked on this journey, and I couldn't be happier with the results. My dad bod style body is a testament to the hard work and dedication I've put into shaping myself.

Weight: 205 lbs (maintained)

Chest: 49 inches (maintained)

Waist: 36 inches (maintained)

Biceps: 18 inches (maintained)

My clothing choices have evolved along with my body. I've learned how to embrace my muscular build while maintaining comfort and style. It's amazing how clothes can become an expression of one's journey and confidence.

Diary Entry - Day 365:

As I reflect on the past year, I am grateful for the changes I've experienced. From a skinny frame to a muscular dad bod, my body has become a symbol of my determination and perseverance. The journey continues, and I look forward to new fitness goals and further exploration of my newfound confidence.

Weight: 205 lbs (maintained)

Chest: 49 inches (maintained)

Waist: 36 inches (maintained)

Biceps: 18 inches (maintained)

Remember, transformation is a continuous process, and I'm excited to see where the next chapter takes me.

[firefirefruit]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Forty

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

notes: sorry guys! had to repost this chap because tumblr was acting weirdly ;0

Chapter Forty: Sacrificial Lambs

"But how would he know who I am?" Law's voice is tense as he paces in front of me. His mind seems to be racing, each step heavy with a mixture of frustration and confusion.

"I don’t know, Law. I just don’t know," I reply, my tone more resigned than I’d like. My hands move swiftly, stuffing my work equipment back into a storage box. The others in the cave are equally busy, some finishing their packing while others prepare for the journey ahead. Zoro remains sitting on the floor beside me, our chain lying slack between us. His eyes are closed, his body still, as if he's taking a moment to rest amidst the chaos. “My old man wasn’t exactly upfront with me.”

Law stops pacing and leans against the wall, his sharp gaze fixed on me. "It doesn’t make sense," he mutters, almost to himself, "that he’s trying to reach out to me, in any case."

In the corner of my vision, I see a tan hand reach toward my back. With a tired sigh, I spin around and firmly slap away Luffy’s dumb attempt at trying to steal the curious longsword that now takes solace over my back, staring down at him like some sort of elder sister I’ve decided to fill the role for. He looks up at me like a deer caught in headlights, a pout sneaking his way through his mouth.

“Shouldn’t you be packing your bags?” I raise a brow. He grins at me and stretches his arms as if trying to make a point.

“Don’t have anything to pack!”

“Then help Franky out with something.”

Luffy makes a point to pause to think, scrunch his eyebrows hard and train his eyes on the ceiling. Then he looks back at me with a decided beam. “Nope!”

I’m going to rip my hair out. Now that he really thinks we’re siblings, Luffy’s decided to attach himself to my hip. To the other side of my hip, since Zoro’s already taken that lovely space up.

I let out a frustrated moan, my eyes piercing the box in front of me. I catch Law’s smirk, who’s clearly entertained and relishing in my irritation.

“If you still had your powers, there’d be smoke rising from your head right now,” he mentions.

“Am I supposed to thank you?”

Law shrugs. “Wouldn’t hurt.” With a swift push with his foot, he moves off the wall and begins to turn on his heel towards his half-mended Polar Tang, his own crew chaotically stuffing strewn bits and pieces from their camp back into their ship. “Make sure Franky attaches my ship to yours. From the looks of it, we’re still going to be your guests.”

“Tell him yourself,” I mutter to myself sourly as Law leaves. I crouch down to resume taping up my boxes of belongings with a resolute sigh, facing Zoro on the same level while doing so.

My fingers slowly stop their fumbling as I quietly take in this man’s face in. He remains as quiet as ever, his eyes closed, his free arm wedged beneath his armpit. I can’t ever tell whether he’s deep in sleep or he’s just resting his eyes, but I guess it doesn’t ever really matter; he’ll startle awake if there’s even the smell of danger lurking nearby. I can’t help but smile at his calm face, his mouth slightly parted, and think how adorable he looks when he's so calm.

Suddenly, I hear Luffy release a dramatic sigh from his lips - then, I feel a huge weight slam into my side as he presses his body against mine. I grunt out a little breath, shifting my weight to my other foot to examine his sad face, and I can't help but admit that it made me soften up a little.

“What's wrong, Luff?” I mutter softly, just in case Zoro is actually asleep. Luffy only pouts harder and wedges his head deeper into the crook of my shoulder.

“Do we have to go now?” Luffy whines, looking at me with pining puppy-dog eyes. “This place is so cool, and the dragons are even cooler, and I haven’t even tried their lava pool out yet.”

“Aragnus’ll be following us from above,” I try to console, looking at him with a little bit of a humoured smile. “He’s going to be—”

“NO WAY!” Luffy exclaims. “He’s gonna come with us?! Can he fly our ship on his back? Can I ride him? Can—”

“Luffy,” Zoro grumbles with his eyes still closed. “Shut up.”

But Luffy isn’t listening. He’s already running to Aragnus, who’s sat in a humongous pile of scales in the corner of the cave, trying his best to stay out of the way. In the corner of his vision, he watches Luffy sling himself towards him, and with a pissed off grunt, slides one black wing over his face to shield himself.

I turn around with a snort and mutter, “He’s gonna get incinerated one of these days.”

“He already has been,” Zoro responds.

With surprise, I look down to see Zoro fully awake, watching me with curiosity.

I smirk at him and prod my boot against his. “Morning, sunshine. Sleep well?”

He grunts in response. “Better than the time we had last night.”

“Glad to hear it,” I reply, my tone laced with sarcasm as I finish sealing up my last box. I give it a final shove, sliding it across the cave floor to the growing pile of supplies.

Zoro shifts slightly, his chains clinking faintly as he adjusts his position. "You’re too tense,” he mutters, cracking one eye open to look at me. “All this packing is making you anxious.”

“I’d like to see you do it,” I retort, brushing a stray strand of hair out of my face. I shake my wrist that's connected to his, making the chains clack together. “Besides, someone has to make sure we’re ready to go. It's not like you can help much.”

He chuckles softly, the sound almost lost in the noise of everyone bustling about the cave. “Fair point. But, y’know, it’s okay to let someone else handle things. Even if that someone is Luffy.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, because letting Luffy handle things always ends up well.” I glance over to where Luffy is now trying to climb onto Aragnus’s back, the dragon still keeping its wing firmly over its face in an attempt to ignore him. I laugh out loud, admiring the view. “See what I mean?”

Zoro shrugs, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips. “At least everyone else seems to be on task.”

I turn around, taking in the chaotic scene in the cavern. Franky and Usopp are in a heated debate over how to move a massive crate of engine parts, their voices rising above the clamour. Nearby, Nami stands over a map, furiously scribbling notes and barking orders at Brook and Chopper, who scramble to load a cart with supplies. Robin, calm and composed in the middle of the mayhem, uses her extra arms to neatly fold sails and pack crates, working with an effortless grace that contrasts sharply with the frenzy around her.

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?” Zoro’s voice echoes from behind me. I purse my lips and shake my head, not taking my eyes off the camp in front of me.

“I’m hoping this thing,” I say while patting the hilt of my sword behind me, “is gonna magically whip out some information.”

Zoro remains silent, but I can feel his eyes pinned on me from behind.

I glance over at him confusedly and catch his eye. "You’re not saying anything.”

“Hold on,” he whispers intently, his lips pursed. He looks serious – too serious, and whatever playfulness I had within me is dissipating the more I watch him tense up. He rises to his feet, pauses in his tracks and listens. And listens. And...

And he turns to me, his look intense. “Something isn’t right.”

“What?—"

A sudden rumble shakes the cave, causing dust and small rocks to tumble from the ceiling. Everyone freezes, their eyes darting around in alarm.

“What was that?” Chopper squeaks, his eyes wide with fear.

I watch Law in the distance frowning, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword as he looks at the direction of the sound.

As if in response, the ground beneath us begins to tremble, the vibrations growing stronger with each passing second. I stagger slightly, reaching out to steady myself against the wall.

“Earthquake?” Usopp calls out, his voice wavering.

“Not quite,” Robin murmurs, her eyes narrowing as she studies the trembling ground.

Suddenly, a loud crack echoes through the cave, followed by a rasping gasp. I whip around to watch a black glob of liquid slither through every single crack within the cave.

The thick, inky substance seeps through the cracks in the walls and floor, moving with an unsettling, almost sentient fluidity. The air grows colder as the black liquid spreads, and as it slips across the floor, the affected rocky ground is sapped of any colour and life it could have had.

“What is that?” Nami’s voice is a mixture of fear and confusion as she takes a cautious step back.

I stare at the colour of this thing, the texture of its skin as it slightly bounces like deflated jelly, and my eyes narrow as I sense this odd familiarity that pierces my chest. That's when realisation hits me like a sucker punch to the face.

I step forwards, my mouth left hanging open. “That’s—”

"Stay back," Law commands, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. He steps forward, his sword drawn, his gaze locked onto the growing pool of ink. There's a look of steely determination on his face, his knuckles turning white as he grips harder and harder on Kikoku.

Everyone else is motionless in place, uncertainty and fear etched across their faces. Luffy now stands still, his eyes narrowed in a rare show of sobriety as he stares at the dark substance with a mix of curiosity and unease. Zoro moves beside me, his stance ready, his swords already unsheathed and gleaming in the dim light of the cave.

The rumbling grows louder, and Aragnus rises slowly, his enormous frame towering over everyone else in the cavern. His wings twitch from instinct, those two boundless planes of dark membranes stretching on both sides, casting long shadows across the cave walls.

And then, from within the centre of the darkness, it begins to rise.

The inky figure emerges slowly, its form taking shape from the void. A jelly of darkness, a silhouette of a body, bruised and glinting like a wet polluted membrane. The sight of it sends a sweat racing down my spine, my breath catching in my throat as my gaze is drawn to the eyes—those large, unblinking magenta eyeballs.

The eyeballs float, unmoored, in the places where eyes should be, staring out with an unnatural intensity. There's something profoundly wrong about those eyes, something that speaks of a deep, malevolent intelligence lurking within the creature's formless body.

"It's him," Law breathes, his voice taut with a mixture of rage and fear. "The one who took Penguin."

I know, I wanted to tell Law, if my throat would allow me. I know that figure all too well.

The figure moves with a fluid grace, the wet globules that compose its body swirling and shifting like a living translucent organ. The ground beneath us trembles with each of its steps, the cave's walls vibrating with the resonance of some unseen power. And then it stops, its eyeless gaze fixed on us, those eerie magenta orbs locking onto mine.

I feel a surge of anger rising within me, a fury that burns through the fear gripping my chest.

“Bring him back,” I whisper, trembling with rage, my fingers itching to reach for the hilt of my sword on my back. I take a step forward before Zoro can stop me, my face rising with the taste for retaliation. “Bring him back now.”

The creature’s magenta eyes blink wetly at me, piercing straight through my fury, through my deepest fears. The darkness around it seems to pulse, almost as if it’s responding to my demand. I grip my sword tightly, my knuckles turning white. I feel Zoro’s presence beside me, his intensity mirroring my own, but I can’t let myself be restrained by caution now. Not when Gramps is under this creature’s control.

Raya, Aragnus slowly whispers, a warning in his thoughts, but I indignantly push his voice away.

“Bring him back!” I bellow, louder this time, my voice echoing off the cave walls. The demand hangs in the air, but the creature remains still, its form rippling slightly as if it’s considering my words—or mocking them.

Suddenly, the figure breaks its silence with a raspy, wet laugh, echoing throughout the rocky foundation in malice.

“It’s you!” It rasps out, its voice choking with a sense of perverted want. “I have only ever wanted you, yet instead I now have an old vegetable, drained and spitting all over my walls.”

My chest tightens, anger flaring up like a wildfire threatening to consume me. “You little fucking shi—”

“Stop it,” Law snaps, his eyes narrowing on me, his hand thrown at my direction. He turns to the form, his jaw clenched tight. “What about my crew-mate? Where is he?”

The creature's wet, rasping laugh continues to fill the cave, echoing off the walls and reverberating in my chest. Its dark form shifts and contorts, a swirling mass of wetness that seems almost amused by Law’s demand.

“Trafalgar D. Law,” it rasps, spitting a glob of black ink onto the floor. The vile substance hisses as it hits the ground, and the creature shifts its gaze toward Luffy, its eyes narrowing with contempt. “Monkey D. Luffy. My two gleaming jewels. How is it that I am constantly fooled into capturing the sacrificial lambs instead of the true contenders?”

While Luffy bristles at the comment, I can see the realisation dawning on Law’s face as he processes the creature’s words, and the fury within my stomach begins to boil right upwards again.

“You’ve lost your edge, havent you?” I goad against my better judgement, taking another step, dragging an unwilling Zoro behind me. “If an old man and a poor crew-mate can outwit you at your own game, how powerful can you really be?”

Raya! Aragnus bellows within my mind, his voice thrumming with an edge to it. His eyes, unblinking, stare at me with a sense of fear that feels too unorthodox on his face. Remember your shackles. You cannot fight.

But it’s too late.

The creature’s magenta eyes flare with a sudden intensity, its form rippling violently as if my words have struck a nerve. The shadows around it writhe and twist, expanding outward in a furious storm of inky darkness that seems to consume the air itself. The low, rumbling growl deepens, growing louder and more threatening, reverberating through the cave like a thunderclap.

“You dare mock me?” the creature snarls, its voice dripping with venomous rage. The once smooth flow of its form now quivers with barely contained fury. Aragnus growls in his throat, his claws gripping and plunging into the floor with a terrifying intensity, but the creature does not pay attention to him. “You, a mere speck in the universe, dare question my power?”

The entire foundation of the room screams of danger just by its presence, the same danger pressing down on my chest like an invisible weight. I can feel the air vibrating with the creature’s anger, the darkness around it pulsing with malevolent force. Every instinct screams at me to back away, but I hold my ground, refusing to show weakness. I feel Zoro grab my wrist tightly until his knuckles go white, a silent plead to stop trying to pick an unbalanced fight, but I'm not in the right mind to listen. I firmly shrug his hand away.

In an instant, the creature lunges forward, a torrent of wet, pulsing liquid streaking through the air with a terrifying speed. Its form stretches, expanding into a monstrous claw-like shape, reaching out toward me with a deadly intent. The cave walls shudder with the force of its movement, dust and debris falling from above as the ground beneath us trembles.

“Raya!” Luffy, Aragnus and Zoro both shout at the same time, their voices sharp with urgency as Zoro yanks me backward, pulling me out of the path of the creature’s attack. The inky claw slashes through the air where I stood just moments before, its shadowy edges slicing clean through a stone pillar, causing it to crumble and crash to the ground.

I stumble but manage to regain my footing, my heart pounding in my chest as I stare at the destruction the creature has wrought. My breath comes in ragged gasps, but I quickly steady myself, anger flaring even hotter within me.

I don't know who I am anymore. My anger has now taken over my body; the muscles in my face and my arms flex to the beat of brutality. I flash a maniacal grin, and I can feel my pupils grow, deform, disappear within my eyeballs. A glow of white reflects against my nose and cheeks, and I can tell my eyes are on surging with power.

“Fuck you,” I spit out; the only two words that I can even think of saying in this state.

The creature recoils, its form rippling with rage at my defiance. The shadows around it pulse violently, as if matching its furious heartbeat, and the magenta orbs narrow to thin slits. The air grows colder, and the cavern fills with a thick, oppressive darkness that seems to seep into my very bones. I can feel its malice tightening around me like a vice.

"You insolent wretch!" the creature roars, its voice distorted and filled with a guttural fury that echoes through the cave. Its inky form expands again, the darkness condensing into another claw, even larger and more menacing than before, stretching toward me with lethal intent.

I feel Zoro’s hand grip tighter around my arm, his muscles tensing in preparation to yank me out of the way again, but I pull free from his grasp yet again. I’m not backing down this time. Not when this thing is right here in front of me.

Instantly, both of my hands reach for my towering longsword, and it screams a piercing shink as I unsheathe its raw metal. Slowly, as if drinking in on my intoxication, the runes on my sword ignite, burning with a blinding white light. I can feel the energy surging through the blade, crackling like electricity, the heat radiating up through my arm.

The runes glow brighter and brighter, the power within them responding to me, my desperate need to fight back. The chains around my wrists feel like they’re burning, but I push the pain aside, focusing on the creature ahead of me.

“Penguin, Sukiyaki. Where are they? ” I scream, thunder blending into my words, gold seeping through my veins, black consuming my entire vision.

As the creature lunges toward me again, I charge forward, tugging on with Zoro’s weight, raising my sword high. The energy coursing through the blade is wild and untamed, the light so intense that it leaves streaks in my vision. I swing with all my might, aiming straight for the centre of the creature’s mass.

But just as I bring my sword down, I feel a sudden, jarring pull at my wrist. My legs buckle beneath me, and I stumble, my swing going wide. The electrifying glow around my sword flickers, then dims as I lose my balance. The weight of the chains around my wrists feels heavier than ever, dragging me down like lead weights.

"No!" I scream, trying to steady myself, but it’s too late. My momentum is gone, and I tumble forward, hitting the ground hard. The impact sends a shock of pain through my body, and the sword slips from my grasp, its light fading as it clatters across the floor.

The creature’s shadowy claw slashes through the air where I had been moments before, just missing me as I fall. Its furious scream fills the cave, a sound of pure frustration and anger. It retracts its claw, its form rippling and contorting as if struggling to contain its own rage.

I struggle to push myself up, the cold metal of the chains digging into my skin, sapping my strength with every passing second. I can feel the weight of Zoro’s presence beside me, his muscles tensed and ready, but I can’t let this creature win. Not after everything it’s taken from us.

"Stay the fuck down!" Zoro's voice is rough, but there’s a hint of urgency I rarely hear from him. He's pulling me back, trying to shield me with his own body, his swords raised in a defensive stance. The creature’s furious eyes lock onto us, its form rippling with anger as it prepares to strike again.

Law is on the move now, darting forward with his sword gleaming in the dim light of the cave, but the throbbing, visceral creature is too fast as it senses his charging presence. Its body, bulging and round, falls like liquid onto the floor, slithering all the way toward Law’s feet. Law is stupefied at its speed, stumbling backwards and as the bulging black mess shoots straight upwards, Bepo roars in panic and charges towards the forming black shape.

But as the liquid starts to slink and seep towards Bepo’s feet, through his pure white fur, Law screams with a sort of wildness that ravages his throat.

"ROOM!" Law shouts, his voice echoing through the cavern as a blue sphere expands from his outstretched hand, engulfing the creature within it. "SHAMBLES!" With a swift motion, he swaps the creature’s position with a boulder, buying them a momentary reprieve.

But the creature isn’t easily fooled. It reconstitutes itself quickly, the ink swirling around it like a living storm. The magenta eyes narrow again, focusing on Law with a vengeful glare. It lunges forward, but Luffy intercepts, his rubbery arm stretching out to land a solid punch across the creature's face.

“Gomu Gomu no Pistol,” Luffy yells, but as his hand interacts with the creature’s texture, there’s no hard impact. Instead, his fist is swallowed into the creature’s clotted form, and as it does, the creature begins to open its mouth wider. And it swallows. And swallow, and swallow. Its mouth is like quicksand, trying to pull Luffy deeper into its dark mass, and Luffy’s eyes widen with a mixture of surprise and irritation as he struggles against the force.

“Franky, get the ship going!” I hear Nami scream, her heels clattering against the floor as she dives on board, dragging Chopper along with her. “Fall back!”

“Aragnus, get them out.” Robin’s eyes pierce the dragon’s whilst she conjures up an amalgamation of limbs. With a tidal wave of hands, she pushes and pulls all the Hearts and Strawhats toward the Sunny.

Aragnus roars, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates through the cave, shaking the very walls. He sweeps one massive wing down, creating a gust of wind that pushes the creature back momentarily. It gives us the smallest window, but it’s enough for Luffy to yank his arm free, the dark substance reluctantly letting go with a sickening slurp.

“Wait!” I shout, glancing back at Law. “We need infor—”

“No time!” Law cuts me off sharply, his face set in determination as he holds the creature back with another ROOM, the blue sphere enveloping the creature again. “Get on board, now!”

Franky has already started up the Sunny’s engines, the hum of the machinery growing louder. “Let’s get moving!” he bellows, his hands flying over the controls. The rest of the crew scrambles on board, some still dragging boxes and supplies.

Aragnus steps forward, his enormous head turning toward Zoro and me. His eyes are sharp, filled with both urgency and resolve.

Get on my back, now! He commands, his voice thundering through every single nerve in my body.

Without a second thought, I scramble up his scaly side, Zoro right behind me. The moment we’re both secure, Aragnus leaps into the air, his powerful wings beating down and shoots straight up to the ceiling without any warning. The sudden movement jerks me back, but I hold on tight, my fingers digging into his scales.

The creature below roars in frustration, its shadowy form expanding once more as it tries to reach for us, but Aragnus is too quick. We soar higher, the cave growing smaller beneath us.

Law and Luffy manage to leap onto the ship’s deck as it starts moving away, its engines roaring. The rest of Law’s crew is already on board the Sunny, still in the midst of securely attaching the half-broken Polar Tang to its tail.

“Everyone, hold on!” Franky shouts, turning the wheel sharply to avoid a falling boulder. The ships veer away just in time, the boulder crashing into the water below with a massive splash.

“Chopper, make sure everyone’s accounted for!” Nami yells, her eyes scanning the deck frantically. The doctor in question begins slipping and sliding on her command, taking in every and any pirate on board our ship.

As we fly higher, I glance back down at the cave entrance. The creature is still there, its form distorting with rage. It slams its claw-like appendage against the cave walls in frustration, but it’s clear that it’s stuck.

Aragnus rises above the cliffs, the sky open and vast before us. I take a deep breath, the cool air filling my lungs, and let out a sigh of relief. We’ve escaped, at least for the moment.

“Hey,” Zoro mumbles in my ear, his breath warm against my skin. His fingers tentatively reach towards my waist, curling them over me as if to make sure I'm really there with him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I reply, though my voice is hoarse. I can still feel the cold bite of the chains around my wrists, a constant reminder of our earlier struggle. I turn around to look at his pale face, silently, frantically, examining him for injuries. “Yeah. Are you?”

He nods, his gaze shifting back to the creature below. “That thing isn’t gonna give up easily.”

Law, now standing on the deck of the Sunny, shouts up at us, his expression grim. “That thing is after us. It won’t stop until it has what it wants.”

“Then we’ll stop it,” I firmly say. I look at them all from below and to Zoro behind me. “We’ll all give it shit to reckon with.”

Zoro smirks and leans closer to my ear, his fingers squeezing my waist, a stray green curl tickling my skin. “You read my mind.”

Suddenly, I hear Chopper scream from below. His frantic hooves scratch against the deck in pure horror, yelling at anyone to pay attention to him.

“Chopper…” Zoro mumbles in bewilderment.

“Guys, please,” Chopper pants, sweat running stupidly fast through the wafts of his brown fur. “Something’s wrong. Bepo’s in trouble. It got him."

[cloudcountry]

HAVE U EVER THOUGHT ABT KNIGHT DEUCE

I HAVE I HAVE i love putting deuce in royalty au positions because he is just so PERFECT for any role. im gonna go on a rant that reads like a quick fic so like uhhhh HEAR ME OUT

THIS IS TOTALLY UNEDITED SO IF THERE'S ANY WEIRD SENTENCES IGNORE THEM I WAS EXCITED

Deuce wasn't always a knight.

He started from a humble beginning, just him and his mom on their farm that his father left a long time ago. He sells stuff at the market for his mom because she can’t make the journey alone now. She’s getting older and Deuce knows he’s going to have to step up and take care of her now, just like she did for him.

You, the heir to the throne, sneak out because you enjoy the market so much. You find his stall and the two of you talk, realizing how similar you are.

There’s more in this world that you want to experience.

You’re both stuck.

And so he vows to come back again and you two keep talking. He takes you to a clearing where he likes to think and wrestle with the other village boys. You ask him if he thinks he can beat you, and he gets this wicked smirk on his face before rolling up his sleeves.

He’s in love.

He starts training harder, fully aware that he needs to be able to protect you if you two were ever attacked while you were out.

A few years later, the annual festival has a sword-fighting event. You beg Deuce to join since the prize money would be enough to sustain him and his mother for a year. He takes your advice and joins, and you proudly step up to be his sponsor. At this point, the king and queen themselves are wondering what has you so interested in this farm boy, but you simply tell them to sit back and see.

Deuce exceeds your expectations. He wipes the floor with everyone and gives you such a radiant smile after the final opponent is down.

Your heart is fluttering.

Word spreads fast throughout the kingdom and people eventually start questioning whether someone with that considerable talent will be hired.

He should, right?

In fact, the king should have him be the heir’s personal guard since he’s that good.

And so the king calls him back to the castle, where he’ll have to face off with the king’s own forces. You’re a bit nervous but hold your head high as you sit next to your father.

Deuce does remarkably well until-

Until-

Until he loses against one of the higher-ranked guards, who hits him in the chest with the end of his dummy sword.

You gasp, heart plummeting. There’s no way your father would allow him to be your guard now that he failed and-

“You’re good.” the king says, and he’s smiling and suddenly your heart is soaring again because that means-!

“Not good enough to be the heir’s guard.”

No-

“But I will train you. Getting this far on your own is impressive. Well done, Sir Spade.”

You can’t help but tackle him when the two of you are alone, nearly crushing his spine with the force of your hug. The boy you adore is going to be your protector. You’ll be closer than ever.

He seems a bit down, though. You ask him about his mom. He says he’ll be sending her money, but this new career will be so demanding that he’ll have to give up on seeing her.

“No you won’t.” you say stubbornly, “I will convince my father to let us travel down a route that will allow you to see your mother when we go out. I will also extend a helping hand to your farm with donations and labor. I know the two of you do not want to abandon your home. Just because you work for me now doesn’t mean you have to give up who you are.”

He thanks you profusely and thinks about kissing you for the rest of the night.

Eventually, there’s a ball for you to find a suitable husband. It’s a masquerade one, that being the tradition in your kingdom. You know you’re supposed to be unbiased and judge based on character, but when you see the familiar sea-blue eyes and dark blue hair peeking out from under his ridiculous hat, you can’t help but let Deuce occupy all of your time.

Once the ball ends, you name Deuce your husband.

He finally gets to kiss you.

“Everything I did, my beloved, was for you,” Deuce states, like it was the most obvious thing in the universe, “And I would do it over a hundred times without hestiation.”

[meadow-dusk]

what are some of the reasons you love Neil so much??

Hi anon, I have a whole tag for this just so that I could keep adding to it. I have over two books full of songs that he inspired me write (many of them dedicated to the love he helped me believe I deserved). The reasons why I love him grow and evolve as I do, and I look forward to having the vibrant color of Neil's thread weave through the tapestry of my life from here on out. He's part of me now and forevermore.

A lot of people, myself included, first learn about Neil in a light that seems negative. He gets called "flaky," 'inconsistent," "selfish," and worse...but I learned in time that he has never done anything other than be true to himself, even at the inconvenience of other people. In this society, that's rare, and it's kind of refreshing. He showed me it's okay to disappoint people, it's not the end of the world. "It's not that serious." The Crystals' "He's a Rebel" says it better than I can: "If they don't like him that way, they won't like me after today, cause I'll be standing right by his side."

In a world where pop stars flit all over creation in private jets, Neil carts his gear around in a bus that runs on ecologically responsible fuel (and yes, it also makes train sounds). He plays open-air venues for crowd safety, and he takes into consideration even the sources of food served at his concert venues. In my own life, I try to hold my behaviors to a standard of sustainability that the people in it often feel is unreasonable. Neil proves to me that it is possible to go above and beyond. I share with him the common goal of leaving this planet better than I found it, a goal that gets harder every year.

Lately I've been getting into playing my original music in social situations. You better believe that every time I get up in front of people, there is one guy on my mind. He is with me every time. He has been with me every step of that journey since the beginning. Neil is, in the words of Ben Keith, a "hellacious talent," but he's not technically perfect. And that made me realize it was okay to make mistakes, to try things even though they weren't polished. The polish sometimes detracts from the important parts underneath.

I decided a few years ago that if there was only gonna be one artist (one person) that I would ever get to feel so strongly about, I am really really lucky that person is Neil. His music has inspired me to survive, to escape, to create, to feel, to dream, to love, to try, to grow, to believe, to hope...everything that you could ask for and more from someone who's nothing short of a muse.

Oh yeah and also he makes my heart hurt when he smiles:

[happyk44]

Re: my tags on that last post (basically saying that I'm pretty sure Rick made up the whole Romans feared Neptune thing, because there isn't any proof of that I can find), it doesn't really make sense to have done that because there's no real split in the books between the romans and the greeks. not to mention we don't actually have a child of neptune to use as a reference point in the books of neptune's behaviour. we just have a vague anecdote about a kid 100 years before that caused an earthquake.

cool. so like. none of the other demigods have ever caused a major problem. just that one kid? alright.

the thing is: greek gods and roman gods are different. yes, they're conflated, but a lot of gods are conflated with one another. that's how hermanubis came into being. that's how neptune became the god of the sea - initially he was just the god of fresh water, then he got kind of merged with poseidon, and wound up in charge of the salty sea and probably came out of that deal, like what the fuck, i can't drink this??

also if you look at any greek god's wikipedia page or other informational website, you will see something like "their norse equivalent was X, their indo-european equivalent was Y, their etruscan equivalent was Z) and so on. i'm pretty sure this is common on the pages of some members of other pantheons, i just don't feel like checking right now.

everyone steals and shares. it's kind of just what happens.

but back to greco-roman and pjo nonsense. greek and roman gods are different gods. but in the books, they're considered to be the same, just different fonts, where the greeks are more easygoing solo artists, and the romans are war-faring teammates, fancy cursive versus clear print. part of the series insists that the two are somehow different, but there's very little split in tone when it comes to characterization. part of this is because we do not see children of the same god paired against one another. the exception to this is hazel and nico, and briefly thalia and jason.

there's little to no difference between hazel and nico. other than hazel being better at money, and nico being better at dead people. hazel does not come off as more militaristic compared to nico. if anything, nico seems more strict and stringent than she does. you could argue that's because of trauma, but then arguably, they should be the same on that level.

if you wanted to label a difference between "oh this is clearly a child of pluto and this is clearly a child of hades", then hazel's curse shouldn't have been a thing. it should've been "all children of pluto can do this, but children of hades cannot/have a harder time with it" (which is what i headcanon anyway). additionally hazel could've been the one capable of doing geokinesis, not nico, but unfortuantely we'd already seem do it a bunch in the prior series, so that never would've worked out.

there's no real difference between thalia and jason either. we never get an internal monologue from thalia, so we can't see how her thoughts might differ from jason. but they are both children of zeus/jupiter who were pushed into leadership positions (thalia as head of the hunters, jason as leader of the fifth cohort). they both utilize lightning powers, they both are good fighters (but considered less good than percy). thalia fights with a spear, one of ivlvis's forms was a lance (which is a type of spear). i mean fucking hell, part of jason's training under the wolf house is making the journey from the house to camp jupiter on his own and frigging thalia had to do that too.

i've also already talked about the different explorations of zeus/jupiter's abilities as a god of law and order - so like if you wanted to show contrast between romans and greeks - enough to prove that they were ACTUALLY having issues maintaining a specific identity - then there could've been more emphasis on jason as a figure of law and order, especially due to rome's very high placement of jupiter (and juno).

conceptually, however, there is no difference between the two of them, just as there isn't much difference between hazel and nico, aside from personality. and we are never exposed to any other other demigods at either camp enough to see how they differ from their counterparts.

percy wasn't even at camp jupiter long enough for the whole "children of neptune are a threat because romans fear the sea" thing to be worth anything useful. and like?? did it ever come up again in any of the other books? did it ever have a fucking point?

i would've understood it more if he had actually pulled it from real history. but the romans did, in fact, have a navy and utilized it as part of building their empire. there's legit a wikipedia article labeled "roman navy". so this narrative that they despise neptune because they hated the ocean and didn't sail is really odd! like yeah, the navy wasn't as important to them as the army, but it's not like it was written off entirely! it couldn't have been. part of the roman empire was in the frigging mediterrean.

and to stop from going on about that, part of my takeaway from the books was that the camps ended up understanding that there was no real difference between the two of them, finally joining together in peace and harmony and blah blah blah

(which, then, why the two camps just didn't fucking merge after that, i will never understand, like i definitely thought that's where the series was headed, sort of like a hey, if you're living on the west coast come here and if you live on the east coast come here and if you're in the middle then, fucking i dunno, eat some grass)

but!! if rick wanted the "neptune is greatly feared" thing to have an effect, it would've a) made more sense had he actually shown neptune in the books and made us understand WHY the romans feared him, b) given us a child of neptune to round out the other two and provide a contrast to Percy, and c) actually given us some decent contrast between the two camps/gods! i mean even with ares and mars arguing, there was little between the dialogue to indicate "these are people with different priorities". it was just blood, murder, kill everyone! like, come on,

now - if the series had been written in mind with the two pantheons being written as completely separate entities - and the romans' dislike of the greeks was due to the modern day conflation of "oh roman gods are just greek gods, there's nothing special about them" that would've been pretty interesting as a dilemma. it also would've been cool because rather than roman vs greek battle being written like the same entity technically trying to fight itself, it would've been a historical throwback of "hey remember when ancient rome took over ancient greece"

anyway i am done rambling, back to my thoughts about that daughter of neptune i definitely do not want to write a fic about

(also re the gods having issues trying to keep a single identity down: why the hell was frank the one who had gods arguing in his head? i know i've complained about this before, but frank wasn't having identity issues - jason was. if anyone should've had the greek vs roman versions of their parent fighting in their head, it should've been him)