#fanfic repost project

[luminousjellyfishy]

More writing!!!!

This one has been in the works for a while, but it's finally here!

~

Truce Talk

Characters (all Sanses from UTAU/MV): Dream, Ink, Nightmare, Error, and Ccino (in passing)

Word count: 4828

Trigger warnings: Swearing, threats of death, amnesia (kinda?)

Summary: Dream and Ink don't know if it was a mistake to meet Nightmare and Error here in Ccino's café. It's so public and there are so many innocent people that could be killed. What if something goes wrong? This wasn't a good idea. Oh, well that's them walking through the door, so it's too late to turn back now.

~

Both Ink and Dream sat on one side in a booth at Ccino’s café, anxiously awaiting the arrival of their long-time enemies. Dream sat against the wall of their shared side, fidgeting with his hands, seemingly unable to sit still for even five seconds; whereas Ink, sitting near the aisle, was uncharacteristically still.

“Where are they? Are we just early, or are they late? I wouldn’t think the latter would be true since Nightmare had never struck me to be the kind of person to allow himself to be la-”

“Dream. Stop rambling like that, I’m sure it’s fine. Remember, they agreed to meet with us in the first place. They’re probably just running late… or using this time as a distraction for us, so they can go destroy universes while we’re sitting here waiting for them…” Ink interrupted, trying to calm his friend, but trailing off at the end nervously. This thought hadn’t yet occurred to Dream, so hearing it from Ink made him doubt his decisions to be here even more so than he already had been.

Ink’s head fell dramatically to the table, resting in his arms and sighing loudly, drawing a glare from Dream.

“Is being here even the right choice? How do we actually know that they’ll even consider forming a truce?” Dream exhaled deeply, moving from fidgeting with his fingers to playing around with the napkins.

“We don’t. That’s the thing. We can’t know for sure that they’ll consider it, in the same way that they can’t be sure that this isn’t some elaborate plan for an ambush.” Ink shifted his head, looking up from his arms to glance at Dream before closing his eyes and sighing again, clearly bored.

There was no response from Dream, the only noise being the ambient sounds from the other patrons.

The silence between the two continued for a short while until the bell on the front door chimed and all sound in the café ceased as they watched who walked in.

Dream stiffened as he could feel the two negative auras approaching from behind them. He was internally scolding himself for choosing to sit with their backs to the door, having wanted to seem like they trusted the two not to hurt them.

But he didn't trust them. Not in the slightest.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, both Error and Nightmare slid into the booth seat across from them, with Nightmare closer to the wall. Ink finally straightened, feeling apprehensive about having them across from him in such a casual setting where people could be hurt if something went wrong.

“Hey, losers.” Error snickered once they had settled, his face as mocking as it always seemed to be.

“Don’t be rude, Error. What did we talk about?” Nightmare scolded, a quick glare shooting into Error’s direction. In response was the most crude mocking of Nightmare’s words that Error could muster.

Nightmare rolled his eyelight, then said, “My apologies for being so late, I spent some extra time with Error this morning in order to make sure he wouldn’t make such a fool of himself… although it seems my efforts were rather pointless. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed, so once Cross pointed out what time it actually was, we hurried right here.”

“By ‘hurried here’, he means that he took less time than usual to get dressed, go downstairs, get the morons in line, and make sure that no one has any plans to burn the house down while we’re gone.” Error said nonchalantly but joking at the same time, as though this was what happened every day.

Dream’s face must have been one of confusion because Error asked, in a surprisingly genuine tone, “What? Does Blue not try committing arson every time you leave him alone?”

Ink blinked a couple times, eyelights changing colours rapidly, then laughed louder than was actually necessary.

“No?? I can say for a fact that he does not.”

Error didn’t say anything, just scrunched his ‘eyebrows’ and face into a contorted look of confusion, scoffed, and shook his head.

Before their conversation could continue any further, Ccino showed up beside their booth, pen and notepad in hand.

“Hey guys, it’s nice to have you all here! Also, Error I didn’t expect to see you back so soon, but it’s great anyways! Alrighty then, what can I get you guys?” Ccino asked the group, a bright smile on his face.

“Can I have a strawberry cream frappé, please? They’re so good!” Ink exclaimed, his eyelights taking on various shapes in pink and yellow, and slight drool forming in the corner of his mouth.

“Sure thing, extra whipped cream I’m guessing?”

“Of course!”

“A cinnamon apple tea for me, thanks. Oh, but could I also have a chocolate chip cookie?” Dream inquired, eyes lighting up as he thought about the delicious sweetness of the cookies Ccino sold.

“Yeah, we can totally do that!” Ccino replied, smiling softly then turning over to Nightmare, “What about you?”

“Can I just have a regular coffee?” He asked simply, glancing up at Ccino as he spoke.

“Boooooooring.” Ink interjected quickly.

A soft laugh then, “Yup! And what about you, Error?”

“Uhhhhhhhmm, I guess just a hot chocolate..?”

Ccino began to speak, but was quickly interrupted,

“Oh stars, you're so pathetic sometimes. Just tell him that you want a cookie as well, we all know you do.” Nightmare said tauntingly, grinning over at him with a teasing smile.

Error stared at him, mouth agape and eyes wide, a very slight yellow over his cheeks that you would have to strain to see.

Turning his attention to Ccino briefly, he said reluctantly, quietly, and very unlike himself, “… fine… can I have a chocolate cookie as well?”.

Ccino laughed, “Of course! I probably would have brought one over without you asking anyways - I know you love them so much.”

Error nodded, but looked away sheepishly.

With that, Ccino walked away with his notepad back to the counter, humming as he went.

Error’s attention was turned quickly back to Nightmare, giving him the dirtiest glare known to exist.

“You bastard! Why did you say that? Seriously what the actual fuck is wrong with you?!” Error said suddenly to Nightmare, trying his very best not to speak too loudly as to disrupt the other patrons.

Both Ink and Dream giggled at not just the sudden outburst, but the context behind it. Error’s eyes quickly darting over to them; a warning that they should keep quiet. Their giggles were very quickly stifled, and they looked away uncomfortably.

“Oh, Error, be serious. You and I both know that you are physically incapable of going without chocolate for too long. I was just preventing you from making a scene later, whining about how much you want some.” Nightmare replied quickly, a knowing smile on his face as he shook his head and laughed. Error glared at him, seemingly stabbing him with his mind.

“You really like chocolate that much?” Dream inquired with a nervous smile, apparently very intrigued by the thought of Error liking something so simple as chocolate. The attention of the two bickering skeletons were drawn towards the guardian of positivity, having been caught slightly off guard.

“Yeah, so what? Do you have a problem with that?” Error asked, shrugging and staring at Dream, his previous annoyance directed at him now.

“No no no! There’s no problem with it! I just didn’t expect it was all!” Dream replied quickly, raising his hands defensively. Error rolled his eyelights and said nothing.

Silence followed, although it was deafening among the four.

“Soooooooo, since it’s getting way more obvious with every word you two are saying, we hardly actually know each other. Should we do… I don’t know, mini fake introductions? Before we get to the real reason for meeting, anyways.” Ink said suddenly, breaking the silence before it got too awkward. This quickly drew Dream’s attention, since it might be able to give him the opportunity to make new ties with his brother again. The thought made him smile softly, reigniting his hope for this meeting.

“I suppose. It would make sense to know one another before blindly going into something that may or may not be weighted in favour towards certain people.” Nightmare replied, his ending comment being pointed towards Dream with a quick glance that said he was not happy.

Error groaned obnoxiously at the fact that he would have to do more talking, but was quickly interrupted by Nightmare lightly smacking the back of his head.

He quickly turned his head to glare at Nightmare, saying, “You really have no idea just how lucky you are that I’ve been having a good haphephobia day, because if I wasn’t?” a small laugh, “boy, you’d be DONE.”.

Nightmare didn’t even look at him and just laughed, quickly rolling his eyelight in amusement.

“Okkkkk, maybe we should get to the point. I’ll go first because it looks like you two are about to kill each other and Ink will just keep talking forever. So, as you know, I’m Dream. Um, my favourite colour is cerulean, not yellow haha. It’s my favourite because it just looks so peaceful and quiet, so I just really like it a lot. Don’t get me wrong, yellow is a great colour and it’s my second favourite, but cerulean is just so pretty. Also, I looooooove sweets. Lollipops are the best candy and no one will ever change my mind.” Dream started quickly, interrupting Nightmare and Error, and finished with a smile at the thought of candy.

Error stared at him incredulously for a second before asking, “The fuck is cerulean?”.

Dream’s face quickly shifted to one of surprise; Ink looked like he had been personally offended; and Nightmare just looked disappointed, placing his head in his hand and pinching his nasal ridge.

“Error. Please tell me you’re joking.” Ink seemingly begged him, hoping desperately that he did in fact know what cerulean was and was just playing around. He knew deep down that he wasn’t though.

Error just stared at the three of them, trying to prompt an answer.

A sigh from Nightmare, then, “Error, what colour are your tear streaks? Be specific.”

“... Blue??? How much more specific can I be with that?”

“Error-” an exasperated sigh, “Yes, your tears streaks are blue, but specifically they’re cerulean.” Ink explained while shaking his head slowly in disbelief.

“Pffft, if you say so.”

A momentary beat of silence.

“Stars, very well I’ll go next. As you’re all well aware, my name is Nightmare. I enjoy reading in my spare time and have quite the collection of books-”

“That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one. You’ve got the biggest library I’ve ever seen; the morons have literally gotten lost in there.” Error quickly intercepted.

“Hush, that’s not what we’re speaking of. Anyways, I believe that I’ve done enough to introduce myself, how about you, Error?” Nightmare said, a sly smile creeping up his features.

“Oh, yippee fun. Whatever. Um. I’m Error, and I uh… like… chocolate?? What the fuck else am I supposed to say? You already know that I destroy AUs, so what else? Um? I crochet? Man this sucks, I’m done with this shit.” Error said, stumbling and glitching through his words, and making it more and more evident to Ink and Dream that he doesn’t talk to people much.

“Wait wait wait wait wait. You crochet? You create? I didn’t think you’d ever do something like that!” Ink asked ecstatically, his eyelights taking on the forms of bright yellow stars.

“Yeah? I make scarves and stuff. I don’t know. I make puppets too, like sewing or whatever.” He responded, clearly not having expected this kind of reaction and not knowing how to proceed.

“That is so cool!!! You’ll have to show me sometime! I’d really love to see!” Ink replied eagerly, lighting up even more so than he already had.

There was no real reply from Error, just awkward murmurs as he tucked the lower half of his face into his scarf as his glitches increased substantially.

Dream smiled to himself softly in amusement, never having expected to see this softer side of Error before. To him, Error had always been a powerful monster with little care for who got hurt in his rampages, but seeing him like this now made Dream question his whole perception.

“Anyways! I’m Ink! As you obviously know! I mean, if you didn’t I’d be pretty concerned because I’ve fought you so many times and you totally couldn’t forget me. Right? Anyways, let's not go there. Uhhhhhh, I do a lot of artsy craftsy things, but my medium of choice is oil paint! Granted I do love painting in general and also charcoal! Oh! And even regular pencil! You can get so many different results with so many different things! Man, I don’t know if oil paints are my favourite. There are so many choi-” Dream reached over and grabbed his face and muffled whatever he tried to say next, which was a lot because he didn’t stop.

After a short while, Ink finally realized that what he was saying wasn’t getting across, so he stopped talking. Dream was finally able to remove his hand, however he had the most exasperated look on his face. Nightmare just looked on in amusement, and Error looked like he wasn’t even paying attention, likely listening to the Voices.

“Are you done?” Dream asked him, staring daggers and daring him to keep going.

“... fine.”

“Can we get to the point of this meeting? Or shall we waste more time speaking of art supplies?” Nightmare asked, his amused expression having morphed into boredom.

Dream started, “Oh, yes. Um, yes of cours-”

“Here are your orders, guys! Sorry I took so long, the cats made a mess of the flour, so I had to get that cleaned before any orders could go out.” Ccino said as he stood by their booth, setting down their drinks and cookies.

Nightmare looked over to him, “It’s no problem at all, thank you.”

“Mhm, thanks Ccino.” Error mumbled, still slightly in his own head.

“Thank you! I appreciate it!” Dream chimed in.

A small beat of silence as Ccino prepared to walk away.

A sudden movement, then, “Oh! Uh, me too! Thanks!” Ink said quickly while rubbing his ribs where Dream had elbowed him.

Ccino laughed and then said, “It’s no problem at all, thanks for coming here!”, before walking away.

Nightmare picked up his cup and began sipping, clearly not caring that it was hot. Ink stirred the whipped cream into the rest of his drink and took a large sip, smiling and relishing in the taste. Dream stirred his drink softly, then let it sit to cool for a moment. Error sat still and stared out the window towards the street, his eyelights having taken on a hazy appearance.

Naturally, Nightmare noticed this and set down his drink, turning towards the Destroyer.

“Error? Is everything alright?”

Nothing much changed, just Error’s still hazy eyelights shifted to him, indicating that he could hear him.

A soft sigh, then, “Error I just need you to breathe and to focus. Ok? Try and tell me things that you see.” Nightmare said in a calm, quiet voice that seemed very out of character for him.

Error’s sockets blinked a few times as he looked around, his eyelights gaining some clarity.

“... café booths and cats. A couple of them. Um. Dream and Ink in front of us… why are they here? Why are we at Ccino’s?” Error asked shakily through a glitchier than normal voice, clearly not remembering about the potential truce.

Both Dream and Ink looked on in concern and slight shock. They obviously hadn’t expected this from Error of all people. While they were aware he wasn’t the most… stable monster out there, forgetting something like this in such a short amount of time with seemingly no prompting wasn’t what they had imagined.

“It’s alright, we’re at Ccino’s to discuss a potential truce, do you remember that? They made the offer to us before a fight could break out between our two groups in Underflowers. They proposed we meet them here today so we could consider. Do you remember what we’ve said so far?” Nightmare said, not paying any attention to Dream or Ink, instead calmly petting Error’s head in a soothing manner with a tentacle.

Error took a few deep breaths and blinked a few times in rapid succession before saying, “Um, yeah I think so. It was mini introductions, right? Apparently… um… oh, cerulean is blue, and uh, I couldn’t really come up with things to say and then Ink got all excited because I mentioned that I crochet… um.” He trailed off for a moment, “There was something after, but I’m not sure. Oh, uh Ccino came by with our stuff.” His eyelights darted around, before they found his drink and cookie.

“Yes, exactly. The part that you can’t remember was Ink’s ‘introduction’, he was just rambling about art supplies, it truly wasn’t much.” Nightmare replied, his tentacle still petting the top of his head.

“... Right. Oh, yeah. Fuck.”

An awkward silence passed between them as Error looked between Dream and Ink in what seemed to be a mixture of horror, shame, and embarrassment.

“Are you alright?” Dream asked quietly, concern written all over his features.

Error stiffened, and avoided looking at Dream, “Yeah. I’m fine. It just happens every now and then. It’s whatever. Can we get back to the point?”

A small beat of silence, before Ink said that they probably should.

No one spoke.

“Oh for fucks sake. Fine, I’ll start us off. What do you expect from us for this truce? We can’t just stop what we do because it would disrupt the balance into chaos, so what do you want?” Error snapped, clearly in a rather foul mood after what had just occurred.

Ink winced before hesitantly asking, “What would happen exactly if you stopped destroying? I’m just curious.”

A quick roll of his eyes before he said, “Like I just said, it would cause chaos. For our balance, it could potentially be kept within the quarter ranges instead of perfectly balanced at half… but that’s not ideal. If I stopped destroying, the Multiverse would fill and just keep filling with nothing to keep it in check.”

The only response he got from Ink was question-mark shaped eyelights.

“Ugh, alright think about it like this. Imagine a balloon.”

“What? A balloon? That’s random.”

“No, it isn’t, shut up. Imagine you have this balloon and you’re pumping air into it. You keep pumping in more and more air, so what happens?”

A thoughtful expression crossed Ink’s face before once again settling on confusion.

“It pops?” He asked, clearly not understanding what revelation Dream had just come to that he should have also had.

“Yes, exactly… What aren’t you getting?” Error said, not understanding what was so difficult to comprehend with his very simple analogy.

“You threw me off with balloons. All I’m imagining is a room full of giant balloons now.” He stated simply.

Error’s head fell to the table and he groaned in annoyance.

“Why are you like this? The balloon represents the Multiverse. The air is the AUs. Too many AUs and they’ll push against each other, inevitably causing the collapse of it all.” He explained with his skull still resting on top of the table, clearly tired of this interaction.

There was silence as Ink took this in. Once the information finally seemed to sink in, he abruptly got up from the table and made it a whole two steps to the washroom before he puked.

There were multiple cries of disgust and outrage as Ink vomited his namesake onto the floor, not having been able to cope with the information that he should have been very aware of.

Ccino came over with a mop quickly after Ink began calming down, and offered a soothing pat on the back before guiding Ink back to the booth. He began cleaning up the mess before any of the cats got the idea of trying to lick it.

“Are you alright?” Nightmare asked, his ‘eyebrows’ scrunching in what could have been concern, confusion, or disgust.

A nervous laugh came from Ink before trailing off into silence.

“... You know what? Um, actually. No. Not really. I didn’t realize that it was even like that. Honestly, I didn’t think it was infinite, but I really didn’t think that it would collapse. I just thought that… I don’t know, that maybe any potential creations would just be put on a waitlist or something instead of entering the Multiverse.” Ink said very shakily and unsure. His eyelights were a purple broken heart and a blue inverted triangle.

“Don’t you ever feel extra lethargic at some points? Like you don’t want to move and if you do it almost hurts?” Error asked him, looking extremely unimpressed with the entire conversation so far.

“Well, yeah obviously. Those are the days when you have your mega destroying sprees. I always feel bad because I’m way too tired to even try stopping you.” He replied, ashamed with this admittance.

“You do know that you don’t feel like that because I’m destroying, right? You feel like that because the Multiverse is too full at that time. Making you that exhausted is its way of coping with the over-abundance of AUs by having its Protector too tired to do their job. By not allowing you to protect, it lets me destroy a shit-ton of those anomalies.” Error said as he tried getting his point across.

Dream had taken to fiddling with the napkins again and Nightmare was gazing around at the other customers, taking in their various emotions.

“Wait hold up, so you’re actively destroying when you feel that tired? Wow ok I definitely underestimated yo-”

Error groaned as he cut him off, “No, you fucking moron. I don’t get tired when it’s too full, that would be stupid. I get tired when it’s too empty. It sucks because trust me, I’ve tried working through it. I’ve tried to destroy those stupid glitches even though I’m exhausted.” A sharp laugh, “I’ve only gotten to that point once though, and it really sucked. I eventually got so tired that even just moving my phalanges caused me to crash. Yeah… that sucked big time.”

“Anyways, for the sake of this whole…” A dismissive wave of his hand, “Truce thing. You should avoid encouraging the Creators to create when it’s verging towards full, and I’ll try and keep it balanced instead of on the emptier side like I usually do.” Error said quickly before falling quiet to pick up his drink.

The four were silent for a while, taking some time to enjoy their cooled beverages and cookies.

Finally, it was Dream to break the silence, “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but do you forget things like that oft-”

Error let out a sharp laugh before saying, “I am not talking about this with you. Not now, and likely not ever.”

Silence again.

It was Dream again to speak first saying, “Alrighty then... Well, brother, I’m sure that you’re aware of our balance to maintain and that you've purposefully spread Negativity despite that?”

Nightmare looked away sharply before slightly nodding.

A soft sigh, then, “Ok well, would you be open to maybe… not doing that? I understand that you believe that there should be a surplus of Negativity, but there really shouldn’t b-”

“Yeah, I mean think of when all the apples corrupted! All the villagers got way pissier than normal because of the surplus of Negativity in the AU!” Ink exclaimed, proud of himself for this amazing and wonderful realization that he thought would be a great idea to say aloud.

Unsurprisingly, both Nightmare and Dream stiffened.

“Um, wait, should I have not said that? I feel like I shouldn’t have said that…” Ink said, trailing off nervously and looking between the twins with light blue question mark eyelights.

“It’s fine, you’re correct in saying that. I hadn’t put the two together, but having it pointed out to me is… troubling. To say the least.” Nightmare said slowly, unsure of himself at this moment.

Nightmare took a deep breath and sighed, clearly not happy with what he was about to say.

“In my spare time, I’ve been keeping detailed reports on the emotional balances within the Universes. By doing so, I can track which ones are suitable for my Negativity intake and which ones need more of a… push. In the event of a truce, then I’ll only alter the Negativity cores… Oh, Ink, cores are the AUs made with a certain emotional trait as their primary factors, like Horrortale or Underfell for Negativity and Haventale or Underswap for Positivity.”

Ink gave a thumbs up in appreciation.

“As I was saying, I’ll refrain from touching the Positivity cores as much as I can and only alter them if the balances begin to tip.” A quick beat of contemplation on Nightmare’s part before continuing, “Actually, Dream. I believe that it would be wise regardless of a truce or not for you to make your own records as well.”

Dream startled, then said, “Oh, actually I have kept some… in a way. Not in the same way that you’re describing, but more so in that I was keeping track of which AUs you and your group attacked. It would let me know where I needed to visit to imbue more Positivity.”

“Is that what you’re always writing about whenever we get back from fighting?!” Ink exclaimed far too loudly, drawing the attention of the other patrons.

A sigh, then, “Yes, Ink. I’ve told you this before. Several times. Whenever you ask. Which is every time you see me writing them.”

“Oh.”

“Ughhh, I’m so bored. What would we get out of this if we agreed? Like yes. I know there are balances to be upheld but come onnnnn, we need some sort of incentive!” Error said out of nowhere, groaning loudly to convey his annoyance and boredom.

“More incentive than the Multiverse not collapsing??” Ink asked incredulously.

“Did I stutter?”

“Ughhhh, man I don’t know! Uhh, how about making me happy? That seems like a great reason!”

Error just squinted his eyes and shook his head in sheer confusion, “Why would I do anything for that sake? That’s so stupid.”

“If you agree to the truce, you’ll be able to destroy the crowding Universes without interference from Ink. You already understand that you’re physically incapable of destroying them all, so all you would need to agree to is to refrain from tipping the balance too far from the center. For the Universes that you do destroy, then I can assure you that neither Ink, Blue, or myself will try to stop you.” Dream cut in, a slightly exasperated look on his face.

Error seemed to contemplate this for a moment, but remained silent.

“As for you, brother, this truce will help keep your gang members safe from unnecessary harm. I know you put on the face of being uncaring and cold, but I see the way you act around and protect them. It will also give you more time to yourself.”

Nightmare refused to make eye contact with the other, staring down at the table and his tentacles curling behind him.

“Damn those sound way better than just making me happy.”

Dream groaned and put his head in his hands.

A deep sigh from Error, then, “Alright. I’ll accept this stupid ass truce.”

“As will I.” Nightmare grumbled, tentacles still curled tightly behind himself.

“But listen, the second Ink tries getting in my way again, it’s done. Also, if he’s ever annoying, I will kill him. Not that it makes a difference… soulless bastard just comes back.” Error said curtly and glaring at Ink.

In response, Ink just giggled and said, “Yup! That’s meee!”

“Alright, I suppose that’s fair. Just no unnecessary torture, if you’re going to kill him, get it over with quickly.” Dream said as he shook his head, never having expected to be condoning Ink’s death in this manner.

“A similar rule applies to you, Dream. If you interfere with my Negativity cores in any way, the truce is off. Just as you’re expected to follow these conditions, Error and I will uphold our end of the deal by refraining from tipping the balances unnecessarily.” Nightmare added, clearly unhappy with the whole ordeal, but accepting on behalf of some… external factors.

“Of course, I would expect nothing less.” Dream looked around the table, “So it’s agreed?” He asked, smiling softly.

Nightmare winced as his brother’s positive aura grew as the potential future where they could all get along seemed to be drawing nearer and nearer.

“Yup!”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

[summertimemusician]

Linktober 2024 Masterlist (Possibly Late)

Day 1

Mirror

Day 2

Friend/Companion (WIP)

Day 3

Zelda (WIP)

Day 4

Night/Dark (WIP)

Day 5

Sacred (WIP)

Day 6

Fear/Horror (WIP)

Day 7

Royalty/Noble (WIP)

Day 8

Tunic (WIP)

Day 9

Secret/Mystery (WIP)

Day 10

Species/Race (WIP)

Day 11

Music/Dance (WIP)

Day 12

Favorite Game (WIP)

Day 13

Link (WIP)

Day 14

Fairy (WIP)

Day 15

Sword (WIP)

Day 16

Time (WIP)

Day 17

Dragons (WIP)

Day 18

Shopkeeper (WIP)

Day 19

Reward (WIP)

Day 20

Mask (WIP)

Day 21

Spirit (WIP)

Day 22

Favorite Character (WIP)

Day 23

Element (WIP)

Day 24

Deity (WIP)

Day 25

Ganon/Ganondorf (WIP)

Day 26

Echo (WIP)

Day 27

Rest/Respite (WIP)

Day 28

Bones (WIP)

Day 29

Deku (WIP)

Day 30

Mount (WIP)

Day 31

Free for All (WIP)

Linktober Shadow 2024 Writing

Day 1

Woods

Day 2

Malice/Gloom (WIP)

Day 3

Puppet Zelda (WIP)

Day 4

Ominous/Suspicious (WIP)

Day 5

Skull Kid (WIP)

Day 6

Fear/Horror (WIP)

Day 7

Dungeon/Temple (WIP)

Day 8

Lorule/Dark World (WIP)

Day 9

Secret/Mystery (WIP)

Day 10

Undead (WIP)

Day 11

Demise (WIP)

Day 12

Witch/Witches (WIP)

Day 13

Shadow/Dark Link

Day 14

Boss (WIP)

Day 15

Poisonous/Venomous (WIP)

Day 16

Labyrinth (WIP)

Day 17

Dragons (WIP)

Day 18

Majora (WIP)

Day 19

Ghirahim (WIP)

Day 20

Vaati (WIP)

Day 21

Poe/Spirit (WIP)

Day 22

Chasm/Rift (WIP)

Day 23

Twilight (WIP)

Day 24

Spectral/Astral (WIP)

Day 25

Ganon/Ganondorf (WIP)

Day 26

Hands (WIP)

Day 27

Volcanic (WIP)

Day 28

Bones (WIP)

Day 29

Beast/Creature (WIP)

Day 30

Final Boss (WIP)

Day 31

Free for All (WIP)

[mimjandoodlesstuff]

April Fusions haha

They kept rotting my brain for a hot second so I started writing up concepts myself, but then this ask properly sprung me into action. @bluepeachstudios you've done it again with the hinting!

I suppose the only really interesting things about these takes are how I named them. I already have a fusion storyline planned for my own TMNT iteration, and the Turtles fuse with April in it so I combined their names there. I didn't want to do that again here, so instead I took a more unique approach. I named them after each of the Turtles' VAs' birthday months (because, you know, April). I mean, why not utilise canon/meta/out-of-universe facts for a project like this? I can't do this for my own characters. I did have two rules in place in case any of them overlapped, of which I was forced to use one.

May

May is probably my least favourite out of the bunch. There's really nothing about her that screams Leo besides like- a shell, blue eyes, injuries... It's probably therefore not surprising I drew her first, so I really didn't know what I wanted to emphasise and so on. I should probably have had her face the camera more to get a better sense of her jawline. Make sure to make it nice and boxy lol

The plastron pride flags are demigirl, aroace and lesbian. While I do in my heart of hearts believe Leo has a not insignificant crush on Captain Ryan, I still wanted our gal to be a flaming lesbian despite that lol.

March

March was incredibly fun to draw, and not just because @bluecookiesabi is an absolute joy to hang out with (thank the heavens for Discord streams!). I just really like drawing more feminine characters. I had most likely already sketched both May and March before I found the ask so I didn't know March is agender, but I don't think that's a problem at all. Agender people are allowed to be feminine, after all. And I don't consider Donnie to be some pinnacle of masculinity to begin with.

I figured, since the fic tags state that Donnie's autistic here, I'd give March just fluffy socks and slippers to keep dust and dirt from their feet for sensory reasons. That is definitely not projection on my part.

They're kind of giving 2003 April vibes with their hair in a bun. That was a happy accident which I'm really glad I kept to.

January

January is just green April. Hers and Mikey's designs are already so incredibly similar in-canon I'm convinced she'd look pretty much exactly like him had she been mutated into a turtle. I didn't even feel the need to open January's eyes since they'd just be the same shade of blue more or less.

I don't have much to say about him other than she was fun to draw. Gymnastics poses are honestly kind of therapeutic to draw. But also, how are they able to make that pose? The answer is simple: January is just built different.

I also labelled xir as only aroace since I don't know what you have planned for Mikey.

September

I'm really happy with how he turned out. While sketching I couldn't get the pose really working but once I did she really came together. I'd say September is the only Fusion (besides maybe March) that actually looks like the people he's made up of merged. Raph's stocky build fits April surprisingly well. And the choice to give her April's kunoichi getup but tattered was a really good idea in my opinion, and I'd like to give @pechtothevoid the credit they are so deservedly owed for that idea.

While not fic accurate at all, I had such a difficult time coming up with a good weapon for September. Who knew combining sai with tessen would be difficult? So instead I gave her a boomerang, which reminded me of Sokka, so I just straight up gave him Sokka's boomerang. I like the idea of her, upon fusing, just snagging Sokka's boomerang from the Mae Whitman-verse and using it as a blunt force weapon. I wanted to in a similar vein give him the One Ring from the Sean Astin-verse, but I couldn't get that to look good no matter how I placed it.

I like the name rules I came up with. Basically, since I didn't know in which months any of their actors were born in I had to come up with a replacement idea for naming in case any of them happen to overlap. The first rule was that if Rob and Greg happened to share a month with anyone else, the Donnie and Mikey Fusions would automatically get assigned December and May respectively. If Seth or Sean were to have overlapped with anyone, Leo's and Raph's Fusions would get the/a month whose first letter is the closest to either character's first name. March and January checked out, but since Seth and Sean are both born in February, I was forced to assign Leo and Raph May and September each. Small price to pay, honestly.

Tcest DNI and NO REPOSTING. Both groups can go die UwU

[hatchi-matchii]

Post-Movie Movie Night!

Ft. Disaster Twins. and Rango.

(This was my first fic, so there may be some mistakes.)

—

Leo woke up.

Covered in his own sweat, with tears pricking threateningly at his eyes, he jolted upright. He took in deep, gasping breaths as he tried to calm himself. It’s not real, he’s gone, they’re gone- he told himself, unable to believe his own words.

The crackle of a frantic voice coming through his arm piece, the aching pain surging through his veins, and one last snarky comment.

“..Hero moves are totally your style, big bro.”

He took in deep breaths, in, out, in-

The crack of his spine against the stone. The snarling, villainous voice of the kraang above him as he lie in the empty, torturous void. He was afraid. Afraid of death, afraid of never seeing his family again and yet- somehow, he knew he had to save them.He tried to endure every hit from the horrible monster- the kraang- which had lost its family too.

He had to get out.

Leo stood from his cot in the medbay. He was not supposed to be leaving yet, -orders from the old man himself- but he couldn’t stay here. Not alone- it reminded him too much of that day. That Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. He thought to himself, a bit of a smile flashing on his face as he tried to make light of the situation. Slowly, he regained his footing and stumbled as gracefully as his sore legs allowed out into the main lair.

It was almost empty in the main room, the old tv in the living area cold from being out of use. He gazed around, looking for a sign of anyone to talk to. He didn’t see anything, but just barely, out of his good tympana, he could hear odd synth beats emerging from his brother's lab. Donnie, of course! that turtle never sleeps. He trudged to his twin brother's car, not bothering to knock as he entered.

Hearing a noise from the entrance, Donnie whipped around, already lecturing before he even saw who it was. “Y’know, it’s a lot better for both of us if you knock! I like my privacy and-“ Donnie stopped in his tracks seeing the worn-out figure in the entryway.

“Leo? What-“ his face softened before being stern again. “You should be-“ “-in bed, I know, I know.” The slider interrupted. “You’re gonna act like you didn’t miss my little visits?” He leaned on the doorway, as if it were just his usual ‘bad boy’ stance and not because he was in pain from moving anywhere at all.

Donnie sighed. “At least sit down.”

Leo happily obliged, finding the purple gaming chair that sat by the large monitor in the room. “So, whatcha’ working on?” He asked, rolling the chair closer to where his twin was perched, sitting cross-cross in his lab chair, hunched over what looked to Leo like a hunk of metal.

“Just.. a piece of damaged tech I found. I'm trying to repair it.”

“For what?”

“Whatever it was used for.”

“What was it used for?”

“I don’t know.”

“How do you repair something you don’t know the purpose of?”

“‘Nardo, please get off my chair.”

Leo obliged, scooting away in the rolling chair. Donnie turned around, removing his goggles and relaxing to talk to his brother. “Did you want something? I’m kind of busy here.”

Leo sat in silence. He just needed company, someone to distract him from whatever awful visions would cloud his mind as soon as he was alone again. As he looked down, tapping the chair with his fingers, Donnie could tell something was off. Probably those damned nightmares again.. he sighed quietly. No harm in withholding his project, it wasn’t time-sensitive or anything, but this was.

“Nardo? Do you need to talk about something?”

He shook his head, still not looking up to answer the question.

“Do you.. wanna hang out here?”

Leo looked up, catching on his words for a moment. Strangely enough, he had never found it this hard to talk.

“..Yea.”

Silence for another moment before he continued.

“Got any good movies?”

“You know I do, little brother!”

Donnie stood, headed towards his rack of dvds. Leo followed close behind, rolling in the gaming chair backwards, leaning back to talk to Donnie.

“Little Brother? We’re practically the same age! We might as well be twins!”

“‘Practically’ is not accurate. And plus, we’re not even the same kind of turtle! How could we be twins, hm?”

“We were mutated on the same day!”

“We were all mutated on the same day, Nardo. Are you and dad twins?”

“Eugh, no— but we’re connected- somehow! We have twin telepathy, and you know it!”

They had had this conversation millions of times before, but Leo would never relent. They were twins, he could feel it, and he didn’t care if that wasn’t scientifically accurate.

Donnie simply sorted through his huge movie collection, not giving Leo the satisfaction of winning.

“So, what’ll it be? Jupiter Jim, The Lou jitsu collection, Rango, Jurassic park—“

“Rango. Rango sounds good.”

Donnie chuckled quietly to himself, before picking up the old movie.

Leo smirked, unsure why his brother was laughing. “What? What’s wrong with rango? I know you love that movie.”

“Yea, it’s just- seems familiar now, doesn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just- nothing. Let’s just enjoy the movie for now, okay?”

Leo shrugged, wincing a bit at the motion. He’d almost completely forgotten how careful he had to be with his injuries. He’d thought caring for his brothers was hard, but he was used to it. Being the patient was much, much worse. And more boring. He stood carefully, walking over to the bed with cautious movements. He eventually flopped down on the purple mattress with a huff, annoyed at how fragile he felt. Luckily, Donnie hadn’t seen his struggle, too busy getting the tv and DVD player ready.

“Okay, let me go get the candy, I know you always like Reese’s Pieces best-“

“No!” It came out more panicked than leo had intended. “I mean- could you just- stay?”

Donnie stared at his brother in confusion for a moment. “Um. Yea, sure, no problem.” He sat down on his own side of the bed, the wall behind them covered in pillows to make it more comfortable to lean on. Donnie hit the play button on his remote, and leaned back to watch one of their favorite movies. That iconic opening song played, and the narrator's band quieted down.

“We are gathered here today to immortalize in song the life and untimely death of a great legend..”

Leo had fallen asleep before Rattlesnake Jake even made his appearance, and Donnie yawned, about to get up and go back to work. He just needed another monster and he'd be fine- until he felt a weight on his shoulder and realized that’s where Leo had rested his head to sleep. Damn it, Nardo. You’re too good at this. He sunk back into the pillow pile, not disturbing his brother. Begrudgingly, he got comfortable. Might as well be as productive as possible, right? Sleep can be productive…

It was barely any time at all before the two were both snoring.

“…And while he is certain to die, perhaps from a household accident- which account for 65% of all unnatural deaths- the townspeople will honor his memory! ..Even as they lose their dignity.”

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Why Not Me?

At last: the LQR raises LJY fic from my WIP Wednesdays has a name and proper chapters. My baby has been AO3 legitimized lol (the title is a link to it on AO3).

This whole idea, by the way, was sparked by this post by @korpikorppi about how Lan Qiren and Lan Jingyi seem to be really comfortable/familiar with each other during the Second Siege of the Burial Mounds, so I took that and ran with it while also shamelessly committing to my “Jingyi’s un-Lan-like behavior is actually at least partially because of ye olde ADHD because I say so” agenda.

-/-

“You.”

Jingyi stumbles to a guilty halt. Lan-xiansheng hadn’t called him by name, but he didn’t have to for Jingyi to know he’s the one being addressed. After all, the other children are all behaving exactly as expected as they walk from their classroom to the dining hall -- only Jingyi can’t resist bouncing on the balls of his feet and swinging his arms as he walks. They just had to sit for so long today! His limbs are tingly and restless and he needs to get the feeling out before he has to sit and be quiet for lunch, but he’s not allowed to wander somewhere more secluded to do it.

Which just means that he’ll get in trouble for it.

Again.

He decides to save Lan-xiansheng the trouble of trying to recall his name. Instead, he simply ducks his head and approaches him much more sedately. Once in front of one of the three most intimidating people in the Cloud Recesses, Jingyi dips into a bow and keeps his head down, eyes lowered.

“The way you were walking --“

“Is unacceptable,” Jingyi interrupts before he can stop himself and he winces, though he manages not to break his bow to clap his hands over his mouth. It won’t turn back time to 5 seconds ago before he’d interrupted anyway, so there’s no point.

“Do not interrupt,” Lan-xiansheng reprimands as expected, though he doesn’t sound any sterner than when he’d begun. Jingyi nods and dips a little lower in his bow briefly. He really doesn’t mean to be bad, but no matter what he says it always ends up the same. There’s no use trying to defend himself anymore.

“Yes, Lan-xiansheng.”

“Do not cause further disruptions.”

Jingyi hesitates but nods again. At least he’s not getting a punishment this time -- his last one had been for a few different things and it had taken forever to get all the copying and handstand-ing out of the way. He straightens up again in time to see Lan-xiansheng wave him away and he turns quickly, eager to go get something to eat -- and immediately smashes face-first into someone’s knees.

“Ow!” he yelps and rubs ruefully at his nose, his face blanching when he catches sight of the boy accompanying whoever he’d run into. It’s Lan Yuan, which means --

“Ha..Hanguang-Jun,” Jingyi barely manages to stammer. Hanguang-Jun came out of seclusion a few years ago now, but he still barely ever interacts with the rest of the Sect (at least as far as Jingyi can tell). His son is nice, but Jingyi feels ugly things that he know he shouldn’t whenever he sees the boy, and so it’s with the twin guilt of having run into Hanguang-Jun and for not liking Lan Yuan, Hanguang-Jun’s pride and joy, that Jingyi hurries to bow again.

“Move carefully,” Hanguang-Jun instructs, his voice deep and slow. Jingyi nods in a rush and is finally allowed to make his escape from what is now two of the three most intimidating people in Cloud Recesses.

Jingyi walks slowly to the dining hall, scuffing his heels all the way. He knows that it’s not fair of him to not like Lan Yuan. And an even tinier, even secreter part of him doesn’t like Hanguang-Jun either. Or Lan-xiansheng. Or Zewu-Jun. He respects them, of course he respects them! And he knows he shouldn’t feel this way, which is why he hasn’t said a word of it to anyone. But any run-in with any of them always puts a sour taste in his mouth.

Jingyi sits down with his rice and starts eating glum little bites. He usually can’t get the food in his mouth fast enough, cramming his cheeks full of rice and vegetables until it feels like they’ll split open. He’s always reprimanded for it, though never actually punished since he never eats more than the proscribed amount. Today he eats like he’s supposed to, and he pouts down at his rice feeling not very like himself at all.

The thing is, Jingyi knows that he’s related to them. He’s a Lan too - a clan one, with the cloud ribbon and everything - but he doesn’t get to have a family. When he was little, he used to cry for his parents and the aunties in the children’s house would tell him that they’ll be back soon, just sleep Yi-er, your family will come back for you.

Only they didn’t, because the aunties said one day that they were actually gone forever in the war that took a lot of kids’ parents. And Jingyi had cried and cried, wanting them so badly it hurt all the way down to his fingertips and his toes. The aunties would try to comfort him, but then they left and new aunties came in, and they didn’t know him at all and he just became another kid in the house.

And then the other kids started leaving. The sect was getting bigger again, and people were able to take in kids that weren’t theirs and give them a home and a new family, but no one ever came for Jingyi. And then one day he heard the aunties chatting amongst themselves that Hanguang-Jun had left the Cloud Recesses completely and come back with a son. He claimed the boy for his own, but the aunties thought with the way the boy was so sick that he’d been a war orphan that Hanguang-Jun wanted. Well Jingyi was a war orphan too, but Hanguang-Jun hadn’t wanted him. He’d gone all the way to Somewhere Else to find a son he wanted more.

It just doesn’t feel fair sometimes to be a Lan but not a Lan. He’s not the only kid in the children’s home, of course, but the others are all children who were sent here to live by their parents so they can become disciples. Sometimes their parents are even allowed to come and see them, and they can send letters every season. Sometimes Jingyi wonders if he’s maybe the loneliest kid in all of Cloud Recesses. Maybe the whole world.

Jingyi finishes his first bowl of rice and doesn’t reach for a second, his belly too knotted up and full of his sad mood to eat any more.

Every time he sees them he’s reminded that they don’t want him. They have to know he exists, even if they don’t know his name - he wears the ribbon, after all, and he’s in all the right classes for his age. Don’t they care? And Lan Yuan never leaves Hanguang-Jun’s side, which means he gets to be around his dad all the time! Jingyi wants that! He wants someone who will hug him and let him run around the house and play with him and take care of him - just him!

He’s never allowed to do that in the children’s home. The aunties tut over him and ask him what they should do with him and they give him extra chores to keep him out from under their feet while they take care of the others. They tell him he’s a lot to handle and he needs to be better behaved if he wants to be allowed to become a cultivator. Jingyi wonders sometimes if that’s why his family doesn’t want to take him away from the children’s home -- he’s too much, and at least there he’s someone else’s problem.

Jingyi’s mood follows him for the rest of the week like a big cloud over his head that he can’t get rid of. It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t have to see Hanguang-Jun and Zewu-Jun all over the place, but for some reason he sees at least one of them every day as he walks to and from class or his chores or the dining hall. Every time he sees them he has a foolish little flash of hope that they’re out and about looking for him, but they never are and each time it feels like a fresh rejection.

He skips class.

He skips class all week long the next week to go hide in the woods, near enough to hear the bells and the occasional hushed chatter of disciples on the other side of the trees but far enough away that no one can find him perching in branches or sitting on soft patches of moss.

It takes ten whole days for someone to find him and tell him he’s in trouble and to report to Lan-xiansheng. Even though he knows it’s to be punished, it almost feels like a reward. If they won’t notice him on their own, it seems he can make them notice him if he acts badly enough. He doesn’t want to be bad, and actually he wasn’t even trying to be, but if doing things to get in trouble will get him noticed then maybe it’s worth it.

“Your teacher informed me you have not been attending class,” Lan-xiansheng remarks once Jingyi has knelt in front of him across a table stacked with essays from the older classes. Jingyi dares a glance up at his stern gaze and immediately falters, dropping his eyes back down to stare at his fists on his knees instead as he shakes his head. “Where have you been instead?”

“The woods,” Jingyi manages to reply, still addressing his own lap. “There’s a nice clearing off the path to the sword grounds.”

“What makes this clearing better than attending your classes?”

Jingyi shuffles uncomfortably and immediately reprimands himself for fidgeting, the voice in his head a strange mixture of the sternest auntie and his teacher.

“I don’t know.” It comes out easily, almost desperately, and Jingyi can’t decide if it’s a lie or not. He doesn’t know why he didn’t want to go to class, but the thought of going made him sadder than the thought of sitting by himself in the woods so he’d just…done that instead. But he already knows from experience that that isn’t the sort of explanation anyone wants to hear when they ask things like this, so “I don’t know” is safer. They can’t be mad at him for something he can’t explain, right?

“Perhaps you will think of the reason while you do handstands until the evening meal.”

Dinner?! It’s only just after breakfast now! Jingyi’s head snaps up and a protest forms on the tip of his tongue; he quickly bites it back along with the sudden frustrated burning in his eyes to nod instead.

“Yes Lan-xiansheng,” Jingyi replies with effort. He was wrong -- this hurts worse than being ignored. Not worth it at all.

And yet he can’t seem to stop. He serves his punishment and lasts a few days before he acts out again and is once again delivered to Lan-xiansheng for punishment. Sometimes he does chores around Cloud Recesses, sometimes he does handstands, sometimes he copies, sometimes he copies while doing handstands -- it all makes him feel about as big as an ant getting poked with a stick, but he can’t help it.

It goes on for months, and Jingyi develops a reputation for being a troublemaker. Other children avoid him, adults watch him closely waiting for him to slip up, and he’s more miserable than he’s ever been.

Today he’s meant to be fetching water for his chores. The Cloud Recesses has running water, but Lan-xiansheng is running out of new ways to punish him so Jingyi is fetching water. He decides to go all the way up into the back hill for it, just because, and stumbles upon a secret place that’s way better than his old clearing in the woods. It looks about the same as that one, except this one is full of rabbits!

Jingyi drops his buckets and hurries into the clearing with a gasp, something happy lighting up in his chest for the first time in a long time to see the fluffy little things gamboling about in the grass. That little spark fans itself quickly into a desire to join them so intense he can’t possibly keep it under control, and so without a second thought he begins jumping and running around with them, giving chase and laughing when they all scatter away. He lunges for them and tries to catch them, wanting desperately to find out what they feel like.

He can’t help but scream in sudden fear when he’s yanked to a stop by a hand in his collar. He looks up and feels the happiness in his chest burst like a soap bubble as he finds himself staring up at a glaring Hanguang-Jun.

“Ah…” he tries to start, but terror has closed his throat.

“Do not chase them,” Hanguang-Jun intones, his voice cold and inflectionless. It somehow feels just as bad as when people are angry with him. “You will hurt them.”

Jingyi struggles against Hanguang-Jun’s grip with a sudden burst of anger and the fear closing up his throat turns into a lump that he can’t swallow away and a burning in his eyes. He gulps down big, shaking breaths and scrubs at his eyes while Hanguang-Jun releases him without another word. He should leave, he knows he should, but it’s not fair! He just wanted to play and there’s yet another rule! Another ‘do not’ that can be used to make him bad!

“I didn’t mean to hurt them!” Jingyi protests, finally finding his voice again. He glares at Hanguang-Jun’s feet through the warbling of his tears and scrubs at his eyes again. “I wanted to play! I’m s’posed to be doing another --“ he hiccups -- “another punishment for being bad but I found them and wanted to play instead! I’m sorry Hanguang-Jun, I don’t want to be bad but - but - but -“

Jingyi trails off into sobbing as he curls up in a little ball on the ground. Why couldn’t he have been born a bunny? Bunnies don’t have rules, bunnies can be soft and fluffy and have a million-billion siblings and be safe in meadows. They can run and hop around and no one will tell them they have too much energy, that their behavior is inappropriate, that he’ll never be allowed to become a proper disciple if he doesn’t learn to control himself and not lose face for the Sect.

That must be why none of his family want him -- embarrassment. He’s not like the rest of the Lans, even Lan Yuan who’s his age and a war orphan too is quiet and nice and all the right things that the teachers want to see. Jingyi’s just a nuisance.

Jingyi isn’t sure how long he cries, but it feels like he’ll never be able to stop. At some point through his heartache he hears Hanguang-Jun greet a new set of footfalls with a quiet, “Shufu,” and Jingyi tries to pull himself together. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Lan-xiansheng too, not when yelling and crying in front of Hanguang-Jun is bad enough. He uncurls with an effort and stands up to offer a bow to Hanguang-Jun and then to Lan-xiansheng at the entrance to the little meadow.

“I’m sorry,” he says thickly. “I didn’t carry the water.” Jingyi leaves a wide berth between himself and Lan-xiansheng as he returns to his discarded buckets and picks them up, one in each hand. They already feel as if they weigh a thousand pounds, exhaustion and sadness dragging at his limbs before the buckets are even filled.

He’s nearly to the path when Hanguang-Jun calls for him. “Jingyi. Come back.”

[kaleidolon]

Only the telepaths can protect Earth from Them. And only the ones they love can keep the telepaths from falling.

[cosmos-oc-soup]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Original Work, プロジェクトセカイ カラフルステージ！| Project SEKAI COLORFUL STAGE! (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s) & Original Male Character(s), Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Character(s) & Original Character(s) Characters: Original Characters, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Original Human Character(s), KYO (Vocaloid), Macne Nana Additional Tags: Original Character(s), Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Getting Together, Bittersweet, Love, Friendship/Love, Nicknames, One Shot, Established Relationship, Lesbian Character, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Coffee Shops, Coffee, High School, I WROTE THIS IN MAY BUT THEN LOST MOTIVATION, i only finished it today, Betaed, Love Triangles, Acceptance, Guilt Series: Part 2 of Cosmos Project Sekai OC Fics Summary:

An unrequited love was bittersweet; Taiyo learned this the hard way.

[proxycrit]

FAMILIAR FAMILIAR MASTERPOST

(EDIT: pinning this for linktober to keep things in order! All shenanigans will also be reposted on my alt blog, @critbit-hoard )

If you want to see my general info (and also which tags to look at my other art, click here)

FAMILIAR FAMILIAR is a self indulgent TOTK AU where Link and Zelda traverse the wild lands of Hyrule together. There are ruins to be discovered and monsters to be eaten.

This project is a linktober challenge that will extend past the month of october. Please be patient with me as this is entirely being funded by a hyperfixation and the support of beloved patreon backers (ty patreon backers). Pls note fanart, fanfics, and spinoffs are perfectly fine as long as credit is due!

Chronological Order (updating as we go!)

1. Blood Moons and Headaches

2. Basement Adventures

3. Basement’s Adventures Haunted

4. Basement’s Extra Haunted

5. Lost (and found)

6. World’s Endin, Purah’s Stressin

7. Concern about Death Mountain

8. Goron City

9. Death Mountain vs Oversized Railgun

10. The Sage of Fire

11. Interlude

12. Goodbye Eldin!

13. Rained In

14. Skyview Towers

15. Close Call

16. Welcome To The Swamp

17. A Guide Named Yona

18. Sidon’s No Good Very Bad Two Months

19. Authority Issues

20. Lab in the Sky

21. The Water Sage

22. Reprise

23. Century Idol

24. Safe Travels

[noenvyy]

"A Good Man is Hard to Find" Nieyao Fanfic Excerpt

So happy to finally get to post this amazing piece which @littlesmartart was gracious enough to take on as a commission. I have admired their 3zun art for so long and I was over the moon to be able to have part of my fic "A Good Man is Hard to Find" interpreted by them. Please check out their amazing blog! If you like the comic you can read more on A03 at the link below. Please also check out the fic that it is based on "All Men are the same" by @mostlikelytofangirl Who allowed me to write a companion piece for they incredible Nieyao fic You can find the link to their original story below at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29890200/chapters/73559001

Note: Art reposted with artist permission

[mx-pastelwriting]

Saving My Fanfiction Work

Due to the recent events in the United States. To clarify the recent events being Trump becoming president of the United States, Project 2025 more than likely going to be integrated. If you are not familiar with Project 2025 I urge you to look it up.

With all of its harmful plans some of the plans are to take down/restrict internet sites that have LGBTQ+ communities that means communities like the fan-fiction communities/sites in the United States.

I am only giving resources to those inside and out of the US in case they banned sites that hold fan-fiction. Better safe than sorry.

Being that I live in the US the possibly of mine and many others Fanfiction has the possibly of being in danger. Therefore I'm giving you recourses. (I'm not leaving or stopping my writing, I'm here for the fight!)

For those wanting to save my fanfiction, I give you permission to download them off of AO3 and to be used for your personal collection. Meaning, your eyes only.

If you do not know how to download them many others on online have tutorials on how to download them and add them to our phone libraries.

Here are some links to tutorials:

Downloading Fanfic

Adding to Iphone & Android Library

Adding to Kindle Library - Video on How (On TikTok)

Adding Book Covers (At the bottom) - Good EPUB Cover Changer (I use this)

Types of Files and What they mean

Please stay safe out there! Remember to follow the rules below.

DO NOT share the downloaded file anywhere online.

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Please stay safe out there friends! I love you so much! Know that there will always people that love you and in for the fight to make sure you are loved!

[1864reruns]

ㅤㅤㅤgratefulness (i'm sorry, can this be over now?)ㅤ౨ৎㅤ12.9k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ2024 ©1864RERUNS

oneㅤ/ㅤtwo synopsis. luffy loves you— you know this with how abundantly clear love is in every ministration of his outstretched hand and a grin— yet your traitorous heart demands more, even though you're in no place to give him your loyalty. you know this so you do not demand his love nor to be saved, even when met with a relentlessly stretched hand.

warning(s). gn! reader, hanahaki disease, but some creatively liberated variation of it, angst, hurt/some comfort, slow burn, but does it really count if nothing happens?, unrequited love, pining and the works, background character death, blood, violent imagery, vague allusion to an unspecified mental disorder that involves eating habits (pls be careful!!!), luffy tries his best to be kind but it's cruel, reader spirals 🙏; minimal editing and proofreading (these are basically my thoughts raw and unadulterated)

from vyon. the card game they play is a vietnamese one also known as smth like thirteen in english and has too many rules to explain but it doesn't really matter :3 i was a beast at that game though i fear; this fanfic has been in my drafts for so long, it also grew into too big of a project than it was meant to be. i also had to split this up into two parts, it was getting too long, i'm sorry ＞︿＜

do not repost / copy / translate.

Once you know Monkey D. Luffy, you'll know his heart not a few minutes after. He's welded the unmoving, burning ingot to his bicep, always on display due to his amassing collection of armless vests; rubber skin melted around the golden gem, oozing past the lines of his beating heart to staple it there, an anomaly on the expanse of skin not otherwise susceptible to bullets or cannons. Your captain is a man that lives with his heart on his tongue, always ready to dictate the lay of your next move with an irregular beat that drums against the skinned men of war and an impulsivity that makes his crew scramble after him exasperatedly; oxygen taken from his cerebral arteries to his brain are stained in the grease and oil that stick to the meat he handles so carelessly. In the same endearing way, he's careless with his heart, allows for the small stuff to momentarily prick his heart, for judgement to cloud into anger before it picks up on the bitter taste of agony.

It's always easy to get a frown onto Luffy's face. Feign disinterest in his stories; make yourself too busy to help him look for strange insects; force him to shower, scold him after he does something he wasn't meant to; keep him away from something he seems interested in; starve him for more than five minutes— he makes it all exceptionally too easy. You're not audacious enough to claim to know Luffy any more than the Strawhats, especially not those that he had met in East Blue; you try not to let it bother you that they managed to meet a younger Luffy who had so many holes in his defence, whose smile threatened through skin more, who had yet to find scars in his palm from how hard he had to clench his fists.

To you, it seems unfair that Luffy had managed to uncover so many of your firsts. His unwavering presence by your side as you learnt how hard it was to live on sea, the intonations of your screaming when a marine canon was pointed at you, to live so freely away from the confines of restrictive justice, how it felt to have a hand in yours to promise forever and then some. Luffy has no preferential treatment when it comes to people he loves; he treats them all the same, no hierarchy could dream to disrupt that.

With the same sandals he uses to stomp on the faces of Marine's, he could demand food from Sanji, money from Nami, Zoro to play with him— instead, you watch him whine Sanji, food and dissolve into a puddle when his cook orders him to wait, he allows Nami's fists to fall onto his head when he makes any financially impulsive decision (or even thinks them), and he idles himself with drawing on Zoro's face with Usopp and Chopper, with the previous two of them taking the psychical brunt of their consequences. (Chopper is let off with a mere promise that he won't join in with their shenanigans again when it involves making Zoro into a fool and a growing bump underneath his hat.)

Luffy, from second to fourth gear, is tender aggression when it is love.

His form is bizarrely respectful when the door opens and light dawns upon your face; you see him through the gaps of Nami and Sanji's legs and towering forms over him, his hands on his thighs and feet tucked underneath his bottom. He slurs out an I'm sorry that lets you know that his face is definitely messed up and then follows up with an I was hungry though!

Then Nami messes him up some more for his shitty justification.

She leaves him— some caricature of her anger— on the floor with her hands on her hips and Sanji trailing after her with hearts in his eyes at her dominant display of power. As she passes Brook, he asks for the colour of her underwear and earns himself the same treatment. It's then that you laugh. Luffy snapped his head up, following after the trembling air of your laughter and then calls out your name, the syllables are all messy around his swollen cheeks and a missing tooth that will come back after a few minutes but you cannot rid yourself of the thought that it's sticky with love that you only remember hearing when you were just a babe, screaming and crying in the arms of a tired and ill mother in a hospital. You were introduced to a group of midwives with same love you hear now, their idle finger catching into both your small hands; Luffy's hand dances across the air, breaking apart your laugh with urgency and catching onto your wrist.

You're not sure if it's you who had been pulled to him or if he'd managed to catapult himself into you but you both end up a mess on the floor regardless. Limbs tangled around each other in a wave as you both fall to the deck, Luffy does not correct the length of his arm and takes to wrapping the limb around you like a vine snaked around the trunk of a tree. You don't know a start nor an end as Luffy nuzzles his beat–up face on your shoulder. "Hey captain," you raise your head to look down on him, trying to wrench a hand through the tight spirals he's coiled around you.

"I'm hungry," he whines in lieu of a response, "and I'm bored, Usopp kicked me out after I ate one of his ketchup stars." He doesn't relent with his hold on you, simply loosening the coil that you're trying to work your hand through before tightening again once your arm makes it past to trap it against your side. You don't question the fact that Usopp's ketchup stars may be laced with gunpowder or what the small dose of gunpowder may have done to Luffy's internal organs.

You guess even Usopp has his limits when it comes to his childish captain. "I can't do a lot about either of those things if you're keeping me hostage here." He looks up at you, his exaggeratedly large lips in a pout that matches the swelling of his cheeks and then says your name again, like you’ve done him wrong. It's a disordered collection of the letters again but you find you can't really do anything to fight against it. Instead, green tendrils sprout from your trapped arm, each vine wrapped in a light of leaves and strain against his extended limb before he gives in and, instead, laughs as he wraps his rubber arm around the spindly, twisted branches splitting open layers of skin on your bicep. His skin coloured against the green runner keeps the bine from wilting down to meet gravity.

You let Luffy do whatever he wants, with an expression that you're not sure you're too familiar with etched out on the lines of your face. Thinking back on it, you could've simply done as Nami had or Usopp, ignore or scold him enough into submission but his fingers catch one of the fronds and it curls between the meat of his fingertips, reaching out to tickle his palm and something soft blooms inside you. You know it must be you, not the work of your devil fruit, because as much as you've tried in your lacklustre pursuit of beauty, you've never been able to sprout any kind of flowers.

When Luffy finally lets you go, you find your way into the kitchen and give Sanji a smile. You apologise for interrupting him and tell him that you know that lunch had been served only an hour ago but, if he wasn't too busy, you were still a little peckish. Sanji shoots up immediately and asks you what you've got a taste for— you assure him any leftovers from lunch will do and he tells you, though this doesn't come as any surprise, that Luffy had worked his way through any grain of leftovers with a laugh. You laugh along with him and well, you seemed to be craving meat right now.

The plate he prepares seem to be more about quality rather than quantity, with sauce underneath the red meat drizzled across the white ceramic, a slab of meat already cut into bite sized pieces for you and a decorative herb stuck between the fatty slices but when the light oozes down into the stretch of meat, you don't think Luffy will complain too much.

You, of course, were right about that.

The shattering grin he greets you (the plate of meat, however small it seemed) with gives you the faint smell of sticky rain drenched in the light of the sun, and you almost give him your hand when he reaches out for the plate. Brook's guitar strums in the background and your heart shakes in time with his strings and Luffy's incessant chewing.

You've really no problems with Usopp asking you to help him with target practice, it's fairly common for you to help the crew with their unique fighting style— save Nami and Franky for fear of losing your life with their less than particular aimed area of damage— it's easy enough really. You don't even have to be mentally present for it; shaking through layers of flesh, vines grow across the deck of the Sunny and rise up straight to tower over Usopp as he fixes his goggles over his eyes. You keep a quarter of your mind instilled in every chloroplast that shivers across the skies so you can keep them moving but the other three quarters are focused on the card game you play with Robin, Chopper, and Franky.

You hear the snapping of elastic and your finger twitches against the back of playing cards as the particular vine shot to the left, glancing curiously at Chopper's hand across from you when he turned to Franky and accuses him of looking at his cards.

"It's not my fault!" Franky frowned, fixing his comedically small glasses to perch on his metal nose. "Your cards just happen to be in my view when I'm looking at the pile 'cause you're tiny!"

Chopper takes to this horribly (you reshape a vine that has fallen to one of Usopp's stones and keep it relentless across the wave of air) and he grows into the much less cute and broader, more human version of himself to hold his hand out of Franky's view. (Two vines snap together and they take the path to slice through air to where Usopp stands, you hear the cracking of wood as Usopp shouts at you, saying he only wanted to focus on offence. An apology is drawn out with the green arm in the air.)

"Ivy," your eyes flicker to Robin and she gestures to the pile of discarded where the two of spades had been placed on top. "It's your turn." You glance down at your hand, eyes flickering over the collection of 7's in your hand. 

"Bomb." (You feel a vine break apart into pieces, think about the fact that it's lucky you've no nerves attached to the tendrils, and keep the one down to give Usopp a little win.) Franky curses your name as Robin chuckles.

Chopper glances at the four 7's with a sense of wonderment that you're sure is too dramatic for the moment. "No wonder I had no sevens!" You give him a sly grin and watch Robin pass her turn, ignoring Franky's levelled glare behind his glasses.

In the end, Robin wins anyways, ridding herself of her hand with her final card being the two of hearts. The loss is taken bitterly by both you and Franky though you think Franky definitely takes it worse than you do as when he stands to sulk away, cards fall out of his speedos, and they leave a trail after him. Robin, in all her morbidity, laughs behind a hand as you and Chopper drop your jaws in disgust.

Chopper collects the cards, hesitating with the ones that had been on Franky until Robin points out that you've all played many rounds and there's a chance that all of them had shared the same fate. (Another vine shutters down to the floor, broken apart and particles flown across the deck.) The cards slowly fall to the floor as Chopper cries out in disgust. Shaking your head with some colourful amusement, you use the two vines fallen to pick up the cards and start shuffling them.

Responding to Chopper's call, Luffy shoots his way from Sunny's figurehead. "What're you guys doin'?" He falls graciously to where Franky had previously been sitting; his eyes are ever so impatient to glance over the cards being shuffled. "Oh," he says with great interest, "are you guys playing 'go fish'?" He leaned towards you— the cards in your possession, actually— and blinks at the shuffling. "Lemme in!"

"We weren't playing 'go fish', Luffy." The little doctor has since calmed down, taking a seat between Luffy and Robin and shaking his head. "We were playing—" he turns his head up to Robin, to which she supplies 'bài tiến lên' with the intricate accents and all, "that!"

A flash of thinking places itself on Luffy's face, crossing his arm and tapping the side of his sandals on the deck, then it's gone. "Let's just play 'go fish' then."

Chopper whines, saying that 'go fish' is boring and that Luffy always snatches more than one card from other people's hands, which is cheating, and that he doesn't want to play.

Luffy turns to you with a pout, eyebrows furrowed at the dip where his nose bridge starts and then straightened out towards the end. The two vines that had been expertly dodging all of Usopp's shots and taunting him by doing silly dances and twisting into words in the air both crumple down to the floor at the same time, they follow the curve of your spine as you double over, a breath stuttering in your throat. You hear Usopp call your name and the deck of cards slip out from the vines that had been shuffling this entire time, your hand wraps around your throat and you hack out a cough you've managed to choke on.

"Are you dying?" Chopper shoots up, frantic as you keep coughing and choking— both violent in temperament, and scampers around, shouting for a doctor.

Footsteps tap closer as a shadow forms over you, Usopp's hand patting your back ferociously comes after the sound of shoes stop.

The blur that came with tears invading your eyes gives you the confidence to look at Luffy again before you're calling Chopper to a stop. "I'm fine, just choked on air."

You don't mention how it felt like you were breathing through a cheesecloth, how your lungs feel so restricted with every inhale as you all compromise on 'chase the ace' and how easier it feels when Usopp pushes his way between you and Luffy, too intimidated to pick from Robin's hand; when you all finish up for dinner, Robin is looking at you in a way that makes you think she's caught onto how you've been struggling.

Dinner is a strange ordeal. It's characterised with its usual events: Luffy sneaking his hands into people's plates though his stands full, Usopp trying to hold his plate out of his way, Zoro tending to his glass bottle of beer, Sanji making some quip about Zoro's show of alcoholism, Nami getting increasingly annoyed by the noise around her, Brook's laughter, Zoro escalating the situation with Sanji, Chopper screaming when Luffy clears Usopp's plate and then goes for the doctor's, Robin watching the scene with the patience of a saint, Franky pretending he was better than the rest, Usopp exacting revenge on Luffy by swapping their plates. It all ends with Nami telling them all to shut up and Luffy taking one final chicken leg from Zoro's plate. You stare down at your plate and count the missing bits, Luffy hasn't really touched any of the potatoes or asparagus, so you finish them up.

Two chicken thighs sit in stark contrast to the plate, thinking about having them anywhere near your mouth makes you a little sick for some reason, the weight of them in your stomach, the taste of caramelised skins, crisped with wells of juice sat next to a tinge of burnt flesh; you push the plate over to Luffy and detest the way he can take the colour of well–done oranges between his teeth and not care about the juice dribbling down his chin.

Luffy says thanks with his mouth full of chicken; Nami glares at him and turns a more concerned face to you (that also makes you sick) and inquires about you not eating. You mumble out some excuse about not being hungry, not feeling well, having a little bit of a headache, feeling tired— something along those faux lines, you don't remember but you remember that you don't tell them the truth exactly. "Sorry Sanji," you fix into your shitty excuse after, running a hand through your hair, to make yourself feel better about the entire ordeal.

He offers to make you a more palatable porridge or soup instead.

You take a cigarette and a red apple, going to bed hungry and angry at some unknown thing that brews on the tip of your tongue.

The next island is of great interest to Luffy.

The entire crew knows that its history nor culture was not either reason behind his excitement, only the mere prospect of digging his sandals into new, uncharted land is why he's running around the deck, filling up the empty spaces with bubbling laughter. Sanji finishes up bentos for those that are leaving, taking unnecessary extra care with Nami’s, and wishing he had it in him to starve Zoro whilst Nami is giving everyone an allowance. You take two bentos, yours and Chopper's, and head out onto the deck. Luffy only seemed momentarily sad that you were going with the doctor but bounced back immediately after when the trees come closer enough to intimidate so you push down the offer to join him instead. Franky joins up with Usopp, Luffy'll run off alone regardless of who he ends up going with, Nami ends up going with Zoro (to Sanji's displeasure), and you and Chopper make plans to find a pharmacy and a library for Robin.

Being around Chopper is easy enough with this unsettling prick of poison that's forced minimal responses, curt words, a flurry of tiredness, a sickening chill through your days recently. The little doctor is a lot more mindful of changes in mood, it's not any imminent injury either so he doesn't press to know why. Out of guilt (for being a brooding asshole lately), you ask him about his rumble balls and all his different forms. He answers cheerily and you can only pick out every other word with a persistent headache as the smell in the air changes from salty skies and bloody fish to sweetened foods and something unfamiliarly clean.

It's a bright island. You hear a faint bell in the distance that is traced over with the sound of children and stall owners; Chopper's hooves rhythmically sound beside you on the pavement and you find yourself counting them in groups of four. "Ah, there." You pick up your head and turn to follow the direction of Chopper's eyes. A sign is hung on the side of the building, the library. "Robin wanted a book of North Blue diseases for some reason," Chopper mumbles to himself as you two push open the door.

It's a small bookstore, walls lined with books and the paths carved with more standalone bookcases. "North Blue diseases?" You repeat, confused, "do they have North Blue exclusive illnesses?"

Your question goes unanswered, though it looks like it opens a vault of new questions for Chopper. Books aren't of great interests to you, so you follow behind Chopper as he walks through each section and grab whichever book he tells you to bring down for him. On the way back, you tell Chopper to keep going and change your course in search of something you're not too sure of.

You stray away from the town centre and head deeper through the small alleys of the town, there's no destination in mind; without the urgency of a fights and with the domesticity of a small knit community, you wander adrift. There's a dampness in the air to the walk around a shadowed hide of the place that loosens up the tension below your ribs, many different eyes follow after your form as the heel of your shoes click against a null path; shadows ooze around the soles of your shoe and lacquer up between the carved maze of black rubber of your soles until you find your way into a dead end.

It's a little bit of a cliché to be met with a ragtag group of delinquents when you turn to go back. Your eyes trace over them. In the hand of the one closest to you sits your wanted poster.

Something blooms inside you again— it's a much more pleasant feeling than the unmoving sap of ire that's been invading lately. Each man before you is physically bigger, towering over you ominously and shadows eating you but they all have swords and guns in their hands and that's why they lose. You, to the detriment of all life around you, are a weapon in and of itself; you choke out the vitality from others and steal their nutrients. They strained against their confines as their skin blossoms through shades of blooms, you are not the merciful rubber of a human, so your constraints don't relent, they squeeze and squeeze until the bark splits apart, until blood is cut off at the source, until they wither, until you are full.

On the way back, you buy a gift for everyone with the money you hadn't used and when they take to it, all in their varying degrees of joy, you feel less bad about the dead end alley full of brothers and sons. You tell yourself, handing Zoro a gift of alcohol, if not them, then it'd have been you.

You end up staying anchored to the island for a week to your displeasure. The longer you're stuck there, the closer you are to exploding; you always keep an eye out on the log pose strapped to Nami's wrist like you could quicken the process if you stare enough. Usopp starts avoiding you out of fear you'll blow like a poorly constructed cannon, Zoro makes you train with him to see if it'll help blow off some steam, Sanji brings you iced drinks at a rate that keeps you dizzy but you always feed it to Luffy or redirect it to Chopper's or Usopp's office with a little note.

On the third day, you follow in Zoro's example and sprawl out on the deck to rest your tireless mind. You've always wondered how sleep was ever a possible option for him when the feet thundering across the deck came with obstructive vibrations, no doubt slapping any chance of sleep away from his mind, but you find that it's almost pleasant. Beats all from familiar loves translates through the groves of wooden planks and etch through the back of your spine, you feel a bone fall back into place after Nami's heels against the floor and the thunderous kick that lands where Zoro was standing manages to work its way up your head to ease a headache.

The sun burns cries into your eyes and the skies move fluidly, they don't ripple as clouds shrivel against a light blue you're unfamiliar with; even as you close your eyes, you continue to feel the burn of the sun. The slapping of weaved straw against a sticky, sweaty sole then the deck comes as you slip into sleep.

Dreams have never been so amicable enough to become a recurrent in your life; more often than not, you're shown memories all blended together into a mess that leaves you sick, the abhorrent now and the nostalgic then bleeding past their confines until you see your mother stood next to that deceitful Marine admiral, both with that same look in their face. You wake up with a start when a loud bang scours its way through a flurry images you're unfamiliar with and then your body escapes you. Your head weighs with the heaviness of the bodies dropped to the floor, arms cold as if dipped into the river Styx, bones locked in place with a restrictive pain, muscles burning, aware of every breath that shivers through your suddenly odd body.

"Owww," three Luffys blur around each other as you pushed a hand to the floor to straighten up, you try blinking away the other two, but they're glued to the captain reflecting in your eyes; he looks down at what he's tripped on and follows it back to you. Your hand is met with something curved in shape when you go to push yourself up and when you look down, you see vines underneath you. You realise then that a burst of them had grown beneath you, splitting through the lawn deck and uplifting some of the planks underneath the greenery and inching upwards towards the guard rails of the ship. They take the form of something you think you met in your most recent sleep.

Luffy has managed to crawl his way towards you in the time you spend wondering why your devil fruit had been acting up— in your sleep no less and he wraps a hand around your ankle to get your attention. "Hey, you're really cold." He pointed out, eyes flickering down to the flesh between his fingers and then trailing his fingers up your thigh as he shifts closer to you on his knees.

The touch makes you violent and tender. "Really?" You managed to puff out, giving too much air back to the world with how much you're panting, "I feel a little warm though."

Luffy hums, clapping his hand over your cheeks with gentleness he only shows to those he loves, and it feels wrong. You get an itch underneath your skin that urges you to move, move, move but you can only push Luffy away with a ferocity he'd never shown you as you tremble under the bursting of violent air hacking up your throat, your shoulders strain as you wrapped your arms around your stomach, trying to heave out something that wasn't there.

Luffy scrambles back immediately, not caring for you shoving him away, and soothes away the rattling of your core with his clammy hands on your arm. "Are you sick?"

No, you think as a retch comes up your mouth; maybe, you correct as the path is marked by drool slipping down your chin and tears streaking across your cheeks. You shake away Luffy again. He's less submissive this time, his legs open over yours to plant his knees by your thighs. You hear him call for Chopper and it's obvious he has something of a frown marked on his face; you keep burning beneath your skin, but Luffy keeps rubbing his palms over your arms like you're cold.

You realise what your vines had drawn underneath you when Chopper comes out, fretting over you as he takes Luffy's place close to you. A grave. The image makes you laugh as the reindeer instructs his captain to haul you up after you'd ignored his inquires on if you could walk; your arm bends around the shape of Luffy's shoulder and your laughter erratically convulses into a collection of coughs from the skin on skin high.

You forced into bed rest after Chopper does a preliminary round of tests on you and declares you've simply gone down with a cold. You take to the diagnosis apprehensively, though in Chopper's defence, how was he meant to accurately diagnose you if you don't tell him all your symptoms? Instead, you sit in his office and spend the minutes, all alone, trying to retch out the feeling of having a piece of hair down your throat; you claw at the blanket and keep hacking until you've got a blanket full of tears and spit. The feeling does not pass.

At lunch, you get a visit from Franky who comes by to complain that you've made unnecessary work for him. "—seriously, how did you manage that in your sleep? Were you having a nightmare?" He ranted, legs crossed and leaned back in the visitor chair in a way that pushes his skinny, hairy legs close to your face.

Scrunching up your face, you sit up. "It was the future." You rebut, in between all his fantastical stories of his nightmares and talking about how he'd never attack Sunny even if Chopper grew a mechanical, giant arm and overthrew Luffy to become their captain. "A future," you correct yourself before turning to Franky with eyes judgemental, "are you scared of Chopper?"

"You weren't there at Enies Lobby," he tells you, which serves as a cruel reminder of sorts. You think about all the scars you've seen littered on the crew's skin and wonder which ones they've collected while they were with Luffy and who knows of which. The faint, protruding marks underneath Nami's tattoo, the stitches around Zoro's ankles, the ones pulled across his chest; you wonder if Sanji's got one hidden underneath his bangs. "The future?" Franky repeats after a moment, "are you a prophet?"

"It's a working theory," you brush off instead. "Though I can see in my mind's eye that Luffy is currently eating all the food and you’ll be left to starve if you don't go back."

Franky scrambled up from the seat not a second after your words.

With him gone, you settle back onto the bed and wonder about too many things to recall.

Between the hours after lunch and before dinner, Luffy comes by. He settles himself on the bed and forces you up as well, the shifting causes another cough to burgeon in your throat and you turn your head the other way to spit it out in an uncontrolled group of four. "You're not feeling better?" He frowns.

You see now that he's holding two pieces of barbequed meat in his hand, he's got the bone in his palm as he holds it upright like a sword, juices from the flesh dripping down to his hand and the smell gives you a headache. "Do you want this?" You move your eyes to Luffy, he's got his eyebrows furrowed together and his lips straightened out in a line when you don't answer. "Both?" He looks over at you, then the meat, and then you. "You," he swallows, "you can have them," his knuckles turn red around the bone, "since you need energy and you're sick." You think he's trying to convince himself to give them up.

You reached out and watch Luffy's face turn sour as his expression squeezes altogether around a midpoint trapped in his nose; you retract your hand and watch his face relax and his body unwind, you think he's moved his hand back a little. You repeat it again a few more times until laughter comes up and dislodges the uncomfortable feel of hair set deep in your throat. "It's fine, Luffy, you can have 'em."

"Really?"

"Mhm, go for it."

He moans around a bite of meat, crying your name as he chews and says thank you. The feeling is back as soon as it left.

No one comes to visit after that. Chopper comes by before he heads off to bed to make sure you're all set for the night and tells you that he expects to be woken up if you feel any symptoms get worse. You agree to his conditions, though can barely make yourself seem like you were taking him seriously with his cute face scolding you, but it seemed to work well enough as he's gone after he leaves a cup of water by your side. Sleep lingers around the corner, shirking away from your twitching fingertips and restless eyes; you give up after a few minutes, thinking about Robin who'd been thrown on watch tonight.

After going back and forth on the details, you bundle up yourself in the blanket (not wanting to have to mimic any semblance of serious guilt to get through Chopper's less than intimidating scolding if you get any sicker in the morning) and wander to the deck. The darkness of the sea would be safe for you, twisting around every limb extended to grope your way through your chosen path and oozing out from strands of hair to empty at your feet if not for the lamp of the moon ahead of you. Its light a forecast of tragedy, reflecting off a blade that would drive through the blood of a man who faced an unlikely love with only disgust and betrayal. "Robin?" The light hangs onto your word with a vehemence to uncover your unjustifiable deeds.

"Ivy," a shudder of surprise rattles your head to duck to your shoulders as you turn around. "Sorry, did I scare you?"

You give Robin a frown, tugging your lips down. "Yeah, my weakened bones nearly fell to the floor." She huffs a laugh. "Please announce yourself before you appear." Robin traces over your palish face and your features soften into a smile when your eyes meet.

"Can't sleep?" She asks once you two settle at the side of the Sunny where you'd napped earlier today, some of your vines still wedged between planks and parts of the floor haphazardly missing. You lean your back against the side of the ship and lower your eyes to the floor.

It's a total void, welcoming you back home. "No," you answer, a little breathless. The moon doesn't shuttle into the hole of the deck and something reaches a hand out for you between the atoms of a black hole. Roots twist out, easing close to your feet and sinking beneath the soles of your shoes. "I napped a little earlier." It's safe.

Robin hummed— I know rattles through her hum— and her elbow falls onto the guard rail of the ship. For the next few moments, you regret coming out. Robin's always been more receptive to the details and fine lines; it's not surprising that she can nitpick through a flurry of fronts and covers to the feelings you want to hide. They beckon out to her, wanting to fill that hole that's grown smaller with every day she wakes up to the open seas and the lively sound of her crew. "Chopper said you were sick?"

"A cold," you sniffle, bringing the blanket closer to you. Finding some semblance of confidence inside you, your eyes flicker over to Robin but she isn't looking at you— only turns when she feels your gaze levelled on her. You hesitate, searching for something to say and land on extending an arm and opening the blanket to invite her into your bundle. "You cold?"

She laughs, "it's fine, you should go back in if you've got a cold though." Her head tilted with a smile, "it'll be bad if the night air makes you worse."

Not wanting to find yourself softened in moonlight nor her eyes, you nod and bid her a goodnight before shivering your way back into your room. The door opens and light from Sunny's hallway is swallowed into the darkness of your room before it's banished out with the slam of your door, you shuffle around odd things thrown on the floor and slip into bed.

Your sleep is broken through with intervals with coughing, curling into yourself, shivering still though you burn in the night like a sibling of a star. When you wake up, sometime in the afternoon, you're heaving and reaching out your arms all around your duvet to haul together the skin that feels like it's melted down. Your palms prick against the leaves of vines that have overtaken your room, they fluoresce around your body and branch outwards to all corners of your room. The mess all blur together as your brain thrashes in your head with every splutter, you shake and twitch, trying to make sense of anything. Skin burned raw as you attempt to kick away the shrubbery that's keeping the blanket contorted around your body.

Your throat skinned and crude with its imminent thoughts of water.

A hand reached back blindly to grope at your bedside table for the cup that Chopper left for you last night. What you find instead is the burning touch of the sun, it seeps through the micro wounds stabbed through lines of your fortune and inflames every nerve straight to your heart. Your hand snaps back towards your body, the bones shivering from the imminent heat. Your entire body twitches at different paces, an invasive and hungry need drowns your senses. You need water, you need not for this to happen, water, you need for your sleep to be calm, you need to stop burning, you want to stop losing control, water first. You want water. Water— you turn your head to find the water, you need— Luffy?

Luffy is sat on a chair that you don't remember being there and when you look a little closer, you see that your vines had granted him a throne to comfortably lay on, other than that, they avoid him like the near plague. His body is leaned forward, his chest laid against the side of your mattress and arms crossed on your bed to sleep on like a pillow. You retch up some acid and, like the bowed head of a priest, a gentle petal disrupts the stream, flowing against the tide. It's a beautiful purple colour that's light against the transition to white towards the middle and an eye-catching yellow streaking against the white; lines of a deeper hue stretch through the petal and it's oddly reminiscent of veins.

The petal sits on the puddle of stomach acid that warms your thighs, your head bowed down to stare at it; you feel your soul unfurl at the sight of it, branches stretched outwards over a riverside, the heavy head of buds pulling weighted branches down to drink from the stream. Everything else blurs with a ripple, the petal is withstanding no matter no much you try blinking away an oncoming headache. The river near dries up in your attempt to wash down this unnerving disgust; you hunger for more.

Little changes when you find out what this 'cold' truly was. The lighting in Sunny's library is several shades warmer than the light of the sun, it draws upon the hunched shoulders down to your back as you tilt your head to hear the bones crack under your ear. Four syllables, that's all your death is. A lot of words are four syllables. Anonymous; unfortunate; hilarious; adventurous; hanahaki. It doesn't mean a lot by itself, so you try giving it some context. You pretend to tell Chopper that you're dying, you have hanahaki and that it's something he can't cure in a way you'll accept and you still feel nothing. You think about Chopper's face. He adamantly tells you that he'll cure you, he'll do it. The you in your imagination tells him no. Faced with your refusal, Chopper cannot do anything. In the end, it is a grave that cures you.

Death, as it stands, was something you had accepted when you stepped onto a pirate ship. Even someone with as stubborn a character as Zoro could be welcomed in by death, even Luffy. For a while, you wonder about death. The air in the room pauses as if to grace you with the silence to ponder on it, all you hear is the sound of your own breathing.

The closest thing to death comes searching for you a few minutes later.

You've always been interested in Brook. A skeleton with nothing but a sword; he has no lungs yet still sings, no heart and still smiles, dead but human in all his actions and behaviours. "There you are." He sneaks up behind you, bones falling onto your shoulder as you think, he smiles down at you. "Luffy asked if I’d seen you earlier.” He looms over you for a moment before he's straightening back up and calling out loudly, "but I'm a skeleton so it's not like I have eyes to see anyone anyways!"

It's the two syllables 'Lu–ffy' that shakes you the most. You stifle a cough in your chest and feel it tear through your ribs instead, searching for a path out. "For what?" The breaths rattle in your chest and shudder through your words.

"He wanted to show you a beetle." He takes the seat next to you, peering down at the picture book that you have open. You wait for him to make a comment about seeing what you were reading before disregarding it all with a lack of eyeballs so he wasn't seeing it really but he doesn't say anything, so you're forced to talk instead.

"Brook."

"Yes?"

It takes a single breath to prepare you to say this, it's warm and evident that you've not yet truly succumbed to your illness. "Do you see yourself as dead?"

Death is the art of those who do not live. It's something that keeps people tethered to the moment; it's the one thing that keeps humans humane. It's evidence you've lived, no matter how full nor how long. She's beautiful in her own right.

"I cannot see myself as anything because I am a skeleton with no eyes!"

Brook does not get to elaborate because Luffy shuttles in moments later, whispering loudly. (He'd learned somewhere that you're meant to be quiet in a library when he was younger but his whispers still manage to shake the room somehow.) "You're here! I found a beetle to show you!" He tip–toes to your side, "what're you reading— oh, hi Brook! The flowers here are pretty!" He points a finger down to a sunflower; his index covers an entire petal and he strokes it upwards to the middle. "Do you think they're edible?"

He turns to you with a smile.

You meet him with the same, "their seeds are." He gasps and picks up the book to scour through the letters in search of a name of these seeds. You take in a shuddering breath and when you feel another urge to cough, you cannot stop it.

When vines splatter around the room, they uproot the place; they've always been disruptive in this way. A wave of them washes various bouts of furniture to the floor, through the pounding of your ears, you hear the sound of books thudding as green appendages snake through bookcases and rattle them at the base; Brook's chair collapses as a vine chokes out one of its legs into splinters, the world blurs into a hue of greens and purples. A hand reaches from down in your throat, you heave around gaps of allowance for air and gag, cough, retch up more acid and some tea that Sanji brewed earlier this morning in lieu of breakfast. It's unpleasant. It's ugly in a way death should not be, though you guess the dead don't get to choose how to live in the same way the living cannot choose their death.

You're hauled off to Chopper again.

Chopper's voice comes as the hollow sounds of keys on an old piano. He does another round of tests on you— this set lasts a little longer than the previous and he takes extra caution with some. He finds that your heart is a little faster than it should be, he nitpicks at the bluish tint around your fingers and notes the concerning amount of weight you've lost in the past few weeks. When he asks you, what's wrong, you tell him that that's what he should be telling you.

Hypoxia; another four syllables for your cause of death. "Some of the symptoms are there," Chopper frowns, mumbling to himself. "It's when your tissues aren't getting enough oxygen, do you have difficulty breathing?"

You placed your cheek into your palm, elbow on Chopper's desk. "You're a pretty good doctor, Chopper."

The effect is immediate, he starts blushing and kicking his legs in his seat, a hoof goes to rub at the back of his head and nervous laughter comes from him. "That isn't distracting me at all, you bastard." You smiled and watched the compliment break any semblance of professionalism in him.

He gets back on track a little while later, placing a stethoscope on your chest and asking you to cough. You're not sure exactly what he's looking for but you give a soft cough into your elbow and you can say for certain— just based off the way he jumps back and looks at you a little quietly for a second, it's nothing good. Chopper spends a few minutes looking at your fingertips, then your lips, then some other parts of skin already exposed and humming to himself, troubled.

For now, he says, he wants you to try not to exert yourself— maybe leave fighting to everyone else and focus on resting until he can figure out a better way to confidently diagnose you. His lips are pulled into a frown, hands in his lap and trying his best to be professional and keep his emotions at bay. Before you know it, your hand is on top of his pink hat and fondly rubbing over the material softly. "Thanks Chopper, I'll keep that in mind."

He nods. You hesitate for a second before you're getting up to leave so that everyone else can see that you're not dying— or maybe you should tell them you are, you're not sure you could take another session of Franky accusing you of destroying the Sunny to create more work for him.

Your hand wraps around the doorknob and twists, stopping when Chopper speaks again. "You're not hiding something from me," he accuses gently, "are you?"

Your hand tightens around the doorknob. A flash of that imaginary Chopper comes back to you— heartbroken and confused at your refusal to be cured— you steal an unnecessarily large breath from the world. "I get sudden cravings for sweet things if that means anything."

Chopper, unbeknownst to you, takes those words and carves them true and raw into himself. His eyes are unwilling to leave you for more than necessary during the times you eat together, he watches you push aside the food on your plate, tearing small bits of meat off the bone to chew on it for a couple minutes too long before swallowing. He makes note of the way you have no problems finishing up everything but any sort of meat, sliding them over to Luffy, or one of his victims.

You're met with another blossom soon after lunch. You've made a bad habit of leaving the table early to escape the smell and resign yourself to the open deck, sprawling out on the grass like Zoro usually does. You're certain you're about to fall asleep shivering but the slap, slap, slapping of your captain's sandals are nearing closer so your brain kicks awake with a start; your eyes twitch, eyelashes shuddering in the wind. The darkness over your eyes morphs into a shadow of Luffy hovering over you, head tilting with a hand on his hat— your mind supplies you with the frown— and then you hear him taking a step back and sitting down next to you.

A troubled melody hums through his lips and when you open an eye to peek at him, you see his hands wrapped around his ankles, legs loosely crossed; he turned back to you and you quickly close your eyes. Here is where you finally learn that when Luffy touches, he's never placated with a simple tap, a light knocking between skin— no, he must stroke, he drags his fingers up the side of your thigh, he shivers from the coldness of your flesh and, even then, crawls closer. Then he's silent for a worrying amount of time and for a moment, curiosity takes you over. You find yourself wanting to draw light upon the disgusted features when he's met with someone he thinks close to him is growing closer and closer to a grave amongst the roots.

He leans his forehead against yours whilst you shuffle through the despicable crawl of your heart through your bones, something shifts in you and when you reach to itch at your side, it dislodges. It takes no more than a simple flip for your entire world to shift; you think you saw Luffy hovering over you momentarily before you had snapped to the side.

A fragment of the world greets its end.

Something strangles you, a hand of a giant pressing two fingers against the sides of your neck until everything in you bursts and splatters against parts that have gone unknown until now. There's nothing new to the tremor of vine that erupts through your skin, bubbling through the surface of flesh like a geyser; the tentacles claw their way your throat until you're choking around them, searching for an allowance for air. Your knees shuffle up to find some balance, head ducked to meet the lawn across the deck and elbows digging deep into the dirt. Your spluttering comes in time with the sound of Luffy calling your name, shouting for Chopper; there's a knot tied inside your mouth, you shake away tremors and tears all the same. You erupt yet there's nothing to be burnt, it's only ash that leaves your mouth— only the colourful petals of the wisteria plant that wash over the green of the open deck, burnt in hues with blood.

The next island is a spring island, known for their sweet peaches and sweeter music.

You watched Luffy devour two peaches in his hands, the ripe skin melting underneath his teeth— pale with a dusted blush until it snapped into a bloody red, melted at the pit. Then he's gone with a rustle of mikan trees as you held out a basket for Nami to delicately place her mikans in; apparently, she'd managed to catch the attention of some peach vendor with her sweet tangerines and swindled the poor man out of his money for a basket.

The streets are lined with lively hums and a strumming of odd instruments, music escapes through every crevice of a worn-down building as Luffy jumps from stall to stall, drooling over the goods before you're beckoning him back with his lunchbox and a promise of meat after you finish this errand for Nami. On your way to the stall, you hear faint chattering that doesn't interest you but Luffy straightened up beside you and turns to stare at the people as they argue on who had managed to grow the biggest peach this year.

You sigh, grabbing hold of Luffy's collar when he stops to stare at them and drag him off to the stall vendor who had fallen victim to Nami's schemes. The exchange is easy enough— give him the basket (ignore the fact that Nami had managed to make it look like it was overflowing by artfully bunching up a cloth on the bottom and filled gaps between the fruits with flowers) and make sure you've got the correct amount of money. It's when Luffy asks the stall vendor who has the biggest peach this year that things begin to go downhill.

Rather than answering Luffy's question, the man goes on a tangent about some kind of festival for a God and how the biggest peach will be the offering to said God this year— apparently, Shumi (the woman who owns the fabrics shops) had managed to get her hands on this, that, or the other to help her husband grow a peach large enough to bring doubt to the fact that Gyupuri had managed to grow the largest peach (again) this year.

Luffy insists on tracking them both down to help the people come to a decision as he wiped away the drool on his chin. Resigned, you managed to find Shumi first with her shop being the only one in town that sold fabrics and she denies you both permission to see the peach; Gyupuri, on the other hand, is more than happy to show you to the peach he grows. He takes you straight out of town, into the forest, and then up the mountain to where there's a clearing full of nothing but flesh coloured peaches.

As you listen to Gyupuri's story on how he was merely taking after his father to grow these strangely sized peaches, you have to keep Luffy in your hold so he doesn't go running to the giant peach and take a bite out of what could be for a God. Somehow though, he manages to get a handful of flat peaches when you weren't looking and when you attempt to apologise to Gyupuri, he doesn't seem to be fazed, shoving a few more peaches into your hand and telling you it's fine.

"So, who is this God anyway?" Luffy asks, his legs wrapped around your waist and chin hooked on your shoulder as he leaned back, satisfied with cheeks full of the peach you were holding in your hand. You turn to give him a look, but he merely stares at you back.

The people here must have made a unanimous decision to answer questions from the left side of the field because Gyupuri only tells you the name of this God when he drags you and Luffy up a hill to stare at a statue of this God carved out of generic stone.

To be polite, you call the statue pretty; Luffy feels no need to be polite, so he says it's not really. When you look at him to furrow your eyebrows at him, he's already looking at you.

When you're back on the ship, money handed to Nami, you think about that moment so much that it grows moss in your mind and vines burst through the crevices of the worn–down artifact you've made out his gaze to be. You throw up everything you manage to eat and feel hollow and worthy when you meet Luffy's eyes in Chopper's office again.

There's a chill that follows your days after that.

It's persistent and stubborn in a way that cruelly reminds you of Luffy. On a brighter side, you've got an excuse to be lazy in bed though it irks your bones not to have the weight of you walking thrumming up your body. You get visits from the Strawhats, get your food delivered to you, some of the crew shuffling into your room to keep you entertained with some card games and the likes— you get Luffy consistently making his way into your room and treating it as any other room on his Sunny. He comes in, always makes himself home on the bed, and talks about what he did today. At some point, it becomes less endearing and more annoying to be treated as though you were actually dying. (You hadn't told them for a reason.)

Four days after Chopper had resolutely punished you with bed rest, Luffy decides that he was going to start sleeping in your room. Apparently, your face had translated over what your head was thinking too quickly because he starts whining, saying that he wouldn't get to see you enough if he doesn't do this and, well, since you've always had a tender, raw, skinned soft spot for the boy, you end up saying yes.

He spends his first night telling you what he was going to spend tomorrow doing and you come to the realisation that every other sentence contains you. (Going to find more beetles to show you... Chopper told Sanji it'd be good to get more meat into your diet... Zoro accidentally cut snakes and ladders in half so Nami is giving me money to see if we can find one for you so we can play... Robin said there's a really pretty flower on this next island… For you… For you...) It’s all there laid bare and you cannot face it. You hide your face into the crook of your elbow and wretch out a cough. Luffy frowns but doesn't mention it. He talks himself into sleep and you lay awake to him, trying to keep yourself from blooming throughout the night so he doesn't wake up, cold and still.

When you're startled awake with misty embrace in a dream, you see that Luffy has gone.

What he has left is his straw hat and a mouthpiece of his greatness. The straw is rough against your fingers, resembling the thorns that grows along roses and you stare at it in your lap until you can feel the roughness in your throat— just when you think you need to get water, Sanji shows up with breakfast. You eye the cigarette in his lips and ignore the settling of the tray on your bedside table, watch the smoke fight the smell of scrambled eggs and bits of bacon to take over your room.

"We're at an island?"

Sanji walks around your bed, finding himself comfortable on the couch across the foot of your bed. "We docked early this morning," you watched his smoke rise, ash falling to the wooden floor of your room, waving and grasping hands up to God. Sanji keeps himself entertained by looking around your room, his foot pushing around odd leaves and petals on the floor before he nods over to the plate. "Eat." Then he's gone.

You stare at the tray, settling Luffy's straw hat aside, you shuffle to the end of your bed and take the fork in your hands— you look at the plate until you swear you can taste the eggs in your mouth and the slight bursts of saltiness that'll come from the bacon and you have to wash it down with the glass of water he's given you. You push it aside and opt to go back to sleep.

You dream of a still life on top of a hill, overlooking a dock as the Sunny pulls back out into the sea; you thrash but find every part of you rooted down to one spot, the wind picks up and you feel tangles of what could be hair or leaves hitting against a part of your body. You're still rooted despairingly in a garden of silks and duvets when you wake, Luffy had found himself unable to keep away from your breakfast but when you sit up and look a little closer, you see a pile of the diced bacon bits shoved off to the side as he shovelled eggs into his mouth.

Shattering free from the earth with a faltering cough broken into four, you shuffled yourself up and spit out a cluster of wisteria. At this point, you do not need to look at Luffy to know what his face looks like; he turned to face you, cheeks full and quickly finishing the eggs to shuffle closer to you on the bed with a book in his hands. "You left your book under the plate."

It's a hardback children's book, pulled out of Sunny's library and coloured a light blue that resembled the sky and broken apart by a sunflower in the middle and petals around it, the title curled around the sunflower. You know that the book was left in the library when you were having your episode. The cover is smooth to the touch as Luffy gives it to you and ends up knocking his shoulders against yours in his attempt to get closer; your eyes moved over to the tray of food and you think of Sanji, who'd grown up in the North Blue where this children's story was more popular amongst the romantic commonwealth. 

He knows, you think, and it fills you with a dread that the wisteria blossoms feast upon delightfully; he knows, and he could tell everyone, the vines throb over your heart as Luffy opens the book over your lap and looks up, expectantly at you.

Myrsa was a pretty girl, enough so that praises sang for her ended up calling upon the scorn of love's Goddess. The depiction of her getting cursed is almost comical, stricken by lightning as she returns from a forest with a basket full of flowers and mushrooms. "What happens next? What happens next?" Luffy pushes his face closer to the book, tangling a rubbery leg with yours as he moves impossibly closer. "How does Myrsa beat up the God?"

It's the certainty he holds that Myrsa will beat up God that makes you laugh, it's the fact that she does not beat anything that makes you tremble, shaking coughs and petals out your throat. Luffy seems to think that the book is too excitable, trying to pry it away from you and saying that he can ask Robin to read it to him later so you should just rest. "Don't you want to know if Myrsa will beat up the God now?" You ask instead, knowing the answer will be yes.

Perhaps they were the wrong words to convince Luffy because when you're on the last page, Myrsa buried in a forgotten land and her love used as fertiliser for a field of sunflowers, he's threatening to beat up a God made up to exact revenge for Myrsa. It's a lot more cheerful than you had expected— all the characters drawn with round faces, small bodies, and black dots as eyes. It makes death seem redeemable. 

After Luffy hauls himself out of your room, in search of the God had turned Myrsa into sunflowers, you force the bacon down your mouth and bring the tray out to Sanji. You linger in the kitchen, eyes watching him as he scrubbed the dishes and danced around the kitchen, no doubt knowing why you were there. He doesn't seem to want to be the one to approach the topic just based on the way he refused to stop even for a moment for the past fifteen minutes you've been there.

You know nothing about Sanji past the fact that he's blond, he's a cook, and he used to be a prince from North Blue's Germa Kingdom.

"You know Myrsa didn't die because she had hanahaki." Your hip meets the edge of an island, arms crossed over your chest as you watched Sanji finally slow to a halt, throwing a glance over at you. He takes his cigarette between two fingers, breathing in for a moment and then takes it out, holding it out to you. "What she was cursed with, wasn't ever meant to be able to kill her."

"I know."

Sanji takes the cigarette back after you shake your head, shrugging a little as he continued. "Myrsa died."

You laugh a little, "I read the book."

There's a point he's trying to make that's as foreign to you as the notion of a love that doesn't hurt but he turns a glance to you that almost reads like he's disappointed in you and it settles nicely against the vines choking you through. You straighten up, uncrossing your arms and his visible eye wanders back over the pots he has boiling on the stove. "You liked the ending?" The ending of the North Blue story was a two–page spread of a sunflower field, a planet of bright yellows and a dull light blue, clouds breaking apart overwhelming tones of sunny golds and drowning diamonds.

A tree split awkwardly in half due to the spine of the book, curved in shape and pinched in the middle until you held the pages at the edges and pulled to straighten in down. "It was pretty," a gentle breeze running through the leaves shedding from the tree, a shiver to the wooden flesh that split apart if looked at the right way by the right man. Myrsa was beautiful, even in a death she didn't pick treated her well.

How could you hope to live when she did not?

You find a lot of things pretty now; you wonder if that's the dead crawling in you that is beginning to appreciate the life around. Robin sat on the deck with a cup of cooling coffee on a table in front of her and a book in her hand, Nami stood between her rows of mikan trees, Zoro straining under the weights of his responsibilities, Brook with a violin to his shoulder. The sky drowned over the ocean as Luffy leaned his head against you on Sunny's figurehead, his voice a soft beat over the water rushing against the hull of the ship. He's talking about Shanks and his dream and your heart aches selfishly; his skin gulps down the orange light of the dawning sun and you resigned yourself to a death loving him.

You wonder if Luffy still thinks of his dead brother, your tongue slips against the bark of your gums, and you open your mouth without thinking. "Luffy," you hear spoken into the wind, "will you tell me about your brother?"

"Sabo?" He's clapping his feet together excitedly, turning from the sky to you with a large grin on his face, "he's a part of the Revelation Army— no, wait revocation? Revenge Army? Renovation Army! Wait— that's not right."

"No, the other one." A whisper haunts the wind, 'the dead one' written in its movement.

There's a certain hesitation to his words that brings you to the realisation that being loved by Luffy is a wonderful thing. He's never been one to be articulate with words, picking the simple ones that come to mind first without a moment's hesitation but strangely the simple–minded way served him well when it came to love. Love is not articulate either— it's one of the simplest things in the world— so when it's met with someone like Luffy, it blossoms into an art form of all things beautiful.

You regret have not meeting Luffy when Ace was around. Dancing around his features is a tender skip of tightness; his shoulders pulled up to his ears, head ducked down, lips awkward and tongue thick as he told you the story of being accepted to be Ace's brother. Hues of embers fluoresce, dripping down on Sunny's figurehead as you reached an arm around him; his words are stained in blood and adoration, strained and slow but Luffy persists, his love persists.

"You should've met him!" He finishes, turning to you with a light chuckle. "You would've loved him."

Your hand falls onto his shoulder, pulling him closer despite the crawl of vomit up your throat and you leaned your head against his straw hat. "Maybe I will."

Death is another thing you think is simple. It's as easy as slipping into Chopper's office to find him hunched over his desk, his hooves holding onto a pestle as he circled the butt around in a mortar. "Ah, you're here?" He glanced over his shoulder as you walked around him and settled onto one of the beds he has in his room. "Give me a second! I nearly have your medicine ready."

"Chopper," you think you've played this out in your head before, "I have hanahaki."

His arms slow down to a halt, his face dropping by several degrees; the previous petals that made up his hopeful and cheerful expression flutter to the floor, guided by the winds you'd altered with those four words.

"Hanahaki?" Chopper's words are slow as he settled the pestle down, "I thought— but it doesn't exist?"

"Funnily enough, it died off." You tell him with a little laugh. "As more people took to the seas and chased after the one piece, less people fell victim to hanahaki." The Chopper you've told this to before in your mind was definitely less devastated and surprised to be greeted by the fact that you have hanahaki.

He's stumbling over his words, trying to pick something to focus on first as his face was scrunched up, eyebrows furrowed, and lips open into disbelief. "How long have you known? Why didn't you tell me? You'll have the surgery, right? You can trust me; I'll definitely save you. When did it first start?" Your head is pounding with the incessant questions he spits at you, unable to answer any of them as any allowance for a response was filled in by another inquiry. Suddenly, he's pulling his mind to a stop as he turned back to you, solemn and sad and asks, "who is it?" 

It's easy to tell how Luffy has touched people, Chopper makes note of the way your head tilts and you smile and it's obvious that there was no one else capable of calling upon your love.

"And the surgery?"

The look on your face, although foreign to you, tells him all he needs to know.

That doesn't stop him though, he keeps himself by your side and urges (pleads) you to have the surgery; his constant presence becomes a problem when he makes a point of forcing Luffy away from you. It's small at first, trying to distract Luffy with other things, claiming to want to be the one to watch over Luffy when you all dock so you're not given the chance, clinging onto your arms and demanding your attention when Luffy threatens to take it away from him. Then, when Luffy notices that he's been holding onto this flower for hours, fingers pinched around a sunflower stem to ask you how you get seeds from the flower to eat, and every time he's seen a speck of your colour from corners, Chopper shows up to drag you away or points a finger somewhere to shout about a meat mountain, he has a problem.

You notice it's about the meat mountain at first though.

He's slamming the door to Chopper's office after the fourth time, shouting, "Chopper! Where's the meat mountain you keep talking about?" He doesn't seem to care about the fact that Chopper is checking up on you as he stomps into the room, plopping himself down right next to you. Chopper pushes him away when your shoulders brush against each other and you're coughing out bloodied petals. His attention diverts when he hears the shaking of your cough, how you knock into him uncontrollably as your torso leans to meet your thighs, hands deep into the foam edge of the mattress. Petals splatter onto your shoes, clinging to the leather with saliva and re–painting the laces in a sickly red. Luffy’s touch is intrusive, a hand tightened on your thigh that burns your skin to ash and forces vines to splutter out your skin. They attack him, you reel yourself away from Luffy in hopes that they don’t reach him but in some disgusting way, they force themselves to new lengths to coil around his limbs. Spindling up and up and up and you can’t see his face anymore as a thick rope of vines in the shape of his hand reaches out for you, they keep moving up until you only see his hat— your back knocks against the wall. You sternly tell yourself this death is acceptable; the vines grow limp.

When you’ve calmed down enough, the first thing Luffy asks you is, “why aren’t you better yet?” And you feel as though you’re being scolded for some reason; your eyes flicker over to Chopper, fingers tangled together in front of your thighs from the corner of the room you’ve forced yourself into. When Luffy catches the wandering glances— as if you’re trying to keep him out of something— he treats you exactly how you’re acting. Like a criminal.

“Chopper?” It’s unnerving how his eyes are still on you, no trace of expression on his face, “out.”

“But—”

“Out.” Chopper throws you an unhelpful glance as he passes you to get to the door.

You’ve always had the wrong impression of Luffy— everyone that doesn’t know him has the same image; he’s a pirate that has taken down warlord after warlord, who has brought horrifying change and shifts the balance of authority wherever his feet take him. Hearing hushed whispers of him and his close affiliates in the lightened haze of booze, to distract from a tooth getting knocked out of place never does much for his image either. Though it wouldn’t be right to say that Luffy is wholly good either— he’s selfish. Selfish and impossibly kind and downright disgusting with the handling of his own needs; the sound of your name fizzing between his teeth has you startled, nodding your head back to him on the bed you’d left him at.

“You’re hiding something.” It’s not a question nor is it an accusation of any kind. It’s an observation. Luffy slides himself off the bed, his sandals comically slap against the floor of Chopper’s office, “tell me.” His hands fall onto your shoulders, one stays there and the other slides down. He treats your skin like an amusement park for his pleasure; his nails drag across the goosebumps of your bicep, pressing down on raised scars and then splashes into the palm of your hand, dragging ripples in the centre.

You hesitate, twisting your fingers together and pulling as if to attempt to dislodge the odd feeling that follows his fingertips. “Are you asking as a captain?” Despite how general expectations of Luffy remain pretty low to those who do know him, it’s also known that Luffy has a nerve in him that’s impossibly receptive to hurt. There’s a certain way to activate it and when it’s on, it doesn't quieten down until its idiot owner is pleased. Luffy scrunches his face up in an odd way, displeasured at your question as if he couldn’t believe you’d ask him something that hurtful, and his head tilts.

“Tell me.” You’re met with an unwavering stare, the hand on your shoulder tightens and there’s a hardness to it that you’ve never associated with your rubber captain— you can feel the bone in his fingers, stern and undeniable. Your eyes trace over the exposed, tanned skin of his bicep and you wish that you could force your vines through his skin to crawl into his chest and listen to the tremors that’ll run up your devil fruit from his beating heart for some kind of answer. There’s a sudden breath that’s available to you that isn’t tainted and clogged, trapped before it even meets your lungs, but it burns in a new way as you stare at Luffy, scared and terrified of a new life that’ll be forced upon you if you tell him what’s wrong with you.

You open your mouth with an excuse, but Luffy huffs and the words shrivel in your mouth, collapsing to a grain on your tongue and when you close your mouth, you taste dirt. “Luffy,” you beg, “I can’t— just, I’ll be fine.”

There’s a hint of some anger in his gaze before it turns into a haunting realisation, “Chopper knows, doesn’t he?” He pushes you aside, “I’ll just ask Chopper.”

There’s a ringing distant in your ears that chimes like the bell of the church from that place two islands ago, maybe three— you haven’t been too good with time recently. Sunny shakes like the earth as a body hits the pavement, you feel disgusting and heavy and an itch claws through your palms where Luffy’s hand has just been. You’re sure it’s Chopper he’s shaking an answer from but you hear Robin’s voice, calling for him to calm down and when that doesn’t work, Sanji cuts in. It all gets further and further away, you think about the planks of Sunny opening to welcome you back into that darkness from nights ago, you think about being choked by one of your vines, you think about the wisteria blooming whole in your lungs— you think and you think and think and suddenly, it’s all nothing. You’re dying, you think, that’s a fact, what else? Luffy is the reason. Or maybe you’re the reason.

“Luffy,” were you the one talking? “Luffy.” The voice comes again, stern and your eyebrows furrow with the same tension that the voice is carrying. “Thank you for being my captain.”

Not that it surprises you, Luffy punches you.

[mosquego359]

One Kiss and a Quidditch Match — Prologue

Pair: Cedric Diggory x Male Slytherin Reader

Word count: 717 words

Summary of the book: You and Cedric Diggory hate each other. It has always been this way. But everything changes one night when you kiss each other at a party. Now, it seems you can’t escape each other — from being partnered up in Herbology for an important project to having to help Cedric during the Triwizard Tournament.

Summary of the chapter: Before the Quidditch Match of 1990-1991, you and Cedric never talked, never acknowledged each other's presence. But because of that loss, he hated you.

Notes: This is my first Cedric fanfic so please forgive me for any OOC moments. Also, I've changed a few things about Hogwarts like adding a couple extra holidays and new locations such as the all houses lobby on the first floor where everyone can hang out.

Content warning: There is nothing in this chapter but there is violence and cursing in the rest of the book. I may also write a few sexual scenes if people request it.

!PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE WITHOUT PERMISSION OR CREDITS TO ME!

...

Cedric hated you. And thus, you hated him.

It was like an endless circle of hatred; one cannot hate without the other, just as flowers cannot live without bees and vice versa. Every glare from his end was met by a cocky victory smirk from you whenever your team won a quidditch game, and every time he scored a point higher than you during a test, he would flaunt his success while you would grind your teeth in frustration.

It wasn’t always this competitive. In fact, before your 2nd year, he never talked to you and you barely knew he existed. In the past, you were ghosts, walking past one another without glare or snarky remarks.

That all changed when Slytherin was up against Hufflepuff in the 1990-1991 Hogwarts’ Quidditch Tournament. At the time, Cedric had been assigned as a backup whenever the Keeper got hurt, since the team was unaware of his flying talent.

Near three quarters through the game, the current Keeper, a 6th year called Richard Chiswick, was hit by a particularly violent Bludger (no doubt a Slytherin cast a spell on it) and was forced to sit out for the rest of the match, while Cedric replaced him.

He was by no means an excellent Keeper, but he wasn’t necessarily bad either — quick reactions and a keen eye were a superb advantage for him as a Quidditch player — but one Slytherin always managed to slip in a goal even when his concentration was at its highest.

You, the prodigy Slytherin Chaser. The one who had been scoring point after point for your team. You were incredible.

You would zoom in the air, dodging Hufflepuff after Hufflepuff, Quaffle tucked under your arm. Soaring across the field, you were beauty, you were grace, and you would “accidentally” kick players in the face.

Every time you had the Quaffle, ready to make a goal, Cedric would tense up, ready to block any and all of your attacks. You were, however, much too rapid for him, so whenever you would try and score a goal unless your aim was wack, you’d constantly grant your team those 10 glorious points. He was baffled at your capabilities, never expecting someone the same age as him to have so much raw talent. Or was it just that you already knew how to play?

An hour in, Slytherin were 150 points ahead of Hufflepuff, standing at almost 400 points and you had the Quaffle. The Hufflepuff Seeker had spotted the Snitch and was racing against time to snatch it out of the air and deprive you of the 10 points that would mark Slytherin’s victory.

The Seeker was mere inches away from ending the game but you were quicker — swiftly launching the Quaffle, the spherical object curving through the air. 

Cedric desperately raced to stop it, extending his arm to block it but either he was too late or miscalculated the trajectory — the ball whooshed past him and into the goal area. 

Not even a second later, the Hufflepuff Seeker caught the Golden Snitch.

It was over; the game was over. Slytherin won by 10 points and it was Cedric’s fault. All his fault, just because he couldn’t block that stupid Quaffle!

The Chasers on his team scored 230 points total and the seeker had caught the Snitch but despite all that effort, they still lost. Because of him…

The next few moments were a blur of reassurances from his teammates, booing from most of the crowd, and a booming echo of cheers from the winning house’s spectators. Cedric wasn’t focused on any of those distractions, though; all he could see was you.

A big, goofy grin was spread across your sweaty face, gums showing and teeth not touching. You were out of breath and surrounded by a sea of Slytherins — particularly younger students — laughing and hugging you, some jumping with joy and others slinging their arms around your shoulders or patting your back in congratulation.

A cold feeling enveloped Cedric’s typically good-natured heart. He hated you. He hated you for that win, for making him seem incapable, and for looking so happy about it. 

A fire in his soul ignited. He wanted to crush you, squash whatever pride you would ever have and wipe that annoying smile off your face.

...

Thank you for reading, please comment any suggestions you have or any issues I should fix.

Chapter 1

[tteokdoroki]

˚✧₊・🍉 — SPONSOR A WIP FOR GAZA !

hello everyone!! i wanted to join the writing project ficsforgaza with the intention of raising more awareness and hopefully donations for the ongoing cause. i am a little slow on writing but hopefully this will motivate myself and others for a good cause <3!

rate: $1 USD per 100 words !

instructions: please follow this link and donate to a vetted fund of your choosing. after doing so, send an off-anon ask to myself including the following: a redacted screenshot as proof (hiding any personal information), a link to the fundraiser you’ve donated to, the name of the wip you’re sponsoring.

example: hi aali! i have donated to help mashael and her family. i would like to sponsor an alternative to grief [ screenshot showing $5 usd has been donated - equivalent to 500 words ]

i will not be publishing asks, but for transparency, will be keeping a record of evidence to send to @ficsforgaza — this is to ensure individuals are not reusing screenshots sent to myself or other writers. the wips will be updated regularly.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🍉 wips disclaimer ! - they are below the cut.

there will also be a donation goal for each wip just to ensure that I don’t get overwhelmed! i work full time and write a little slow, but the main goal is to raise awareness and donate to an important cause. there are various lengths available, subject to change but dont worry if i don’t have anything you fancy! please check out the other authors who are apart of this project!

note: minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. sfw, nsfw and dark content is included in the wips below.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🍉 current wips available !

an alternative to grief; katsuki bakugou.

tags ! pro hero!bakugou, nurse!reader, strangers to lovers, dating after loss, children, therapy, grief, hurt comfort, fluff, angst, smut + part one of three.

with the sudden death of your husband, you find yourself alone with a son, angry at the world and in the corner of a therapy group specifically for grieving spouses of pro heroes. it isn’t until you lock eyes with a familiar, formidable red that you come to realise… there is happiness after death and alternatives to grief.

current word count: 7,545/10,000+

donation goal word count: 580/5,000

my doll; eijirou kirishima.

tags ! pro hero!au, soft dom!kirishima, dumbification, dollification, smut + dark content.

eijirou kirishima was born with an innate desire to protect, to give, to dominate and perhaps that is why he slowly begins to take over your life, treating you as though you’re some dainty little doll…belonging only to him.

current word count: 2,647/3,500

donation goal word count: 1,000/1,000

something i thought belonged to me; izuku midoriya.

tags ! pro hero!au, college!au, strangers to friends to lovers, coming of age, misunderstandings, fluff, angst + smut.

after abandoning your dream school to start anew and get away from your shitty ex, you adopt a stray l cat to cope with your lonesome…only to find out the pro hero exchange student next door has had the exact same idea.

current word count: 134/15,000+

donation goal word count: 2240/5,000

swingsets; yuuji itadori.

tags ! college!au, small town!au, summer romance, coming of age, first loves, self discovery, misunderstandings, fluff, angst + smut, part one of many.

everyone always says you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. but life moves quick and yuuji itadori has only one year left of his degree to figure out what it is that he wants. making it big in the big city of tokyo isn’t all what it’s cut out to be, so he decides to return to his roots, and indirectly, return to you. OR a jjk small town!au where each sorry connects to another. this is the story of yuuji itadori, reconnecting with his first love.

current word count: 0/20,000+

donation goal word count: 1820/5,000

other ways to help can be found here and here.

— all rights reserved © TTEOKDOROKI 2020-2024. all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend on tiktok any of the works seen here.

[kaleidolon]

Circa UXM 199. Kitty confronts Magneto over the dread danger of… rye bread.

The Fanfic Reposting Project reposts one of my fanfics every day at 3 pm, generally from AO3 though there are some in more obscure locations than that.

[shinkaneweek]

Happy first day of September!

We are happy to announce that we will be holding our fifth Shinkane Week from Saturday, October 12th to Friday October 18th 2024.

This year's prompts are as follows:

DAY ONE: Urban or Rural The key is setting. Include elements of streets, cars, skyscrapers vs trees, mushrooms, lakes, etc. DAY TWO: Cyberpunk or Mystery Psycho-Pass is a brainchild of both genres. Pick your favorite and follow its tropes and conventions (i.e. clues, deduction, forensic vs hacker, pills, body modification, etc.) DAY THREE: Time or Space Play with either. Time loops, time travel, non-linear storytelling vs alternate universes, space travel, or space as a theme, etc. DAY FOUR: Trick or Treat Spooky season is upon us! Give us a good scare to honor the month or indulge us with some hurt/comfort or fluff. DAY FIVE: Drafts or Snippets Time to settle this. Explore their unfinished business as a theme. Or take it quite literally and show us your unfinished projects or create a quick piece in an hour or less. Post it fully in its incomplete glory. DAY SIX: Leather or Lace Smut day! If that’s not your thing, explore the platonic or domestic aspects of our favorite two. DAY SEVEN: Free Day Anything goes.

As with other past events, prompts act more as guidelines and can be interpreted however you wish. You can do all days, some days, or even just one.

The rules for your reference:

Any medium (gifs, graphics, fanart, fanfic, AMVs, etc.) is welcome.

We don’t condone stealing or reposting of other people’s works. If you are editing someone else’s art for your own, we advise asking the artist and crediting accordingly for their usage.

Please tag your content as “#shinkaneweek” (no spaces) to be reblogged. Our submit box is also open for those who have no Tumblr blogs.

You can post on Tumblr, Twitter, or both. We will reblog or retweet accordingly. We will post links to OP's tweets on this blog to redirect to Twitter-only works.

For any questions, concerns, or suggestions, feel free to send us an ask or DM us privately at this blog or on our Twitter account.

We're so excited to see what you all create!

Love,

Your faithful mods

[blu-ish]

BLU BIO TIME

[original links: 1 2]

Welcome to my blog! Thought I'd finally make one of these, like a responsible Tumblr user, pfttt.

Will it be disorganized? Oh yeah, absolutely.

🔹Call me Blu! When I'm not running around doin whatever I like to crash into Tumblr and relax.

🔹Lil about me: Currently a college student, I'm a history major/geek and I want to study Law! It's been a dream of mine since I was a kid. That and to also travel the world on my badass imaginary motorcycle, haha. But my favorite thing to do to unwind is draw my fav characters!

🔹I mostly draw whatever I'm into at the moment, mostly Sonic related tho. [He holds a special place in my heart lmao]

🔹I'm into too many things to list.. [Trust me I legit tried and gave up help me] I LOVE VIDEO GAMES AND ART AND SHOWS AND AMAZING PEOPLE AND-- *gets shot*

🔹please, please, please DO NOT repost my art/writing or videos 💙thanks!

🔹you can find my art under #my art [couldn't find anything cool to call them siighhh] You can also find my edits under #blu-ish edits.

🔹My inbox is always open, feel free to ask me anything or show me something cool, idc xD (ILL TRY TO ANSWER AS MANY AS I CAN LMAO I LOVE GETTING MESSAGES :D) side note: if I dont answer ur asks right away, thats bc I'm probs drawing something for them xD. Or tumblr ate it... hsjshsjsh

Okay, I think that's everything..? Oh well, stay safe guys and stay away from people in funny hats ;)

Links to some of my fanfics bc I have yet to have a Ao3 account hsjshsj I HAVE AN AO3 ACCOUNT find me @ BluesCluesSonk04

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▪️Silent Nights▪️🌆(Sonadow) UNFINISHED

Intro Chapter

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

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🔹Short Sonadow Prime Mini-Fic I made <3

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💙Sticks and Stones (Sonadow)

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💝Seasonal Love🍂 (Sonadow)

Part One

Part Two

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🌦️Song of the storm (Sonadow)

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PROJECT SELENE AU MASTERPOST

Project Selene AU Essay

Character Art! Designs may change overtime hsjshsjs but stay mostly the same besides clothing xD

Older Selene!!

The fam 💖

Stone and Eggman LMAO

Selene Flavors

DONT FORGET DAILY CLICKS!!!!: