#but part of it is also that i could share some small piece of myself and watch it be handled with such care and appreciation

[eskawrites]

not to get all up in my feelings about art and creativity but today (at work, not even as a fandom thing lmao) one of my friends went out of her way to tell me how much she liked a piece of my writing. and the thing is, i wasn't even that attached to this piece. it's small and written for a work thing and a lil clunky and a lil too personal and i almost didn't share it, but i decided to anyway because whatever

but after she told me that, the first thing i did was go back and re-read it, because i wanted to see what she saw in it. not in a self-deprecating, 'why do you even like this?' way, but just because it meant enough to her to say something about it, and i wanted to read it again through her eyes and wonder which phrases made her stop and think, or how the themes hit home, or what part made her like it enough to tell me about it

and i do that with my fanfic sometimes, too. when someone points out a certain detail or predicts what will happen next or even just says they read this at 2:30 in the morning with their cat on their lap. i read those comments, and i go back and look at this story i made, and i remember that i'm real and they're real and the things i create have changed the world in some tiny, ultimately insignificant way--but it was enough to affect what someone was doing or thinking in that moment

and something i've thought a lot about since covid happened and the vast majority of my social interactions started taking place online (it's a problem, i'm working on it, but it's true nonetheless) is that art really, truly is a love language. and not just when you gift it to people, or when you use it to show appreciation, or however else it can coincide with the traditional love languages. but because it's a way to share a little piece of yourself. and it might be silly and it might be sad and it might be fun and it might be meaningful but no matter what, it comes from you. a lot of the time, it comes from a part of us that we can't really effectively express otherwise. i mean, i can say 'i love x ship' in a thousand different ways but that's never going to compare to pouring my heart into stories or arts or edits exploring all my favorite things about those characters and their dynamic. that's why 'bad' art from writers or artists who don't really know what they're doing is still good--because if it comes from you, if it has meaning to you, it's special

but the thing about love languages is that there has to be a recipient. sometimes my writing is an act of love for myself, and that's good and lovely. but other times, when i share writing with friends or fandom or just strangers on the internet who have a thing or two in common with me, when you become the recipient, it really does transform the work. all these things that are so meaningful to me that i turned them into art are suddenly meaningful to you, too. it's like confessing a secret and having someone say yeah, me too. it's vulnerability and acceptance and kinship and community. it makes me see the things i create in a whole new light. it makes me see myself in a whole new light.

[myceliacrochet]

URGENT: 4yo Little Girl and Her Family Malnutritioned and Freezing!! (Sham and Moneer al-Anqar -- Skills Series: "Easy Piece First")

Reblog if u answer pls tysm!🩷

There's no shame in that! In this series, I'll be sharing some tips to help us keep going strong, carrying these families throughout this brutal winter of extermination. With each post I'll be highlighting a family in desperate need.

Easy Piece First

Whether we're working at a job, making commissions, working on posts, or doing other tasks, mutual aid for genocide relief can be overwhelming. The stakes are through the roof, and sometimes the people who most want to help are the people least able to. Often I freeze in place, overwhelmed with emotion, unsure of where to start. Depression, anxiety, and AuDHD don't help!

So I hope this skill is of use to you. I call it "Easy Piece First" because that's what helps me remember it, but it's definitely not a new idea.

I started this post with the easiest small step accessible. For me, that was writing down Moneer's current blog tag (@sham-moner) in a new post. This was the easiest for me because it required no decision-making and could be done in a few seconds. Then I filled in the other parts that don't take much thought -- the GoFundMe link, the vetting, and some tags.

For other posts, sometimes I'll be making art that is unrelated and then I'll think of a post to go with it.

Lazy and Heartless, or Focused and Strategic?

Everyone is different, but trying to force yourself to start with the hardest part first (what some people call the "Eat That Frog" approach) can actually make things take longer for some people. Using "Easy Piece First," I was able to get more done with my time, and with less trouble. This makes my efforts more sustainable long-term.

On a related note, I actually take a lot of measures to not walk around with my chest constantly hurting for Palestinians anymore (though there's nothing wrong with doing so). My chest was aching at all times for months until I converted some of my worry into action and some of it into self-care -- so I could actually get more done for Palestinians, who do not need my tears but my labor.

This winter is a marathon, and we gotta see it through to the end.

Take care of yourself so you can get more done and keep helping people long-term.

Do not give yourself a heart condition.

Give Palestinians labor.

That's how I'm keeping myself out of the hospital and maximizing what I can do for people, but we all have our own strategies.

But that's enough about us -- let's talk about these two amazing kids.

Moneer and Sham

Palestinians are just regular people. That's the horrible reality. It's the exact same as if people from your own background, even your own family were getting tortured and killed.

Like, Moneer is a 19yo who had recently started university when the genocide began. Sham is 4, Mohammed is 16, Rana is 21, and Rasha is 22.

What were you going through when you were 4? How would you have felt if you saw people getting blown up at that age? What if your house was blown up and all your toys and friends were lost, and you had to live outside in the winter, scrounging for moldy bread and polluted water?

What if you lived with the smell of rotting bodies when you were 4? Did you know what that smelled like as a little kid? I still don't know what that smells like. I didn't really know what death was at that age. She does.

This small child is in critical need of food and water!!

She is starving!!

Sham will die this winter without more donations!!

This is a call to action for an extremely urgent campaign!!!

It's been 2 days, and it was 2 days before that! This is far too long!!

Moneer is still recovering from major surgery. He is in a lot of pain and is also malnutritioned and in need of clean water and warmth.

Moneer is very close to his family and dearly loves his mom, Amani (39). Amani is in a lot of danger because she has asthma in a dusty massacre zone without treatment. It's killing Moneer to watch his mom go through this.

Drink some water, take a rest, and keep putting one foot in front of the other, using whatever tools work for you.

We are not letting these kids and their family die this winter!! We can do this!!

Vetting: GazaVetters #8

@opencommunion @beserkerjewel @deepspaceboytoy @rhubarbspring @eryuditely @lesbianmaxevans @malcriada @turian @sxpph0 @rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world @neptunerings @dykesbat @halalgirlmeg @userpeggycarter @minosbull @hamstertross @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness-blog @definitelynotafox @kaleschmidt @jaylung101 @captainsaltymuyfancy2 @timetravellingkitty @sun-and-moon-side @kahin @greenmossyrock @northgazaupdates2 @irhabiya @theparanoid @steep1253o @victoriawhimsey @dirhwangdaseul @cruzwalters @ladycelebrianofimladris @tamamita @50seagullsinatrenchcoat @deathlonging @nconiku @briarhips @kaislittlecorner @mahoushojoe @sar-soor @rhubarbspring @pcktknife @sawasawako @feluka @anneemay-blog @ralfocups

P.S.: I have several people waiting on me for posts. I am so sorry -- I will get them finished and published as soon as possible.

@soft-sunbird Thank you dear friend🥰🩷 I love you. You're doing so great

Check out the comments for many ways to help!

[claws-and-quills]

Not So Silent Treatment

A/N: This is the first time ever written anything on Logan in a really long while. Shootout to my bestie @callsignred for the idea!

CW: Profanity, Primal Hunter/Primal Prey Kink, Mentions of Male and Female Anatomy, Unprotected Sex (we're all adults here 😂), Slight Praise Kink, Oral (Female Receiving), Over Stimulation

Word Count: 5,089 I really outdid myself on this one

It had been a few days since you and Logan had returned back to the Mansion after a mission that had gone awry. The tensions that lingered between you and Logan were so thick and suffocating that you could cut through them with a knife. The mere idea of being in the same room, much less under the same roof of the Mansion as him made your blood boil. You could still hear his words. They were practically burned into the back of your mind.

During the mission, you had refused to take orders from Logan towards the end. It was a do or die situation, and you let your emotions get in the way of your judgments. If it hadn't been for you having your own healing factor, that day would have been your last. While attempting to take down a rogue mutant, you and Logan both had been overtaken from underestimating this mutant. You refused to flee despite Logan yelling at you to get out of there. In turn, you sat there on the bed you usually shared with Logan, gazing up at the roof.

The bed felt so empty without Logan laying next to you. After the argument each of you had, he had refused to sleep in there with you. This hurt worse than that piece of steel that had impaled you through the left lower portion of your abdomen. Neither of you would apologize for the things that each of you had yelled at each other. It was in the heat of the moment and out of irrational emotions. You sigh with exasperation, tossing and turning, unable to find sleep.

“This is stupid…all of this is stupid.”

You curse under your breath and force yourself up and out of the bed. The emptiness of the room felt suffocating. It felt as though someone had dropped a ton of bricks onto your chest. Glancing at the small clock that rested on the dresser, the time read 02:45. It was almost three in the morning on the fifth day, and still, neither you nor Logan spoke a word to each other. You angrily grab a pair of your jeans and a tank-top to replace your pajamas. At this point, you had figured maybe getting out of the mansion for a little while could do you some good.

Cracking the door open, you glance both ways around the hall to be sure no one was wandering this late. Seeing it empty, you quietly exhale a breath and sneak towards the staircase and tiptoe down to the first level of the mansion. Parts of you begged that Logan was asleep, but your heart screamed that he would be awake and that you could try to talk about what happened. Straining your eyes, you try to see if you can see the figure of Logan on the couch. Your gut nagged at you to sneak closer, but you also wanted out of there for a few minutes. Fresh air would do you some good, and hopefully a jog around the campus would tire you enough to be able to sleep.

Furrowing your brows, you sigh dejectedly and quietly snake your way out of the door of the mansion. The night air was cool and crisp. The pale moonlight had cast an eerily familiar glow across the night sky. Stars twinkled like tiny lanterns against the blanket of black sky. The moisture that clung to the air had formed a ghastly ring around the moon, and filled the air with a soothing chill that prickled at your skin.

Once you are far enough away from the mansion, you bring yourself into a light jog. The cool, night air stung your lungs and gripped your chest, almost constricting your lungs. Cursing, you push yourself to pick up your pace. The only sounds you could hear were the chirping of crickets and the light fluttering of your heart in your chest. In that moment, your legs brought you further and further away from the mansion. The farther away you managed to bring yourself from there, the closer you drew to breaking.

Your chest grew tight and the back of your throat began to burn with emotion. Tears had begun to sting the corners of your eyes, and before you knew it, your knees were crumbling from beneath you, sending you to the ground onto your hands and knees. Hot tears fell from your eyes, staining your cheeks as you punched the ground. Your emotions hit you like a runaway freight train. Anger. Sadness. Remorse. Hurt. They surged through your veins like a hurricane threatening to tear you apart from the inside out.

Your mind wandered back to the mission. You could still picture everything vividly. Hear everything vividly.

“Get out of here! Go! I can handle these assholes!” Logan had yelled at you while struggling against the rogue mutant and several of its cronies.

“No! I'm not leaving here without you! We came here as a team, we're leaving here as a team!” You had retorted. Ya'll were outnumbered and potentially outmatched. But neither of you wanted to give up so easily. Your protesting against Logan had distracted him enough to leave him vulnerable. Even if it was just a few seconds, you saw the impending attack coming.

“Logan!!!” You cried out, rushing to him and hastily pulled him out of the way of the approaching attack that landed you injured. You didn't care about your own well being at that moment. You had pulled Logan out of the way, but landed yourself severely injured and the rogue mutant had escaped.

As you thought back to it, the more tears that fell down your cheeks. You were mad at yourself, mad at Logan, mad at everyone and anyone possibly that was involved on that mission. But that wasn't even the part that had hurt you the most. It was the argument after you had recovered.

“When I tell you to leave, I mean it. You could have gotten yourself killed! What the hell were you thinking?!”

“I was trying to protect you! You're welcome by the way. No thank you. No that you're glad I'm okay. No nothing?! Just straight to tearing into me?!”

“Protect me? By getting yourself killed?! Oh, very smart. Perfect. You almost got yourself killed and we failed the mission thanks to you!”

“Fuck you. You can be a real prick, Logan. A real fucking prick.”

“Rather be a prick than an idiot, Princess.”

“Just get out. If you're just here to lecture me, then get the fuck out! Get out! I'm done!”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

That wasn't how you wanted things to go. It wasn't how you pictured things would go. The last thing you wanted to do was to yell at Logan the way you had, much less end things on such a sour note. You sniffle, wiping your eyes on the back of your wrists. The damage was done. The words were said. You curse under your breath at yourself for breaking down again like this. Just as you began to move to get to your feet, you could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Your heart crawled its way deep into your throat, making you almost choke on your own breath. You recognized that stride; Logan. What the hell was he doing out here?

He walked next to you without a word. His brows were knitted together tightly, eyes dark and lost in thought. Without a word, he plops down next to you, resting his forearms on his knees. His eyes were fixed on the dark labyrinth of forest that surrounded the mansion. A rich had worked its way into his jaw as he silently mulled things over in his head. There was so much he wanted to say, but yet he still remained adamant on not breaking his silent treatment towards you.

It took everything in you to not stare at him. Your heart somersaulted in your chest. It felt like you were laying your eyes on him for the first time all over again. You missed him, and he missed you, but both of you were too level headed to say anything. You swallow dryly as the corners of his lips twitch slightly. Fuck. You knew he could hear the way your heart was fluttering. You wanted to stay mad at him, but at this point, you didn't have the energy anymore. Before you can open your mouth, by some miracle, he broke the unofficial oath of silence between you two.

“Stop trying to fake it. I can hear it , y'know.” You wanted nothing more than to pounce on him right then and there, but you kept your composure. Sniffling again, you shrug off his comment.

“I was jogging. Of course my heart is going to be beating a little harder, Captain Obvious.” You practically hiss at him. It was growing harder to stay mad at him. You missed him. You missed his voice. You missed the way he smelled of oak, leather, and mint. You frantically blink away the tears that threatened to form in the corners of your eyes.

“Can tell the difference, Princess. Don't have to lie about it,” he states bluntly. He knew he was getting under your skin at this point. You hated how smug he appeared to be. You hated how he could be so comfortable doing this without so much as an apology. At this point you'd be satisfied with a half-assed ‘I was wrong’ from him, but you knew that would never happen.

Silence then fell between each of you again. You tried your best to ignore him being there, focusing your attention on anything but him. But his presence was damn near unbearable. He had sat close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, but just far enough to be right out of immediate touch. You catch yourself glancing at him, eyeing him up and down. With the white beater he wore, you could see how visibly tense he was. His biceps looked tense, hard even. His chest slowly rose and fell with steady breaths. It felt impossible to pry your eyes off of him.

“Y'know, for being so mad at me, you sure are starin’ a lot. S'there something on your mind?” He finally turns to face you, cocking his head to the side. You tried your best to look away from him, but for some reason, he just wasn't having that. He moved closer to you despite your efforts to keep your gaze away from him. He finally settles himself in front of you; the way he was crouched in front of you forced you to drag your eyes towards him. His gaze was hard on you, but something about it was different. Part of you half expected another lecture to come from him.

“If you came out here to give me another lecture, you're wasting your time.” You state bluntly and try to turn away from him, but he grabs your knee tightly in his hand, dragging you closer to him. The sudden tug earns a soft yelp from you. The force causes you to fall against your back into the grass. Logan moves to rest his weight on the palms of his hands on either side of your head, his knees encasing your hips leaving you with nowhere to go. Your heart thundered in your chest and ears. As much as you wanted to stay mad at him, your body instinctively gave in to how easily he could overpower you. You felt mad; you felt hopeless; but underneath everything, you wanted him–no–needed him back. Tears began to burn the corners of your eyes again, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut again to keep the tears from falling.

Logan audibly exhales a heavy sigh. He moves his hand to gently rest on your cheek, using his thumb to wipe away your tears. Seeing you like this tore him apart on the inside. This hurt him in ways he never knew he could hurt. “Look at me. C'mon, hey. Hey…look at me, please. You know damn good and well I don't like beggin’ now, Darlin’.”

His gaze was still hard on you, but his voice was surprisingly soft. You finally open your eyes to gaze up at him. God you wanted him so badly. You finally move your hands to gently rest against his chest. His heart thrumbed rhythmically deep in his chest; every beat you felt against the palm of your hand pushed your anger down further. You knew it, and he knew it too that neither of you meant all of those words from before. “Lo…I--I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry…”

Your sentence is cut short as he presses his lips against yours for a hungry and needy kiss. He tasted heavenly on your lips, sinful even. His tongue flicks against your lower lip, begging for entrance. Your lips part with a needy moan, allowing him entrance. His fingers find their way into your hair at the base of your skull, tugging harshly to force you to crane your neck as another sinful moan fell from your lips. The new angle allows him to deepen the kiss even further. Your arms snake around his neck, wanting to hold him there and never let go.

He breaks away from the kiss to hungrily gulp down air. A string of saliva remained connected between both your and his lips. His eyes close again as he presses his forehead against yours, breathing in your scent and slowly exhaling a shaky breath. “M'sorry too. I really am. Thought I–I was going to lose you…” He buries his face into the hollow of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites along your pulse. The heat of his breath against your skin sends bolts of electricity through your body. A layer of goosebumps scratch their way onto the surface of your skin.

“Lo…” You whine quietly, craning your neck to give him better access. The scruff on his chin scrapes against your skin, making your eyes flutter as your entire body begins to grow hot. You wanted him. Needed him. A soft gasp escapes you at the sensation of his teeth sinking into your tender skin just above your collarbone. Any harder and you knew his teeth would draw blood, but you didn't care. You wanted him to take you, to mark you, to make you his again. “Lo, please…my god, please…”

He releases your shoulder, his mouth leaving behind a rapidly bruising hickey there. You couldn't help the heat that you felt growing in the pits of your gut and loins. Your thighs ached and your pussy burned for him and his touch. You lift your head to gaze up at him. He was hunkered down on all fours, his eyes were dark, primal even as he licked his lips. He could still taste your sweet and tender skin on his lips, and he wanted more, needed more. Your heart began to thunder uncontrollably within your chest. Fear and arousal filled your body. The sweet scents made his pupils dilate as he breathed you in once more, growling lowly deep in his chest.

“Run. Run little lamb. I'll be kind enough to give you a headstart.” He husks through a growl that sends a shiver down your spine. The look in his eyes was so much more than a wanting need. This was a primal want, a hunger–a hunger that only longed for you and your body. Your legs felt weak with fear and arousal. There was only one other time you had experienced Logan like this, and by God's did you want to experience it again. You're slow to get to your feet. Your head is swimming with different emotions and scenarios.

“Lo–”

“Ten seconds, little lamb.”

Fuck, he was serious. You were almost too afraid to turn and run.

“Nine.”

He was standing at this point. He stood close to a foot over you in height. The corner of his lips twitched into a near snarling grin as he started to walk–no–stalk towards you. Your heart is still thundering in your chest, you manage to find the strength in you to try to run. You didn't know where you would run to; all you knew is that your legs went into overdrive, carrying you wherever you could. All you knew is that you had to run. Run as far and fast as you possibly could. You glance over your shoulder, seeing him still standing there with his eyes still trained on you.

‘Five. Come on legs, move! Faster dammit! Faster!’ Your thoughts raced wildly. You had two options, run to the forest or try to run to the Mansion. You felt hopeless, cause at any second, you knew Logan would be on you like a rabid and hungry animal. The thought of that only added to your growing arousal. The heat between your thighs was almost unbearable. You needed some sort of friction to help with the ever growing ache.

‘Shit. Shit. Shit! Oh god, I can hear him. Move legs! Move faster, dammit!’ It was undeniable. You knew Logan was now rapidly closing in on the distance you had made from him. You could hear every breathy, pant he took with every step he made towards you. Taking one last glance over your shoulder, your eyes widened in shock at how quickly he moved across the ground. He was on all fours, bounding towards you with no intention of stopping until he had you in his grasp. You try to force your legs to move faster, but your calves begin to burn. You were doomed. Your chest and lungs burned with every breath you gulped down. He was drawing himself closer by the second. You could see his silhouette on the ground behind you growing nearer. You gulp down the lump in your throat.

“Not fast enough, little lamb.” His voice rasped as he grew closer. Within seconds, his arms are curling around you as he tackles you down to the ground. Curling his body around yours, he takes most of the impact as you're both sent tumbling across the grass. You desperately try to push him off, but it’s to no avail. You're pinned to the ground by him, but still, you desperately try to wriggle free from him which only makes him growl with pleasure at your struggling.

“Logan, please.” You whine again, chest heaving and body aching. You try to rub your thighs together for friction, but that idea is short-lived. Using his knees, he forces your thighs apart while hungrily crashing his lips against yours. The heat of his mouth swallows up your moans.

“Please what? Use your words, little lamb.” He husks against your lips. His hands snatch your wrists as you try to touch his chest, pinning them above your head. Like this, you were completely at his mercy, awaiting to viciously and lavishly be devoured by him.

“Need you. I need you. Please. Logan, I need you.” You beg hopelessly beneath him. He growls lowly under his breath, his entire body vibrating against yours as he does so. You weren't sure how much longer you could handle this. Your entire body felt like it would explode at any moment from the anticipation. “Logan, I need you…need you to take me…claim me…fuck me…”

“That's a good little lamb,” he husks again. His voice is raspy, bassy even. Leaning back onto his heels, he pulls you flush against his chest with a sinister smirk. “Tonight, you're mine, and only mine.” In one fluid motion, he's onto his feet, pulling you along with him as he tosses you over his shoulder with ease. You clamp a hand over your own mouth to muffle your pitiful squeak. This was it, you were done for, but by the gods did you need this. For days, each of you had been starved of attention, affection and each other's touch. Each of you needed this more than either of you could comprehend.

His chest was heaving. The scent of your arousal was driving him crazy. He could hear your heart fluttering rapidly in your chest, your shallow breaths, and the soft, muffled whimpers of need that you desperately tried to hide through the palm of your hand. Every step, he grew closer to the Mansion where he quietly entered and made his way up the stairs with you. You prayed that everyone was still asleep; that no one would be able to hear the way he was going to fuck you.

He sets you down so that he can open the door to the bedroom he shared with you. You practically stumble through the door, eager for his touch to be on you again. Once the door is closed and locked, he's on you again like a feral animal. His lips crash against yours as he backs you up towards the bed. He breaks the kiss for a moment, eagerly tugging your shirt up your body and over your arms, tossing it somewhere across the room. You take the opportunity to hike his beater up his stomach and chest; grabbing the garment and tugging it over his head, he tosses it as well before reconnecting his lips to yours.

His fingers maneuver around the waist of your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them with ease. Your hands wrestle with his, eagerly tugging both your jeans and panties down your thighs while trying to kick off your shoes. A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest at your eagerness. Gripping your hips tightly, he guides you to lay back onto the mattress where you finish kicking off your shoes and garments. He drags his eyes across your body. The moonlight casts soft shadows across your curves, making him drag his tongue across his lower lip.

“You next,” you pant to him. You needed him like a drug. Against his will, you sat up and eagerly reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle due to how your hands trembled. He groans as you eagerly tug his jeans and boxers down his thighs; his erection springing free from the confines of his boxers. You move to take him into your mouth, but he stops you with a harsh hand on your throat.

“Oh no, princess. Not this time. Tonight, you're mine. You belong to me.” The words sounded like sinful silk coming from his mouth. You scoot back onto the mattress, heart pounding as he follows right behind you. Beads of sweat rested along the ridge of his brows and his back glistened in the pale moonlight of the room as he drew closer to you. He wraps your legs over the top of his shoulders, dipping his head into the aching heat between your thighs. He slowly drags his tongue through the slick folds of your cunt. You moan heatedly, arching your back slightly at the sensation. He growls into your slick cunt, sending vibrations straight to your core as he drags his tongue through your cunt again, pausing over your clit where he draws tight, deliberate circles over the bundle of nerves.

His fingers dug deep into the fleshy parts of your thighs, his nails leaving tiny crescent shapes that were bound to bruise later. A needy growl falls from his lips as he sucks your clit between his lips, flicking the tip of his tongue against the sensitive bud. Your legs trembled at the sensation, making you desperately grind yourself into the demanding heat of his mouth. He pulls away briefly, only to dive back into the heat between your legs. His tongue plunges into your sopping and trembling cunt; the scruff on his chin adds the friction you desperately needed. Your hands manage to find the crown of his head; your fingers become entangled in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp as you desperately chant his name.

“Mmph–fuck, Lo…don't stop, don't stop…” You chant through desperate, breathy pants. He was edging you closer and closer to your first orgasm. He could feel the way your pussy flexed as you were nearing your first orgasm of the night. He groans at the way you ground your cunt into his mouth. His hand releases your thigh, plunging two fingers deep into your trembling core. His tongue flicks against your clit again, and again, drawing you closer to spilling over the edge. He draws his fingers away, only to plunge them deep into you again in rhythm with the movements of his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck….Logan, I'm so close…please–” Your eyes roll to the back kf your head as your vision goes white. Your first orgasm hits you like a freight train. Your thighs shake and tremble uncontrollably as you desperately try to push him away from your aching clit, but his grip on your thigh helps to hold you down in place. It felt as though your whole body was lit ablaze while you rode out your first high of the night, gasping for air as he finally pulled away once he's finished lapping you up.

“You're doing so well for me. Look at you, making such a mess for me like a good girl.” He coos while massaging your thighs. The remnants of your orgasm glisten on his chin as he drags his eyes across your body again. “I fucking need you. Crave you. We're just getting started. Don't tell me you're all fucked out already.” He places a tender and chaste kiss to your clit, and then onto your stomach, working a trail up the length of your body until he meets your lips. You eagerly and hungrily kiss him, tasting yourself upon his lips and tongue.

“No. Need you. Please.” You beg against his lips. He rests his weight on one of his forearms, using his other hand to swipe the head of his cock through your still ever weeping cunt. A shaky sigh falls from your lips as his cock slowly fills your still sensitive and overstimulated folds. He pulls out, only to snap his hips against yours, filling you to the brim as he buries his entire length into you up to the hilt. You groan into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

His lips find yours again, desperate and needy. Your lips part, allowing him more access into your mouth. Your tongue meets his, dancing for dominance through the kiss. He tasted heavenly sinful on your tongue; you could still taste the faint remnants of yourself in his mouth and saliva. He snaps his hips against yours again, grinding his hips against yours. You whimper out out needy moan as he somehow buries himself deeper into your folds. Every thrust of his hips was harsh and deliberate, filling you to the core and splitting you open more.

You break away from the kiss, your lips meeting his jaw with a trail of kisses along his jawline and to his neck and throat. You trail your tongue along the length of his pulse while dragging your nails down his back. He growls almost primitively, snapping his hips once again. The room is filled with the sinful sounds of skin colliding against skin; the sounds mixed into the soft symphony of moans and groans that come from both you and Logan.

“Do it again. Fuck…” He groans against the shell of your ear. Nodding, you rake your nails down his chest this time, your nails leave behind welting scratch marks on his skin. Your back arches up from the mattress as he slips a hand between your bodies; his fingers find your clit, drawing tight circles around the bud, eliciting a high pitched squeal from you. Desperate for more, you wrap your legs around his waist, digging your heels into the back of his thighs. Your toes curl as another coil begins to tighten in your abdomen. His cock throbbed deep within your quivering pussy, his length dragging along your walls made your legs tremble and shake.

“Lo…Oh fuck, I'm so close…” You pant desperately. Your hands rest on his shoulder blades, your nails sinking into his chiseled back. His thrusts stutter slightly, faltering as he grew near the edge. You could feel the way his cock throbbed that he was close to orgasm. “Oh fuck…please, Logan…don't stop, Don't stop…” You chant, burying your face into the hollow of his neck.

“Fuck…you're so tight. Feel so fucking good. Want you to cum on my cock. Cum for me, princess. Fuck…” He groans, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His breath is hot against your skin with every desperate pant that escapes from him. He slips his other arm underneath your back, pulling you close against him as the walls of your pussy tighten and contract around his cock. Your vision blurs to white again as you cry out his name like a sinful prayer. He groans heatedly, his back arching as his orgasm finally hits not too far behind yours, painting the inside of your cunt and cervix white.

His thrusts slow until his hips finally still against yours. He pants raggedly against your shoulder, removing his hand from your abused and overly stimulated clit. He gazes down at you, his expression soft and brows furrowed with concern. The back of his throat burned with emotion as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” He asks softly, his hand gingerly cups your cheek.

You shake your head, placing a tender kiss on his nose. “No. Not at all. I'm so sorry, Logan…for everything. I didn't mean any of what I said…”

“Ssshhh…I know, I know…” He gently pulls you with him as he rolls onto his back with you laying on his chest. His heart pounded rhythmically against your hands. “I'm sorry too…I was a dick. I shouldn't have yelled at you.” His eyes fell on the jagged scar that now claimed the lower left portion of your abdomen. His eyes soften more as his hand gently touches the scar for the first time since you had been released from the infirmary.

“Guess this means we're on talking terms again? No more silent treatment?” You try to tease lightly, which earns a chuckle from Logan.

“Oh,I think we're well past the silent treatment, princess.” He gently pulls you down for another chaste kiss.

[cilil]

Hi, do you have any advices for budding writers on AO3 or here?

Hey! :)

I've given this some thought and compiled what I hope might be some helpful pointers, but if there's anything else or anything specific you want to hear more about, feel free to ask again. Also I'm assuming this is about the amazing craft of fanfic and not, uh, building a platform or whatever (I wouldn't be very helpful with that, I'm a nobody x)).

Share what you feel comfortable sharing.

So since you're asking about budding writers on AO3 and Tumblr, I take it you're at a point where you feel comfortable sharing your writing online, which is amazing. Nevertheless, I feel the need to once again mention (just for anyone who may be in the same or a similar situation) that it's completely alright not to be comfortable with it (yet) or not to share everything you write. I share almost everything simply because I'm annoying and it makes me feel accomplished and since I've grown pretty comfortable with it, I might as well; but not everyone feels that way and feelings also change. It's completely alright to write just for yourself or a small circle of friends.

Don't worry too much about "being good".

I will be the first to admit that I deeply relate to struggling with perfectionism when it comes to writing (and other creative pursuits). However, as someone who's been reading fic for many years, tends to be into quite niche and obscure things sometimes and is rarely spoiled by big fandoms' abundance of food, I want all writers, especially new ones, to know that you don't have to write the most amazing, perfect, publishing-ready pieces. What matters is your passion and creativity, which will show in your writing regardless of skill level. Not to mention that fic is free and in fact a tool for many to experiment.

That's not to say you can't strive to improve or be good - by all means, I find it admirable if you want to hone your craft and make progress as you continue to write. Just don't let perfectionism ruin your fun and stifle your creativity.

How to get better without trying overly hard.

Aside from just writing, writing and writing (that is the most important part though), how do you improve without making it a point to do so? Well, if it works for you to read/watch guides or you enjoy specific writing exercises, that's great, but one thing that I find gets overlooked a lot in writing spaces is simply: Reading. Just reading for fun.

I find that I often discover little things in other people's writing that I really like and then I think to myself "wow, that's really neat how they did that, maybe I could take a page out of their book" (pun intended) and make it a point to pay attention to these things when I write. Essentially, it's like creating a nice patchwork blanket which is your style, made up of your own voice and preferences as a writer and cool stuff you picked up on the road.

Let me just name some examples, which, yes, are also an excuse to shamelessly blow some writer friends of mine a well-deserved kiss of appreciation. @sauron-kraut writes incredibly polished short stories with beautiful wording and atmosphere that have a lot of little hidden things to discover and dissect, and I want to steal her ability to set the stage and hide those easter eggs. @a-world-of-whimsy-5 is an absolute legend when it comes to writing medieval and medieval-adjacent stuff, and I learned so much from her fics. @i-did-not-mean-to has a way of writing with such esprit and wit that I always end up in a good mood after, a style of narrative voice I've adored for over a decade, and I've greatly improved my humorous writing in particular thanks to her. @crackinthecup has the marvelous ability to craft extremely emotionally evocative scenes, which have encouraged me to be more courageous and experimental in my sentence melody and structure. @tragedybunny has a way of writing that reminds me of coming home to a warm and comfy place, and I will find out how she did it and how I can do it as well.

So as you can see, it can be super helpful to compare notes with your fellow writers. Never be discouraged by someone else's ability; instead learn and expand your own.

Feedback, criticism and community.

Let me just get one thing out of the way: You don't have to take criticism from everyone. Or at all. As far as I understand, the fanfic community has come to to agree that we're doing this for fun and don't give criticism unprompted/when we aren't sure it's wanted or welcome. As a general rule: Take criticism from those you would also seek advice from. Ask for feedback if you feel comfortable, and if not, that's a valid boundary to have and I will gently smack anyone who presumes to pick apart writing that was made for fun and generously shared with the community for free.

The community aspect, however, should be taken into account on other fronts. While I won't tell anyone they have to interact and believe that, in an ideal world, everyone's writing would just speak for itself, it is helpful to engage with the community. Things you can do (both on Tumblr and AO3 if also applicable/possible) include: Respond to people interacting with your works, interacting with other people's works (for example while you're doing your reading sessions and looking at other writers' styles) and just overall being present, being talkative, going with the flow.

Again, this is not a must. But I will say that pretty much all of us want positive responses and interactions on their work and that just won't work if you expect everyone to show up for you all the time and never show up for anyone else. Engagement, passion and community are our "currency" in the absence of money and reciprocity is an important element of that. A lot of friction and complaints in the fanfic community regarding lack of interaction or entitlement are rooted in misunderstandings of this fundamental principle.

But don't take this in a cynical manner. Seek out what you enjoy, share the joy and passion and you'll make friends just accidentally - which is the part that I find makes fandom on AO3 and Tumblr so much fun! (I don't even want to be a "traditional" author anymore, I want this instead😁)

Find your groove and groove along.

Lastly, make sure your writing is fun for you or else it'll become a chore and eventually get ruined for you as a hobby. This is unfortunately a continuous task as your needs and interests shift - for example you might be in the mood to do an entire drabble challenge one month and during another month you feel so drained that you couldn't do another one. Or you might want to write something different for a change. Or whatever it may be.

Either way, one recent lesson I've learned is that I got too tied up in obligations and it left no space for spontaneous inspiration, so I never got to write what I wanted to write in the moment and it pushed me quite close to burnout. Do yourself a favor and always hold that space for yourself. In practice, this could for example mean that you do one event and on the side write this cool new idea you had, instead of doing three events - which is fun and games until it starts getting too much and you don't have time for your passion projects.

Finding your groove also includes the whole technical aspect, such as which writing programs you use, which device (or none at all), where you write, how to make yourself comfortable, how to get in the right headspace for things. I would also like to encourage all of you to be a bit crazy and whimsical about this: For example I've gone to the perfume store, picked out a scent for a specific character in a specific scene and sniffed it while writing the description several times now. Do what it takes. And say goodbye to your squeaky clean search history - you will research some weird stuff just to get that one line right.

So yeah, these are just my random thoughts on fic writing and what has been helpful in order for me to have lots of fun with this hobby. Happy writing!

[pdpenpals]

hihi! i was wondering if i could get a romantic letter from phoenix drop high gene? she/they pronouns please :)

and for the context of the letter, maybe Gene & Reader recently started dating but can’t text because Reader is away at an academic sleep away camp (preferably centered around literature/writing)? Reader is on the more academic/nerdy side and not officially part of the SK so them doing these kinds of programs is their usual summer thing but it’s the first time Gene and Reader have been away from eachother since they started dating

tysm <33

hihi!! thanks for sending this in, i think this prompt’s absolutely adorable!

unrelated but speaking of literature whenever i see gene now that i’m older i think of heathcliff (more of the name) or the phantom for some reason.

your entire being perks up at the mention that a letter’s arrived, and your heart races as you go through who could have possibly sent it in your head. the moment you have it in your hands, you can almost tell exactly who it’s from. the envelope’s a dark gray, close enough to be black. there are stickers all over its back next to your name and address, same goes for the front. opening it, you catch a whiff of someone familiar’s cologne. that cheeky bastard. 

you notice almost immediately that there’s not only a letter inside, but a bunch of printed photos and some unused stickers. after finding a spot to settle your new goodies upon, you get comfy and get to reading.

Hey cutie. Miss me yet? 

Heard a fair’s coming to town soon. I think it’ll still be there when you get back. There should even be fireworks on the last day. We can go there if you wanna.

Other than that, nothing much happened today. Dante was out, and I had the house to myself for a good portion of the afternoon. Without sugarcoating it, I was bored out of my mind.

It took me a while to figure out my texts or calls weren’t getting through to you. Mom must have seen how frustrated I was about it, so she shared some of her spare stationery with me as a last resort. She said something about wanting to hear about how your summer’s been doing so far.

That’s all the small talk I can handle for today. You might get too tired of staring at only words for too long over there, so you might want to check out the pics taken these past few days. The stickers are from Zenix and Sasha by the way, they also say hi.

Kidding aside, I know how much this whole camp thing means to you.  But I’ve been feeling weird ever since you left. It’s weirder knowing you’re not nearby. When you’re not a walk or a call away. Even though I know exactly how many days and many hours are left until you come back.

Sappy shit out the way, I decided to read that one book you lent me at random. I’m not sure you remember it much since you hurriedly gave it to me without a second thought, but it’s that really old one about the day before the world ends. All that apocalyptic and sad shit. Even though I didn’t get it, I guess it was nice that Vincent and Leticia got their happy ending. To be honest, the book overall didn’t stand out to me much, but the concept of having one day left to live sure did.

If I knew the world was going to end tomorrow I would

Y’know, maybe it’s for the best I save it for when we meet again in person, so you better come back home in one piece, yeah?

With an aching heart and hand, Your Gene, who misses you terribly

PS. I feel like you’ve been rubbing off on me recently, state-of-mind-wise. While it’s not that bad, it gives me the chills.

PPS. If not having you near me hasn't driven me insane yet, I definitely will go mad if this letter doesn't make it to you. Especially after all I've put my wrist through just for this. Maybe I should visit the post office a few more times?

[terry-perry]

Are requests for the Alastor x carmine!reader still open because I thought of something about the early stages of their dating?

What if even though they're trying to keep it a secret and not tell a lot of people, but they can't resist being in such good moods because they're clearly in love with each other?

"I can't tell you their name but let me tell me how amazing this person is SWOON!!"

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce y'all to Lillian!

"Y/N! So good to see you baby! I feel it's been ages!"

Y/N walked into the salon and greeted her nail tech with a couple air kisses and a big hug. "Hi, Lillian -I know! I'm most definitely due for some new acrylics. Also, is Shannon in? I wanted to get my hair done too. Give it some shine, add some curls."

"She's got a few appointments, but for you? She'll make time!"

Lillian gleefully took her favorite client by the hand and led her toward her workstation. "So, nails and hair, huh? What's the occasion? Are you guys working on an important deal?"

"Nothing like that," Y/N said as she dipped her nails in the bowl of acetone placed in front of her, unable to keep her giddiness inside since she was still having trouble trying not to think about him anymore than she could help. "I have a date tonight!"

"Oh, is that so?" Lillian pondered, wide-eyed as she observed the big smile on Y/N's face.

"Yeah, it's with this guy I've been seeing for about a couple weeks. We've been going out for coffee and taking walks after work, but tonight is our first real date!"

"And where's the lucky guy taking you?" Lillian asked sweetly, focusing on buffing out the last bits of Y/N's acrylics but still investing in their conversation.

"We're going to this jazz club downtown that he likes for drinks and maybe dancing. Then he's planning on taking me to...The Severed Head."

Lillian stopped herself from making her buffer sponge slip out of her hands from surprise at hearing this. She lifted her head to show her disbelief to a practically beaming Y/N. "The Severed Head?! The fancy place people can't even afford to eat bread from?"

"The very same!" Y/N said with a giggle.

"I heard it can take up to months to get a reservation there. How'd you guys swing that?"

"He's got connections. He made a deal with the owner a while back, so you can say he's a big part of why the place has good business."

Lillian continued to look positively agog at this piece of gossip. "So he's an Overlord then. Impressive!"

Y/N hummed, looking very pensive suddenly. "He's incredible, a little rough around the edges, but he's quite the gentleman who treats me well. He's also pretty funny and charming. I feel like I can really be myself around him."

Lillian softly looked at the clearly lovestruck girl in front of her. Something rare to see in Hell was something so pure, but there it was. She was happy to witness such a sight until Y/N got serious about what she said next.

"The thing is we're not out in the open just yet. You know my mother; very few things meet her approval. I don't know if me going out with another Overlord would make that list. So we're doing our best to keep a low profile for now. We have a chance to go out tonight, but only because he had to pull some strings to ensure we'd be alone. So do you think you can keep this to yourself?"

"Oh, of course, my love! You know you can trust me. I'll take this to my grave!" When Y/N gave her a strange look, she added, "You know what I mean."

They shared a small laugh before Lillian continued her work.

Lillian heard the bell above the salon's door chime, indicating someone entered. She paused her clearing up her table to see who it was and gave them a big smile.

"Oh, if it isn't the lady killer himself!" She chirped while walking over to the front to greet them.

"Now my dear, we've been over this," Alastor replied with his trademark smile. "Those particular cases went cold. It was never proven that I was involved."

She laughed at his remark. "How can I help you today handsome? Your usual sharpening?"

"Yes, and if you don't mind, perhaps a clear coat polish. I want them to look extra sharp for tonight!"

"I can take you in a second! I just gotta finish clearing up my station." She gestured for him to follow her there while they continued their conversation. "So, what's going on tonight? Meeting the next star of your radio show? I've been kinda missing it since you've been gone."

"As much as I'd love to feature guests on my show again, I'm going to have to put a pin on that for now due to my current obligations with the princess," he sat down when she offered him a seat and when he sighed dreamily she had to do a small double take as though making sure this was still Alastor she was talking to. "No, I have plans to meet with a special lady this evening."

Lillian paused setting up her tools for Alastor's claws. Did she hear that correctly?

"Am I hearing this right?" She voiced her wonder. "Is the Radio Demon seeing someone that isn't a potential deal or guest on his show?"

"I suppose..." Alastor replied coyly, mindlessly twirling his microphone that suddenly began to play romantic jazz while he displayed a gentle smile. Seeing him like that was almost endearing, if a bit strange. "She's lovely - a dove among all the crows you find here in Hell. Our budding romance could blossom beautifully if I play my cards right! It's why I must look my best and give her a night she won't soon forget!"

Her suspicions were rising, but she needed more to absolutely know. "So what do we have planned for tonight?"

"Oh, I have quite the enchanted evening planned. We'll let some beautiful music play while we share drinks. We'll enjoy dinner and dancing, and if we have time left, I have a surprise for her I know she'll love."

"Ooh, spill!" She had to know what he had up his sleeve.

"This stays between us, right?" He asked with small notes of malicious intent as he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Of course, dear," she said, not seeming to be affected by his subtle threat. "I wouldn't dare to dream of breaking nail tech-client confidentiality. I just love romance!"

He took another second to stare at her but went back to discussing his plans excitedly. "Well, she happens to love old movies. As you know, I'm not a fan of visual mediums, but she's worth it."

Lillian almost squealed right then and there. He must really think highly of this girl if he's willing to go through watching a movie with her. "Oh, so you'll finish the night with a movie?"

"A private screening of an old thriller from my time, yes," he answered. "It's about a hypnotist who brainwashes someone to commit multiple murders. I know she'll love it!"

Oh, Lillian knew this had to be Y/N he was talking about! His plans perfectly aligned with hers, and he's right about the movie. As sweet as Y/N can be, she also had a small edge which included having bizarre taste in films, books, and apparently men. She was astounded to learn about their relationship, but the more Lillian thought about it, the more they made sense. The daughter of the best arms dealer in Hell and the mischievous radio host with a soft side very few knew about. It was an unexpected pairing but also a pleasant one.

She couldn't believe she had front-row seats to what could be the start of Hell's cutest couple!

[llitchilitchi]

blog update? vent? what I wanna do going forward? this is long and ranty

I am not going anywhere, please remain calm :)

so this has been on my mind for the better part of a year now, if not longer. I don't think it's a secret or a shock to anyone that I am barely engaging in mcyt-related fandoms, even more so when it comes to creators. the community has for a large part transformed into something that I don't want to necessarily be a part of.

I am saddened at what has become of the CCs that I liked and found comfort in back during lockdown. I don't want to delve into any of the things that have happened over the last few weeks, much less months and years - I made it a rule for myself to not keep up with "drama" (I genuinely hate the word. a lot of it is pointless bickering and people being stupid and vile over small things that could have been solved privately, or people attacking others for no reason, and those that do not fit under the "people are stupid" umbrella are matters far too serious to be labelled as drama or discourse) and I try to not comment on it much. I can't help the two posts from time to time but the truth is, seeing discourse on my dash for days on end is wearing me down. and it often feels like that is all there is going on anymore.

as of, this is not me denouncing my love for dream and the dream team, or their friends and supporters, much less the fan community around them. there are many kind people who I cherish and I am grateful that they welcomed me in and shared my art and talked to me about it. these comments and conversations mean more to me than you could ever imagine. I've forged friendships here that I never could have dreamed of. I've never felt so comfortable in a fandom before and I don't think I will ever fully leave it behind.

that being said, I also doubt that I will be posting too much about anything mcyt-related. I haven't really been doing anything for the fandom anyways, not really. I enjoy the fan projects, and I am very grateful that I managed to get on the c!Dream zine as an artist, and I am looking forward to sharing that piece with you guys! it's one of my favourites that I've ever done, so look forward to that, and go support the project if you can! but to post only when it's related to projects feels a little insincere.

I am mostly writing this because there were a couple more projects that popped up, and I hesitate to join. not only because my involvement with the fandom is miniscule, but also because I feel a little worn and tired and gross about everything that has gone down. and I dread that by the time I get to actually work on a piece, the exhaustion and resignation will turn into distaste and unwillingness to do anything.

I still want to support artists and writers in the fandom. I will continue reblogging stuff, maybe even post some of my own (I have been itching to do a small illustration for monarchy again, but I've been incredibly busy, so don't get excited), but for the most part I think I'll be slowly turning towards other fandoms and original content. oh yeah, I there are OCs incoming.

I miss this fandom, and the community, and every good thing that came with it, but it does not feel sincere to keep engaging too much. I will likely stick to DSMP for the most part, if I will stay in the fandom at all. the real people around it just make me sad.

I don't have a conclusion to offer. no tl;dr. I wanted to get this off my chest. my feelings about everything going on are complicated at best. there's a yearning to come back and a revulsion at what many of the CCs are doing that keeps me away. a yearning for the excitement and love I felt once. maybe it'll come back. for now I just want things to calm down and if that isn't possible here, I will be minding my own business. so if you see me posting about Things at Inappropriate Times, do know that I simply do not wish to engage in the bad anymore.

[kittybroker]

Update on the music situation! Sheet music is available here:

One of them is a piano trio. I didn't include parts because I think reading off main score is easier but I can get a separate violin and cello part if needed. If you do take a look at it or play it I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts. On the rare chance that someone would want to get a decent recording and would be fine with me using it that could also be cool. I've got one for the piano trio but am still waiting on permission from the performers for now.

For those who don't read music I have a soundcloud here:

A lot of old stuff and a lot of stuff I never finished or don't care about any more. A few quite nice pieces here.

My personal favourites from the set for the piano pieces are the 2nd and 3rd phantasmagoria. I've actually played the 2nd in a few concerts. The masquerade is a lot of fun but terribly difficult. I made the mistake of trying to give myself four weeks to get it to a performance level for a small concert. Of my older digital music I particularly like 'Eternal Clockwork Night' if you just want one of them to listen for.

I've got a few other projects upcoming I can share later, as well as some finished stuff I'm still waiting on being able to share (or can only share midi rendering from the notation software which suck).

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Bucktommy prompt: Buck finds out Tommy D&D (and is a pretty big nerd overall)

Hope you like it!

"Hey Ev, I know we were planning on date night on Friday, but is there any way we can raincheck it?" Tommy asked.

Buck was a little surprised. "Of course. Is everything okay? I checked our calendars and Friday was open for both of us. Did you pick up a shift or something?"

"No, nothing like that," Tommy replied. "There's this monthly first responder thing that I try to go to, and I've missed the past few months."

"Oh yeah? What kind of first responder thing? Another sport? Poker?" Buck asked, curious.

"Uh, not quite," Tommy said, blushing slightly. He mumbled, "It's Dungeons and Dragons."

"Wait? You play Dungeons and Dragons?" Buck said grinning at Tommy like he was the cutest thing in the world.

"Uh, yeah," Tommy replied, looking a bit sheepish. "It was sort of my escape as a kid. I would come up with these elaborate quests, and it was just so much better than being the awkward closeted gay kid. That and comic books were kind of all I had," Tommy admitted, his voice softening as he shared this piece of his past.

Buck's expression shifted from amusement to understanding, his eyes filled with warmth. "Tommy, that's... that's really cool. I had no idea you were into that stuff."

Tommy shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, well, it's not exactly something I advertise. But it's still a big part of who I am, you know?"

"I get it," Buck said, reaching out to squeeze Tommy's hand. "Thanks for sharing that with me. So, tell me more about this first responder D&D group. How did that even start?"

Tommy chuckled, seeming more at ease now. "Well, I've only been a part of it since I started at Harbor. I guess when I started there, I came out not only as gay but also as a giant nerd," he laughed.

Buck joined in the laughter, his eyes twinkling with affection. "I love that. It's like you got to be your whole self all at once."

"Yeah, it felt pretty good," Tommy admitted. "The guys at Harbor were surprisingly cool about both things. Turns out, there were a few other closet D&D fans at the station."

Tommy's expression grew more serious for a moment. "It's definitely not something I would've admitted at the 118 with Captain Gerrard in charge. And after my dad's reaction when he found out... well, let's just say it wasn't great, to say the least. I learned pretty quickly to keep that part of myself hidden too."

Buck's face softened with understanding. "I'm sorry you had to hide that part of yourself for so long. But I'm glad you found a place where you can be open about it now."

Tommy nodded, a small smile returning to his face. "Me too. It's nice to finally feel like I can be my whole self, you know?"

"I do know," Buck said, squeezing Tommy's hand. "And for what it's worth, I think your nerdy side is pretty cute."

Tommy's face lit up at Buck's words. "Thanks, baby," he said, a warm smile spreading across his face. "And maybe someday I can help you learn about it. Maybe even help you create a character," he added, his eyes twinkling with excitement at the prospect.

Buck grinned, clearly charmed by Tommy's enthusiasm. "You know what? I'd like that. And you've already met my inner nerd – the one who loves to watch documentaries and info dump about random facts."

Tommy chuckled, nodding in agreement. "That's true. And I love you for it, by the way. Your excitement when you're sharing some obscure fact is one of my favorite things about you."

Buck's cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. "Well, then maybe it's time I embraced my nerdiness fully. Who knows? Maybe I'll discover a hidden talent for D&D."

"Oh, I have no doubt," Tommy said, pulling Buck into a hug. "With your imagination and your love for details, you'll probably end up being the dungeon master before you know it."

Buck smiled brightly and somehow found himself falling even more in love with this man who could be both a brave firefighter pilot and an enthusiastic D&D player. It was just another reminder of the many layers that made up Tommy Kinard, and Buck was grateful for the chance to discover each and every one of them.

[zayne-li]

your frozen blood piece was SO ANGSTY AND PERFECT. the image of wanderer dawnbreaker meeting the MC is not something I knew I wanted, but you fulfilled that prompt so well!! i fear I may have just become obsessed LMAO

do you play to do a second part to it? where dr zayne and the reader talk about it/we get some comfort after such a wildly traumatic experience or something of the like... maybe he shares some of his dreams? idk haha, consider this a formal request - no pressure of course!

regardless, thank you so much for sharing your writing :) its always such a pleasure to read through (AND THANK YOU FOR SUB ZAYNE. twirling around happily at dominating that boy <3)

Thank you!!!!!!!!!!! And I agree lol, there wasn't much comfort in that piece, and I also want there to be more, so just for you, nonny, here's what happens after MC is forced to kill her beloved. (Also while writing this I realized how similar the original fic is to the anecdote in the Arctic where Zayne kills William, so....)

--

Since then, my dreams have been turbulent. I see him in my minds eye. Half broken, more than broken, lumbering towards me slower than any other wanderer I've ever seen. And with the clarity of several dawns past, I realize why: he didn't want to hurt me. He had said it himself, I can recall now, but it doesn't alleviate the horror of that moment. The moment that has me gasping awake, clawing at the sheets, while Zayne's nightmares, for now, at least, seem to have ceased.

It's good that they have, because I continue to see that half distorted face like a film over his own when I wake, and sometimes, that frightens me too.

It's okay," he murmurs, his arms wrapped around me as I stare at that Protocore on our nightstand, my eyes filled with tears. How could it ever possibly be okay? I killed him. Not my Zayne, but a Zayne who loved me just as deeply. Who died. Who loved me so selflessly that he never once acted, only protected, to the best of his ability, until his dying breath.

How can that be okay? Ever?

The blue Protocore shines. Almost taunting. A reminder. One I will never relinquish. He deserves to be remembered. Cherished.

I take a deep, shuddering breath and turn into his embrace, my heart so fragile that my voice reflects it.

"It's not okay. I hurt you."

We both know that he's fine... He didn't experience that moment I endured. His response says otherwise though, in such a way that I feel I myself must have said this to him a thousand times over. I just don't remember.

"You could never hurt me." Zayne holds me tighter, his face buried in my hair, and I cling to him tighter. It's obvious that he is worried for me, and I hate that he would be. He doesn't need the extra stress.

He just... Doesn't know how untrue that statement is. My jaw clenches. "Why?" My voice is soft.

Long fingers wind their way into my hair, like skis through snow. Zayne takes a long moment to respond, as if he's weighing his options. I know he understands what I'm asking.

"Fate is neither kind, nor cruel. It is inevitable. You cannot blame yourself for where it takes you."

I look up at him.

"But what if it takes me to a place..." I struggle to finish my sentence, and instead curl into him further, winding our legs together, burying my face in his chest, and just breathing in the warm scent of him. I hold him tightly enough that it's almost as if I want to squeeze him into my own chest, and he returns the gesture, until we're pressed so tightly together we can feel every curve of each other, from the breath against our throats, to our legs intertwined, one of mine over his own and curling back down near our feet.

"You had no choice." Zayne's answer is simple. "If what you require is forgiveness... I give it to you. I still love you. And he would too." There's a certain melancholy there, almost as if he's experienced it himself, but...

"How, Zayne?"

My voice is small, and soft.

"Because...." He squeezes me a little tighter, and I feel the warm press of his lips on my head, then his breath as he speaks again, "My first and highest priority has always been you, and it was no different with him," right, the... Other him, "he protected you because he loved you, as terrible as it was."

My chest feels tight. "But I love you too, can't you understand how awful it was?"

"I can. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there soon enough, that I couldn't shield you from it. I have more regret about that than you can imagine."

I cling tighter. "Zayne..." I laugh through my tears, "that doesn't make me feel better, you know."

He exhales against my hair, and pulls back enough for me to see the look in his eyes. "I love you." There's an indescribable sadness in his eyes as he strokes my cheek. "Does that help?" He acts as if it's entirely his fault I had to kill a version of him, his voice so small and worried, that it makes my heart ache.

My lip trembles, but I hug him tighter, curling into his warmth, like it's possible for us to cease as individuals, because really, I'm not sure we are anymore. "I love you." I'm just grateful to have him here with me, by my side.

[chaifootsteps]

i should've mentioned it when we were talking about tuca and bertie and them doing things right, but the arc bertie goes through with her SA and reclaiming it thru taboo fantasies is very similar to what ive been through, right down to a therapist opening me up to this new side of sexuality, and while it all happened to me years prior to the arc happening in the show, it broke me out of my anti shipper mentality that gave me this sense of justice and rigid rightness in what i was doing.

just thought now would be a good time to bring it up too because of the allegations against you and how what happened to max is basically the same thing that's happened to me. it's such an uncomfortable feeling to know someone who brought you into this world sees you like that, and having a fictional character similar to that person to self insert with in writing has helped far more then feeling disgusted with myself ever did or has, because i can stop anytime i want, or just get to a point where i move on completely from being able to gain anything from this personally. (which im leaning towards for now,) it's like bertie's therapist said, "because this time, you're in control."

i just wish antis could at least be more open to the idea that maybe, just maybe, shaming victims for coping this way isn't helpful, and that the lack of nuance implies shaming these uncontrollable fantasies (because you can't control your thoughts and like bertie's therapist said, "brains are weird!", although ive also heard the fear and arousal part of your brain is closely related which explains so many kinks to me tbh,) is the only form of healing and getting better, which it never will be. this kind of thing, of re-exploring your trauma thru fiction like this, definitely doesn't help certain people and that needs to be respected, but for anyone it does, they shouldn't just be written off as "normalizing their abuse", because im aware enough to keep this to myself, and to other people like me.

come talk to me about me "romanticizing" horrible things in fiction when you remember vivs shows have millions of views, and THATS why her writing like a fanfic author is bad - not because she inherently is one at heart. a large audience of adults should engage with these heavy topics, (and deserve to have them be written well, even if the stans swear they don't because nuh uh it's Da Best cuz mama viv made it,) not literal children. regardless of this unfortunate demographic that's naturally been formed and then unnaturally encouraged by the creator to line her pockets with their parents money, i think people have a moral obligation to tell a well written story about dark taboo subjects when they have such a large scale of production and connections like this, with some gray area in between, because theres some pieces of media that aren't as big as vivs creations or as small as fanfic writers (compared to other indie creations like video games or shows,) either, like mouthwash, or that one horror game with a sibling incest ending. that's what i mean when i said you aren't gonna make anyone want to fuck a lizard, but that vivs story's spread sentiment that would give 1970s victim blaming, "well, what was she wearing?" arguments a run for their money in how gross they are. i don't think max is gonna make anyone want to fuck their own dad either.

i hope this all makes sense! i think this is the most vulnerable ive ever been in your ask box. thank you for being someone who makes me feel strong enough to talk about this.

No, no, it makes perfect sense! Thanks for sharing your story, Anon...that was an incredibly vulnerable thing to talk about, and it couldn't have been easy.

I don't know if it's due to social media or what, but people have gotten really, really terrible at the concept of "I do my thing that works for me over here, you do your thing that works for you over there, and even though we don't understand each other, we mind our business about it." Like you said, it becomes a different conversation the more widespread and professional your piece of media is -- the same way that feeding 1,000 people a day is different than cooking for yourself -- but when we're talking about you and me and Max and all the randos on AO3? An appropriately tagged piece of work that makes a sharp distinction between fiction and reality is harmless.

What isn't harmless is telling someone that their intensely personal coping method is wrong and shameful and that they're a dangerous, evil person because it makes you uncomfortable, and that they're either a bad survivor or lying about being one.

Here's the scene from Tuca & Bertie, because it's so well done and always relevant.

[ejzah]

As promised, here is a summary of my experience at Epic Cons Chicago and meeting Eric! I’m including some of the pictures I took (with poor attempts to censor my face). Heads up, this is a long post.

I started off early in the morning with a long drive since I’m a scaredy cat and avoid the expressway as much as possible. The convention center was very full when I arrived and it took about 50 minutes for me to register because the process didn’t seem well-organized, so that wasn’t the most fun.

But after that, I was on my way to watch Eric’s panel! The panel he appeared on, had actors from several different shows, so he wasn’t asked that many questions. As usual though, he was charming and disarming. One fan asked everyone what word they would use to describe their character and I believe Eric chose “fearless vulnerability”, which is technically two words, but so very in character for Eric. I always love listening to him talk about Deeks and the depth that he infused into the character.

I have a few poorly filmed videos from the panel that I can share if you message me. I’d rather not post them just in case my account would get deactivated again. I thought of asking a question myself, but chickened out.

After that I had a very long break before my next event, so I got some tacos from a little place inside convention center. I’d give them a 5/10. They were overpriced, pretty tiny, and overall mediocre.

Now on to the really good parts!

Next I attended a meet and greet with Eric. I was super nervous leading up to it, and kind of regretted the tacos at that point. About ten of us were ushered into a small private room with chairs set up in a circle. We were instructed not to take any videos, picture, etc, before the start, so I don’t have any additional content. Eric came in a few minutes later and ended up sitting one seat over from me (😱), which was pretty darn distracting for me.

After telling us he’d never done a meet and greet before, answered several questions and chatted with us. One of the things that really struck me was just as with every video and interview I’ve seen over the years, is that Eric was so genuine, honest, and generous.

In answer to questions, he talked about the last few seasons and why there were some irregularities. Such as that the show was supposed to end after season nine and each season after that was considered a bonus and based on ability to form a tight budget. He also confirmed that none of them knew what was in “the box” aside from possibly Shane Brennan.

The greet part of the event went by far too quickly, and before we knew it, one of the volunteers announced it was time for the selfie portion. Fortunately, another fan noticed I had been trying to ask a question and spoke up for me.

Before I asked my question, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to shoutout wikiDeeks first. Eric really lit up and expressed how much he appreciated the hard work and thought put into the writing and contributions. He brought up an episode many fans had issues with (we figured out it was probably from the FLETC episode that shall go unnamed), and said he showed a piece of wikiDeeks writing to the writers/TPTB and basically said that it was deeper and better writing. I believe that might have been @anonkp’s wonderful work! In general, he was very appreciative and complimentary of everyone at wikiDeeks. He’s so very gracious!

We were really short on time, but I did get to ask the question “what would you change about Deeks if you could?” Eric couldn’t come up with a response on the spot, so he asked me the same question in return. I told him I didn’t think anything needed to be changed about Deeks, but didn’t always enjoy how silly he was written in later seasons.

Eric shared that he tried to play those moments in a way that put Deeks in on the joke instead of being the butt of the joke as much as he could. Unfortunately, he didn’t always have that luxury.

During our conversation, Eric was very engaging and attentive. For those couple minutes, I forgot to be nervous because he made the atmosphere so comfortable. It felt like he genuinely cared about what I was saying. My only regret is that I didn’t have time to emphasize how much I appreciate Eric’s acting and portrayal of Deeks.

After that, it was selfie time! When it was my turn, Eric bent down to my level (oh my lord he’s tall), naturally in my usual awkward way, I bent down too. 🤦🏻‍♀️ Hopefully Eric saw it as charming rather than incredibly silly and awkward. Hey, at least I made him laugh, right?

He’s so beautiful!

If any fans on here were present for the meet and greet, please let me know if I forgot anything or misremembered events. My memory is often faulty.

I also chose to get a professional shot with Eric and for that one I got a hug! I’m still not over it yet.

It was a really long day and a lot of driving, but so worth it for the chance to meet and talk with Eric. And, I’m pretty sure I came out this experience even more of a fan of Eric than ever.

[naomihatake]

In search of freedom (Ch. 7)

7. What do you wish for?

⠀⠀➺ fic masterlist

⠀⠀➺ Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7 ; Chapter 8

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa

Warnings for this chapter: angst, graphic depictions of deaths and fatal wounds, self-harm, brief suicidal mention, canon-typical violence, tiny bit comfort at the end

Word count: 8,4 k

Theme song: fic spotify playlist (click on the link)

A/N: I'm glad I could finish the chapter so early and there are some scenes in here that I really loved writing. Also, I want you to pay close attention to the fight Witch has with the fishman. The anime watchers and manga readers that got far enough with One Piece will probably get it faster ;)

I'd be happy to hear your opinions on this chapter. Every interaction is appreciated and thank you so much for sticking to this story till now <3

The reader is referred to as "Witch" because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".

"What is your dream?"

While she would've rather expected that question to come from Luffy, the tipsy Zoro by her side, leaned against the mast, seemed to be rather intrigued by her reasons to remain with Luffy. 

When she turned her head towards him, one of her suppositions was proved to be right: the stars above shone beautifully, but nothing could compare to the swordsman's brown eyes. In the dark, his dark chocolate irises were swallowed by pupils dark as the depths of the oceans. No. Dark and beautiful as the night sky she teared her gaze away from. 

Her silence could've been interpreted in many ways and Zoro might become suspicious, but his already flushed state seemed to swallow everything in. He only looked back at her. 

The witch couldn't exactly spot the specific aura of his gaze. He wasn't only flushed because of the alcohol, no. He seemed… soft, even. His shoulders were relaxed and the grip on the empty bottle loosened up. 

His question was simply something she didn't expect, as he was always down to earth, similarly to Nami. However, there was a tiny difference — he proudly admitted he wanted to become the strongest swordsman in the world. 

"I—," the word left her lips like a mere whisper. 

Her determination faltered under the weight of the alcohol. Until that moment, after sharing some ugly parts of her past, his remarks made her laugh and chuckle happily. 

"I want to be free."

One simple wish that could have so many connotations. 

"I don't see any rope around your wrists."

His voice was like a low rumble coming from the depths of his chest, such a pleasant and soothing sound. 

Their eye contact didn't break. Their gazes were locked together and she couldn't bring herself to be mad about it, especially when she was drunk enough to let vulnerable sides of her poor soul see the light of the stars. 

Faint, shy, but it was there. 

"I want to be free from myself and the expectations everyone has of me," she clarified. "Free from the rules of the world, written or unwritten. Free from the Marines that are now on my tail."

"Why did you become a pirate if you wanted to be free from the Navy?" 

"The sea always looked like a place where I could be free," she admitted with a weak voice. The same tiny voice her younger self used to have when dreaming of a future. 

Zoro knitted his eyebrows together and blinked, staring at the small beauty mark on her face he just noticed. He seemed deep in thought or rather trying to figure out the meaning of her words. 

He was rarely so concentrated outside of critical situations like fights. 

"Are you free now, then?" 

With a gulp, she shook her head. 

"No." 

One word. One heavy weight on her soul. 

"How do you wanna be free?" came another question from the swordsman. 

"I have no clue."

The cage around her was a metaphor. She always felt like iron bars squeezed her tighter and tighter, until she broke down, a situation that occurred only a few times a year and was always hidden from prying eyes. 

Realistically, there was no free place in that world. The Marine wasn't by any means as righteous as they wanted to look like and they were certainly not saviors. Of course, there were plenty of pirates that did nothing else but harm everyone and everything they laid eyes on. Some of them had ugly souls, dark and dirtied by greed. 

However, there were plenty of people that were so-called pirates and yet never harmed unless they had to protect someone. Like Luffy or Usopp. They never took anyone's life. 

Like her father. 

She wasn't one of those pirates. The witch has killed people, even if never solely for blood thirst. Or, at least, not yet. She deserved to die, to never see the light of a new day. 

A personal justice system — that's what she's always had, that's what she grew to learn about from the crew she left barely a year ago. 

Deep down, she knew she would never be free. There was no liberty for a monster. 

When she looked at Zoro, she also wanted him to taste freedom on his tongue. Maybe he already knew what that felt like. 

If she couldn't find her own freedom, she could settle for protecting her friends' freedom. That would be more than enough, right? 

"Aren't you at fault for your own lack of freedom?" Zoro pulled her out of her thoughts. 

His question might've sounded as insensitive and accusing, but she was aware the swordsman didn't mean it that way. He always had his own way with words and, unfortunately, he got misinterpreted most of the time. 

He was simply stating a probable truth. 

Then I suppose I should get rid of my—

No. There was no time to think of such things, even if she was drunk and vulnerable. Admitting that to his face would be shameful of her. 

Maybe she wasn't that ready to share secrets yet, was she? 

"I most probably am," the witch whispered as she averted her eyes back to the sky splattered with stars. "At the end of the day, I'm the only one taking into account what others say and how they affect me." 

She didn't know exactly how to pursue freedom, but she was certain of something else: if that beautiful future stood in front of her, Zoro was probably one of the ways to find out. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

The witch wasn't able to find freedom if she died at that moment, with the blue hand of a fishman gripping at her throat. There was a lingering ache at the crown of her head from when he pushed her against the wall. 

Her eyes squeezed shut while life seemed to slip from her hold, the same way her fingers lost their force while clutching onto the fishman's forearm. She had to find a way to get out of there, to breathe, because her lungs were already begging for some oxygen. Her vision was getting blurry and the pain in her entire throat spread like fire through her body. 

Maybe it was because of her hyper-aware state, but she could swear the wound on her bicep was bloody again considering the sharp pain shooting through her arm. 

No. There was no time to die and beg for forgiveness — and whose forgiveness could she ask for if she stays alive? Exactly. No one's. 

The witch didn't know if she breathed in air or it just felt awfully familiar to that sensation, but her lungs suddenly swallowed something fresh and powerful. It ate the pain hungrily, destroying every doubt in her mind the more she thought of her promises, of the corpse of a father who still whispered in her dreams "go find your freedom".

The grip on the fishman's arm grew tighter, stronger, until her nails dug into the scales and penetrated them. Her fingers ached, the skin around her nails scratched harshly by the sharp broken scales. Fresh blood surfaced. 

Her eyes opened up slowly, burning with each one of her promises, this time including her own — If I can't find freedom, I'll make it. 

Every nerve in her body burnt and she tasted drugs on the tip of her tongue, an addiction threatening to clutch onto her and take control. 

Power. 

The witch has never been one to love power, to ache for it and yet, there she was, with a devil-like grin growing on her face. 

Power. 

It ate her alive and she loved that sensation. The steadiness of her heartbeats, the cage of ribs that broke to make place for that overwhelming feeling. 

Power will never take control of me. 

Her eyes bore holes through the fishman's entire being. There was no need for her revolver when two shining irises had the same effect. 

Her vision and mind has never been clearer. 

The fishman was struck. A weight settled on his shoulders, pulling him down, doubts flickering in his head. 

Claws sank into his eyes, into his face and throat, clutching at his heart, threatening to pull it out of his chest. 

The fishman stumbled and dropped her. 

His strong grip on her throat left blooming red marks. They were ugly and her neck felt tender, but her nerves didn't register the pain properly because of the adrenaline running through her veins. 

The witch immediately took the opportunity, despite the lack of air in her lungs. She crouched down to take her gun, but before she could shoot again, a loud sound got her attention. 

The door of the restaurant broke at the floor underneath her when Luffy got thrown right into it by Arlong.

On the side of the stairs where Usopp crawled down was Sanji struggling to get back up after he cracked his back at the harsh contact with a table. 

People were hiding under chairs and bars from the fishmen's wrath. 

Her anger was fueled by each single detail. One of her shoulders felt light, while the other was heavy. The monster lurking inside her had one eye open — the same one that pushed her to cuss out Mihawk back when Zoro got a cut through his chest. The same monster she wouldn't trade anything for, because wrath has always been her forte. 

The small flame of revenge started burning in the pits of her stomach. Steadily. Still vague, easy to control. 

She ran down the stairs and passed by Usopp, who was at that moment helping Sanji get on his feet. The witch got out of Baratie, suddenly stopping in her tracks when she saw Arlong standing a few meters in front of her. 

That fucker—

Luffy shouted something along the lines of Gum Gum and she knew that was his fight to deal with. 

However, it was a fight she didn't know if he would win at that time, considering the way Arlong only turned his head to the side when he got punched in the face by Luffy's fists. The fishman spat blood on the wooden floor while he stepped closer and closer to the Straw Hat. 

In a fraction, the punch Luffy received sent him flying in the sails of a boat and he fell down with a thud, grunting. It was stupid of him to provoke Arlong further, but Luffy has never been to give up or let his enemies feel the satisfaction of a victory without a proper fight. 

The witch wondered if her captain didn't break a rib or two after being punched and thrown around for so long. He still had the energy to throw his fists into Arlong's face with all he's got, using his rubber arms to attack from meters away. 

His Devil Fruit powers were definitely the only reason why he was alive. 

But not for much longer. 

Arlong muttered something with a growl and once he sank his hand in the water, the witch knew it wasn't going to end well. 

The fishman didn't just splash Luffy; no, he soaked the Straw Hat to the bone and the hit with both sea water and brute force got Luffy to the ground. It was his biggest weakness. 

The witch's eyes widened when she saw Arlong grabbing at Luffy's shirt and lifting him in the air, opening his mouth to reveal razor-sharp teeth. 

Her feet carried her for only a second and she almost shouted out for Luffy out of despair — she would rather be stabbed in the stomach countless times than feel helpless again. Out of instinct, the hand holding the gun raised, aiming at—

"Arlong, wait!" 

Nami. 

The witch snapped her head towards her friend. 

The orange-haired woman stomped her feet and came, leaving the Going Merry behind her. The tank-top she wore exposed a strange old tattoo on her left shoulder. She was clutching tightly onto a thin and long cylinder. 

"I have it," she addressed Arlong. "I have the map." 

The map. 

"I got it for you, just like I said I would."

The witch blinked away the confusion that almost made her hazy and stepped in front of Nami, stopping her from moving forward. 

"Nami," the witch knitted her eyebrows together. "What's going on?" 

Nami's eyes held no clear emotion besides a flicker of anger. 

"Exactly what you knew all along."

It was one of those times when the witch wished her tarot was wrong. 

She shook her head, one of her hands gripping at Nami's wrist. 

"Nami," the witch squeezed her friend's hand tighter, scared it would slip from between her fingers. 

"Let go."

Nami snatched her arm out of the witch's hold and her jaw ticked. She wasn't only annoyed, there had to be more in her eyes. 

"You cannot possibly tell me you want to do this," the witch insisted, stepping even closer, until she was one breath away from the navigator. 

Their intense gazes clashed together and none of them let the walls fall. 

"But here I am, ain't I?" Nami cocked an eyebrow. 

When the orange-haired passed by, her shoulder collided harshly with the witch's who was still stuck in place. 

No fucking way. 

The witch needed time to think, she had to search for some clarification with her tarot cards. She needed more time to read the energy, to figure out the situation, to understand what, where, why and when. Nothing made sense and time passed by so fast she couldn't even process it all. 

Luffy was so disoriented he didn't even pour enough force in his hands to get rid of Arlong's grip on the collar of his shirt. 

"Nami?" he firmly spoke. "What are you doing?"

"I tried to tell you, Luffy," Nami continued walking towards him. "I was never on Your crew. I only joined up with you so I could steal the map." 

"I don't believe that," Luffy denied. 

"That's because you only believe what you want to believe. Doesn't make it true."

Nami, for fuck's sake, we both know you're lying—

The witch opened her mouth, ready to argue, to yell from the top of her lungs, but with one glance thrown to Arlong, she stopped. Saying the wrong thing might get Nami in great danger and she might lose credibility in front of him. 

"Sister Nami's a loyal member of the Arlong Pirates," Arlong started speaking, pointing with his chin towards the one in question. "She has been for years."

The witch didn't know why she still protected Nami, but she was certainly not going to give up on her friend at that time. 

Nami shoved the map in Arlong's nose to get his attention to her — or maybe the witch has gotten to another level of delusion. 

"Why waste your time killing a Devil Fruit eater?" Nami reminded the fishman as if it wasn't a death sentence. "Let the sea do it for you."

"Nami, this is too far, cut the crap—" the witch revolted immediately. 

Before she could make any step towards Luffy, she was grabbed by the back of her neck and launched into the wall of Baratie with sheer force — it was one of Arlong's asshole crewmates. She groaned in pain and squeezed her eyes. The shoulder she fell on sent sharp spikes through the entire left side of her body. 

She cussed out, struggling to get back to her feet when Arlong let Luffy drown in the sea. The witch let out a shout of the Straw Hat's name and one of her knees betrayed her, resulting in another unceremonious fall to the ground. 

Lucky for her, an arm curled around her front to help her up, a silver ring resting on the finger of the man. 

"Luffy fell in the water, go now!" she didn't even wait to be properly raised to her feet to urge Sanji to jump. 

Her aching body and the lack of strength wouldn't help her get Luffy out of the sea. She didn't even clearly notice when the cook left her side and jumped into the sea, too caught up in the agitation inside of her. Events passed by her faster than light. All she saw was a discarded shirt. 

She wasn't sure because of what powers she managed to walk on the deck, at the edge where the other two should appear from under the water. Her head turned when she recognized Usopp from her peripherals.

"Luffy?" he asked, panic building up as his hands shook. 

The witch would have responded if not for the answer to appear right under their noses. Sanji held Luffy tightly by the collar and pushed him on the dock with Usopp's help who dragged him. 

The witch extended her hand to bring Sanji on the dock with them and since then, things turned blurry despite her open eyes. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

Now the only woman in the crew, the witch sat on the floor in the room that used to be Nami's, her back leaning back against the wooden wall. With eyes devoid of life, she stared up at the ceiling while pulling her knees closer to her chest, once again trying to hide herself from everyone. From everything. 

On Nami's bed there was still an inert swordsman and he didn't even flinch when she tentatively said his name after entering the room. 

"Fucking dammit," she squeezed her eyes shut. 

Nami left. Zoro was unconscious. Luffy almost drowned if not for Sanji. Usopp was bluffing about how "everything has to be alright". 

She didn't know if he was trying to convince himself or her. 

Because everything was wrong. It felt wrong. 

The witch took in a deep breath, but only half of the oxygen she inhaled got to her lungs and brain because of her constricted throat. Tears were sitting on her waterline for the fourth time that day. 

Too much happened since the crack of dawn and it wasn't even sunset. 

Exhaustion made her look years older than she was. Her head fell forward, forehead hitting her knees before the light sneaking through the windows could fall on her face. 

Tears filled with anguish ran down her cheeks and it was the first time she allowed herself to let at least an ounce of the weight on top of her body dissipate. The droplets of pain melted down her cheeks and sank into the material of her shirt. 

The witch sneaked her arms around the back of her thighs and squeezed herself tighter in a ball, lips trembling. Her breathing was ragged not only because of the lump in her throat, but also because of the firm grip that fishman had on her neck. The skin was sensitive to the touch and it hurt to swallow. 

Every event of that day got added one on top of another. Her fight with Zoro, the fact that he was unconscious after that dwell, Nami leaving just like the witch expected to.

Betrayal. Maybe I was a fool for trusting her. 

Or am I? 

Teeth sank so deeply into her lower lip it drew blood and she tasted copper on the tip of her tongue. 

Pain. That was right. 

The only right thing happening that day was the physical pain. Palpable, real, bringing her back to earth. 

Except that time it failed, because the tears didn't stop. She squeezed her eyes shut as sharp pain traveled through her body, from her chest into her limbs, puncturing each nerve, shaking her to the core. 

Her soul screamed, caged by sorrow, an ugly animal that sank its fangs into her flesh and ripped from the inside. Blood was pouring from her heart, soaking organs and bones, melting into the skin like acid. It burnt so fastly, yet it never seemed to end. With a throbbing head, she couldn't hold the pain back anymore. 

However, no sound ever left her lips parted in a silent scream. No whimper, no sob, no cry for help. The room was filled with silence as a heartbeat drummed in her ears in an agonizing rhythm. 

I shouldn't have come on this ship in the first place. Only if I had been wise enough to leave when I got the chance. Syrup Village was a perfect option, I could've gone on another ship and continued my mindless traveling. Why did I bother myself with this? Why did I suddenly decide it was a great idea to be part of another crew when this only has brought me suffering? 

With each second, she willingly aimed the gun at herself and every word was like a bullet. 

I should've left. I would've been happier. I should've left it all behind when I realized this won't go well. Fuck the premonitions, fuck the destiny, damned be the world. 

A body stripped of clothes and skin, only burnt flesh left behind the monster's bites. Broken ribs and a shattered heart pumping a meaningless life. 

As seconds passed by one after another and her tears came to an end, the gentle swinging of the ship pulled her into a half-asleep state.

She noticed when Luffy came into the room and she was aware of his position on Zoro's bed — the cracking of the wood gave him away. As the Straw Hat talked, she only heard the swordsman's name being spoken, some words here and there, but most of his monologue was muffled. 

He probably thought she was asleep because of her slow and steady breathing. 

Exhaustion was clawing at her muscles and brain, but something kept her aware of the surroundings for a few more minutes. 

Everything turned pitch black in her perspective. A husky and deep voice made her believe she was dreaming, the tips of her mouth curling shily upwards. 

Only if it would've been reality. 

"Zoro!" 

Her entire body flinched and she raised her head, wide eyed. If she didn't know any better, she would've said her soul jumped out of her. 

"Luffy?" she whispered, confused on why he yelled the swordsman's name—

"You're not dead!" Luffy shouted again, loud enough for everyone in Baratie to hear. 

He's alive? the witch thought to herself. I really heard his voice. 

Luffy crawled on top of Zoro and squeezed the life out of him. Literally. 

"Now I wish I was," she heard Zoro mumble between grunts. 

He was alive. 

The witch's lungs filled with fresh air for the first time that day. Relief washed over her and her body relaxed, shoulders deflating as some of the weight sitting on them fell into the sea below. 

While leaning her body against the wall, she managed to get up just to get a better view of the swordsman who was squinting his eyes at the ceiling. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, head falling forward. 

At least one thing went right, didn't it? 

After Luffy got up from above Zoro, the swordsman managed to take some deep gulps of air, chest raising up and falling rhythmically. 

"I had the strangest dream that Nami left," he said with a frown on his face as he closed his eyes. 

"She did," the witch responded faintly. 

There wasn't enough courage in her to look at him as she said that, instead choosing to glance at the window. 

Zoro looked again at the ceiling and realized her voice was too faint for all of that to be a mere joke, a prank thrown at him for staying unconscious for… for how long? 

"It's my fault," Luffy said with his chin lowered.

From the corner of his eye, Zoro saw the witch place a hand on their captain's shoulder. 

"We'll find a way."

There was a promise etched onto her fragile smile. As if a simple brush of air or one wrong world could make her crumble. 

But she didn't. Instead, she threw a knowing look to Zoro and silently told him to talk with Luffy. She knew the Straw Hat needed his first mate's support at that moment. 

What confused Zoro the most was watching the witch get out of the room without too much of a word. Her hair bounced as she stepped further away from him and their friends. Even as his ribs and body hurt at every inhale, he wanted to understand the real reason for her leaving. 

Last time they talked, she expressed worry. What happened in the meantime? What the fuck went wrong? 

There was a fat chance she was still mad at him for whatever reason. Sure, she was calm, collected, but he could swear he's seen fire burning in her eyes more than just once and a grin splayed on her face at the thrill and adrenaline of a fight. She snapped at him when they fought and he had to admit it would've been sadder if she treated him with silence. 

However, he didn't know if that was silence or something more. 

Weird, he concluded. 

His attention went back to Luffy. The swordsman couldn't manage watching the ever happy-go-lucky captain speak like a ghost. 

"You didn't do anything wrong." He seriously hoped he could find the right words to bring Luffy back to reality. 

There's no way that crew would fall apart without a proper fight. What has been was just the beginning. 

"You acted like a captain."

"But the crew is falling apart," Luffy pulled his lips in a tight line. 

"No, it's not," the green-haired firmly affirmed. 

Maybe a lot more than Zoro thought has happened, but that was definitely not the end. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

Before the sun could set and hide in the sea, they gathered some supplies for their new journey. They found out from the clown head — who they found out told Arlong where to find the Straw Hats — that Nami was most probably heading to Conomi Islands, specifically Cocoyashi Village. Sanji joined their crew, which made Luffy jump in excitement for the second time that day. 

Luffy's folded arms were resting over the railing of Going Merry while he stared down at the water splashing against the ship. 

"Does it always take so long?" Luffy spoke so softly. 

Sanji chuckled with the fishing rod in his hand as he waited for a fish to catch the bait. 

"We've only been here for two minutes, be patient," the cook reminded him. "Some days, they bite as soon as you drop the line and some days, it takes hours."

Then, he threw a knowing glance towards Luffy with an arch of his eyebrow. 

"But we're not talking about fishing, are we?" 

"I highly doubt it," the witch mumbled as she curled her fingers around her tarot deck. 

She didn't dare to shuffle through the cards again, a side of her afraid of what was waiting for them. It felt uneasy everytime she got the impulse of taking the cards out and finding out which one of them holds the truth. 

The witch was leaning with her back against the railing, not so far away from the Straw Hat, pressing her fingertips into the old box made of cardboard that fit perfectly in her hands. 

Luffy smiled towards Sanji before he stared into the horizon with hope. 

"I just want to know if Nami's okay."

"A beautiful, talented woman does not choose to ally herself with a pirate like Arlong," Sanji said firmly, convinced of his beliefs. "Nami clearly needs to be rescued." 

The witch breathed in deeply and widened her eyes, trying to find the right words to tell them what she knew. A pair of heavy steps caught her attention and she immediately recognized the chiming filling the air. 

Zoro. His hand was resting on his Wado Ichimoji — his only sword now. 

"Her tattoo says different," he said. 

The way he looked at the witch was bringing back to life some shattered pieces of her soul. He might look serene when sleeping, but he was better that way — wide awake and an asshole. 

Also, he noticed something she couldn't pinpoint. There must've been a scar on her face, most probably. At first, he only stared at her face, just to lower his gaze. Oh. She didn't sleep for two days and got in a fight with a fishman, which left some nasty bruises on her bare neck. 

"Well," Sanji argued, "tattoos don't tell the whole story. And like any woman, she's a mystery to be unraveled."

"Am I supposed to feel flattered?" the witch arched her eyebrow at the cook after she turned her head towards him. 

Right at that moment, Zoro stepped between her and Luffy, restricting her view. All she could see was his chest, bandaged and with a red patch in the center. 

"You should change your bandages," she looked up at him. 

However, the witch was hesitant when she did so. As if the man in front of her could vanish in thin air. 

Zoro turned to Sanji and decided to completely ignore her comment. 

"Nami made her choice." 

The cook immediately frowned, creases appearing on his forehead. His scowl was deeper than Zoro's.

"You don't know why," Sanji retorted. 

As if getting snapped by Usopp, Zoro scoffed: 

"The only thing I want to hear from you are dinner specials. You don't know Nami."

"Sounds like you don't know her either, Mosshead," Sanji spat with a taunting smile on his lips. 

"Oh God, stop, you two," the witch sighed heavily, annoyed. 

Just to get the swordsman's attention to her, she poked his back with the tip of her finger, digging deep enough to receive a light flinch. It seemed like she took him by surprise. She bent her back more as she continued resting her elbows on the railing to glance at Luffy over Zoro's shoulder. 

"I'm sure Nami has her reasons," their captain nodded. 

"I know Nami's reason."

All of their heads turned to the witch. 

Usopp was just walking up the stairs of the forecastle when his eyes sparkled curiously.

"What are you guys talking about?" 

"Nami," Zoro said quickly. "Why didn't you say anything until now?" that time, his sharp words were directed to the witch. 

The witch shot him a glare, displeased by his reaction. However, she would've acted the same if someone was to hide something so important. 

"It would've felt unfair to tell you before talking with her," the witch clarified. 

"You talked with her about it?" Usopp suddenly intervened, surprised by the news. 

The witch gripped at the tarot deck in between her hands tighter and clicked her tongue, trying to find the best words to explain. 

"I did. Somehow," uncertainty latched onto her voice. 

None of them rushed her anymore so she took her time. 

"Listen, this isn't as easy as it seems to be. Yes, Sanji, she didn't willingly get into Arlong's crew."

A snarky remark sat on the cook's tongue and he wanted to throw it Zoro's way. 

"But," the witch continued in order to stop an eventual argument, "she's fully aware of her actions. She was forced by the circumstances to do what she's doing, but it doesn't mean she likes acting like Arlong's crewmate. Nami certainly hates him from the bottom of her heart. He did something. Something that forced her to act like she's a friend just to protect something or someone. Or both. She's not only protecting herself, she's protecting what's most dear to her heart."

It wasn't the witch that spoke, but the gut feeling she had. Her thoughts didn't seem so clear in months, since her last successful tarot reading. Now, as the significance of each card sank into her brain, she knew what everything meant. 

It wasn't her that spoke, but her intuition. 

"She's keeping us away because she's scared we'd get hurt, not only because we would get in her way. Nami cares about us and that's exactly why she's pushing us away."

"Who does that?" Zoro wondered out loud. 

Maybe he should've kept that to himself. 

"You do that," the witch's head snapped towards him. "I do it. And Nami does. She said she tricked us — which was true. At the same time, she's tricking Arlong. He isn't her crewmate, he's an asshole that stole something from her—"

The witch got so carried away she didn't even realize what she just said. She suddenly furrowed her eyebrows into the void and received confused looks from her friends. 

"He stole something. Her freedom."

Those words were said as she actively figured the details out, staring into the void. 

"Witch?" Usopp nudged her. 

"Yes?" she turned towards him. 

"Did she tell you all these things?"

There was a light chuckle that left her lips at that question. 

"The cards did. Her reactions just gave her away and answered my doubts." 

The witch knew what games she was playing. She's been doing these things for years and not only — she trusted her gut feeling above everything else. 

She received an especially confused look from the cook, who had no clue why she was called a witch. He probably supposed it was because she was beautiful or maybe secretive. 

He should've taken that nickname literally. 

"What do we do then?" Zoro turned his head towards their captain. 

Luffy listened intently to everything the witch had to say and he made up his mind since long ago:

"I want to hear her decision for myself."

"That's for the best," the witch nodded. 

There was more she would've liked to say, but speaking from the gut was both easier than usual and harder when tired. Considering the last time she got some proper sleep was before they got attacked by the Marines, she could say it's been long enough for her mind to get clouded. 

Stuck in her thoughts as she was, the grip on her tarot deck loosened up and the object fell from her hold on the wooden floor. The witch's exhausted brain registered that too many seconds later. 

A deep frown appeared between her eyebrows, blinking in an attempt to clear her vision while she bent down to take the deck in her hand. 

Obviously, she failed. 

When her back was straight again, her vision went pitch black and a heavy throbbing settled in her temples. The ship swayed worse than a second ago. She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed. 

The witch has been in that situation before. She stood still, because attempting to walk would've ended in a passionate kiss with the floor. 

When the sensations dissipated little by little, tiredness was everything left behind. 

"I'm gonna get some rest," she mumbled, the words a little slurred. 

With her eyes now opened wide enough to see where she's heading, she walked towards the stairs and cussed them out one by one. 

Falling like an idiot wasn't on her to-do list for that day. 

By some miracle, she managed to walk all the way into the galley. The room she shared with Nami was hers, but it was too far away. Her feet barely carried her to the dark red sofa she let her body fall on like a sack. 

She didn't care about the clothes she hasn't changed from, too caught up with everything that has happened. There was enough time for a shower later, when exhaustion wasn't seeping into her bones. The only thing she had the decency to do was to take her boots off. 

She stretched her legs and put an arm under her head, resting on her side to face the room. Not the most comfortable place to sleep in, but after all of that tumult, nothing mattered anymore. 

The sweet sound of jingling disturbed her again. 

Oh, god dammit. 

She was one breath away from cussing Zoro's ass and his earrings — despite being in ecstasy that he woke up. The witch, as if expecting his next move, bent her knees to make space for him. The swordsman plopped himself down with a grunt at the other side of the sofa and her bare feet touched his thigh. 

She didn't dare mutter a word about his presence. Zoro could stay. Gosh, as she was thinkingln about it, she could only believe it was a blessing he wasn't only awake, but also throwing remarks her way. 

It was so much better than telling stories of her past to an unconscious Mosshead. 

Right. 

The edges of her mouth curled in a smile. 

"What?" 

"Mosshead," she chuckled, eyes still closed. 

Zoro let out a scoff and she could imagine him rolling his eyes to the ceiling. 

"Didn't you say you were going to rest?"

His voice was unusually low and even soft, pulling her towards the dreamland. 

"I'd say this place is perfect," she mumbled.

The witch didn't bother to explain she was tired out of her mind or that her feet would most likely betray her if she dared to get up. 

The silence was filled with their breathing and the sounds of the water splashing against their ship, the cracks of the wood. She remembered the times when she traveled with her father's crew and she would many times fall asleep curled next to a barrel while the vice-captain was still singing sea shanties in the middle of the night. 

"Zoro," the witch whispered. 

She was too weary to care about what left her mouth. It acted like alcohol — it clouded her mind and she felt shameless. 

"What if I wouldn't have stepped on this ship?" 

That question plagued her mind and she finally said it out loud. 

"So the last ship was more to your taste?" he snickered. "It almost sank in the sea." 

"You're such an ass," and while that phrase might've sounded harsh in the past, at that moment it was filled with fondness. 

"Been told that before." 

I really missed that voice. 

"For someone with a big ass bruise on your neck, you sound more like a coward than I thought."

Maybe she deserved that serious tone thrown her way. Was he right? Only halfway through. 

"No," she was stubborn enough to fight the sleep for a few more minutes. "What if I would've been happier? Y'know, less worries, no people to haunt my ass. No anxiety."

No crying over you for being almost dead. 

The continuation sat on the tip of her tongue and got swallowed back with a gulp. Was there really a need for an admission? Puffy eyelids and dark circles under her eyes, chapped lips and bandages around her forearm soaked in blood. Those details were enough proof. 

"Do you hate us that much?" his low voice sent shivers down her spine. 

"It's not about that. Just…" she gulped and curled her fingers around the tarot deck she was still holding onto. "I want some peace."

"I say you should get some sleep." 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

Standing on the deck felt right, even if the witch doesn't remember why she was there. She can't point out the weather clearly, it feels blurry. Seconds ago she was in the kitchen talking with Sanji about some unusual topic she couldn't remember. 

Then why was she suddenly on the deck, face to face with a kneeling Zoro who had two swords piercing through his upper body from behind? She didn't only know it was him, she felt like it was him, as if the pieces connecting in her head were just right. However, it horrified her. Everything around him was blurry except for him. 

Him, whose essence of life was pouring down his body, creating a puddle under him, sinking into the cracks of the wooden floor. The crimson liquid melted into his white t-shirt. Now that she was looking better at it, she noticed the sharp point of a sword penetrating all the way through his stomach to the front side of his body. 

He was looking up at her, despite the way his chin was tilted down. Those sharp brown eyes were boring holes through her. His beautiful irises painted with the warm nuances of chocolate and coffee were scary, like no other time. 

Was Luffy next to her? It feels like it was him, even if she can only distinguish a silhouette in the corner of her right eye. 

Why was Zoro looking at her like that? She couldn't move, as if her feet were stuck in place. She didn't know if she was breathing or if she was alive anymore. She didn't know why she was on the deck, why those swords took his life away. It barely made any sense that he had enough energy to stare at her. 

He didn't falter once. He didn't beg for help, her name didn't come out of his mouth, no groans, no nothing. 

She couldn't move. As she stood in the same place, her anxiety was rising up, up, up, until she felt like panicking despite the lack of reaction. She felt like exploding, but she couldn't express those horrific feelings. 

She couldn't help him. Her arms were stuck by the sides of her body, as if someone had put a spell on her. She had the will to move her legs, to get closer to him, she wanted to, but she remained glued in that spot. She couldn't feel her body. 

She had to do something, but she was trapped inside an unmoving object that was her own body. Why? 

Everything snapped. 

The smallest hope towards an escape woke her up. Her eyes opened instantly and she raised up in a sitting position, eyes frantically searching for more clues, for answers about the horrifying images she just saw before her eyelids. 

Her heart was beating so fast it made her wish she didn't have it at all, a deafening ba-dump repeating in her eardrums over and over again. 

Unfortunately, she was face to face with the swordsman she dreamt of. Instantly, as if she was shot, she looked at his upper abdomen. For no more than two seconds, she saw a big black patch on his bandages. 

She inhaled deeply and her heart was beating faster, suddenly unable to release that breath of air. Her eyes widened and her hands shook, chest tight. 

"Hey," she heard more of a background sound. 

She blinked countless times, until her tired brain figured out that it was just her imagination. It was so dark in the room and her nightmare was a shock, the reason why at some point the patch started blurring out, inviting her to blink until it turned to be one small spot. It has been there since he woke up from his slumber. 

When the realization sank in, she let go of that breath and let out a pitiful whimper. Deep inside, it felt like relief, her eyes now squeezed shut. 

This time, he clearly called her name after his fingers securely gripped at her shaking shoulders, avoiding her wound. Her hands were trembling, her entire being disturbed. 

Zoro said her name, not the nickname she got so used to hearing on that ship. Not the usual Witch, a word that sounded so endearing coming from her crewmates; no, it was her name and it was spoken so softly she could've confused him for someone else. 

She had a poor attempt at recalling those images in order to figure out the reality, but it backfired. The bloody scene stuck before her closed eyes pushed her to open them up again. 

Thankfully, his dark gaze was warm, filled with unspoken worry. For a brief moment she wondered how he woke up, since he slept like the dead sometimes. 

"I'm surprised I managed to wake you up," her voice trembled. 

He didn't joke back at her. Instead, his thumbs started rubbing slow circles into her shoulders in order to bring her back to earth. Or, better said, back to the ship that was peacefully sailing on the sea during the night. 

"I think you should correct your breathing," he pointed out. 

Once she changed from autopilot breathing, it felt like her throat was tight. 

"Breathe in."

Blindly, she trusted his instructions. That mere breath shook her again, feeling shivers when she allowed the oxygen to sink into her lungs, the same way his voice sank into her being, in the cracks of her soul. 

It took a few minutes until that normal bodily process didn't seem like an impossible task. Her muscles were tense until Zoro squeezed her shoulders again. 

She could distinguish more of his face than just the warmth she noticed not long ago. His expression seemed pained with worry and not from a wound that could kill him, even if there still were bandages wrapped around his torso. Maybe it was also fear that made him look so different from usual; or was it confusion? 

"I'm sorry for destroying your sleep."

It was half a lie. She wasn't sorry about the touch keeping her afloat, about how she managed to breathe again only because of his presence, because he was clearly awake and alive. At the same time, she knew he needed to rest so his wound could heal properly. 

"Be serious," he huffed in a lower voice, clearly displeased. 

"I am. You should sleep."

"Just like you should, but I doubt you will."

"I'd argue about that."

She was still tired, even if her shock from earlier struck her like thunder. Her eyes could close at any moment, which she feared, because another nightmare didn't sound good even for how stress resistant she became. 

Since he heard her soft whimper when she was still sleeping, he had no clue what to do, how to act. One thing was clear: it was better to wake her up, despite the possibility she might get defensive and attack. 

Alright, now what the heck do I do? He's had nightmares before, he's seen horrendous things during his sleep countless times, but he didn't have any idea about what to do for her. Was he even supposed to do something? She didn't like being pampered — maybe he should act like nothing happened. However, the fear coloring her face earlier shocked him as well. The witch has always been collected, she had such a firm grip on her reactions it was annoying sometimes. 

The swordsman shook his head, but didn't let go of her. Instead, he leaned against the cushions on his side, while his hands fell down to her forearms to get a comfortable position of his limbs and upper body. The wound on his chest sent daggers through him at each movement. Barely a day of consciously dealing with it and he's already got annoyed. 

The witch looked down at where their bodies were connected. His long calloused fingers were securely wrapped around her arms, close to her wrists. When did her legs end up in his lap she didn't know. Her bare knee tingled with warmth — why? 

"You had a weird reaction after you woke up," his whisper stirred something in her heart. 

"What do you mean? I had plenty of reactions."

Are you playing the idiot with me? Zoro thought. 

"You were more scared of seeing me than of the nightmare."

"Oh."

Why did the Mosshead have to be so observant? It was one of the reasons why she was attracted to him, evidently, but sometimes he exposed her too easily. 

She dropped her chin and looked down at her own hands. Admitting that she feared his role as the main character of a tragedy for the second time felt embarrassing for some unknown reason. She's been in enough humiliating situations and he never ridiculed her. 

Zoro was utterly stuck. Was he supposed to move away? His body felt too heavy to get off the sofa and go to his room. It wouldn't be alright leaving her alone with her crippling anxiety either, considering she was prone to overthinking. 

He wanted to do something, but what? 

He let out a long sigh and rested his head against the cushions, his fingers still curled around her wrists. Her pulse was fast, but as seconds passed by, it slowed down under the weight of his thumbs. 

The witch became hyper aware of the situation, but it felt too good to move away. Her tired brain entirely registered his presence and her eyes closed. She breathed in the chill air of the night and, while focusing so intently on Zoro's presence, she fell into a deeper state of mind, half asleep. 

He was disturbed from his own journey into the dream realm when he felt a light weight on his shoulder. Once his eyes opened, he saw the cause: she leaned in closer to him, clearly unaware. 

He smelled like the sea and the familiar scent of soap clung to the unbuttoned blue t-shirt he wore. With her forehead resting against his neck, the witch could vaguely point out his pulse. The safety of his embrace lulled her into a dreamless sleep while she focused on his slow breathing and the secure grip he had on her.

Zoro filled her senses so fiercely it was impossible not to melt into him, inhaling and exhaling in sync with him. 

The swordsman had different sentiments about this and they were all confusing. 

What am I doing? he scolded himself.

He moved his head and angled his face so he could look at the right side of her sleeping face. With long eyelashes resting over her soft cheeks, she looked like she didn't have a worry in the world, even if he knew better. Her shoulders would rise and fall rhythmically in such a slow pace, making him wonder what exactly exhausted her so much. 

Then, his gaze fell on the purple marks on her neck and his jaw clenched. If he would've been awake when Arlong appeared at Baratie, maybe none of them would be like that. Maybe he would've had enough stubbornness to get answers from Nami and maybe Luffy wouldn't have been so close to drowning. Maybe those marks on her neck wouldn't have been there in the first place. 

What the fuck am I doing? 

Giving up, he rested his head back against the cushions with a scowl. He didn't understand himself and it was even harder to understand the woman sleeping so peacefully, too close to him. 

Zoro let out a low displeased sound and closed his eyes, deciding to rest for a while. He didn't dare move away or wake her up either. 

First and foremost he was displeased about the fact that he liked the proximity. 

I wonder what that fishman's face looks like. It'll surely be a pleasure to slice him in half.  

Tag list: @emelia07 @dimplewonie @tfamidoingwithmylife @murnsondock @the-skys-musical-echo @conspiracy-crows @hallow33nz @ramae17 @gaslysainz @bunntsu @katt58 @katiemrty @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @freyademartel @boofy1998 @ponyboys-sunsets @melsunshine @loveyluv7 @waddlingwanderer @jesssssmaybankk @nadlx33333 @yoong1c0re @untoldshortsofthefandoms @mizzy-pop @zoromyluv

[yuurivoice]

Hi Yuuri I just wanted to say I miss Howell. That’s all I hope you have a good day😊

I do too! There's still a lot about him I want to know and figure out. I was able to delve into him a bit more (and get some much needed closure) with some friends. I don't think he's really a character that I want to do various iterations of in different worlds and campaigns, because it's that specific story of his that I love. If it's removed from that world and story, I'd rather have another shot at a new character.

I was able to salvage a couple of relationships out of the rubble from the entire ordeal surrounding TnD, and I've got no beef with anyone who wasn't literal human trash, so Howell's place in my heart is unscathed in terms of being attached to a really shitty time and situation.

Reflecting on those days, that shit was a nightmare scenario. Obviously my own emotional turmoil pales in comparison to the literal criminal and victim in our midst, don't get that twisted because those most directly impacted by one asshole's actions should be the primary concern. It is a hell of a pill to swallow having something that dear to you go up in flames in such a public and grotesque way.

I don't blame anyone who feels any type of way about how it was handled and the aftermath of it. The truth of it all is, one person's really fucked up actions had widespread effects on a lot of people. The radius of that bomb was no joke.

Howell is very dear to me, and those Sundays were genuinely the favorite day of the week for me over that time. The backlash, anger, resentment, and then emptiness of it all really took its toll, as I'm sure it did on everyone caught in the blast zone.

The bad guy got got in the end, and I'm thankful for the folks who made sure that happened.

That year as a whole was really difficult. That wasn't the only heavy thing I had to work through that year. There was a stretch of six months that were probably the worst of my adult life in terms of interpersonal turmoil. The universe really took a bat to my kneecaps.

Saying ALLLLLLLL of that to say, if I had lost my love for Howell, it would have taken a significant toll on me creatively. I would not so freely share the parts of myself it takes to create the stories and characters I do now. I can pretty confidently say that something like Echoes or Shattered would never happen.

I struggled mightily with BitterSweet Chapter 3 for that reason. It was hard to want to carve out pieces of myself to share with the world, and certainly very difficult to work with anyone else out of fear that their bad actions could rob me of my passion even more.

But I learned a lot, and over that time I also think I was able to show my community how serious situations get handled while I'm at the helm. I hate that me and the team have been on the frontlines of a few really serious community PR nightmares, but I do think we've been able to exhibit an ability to treat things with maturity, respect, and direct action.

So Howell means a lot to me. We've been on two journeys, one fictional, and one real...and boy we've gotten our asses kicked more than a few times.

There is a chance, albeit a small one, that there's a DnD story to be told with Howell and some friends, for the world to partake in. Don't know if it'll happen, but the chances aren't 0%...

[holymaccaronii]

AAAAAH okay okay, I decided myself to share 2 things in one in this post: the lore of my ihnmaims AU + a design I’m working on. To be completely honest, I’m not sure if I’ll want to develop this AU into a fic or anything like that, but for now I’ll use it as an excuse to draw and design characters. Note that I might come back to this post and edit the lore paragraph, as it is still a work in progress, though I am liking where this is going. Please PLEASE excuse my English, some things might not make sense without me noticing, but I tried describing the plot the best I could. *Ahem*, now, the lore:

“PLAN B”

The lore takes place after the bad ending in the videogame where the player is turned into the worm, yet still doesn’t allow AM to access and torture the humans sealed in the moon colony. Since the last humans had “failed” their mission to defeat AM, a “Plan B” was scheduled to happen. Unbeknownst to the humans of the colony, another AI was created and implanted within the moon, taking up almost all of the space in its core due to its large size. This machine had the sole purpose of ensuring the survival of those humans once AM was defeated, or not. Inside it were millions of plant seeds, animal embryos and frozen samples that would later be used to repopulate the earth, yet it also had defense and destruction technologies to be used in case AM was not defeated. This machine was perfectly calibrated to be able to overcome any adversity that arose, but of course, all that changed when one of the humans managed to wake up and leave their capsule. This human got to understand what all of this was about, though they did not like where this was heading one tiny bit, thus they used the time they had left before the last human on Earth was killed to change and mess it all up. Humanity's greed had claimed yet another victim, as this AI was torn apart piece by piece until it was completely separated and rebuilt into an insane amount of sentient robot models as the years passed. This human managed to transform their own body as well, rebuilding it just as a sacred temple in order to be crowned monarch of this new society now living in a city on the moon. Despite all this, the goal of bringing humanity back still remained, now with the small condition that this human had to be considered a savior and supreme leader to all. Once the last human on Earth had died, robotic troops began to be sent to Earth to study it in detail and plan attacks against AM’s systems, which were disadvantageously located deep underground. Many of these attacks resulted in large unnecessary losses as these robots were not calibrated to combat AM, but they still continued to upgrade themselves to increase their damage range over time. This continued on as a seemingly endless war that barely progressed.

Again, I am aware that maybe some stuff might not make sense (or maybe it does?), but this is basically a continuation of what happened canonically in the videogame. The name “PLAN B” also makes reference to my OC BE, thought that was cool :p. I’ll explain the events that happen here later on as well.

Many if not all of the robots I’ll design will include a whole lotta exposed wires + their outer shell/ body parts, as I liked this dynamic, and it will be important later. The “monarch” that I mentioned in the paragraph is turning out to be this guy down here. I based myself off from those ceramic sun decorations, and thought it would be cool to make his face switchable. In reality they have a body too but I jus like wire amalgamations too much + they’re easy to draw. I’ll continue workin on em :-)

Edit: [THIS LORE IS NOT UPDATED]

[electronickingdomfox]

"Black Fire" review

Novel from 1983 by Sonni Cooper, and as far as I know, the only TOS novel from this author. This one was pretty fun, fast-paced, and a real page-turner. It's also notorious for being totally nuts, and having Spock going rogue and doing all sorts of crazy things. The intro was written by Theodore Sturgeon, no less. It's also very, veeeery spirk-heavy (and so far, the only K/S novel I've read that seems to get their relationship right, without going over-the-top).

Spock is the central character, and for the most part, the story follows his solo adventures, though Scotty shares some of these exploits in the early chapters. Amazingly, and despite all the unusual stuff that Spock gets involved with, he manages to stay believable. The other characters are all well-written too, even if they take a background place. And the same goes for the original ones, in particular Desus, the Romulan befriended by Spock.

The story takes place shortly before TMP. One thing that surprised me, is that this novel doesn't seem afraid to modify canon in substantial ways. Most of these books are more timid when playing with the characters, and focus on self-contained adventures that have little impact on the whole. Main characters are rarely put in real danger, or suffer grave injuries. Here, on the other hand, we have the entire primary hull of the Enterprise being destroyed and jettisoned in the very first chapter (a year before The Search for Spock blew the ship to pieces). The TMP uniforms are introduced already by the end of the five-year mission. Spock suffers a disabling injury, portrayed with realism, and not resolved immediately and easily with a magic pill. Also, this book gets pretty dark at times; Spock tries to kill himself not once, but twice... And a popular guest character from the series is also killed for real.

Some spoilers below the cut:

The Enterprise is in a routine mission, training cadets fresh from the Academy, when a massive explosion in the bridge leaves the primary hull destroyed, Kirk in critical condition, Spock with a splinter lodged near his spine, and many cadets dead. The primary hull has to be evacuated and separated, while the rest of the ship limps back to a starbase. In the following investigation, Starfleet declares that everything was a mere accident. But neither Spock nor Scotty are satisfied with this answer, since nothing on the bridge could cause an explosion of such magnitude. Therefore, they travel back to the jettisoned hull to find clues.

Spock is suspicious of some new yeoman, who entered and left the bridge shortly before the explosion. In her abandoned quarters they find two clues: a piece of paper with dots, which seems to be a star chart; and a ton of depilatory cream. However, Starfleet isn't convinced by this flimsy evidence. So Spock starts the first of a long series of reckless actions, and steals a small ship with Scotty, to travel to the star system depicted in the paper. Spock is in severe pain (and having suffered a similar injury in the past myself, I can testify: he IS in pain), but leaves nonetheless before undergoing the necessary surgery (I told you Spock is nuts in this novel). Meanwhile, Kirk's still recovering and has no clue of what's going on.

When Spock and Scotty arrive at the only habitable planet of the star map, they find out that a Romulan and Klingon ships have also been lured to that place by similar maps. Everything was a trap, and all of them are captured by the Tomariians, and brought to their home planet in an ancient rocket. The Tomariians are short, stocky and very hairy aliens, living in an extreme cold environment. Being poor and primitive, they've turned to scavenging, adapting the most disparate technologies to expand across their sector of the galaxy. Spock and the others meet the Tomariian leader, Ilsa. The one who disguised herself as a yeoman to plant the explosive in the Enterprise (hence all that depilatory cream). And she takes a liking to Spock, just as every other woman in this book.

The Tomariians plan to test their captives' strenght by sending them to different battlefields. This way they could determine the weaknesses of Federation members, Klingons and Romulans, in order to expand later through their territories. Spock's injury worsens, to the point that he's left immobile from waist down. But due to her attraction for him, Ilsa spares his life. Meanwhile, Kirk has found clues about Spock and Scotty's whereabouts, so finally, the Enterprise rescues them in the nick of time.

Back in the ship, Spock has to fulfill the promise he made to the Romulan woman captured with him: to warn the Empire of the Tomariian threat, should she not survive. After this, Spock has to face a court-martial for all his offenses: stealing a starship, and above all, establishing secret communications with the Romulan and Klingon empires. Charged with treason, he's sent to prison, where he meets and befriends the Romulan pirate Desus.

I won't spoil anything more (this is about halfway through the novel). Suffice to say that, after this, Spock gets involved in a prison break. He becomes a pirate by the name of "Black Fire", and gains a following of fangirls that write love poems about him (an amusing parody of real-world fandom). And finally defects to the Romulan Empire, creating massive drama with Kirk. Of course, there's a satisfactory explanation for Spock going amok, at the end.

Spirk Meter: 10/10*: Kirk and Spock are separated most of the time and have little physical contact, but the story truly reads as a break-up/reconciliation one. Specially with the introduction of Desus as a rival for Spock's affection. In the first chapter, Kirk is partially healed by a mind meld with Spock, and sighs his name upon waking up. Then Kirk anguishes over Spock's disappearance, and risks the entire ship to go rescue him (well... and Scotty). And there's a lot of commentary about how Kirk is Spock's only close relationship, and how his defection to the Romulans is a particularly painful blow for Kirk. The whole issue of Spock's treason has Kirk on edge and in a foul mood, to the point that other crewmembers are afraid of bringing the subject in his presence. As other books with a lot of spirk content, it's difficult to pinpoint single scenes, since it's a general theme all over the place. Add to this, Spock's absolute indiference towards all the women swooning around him.

Then there's, of course, Spock and Desus' extremely close friendship, said to rival that with Kirk. At one point, Desus reads aloud some of the love poems that Spock has inspired as "Black Fire". And one has to wonder if he isn't adressing the words to Spock himself.

McCoy doesn't appear much in the novel. But still gets some McKirk and Spones. In the beginning, he's devastated by Kirk's serious injuries and his inability to cure him, crying about the prospect of losing "the man he both admired and loved". Then, at the end, McCoy asks Spock to sign his book of love (and erotic) poems dedicated to him (!!!???), as an excited fangirl. "To belong to this man of fire, if only for a moment. - My flaming love." he reads aloud. And Spock even gives him his pirate earring as a gift. The novel closes with these lines: The black jewel gleamed its strange luminescence in McCoy's palm, but it was no match for the gleam in Spock's dark smiling eyes.

*A 10 in this scale is the most obvious spirk moments in TOS. Think of the back massage, "You make me believe in miracles", or "Amok Time" for example.