#its just me and my horrible making ship names

[tbmkit]

i love yellowjackets but the fandom has gotta be within the top worst fandoms ever cause lottienat shippers, travnat shippers, and mistynat shippers fighting all the time piss me off holy shit

lottienat shippers tear down and undermine travis' character. like a lot of them hate on travis to no end and completely disregard his entire character arc and how he grows and changes as a person. they mischaracterize the FUCK out of natalie and leave misty in the dust completely and forget how important she is for natalie.

travnat shippers hate on lottie and have been lowkey ableist to her, not to even mention how they disregard how important lottie is for BOTH nat and travis. they also call misty all sorts of horrible names and forget just how traumatized she is like shes Just a girl guys.

mistynat shippers genuinely barely exist icl out of all of the ones above are like the most tame cause you Dont see them... but also they tend to mischaracterize natalie's relationship with the other characters, undermine how travis' life & death impacted natalie, and disregard natalie's connection to lottie/travis entirely

like guys omfg stop fighting we watch a gayass show with gayass people you can ship whoever the fuck u want and enjoy it. my gawd. the shippers who hate everyone that ships sm different + extending to hating the fans of the other characters to no end fucking PISSSSS MEEE OFFFFF omg just have fun with ur friends

this is a fictional show with fictional characters with fictional feelings Ur gonna be fine if someone ships ur fave with someone else like i promise you will live. esp when the characters are this complex like EVERY one of the ships i mentioned make sense!!!! no need to trash others holy shit grow up yall are too grown to be acting like this

and bc i feel the need to clarify... nobodys saying u cant dislike characters or ships <3 u very much can . But when youre constantly getting into ship wars and disregard characters and how theyre written thats just poor etiquette and disrespectful. and when u attack the fans of certain characters thats when u get into such loser territory theres no return (Haha! Like The Opening Song!) its so fucking lame GET A LIFE!

[incorrectphibrain]

Kaito: What...?

Nonoha: I think.. we should see other people...

Kaito: Are you being for r—

Kaito: WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH THE CONFETTI?!

Gammon:

Freecell:

Rook:

[unholyhelbig]

More Wandanat pls 😊

Title: Are you Avoiding me?

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Word Count: 2935

Warnings: pet names, sexual situations implied, broken glass, and horrible spelling (I don't proofread).

Summary: It's becoming harder and harder for reader to avoid both Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff. Things only get worse when they're cornered in their lab.

[A/n: This is just a little drabble, that's been sitting in my drafts for months, nothing with too much sustinance! I've been distracting myself lately with Wenclair content instead of writing]

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There were thousands of mugs with Shield’s logo on the side that floated around the compound, changing hands between agents and the high-ranking Avengers. It’s why you felt less bad about dropping the one in your grasp to the floor. It shattered into dozens of pieces, and the rest of the pale coffee you were drinking seeped out of the wreckage.

“Ow! Why? Why?” Clint’s voice had turned to a growl by the end of his sentence. He had righted himself and gripped his own mug to his chest, leveling you with a glare that was much too vicious this early in the morning.

The words were trapped in your throat and you dropped down behind the kitchen island, pressing yourself close enough to the wood to become apart of the grain. If you could just hide long enough for them to wander away, then all would be well.

The archer glanced down at you, and then back to the hallway that passed the communal kitchen. Natasha Romanoff had her brow furrowed, lifting a sculped eyebrow at him. She had just come back from her morning run, a fine sheen of sweat coating her muscles. He gave her a shrug and that was enough encouragement to send her on her way.

You let out a long sigh at the sound of her footsteps retreating. “Don’t look at me like that, Barton.”

“I can look at you anyway I want to, you’re the one that would rather be on the ground than talk to Natasha.”

It wasn’t just talking to Natasha. It was looking at her too; breathing the same air as her, meeting her fern-colored eyes across the room and ceasing to have a tangible thought pattern. You were an Avenger, for fucks sake, an ex-KGB spy shouldn’t make you fumble the way that you did.

“It’s not that hard, y/n. She’s harmless, really.”

That was easy for him to say. You huffed quietly and picked up the broken pieces of mug before depositing them into the trashcan. Coffee would make you too jittery anyway. So, if you really thought about it, your nerves had done you a favor.

“She’s terrifying.” You said, reaching for an empty glass. You filled it up with tap water and tentatively took a sip. It went down clunky and cold. “And gorgeous.”

“A combination that renders you absolutely useless.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Clint lifted both of his eyebrows at you, not saying a word. He didn’t have to. And you didn’t need all of this judgement from him in the first place. He had been so scared of Natasha that he couldn’t bring her in, in the first place. He would tell it differently, but you didn’t stick around to find out.

There were other things that you had to do; like a mountain of paperwork and a few modifications to the Vibranium arm that had found its way onto your desk. A cold shower wouldn’t do you any harm either. And if your fingers were to wander? No one would know.

You flashed him the middle finger, abandoning all thoughts of nourishment for the day. Tony kept his labs stocked with bottled water and granola bars after some nagging from Pepper. That would hold you over until lunch and if you started to drift, there were plenty of electrical sources that would give you a low-grade jolt.

Most of the time, you kept your head down, earbuds in even if they weren’t playing music. It was easier not to get caught up in the fanfare of the Avengers. Most of them were human, and they made human mistakes even if they weren’t.

You answered your superiors and fixed any problems that arose with tech and machinery, sometimes even costuming. Those things were simple, cut and dry. Your feelings for Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff weren’t even slightly that.

There was admiration from afar, and Clint would even say a numbness that clouded your brain completely. That celebrity that all other agents produced around any of the spandex wearing heroes often evaded you.

But each time Wanda stepped through the doors of your lab to get a personal watch fixed, or once, a VHS player that had the scent of smoke and burning plastic. She’d jutted out her lower lip when a copy of ‘I Love Lucy’ was burnt to a crisp.

Despite your meager salary, you had found one at the thrift and set it outside her door without a word. Not a romantic gesture, Clint. You should have seen her face. It was something you’d do as a friend, a co-worker.

Your shoulder collided with something strong, yet soft. There was a small grunt released from the back of your throat. You got a mouthful of the scent of rain and vanilla tobacco. But strong hands were suddenly gripping your forearms, keeping you steady.

Your eyes widened and met with curious hazel ones. You thought you gave Natasha enough time to get back to her room. But here she was, in that tight tank top, sweat drenching the collar. She looked beautiful, the lights overhead hitting her.

Agent Romanoff reached up and pulled one of your earbuds out, letting it hang loose against your chest. “Doctor y/l/n, are you avoiding me?”

“Avoiding?” You laughed with a little too much force, compensating for the lost air by snorting and instantly regretting it. A light blush fell over your cheeks. She didn’t look mad, in fact, she looked quite amused. “No, no. I’m not avoiding.”

“So, what would you call ducking down behind the counter in the kitchen?”

“How did you…”

“I’m a superspy and you’re not exactly subtle.”

Yeah. You’d forgotten about that. She didn’t’ allude to the fact, simply continuing on her way and leaving you to your horrible conversation with Clint. But then she had waited in front of your lab, her own clearance not allowing her past the sliding doors without you in it.

She lilted her head to the side “Don’t worry about it, it’s actually rather adorable.”

The heat against your cheeks started to spread down your neck and to your collarbone. If she noticed, and of course she noticed, she didn’t’ say anything. But she released her hold, and you fought back a whimper of disappointment.

“What can I do for you, Agent Romanoff?”

“Us, actually.” She responded, eyes darting towards the locked doors. “I’d rather talk somewhere a bit more private, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely that’s alight. If this is about the Widow Bites that I redesigned then I can most definitely tweak them. We don’t want you to get a jolt every time you use them. Not that I’m saying you’re not skilled enough to avoid that,”

You kept talking as you swiped your card and it with a beep, walking into the instant familiarity of your lab. There was a coolness there for tactical purposes, but it washed over your heated skin and hopefully took some of the soft color away.

You started to flit around the lab, flicking on all the lights and the different purifiers. There was an experiment that Fitz was working on that needed a rotating heat source and that was turned on as well.

“If we remove the outer panel and with a little tweaking, we can make them non-lethal, heavy with stopping power. They can break up under the sub-cutaneous tissue-“

Again, you ran into Natasha. Her body was so warm and solid, stable compared to the way you buzzed about. The door had slid shut behind you, its frosted glass exterior shielding you from the rest of the world.

This time you didn’t’ rush to apologize, instead you pushed your glasses up to the center of your nose and stared at her in a comfortable silence. “This wasn’t about your widow bites. You said us.”

She nodded at you, suddenly seeming quite shy herself. You’d never seen her avert her gaze before and something about the reaction worried you. Your stomach was doing somersaults, flipping back and forth between pure panic and excitement. This was the longest you two had spent in one another’s space without you bolting from the room.

“For the past six months I’ve been involved in a sexual relationship with Wanda Maximoff.”

“Uh,”

It was the only word that you could muster. Thoughts that flushed your cheeks all over again ran through your mind; bare breasts pressed against each other, lips hungrily clashing, hands raking up perfectly toned muscles. Your eyes were hazy with lust, but you blinked it away just as fast as it had settled. Natasha ghosted a smirk regardless.

“It was purely sexual, we both needed to blow off some steam. I’m sure you know how that is.”

On nights when you needed to ��blow off steam’, you went into the empty training room and ran for six miles before taking a stark cold shower to loosen your muscles. When you ran, you forgot about the dip of Natasha’s collarbone and the dexterity of Wanda’s fingers.

Now that you thought about it, there were signs that the two of them had something and why shouldn’t they? Subtle touches that led to more. The tenderness in Natasha’s eyes betrayed more. If she hadn’t noticed yet, you weren’t going to be the one to tell her.

“It was fun for a while, a supply closet here, the gym floor there. But going on month seven it’s almost losing its… spark.”

“I’m sorry?” You were cautious with your words, and she giggled, the Black Widow herself was giggling at you.

“I’m not so good at this.”

“You’re good at everything.”

She smiled “Wanda insisted that I come and talk to you first because you’re skittish. Moreso around her than me. She was upset when I told her you let me stay the afternoon in here last week, just watching you work.” 

Each move you made that day was languid. There was a nervousness to you that seemed to vanish when you could open up the back of a monitor and stare at the innerworkings. You were recruited right out of MIT, and though you had been offered more than one job, you jumped at the idea of working in the Stark tower, living here.

She worked her hand through her hair and sighed “see, not so good at this.”

“What exactly is this?”

Natasha furrowed her brow and a small crease formed between her eyebrows in response. You wanted to reach up and smooth it away with the subtle touch of your thumb. That part wasn’t complicated, not like people usually were.

So, you did just that, you touched the pad of your finger to her soft, warm skin and pressed until the tension started to leave her body. Natasha’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and moved your hand until you cupped her cheek. She sighed into the embrace; eyes closed for more than a single moment.

“I want you, y/n.” She mumbled against the palm of your hand, turning it to the side and delivering a single kiss to the pulse point on your wrist. You were sure that she could feel the quickness in which it thrummed. “So does Wanda.”

You were dizzy, suddenly glad for her hold on you. Months, close to a year, you had spent ducking behind counters and taking the long way back to your dorm. They were both stunning to an intimidating degree, to the point where it devastated you.

“Say something, please” Natasha whispered, voice breaking “I know this is a lot and you can absolutely decline. We can forget this conversation ever happened and you can go back to breaking coffee mugs.”

“No! I mean, no. I don’t want to go back to breaking coffee mugs. I think Clint is running a tab, and Mr. Stark isn’t exactly generous with our salaries.”

A grin spread across Natasha’s face. It was like being wrapped in a warm towel after a long day in the rain. You’d do anything to make her smile. You were in down bad, not that you’d admit it to Bird Boy.

She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, not trusting your ability to vocalize anything right now. Her lips were on yours, soft and tender. She kissed you slowly, with purpose. The two of you savored the moment, a sigh of extasy escaping you, your arms winding around her shoulders, hers pressing against your spine.

Natasha broke the embrace, staring hazily at you. That cocky smile had turned into a wonderstruck and borderline goofy one. Have you broken the superspy? She’d certainly made you waver. You were effectively rendered silent.

“Oh, sweet girl, how easy it is to fluster you.” Natasha pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “But I fear that a certain witch is lurking just close enough for you to open the door.”

It slid open on its own with a dejected beep. You glanced down at the pocket of your lab coat, badge still attached. A small pout made its way to your lips but softened when Wanda stalked into the mostly empty lab, you felt your defenses lower.

The remnants of red twirled around her fingers- and god, you didn’t mean to stare, but they held a power to them. With Natasha slotted against your body, the primal scent of her, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering. Oh, how good they’d feel on your tongue.

A pink blush crept up her collarbone and at the tips of her ears. Wanda raised a perfectly sculpted brow at you. There was no doubt in your mind that your thoughts were loud enough for her to hear them. And somehow, you didn’t mind one bit. You’d never imagine being this bold with either of them, but the kiss with Natasha had left you heady, greedy for more.

“Have you been able to do that the whole time?” You panted out, watching the door slide shut once more.

“Well, yes. But I respect your privacy… to an extent. You have quite the dirty mind, don’t you?”

“I… you… no!”

You pulled away from Natasha, crossing your arms over your chest. If you weren’t careful, your glasses would fog up just by being in the same vicinity as them both. Sure, there had been a few times where you’d let your mind wander; images of Wanda shoving you against the wall, pinning your arms above your head.

Natasha taking you over the lab table that you made sure was meticulous in every single way each night before you left. The thought of them taking control was alluring, tantalizing. You thought all the time, too much about every move you made. You didn’t want to admit that you’d welcome not thinking at all, even if it was only for a few moments.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Wanda soothed.

“That’s why Stark keeps me in the basement.”

She’d gotten impossibly close. You could smell the lavender shampoo that often accompanied her. They were both taller than you, though, not by much. Your breath still hitched in your throat at her proximity. Wanda tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, lilting her head to the side in a way that made your knees feel unstable.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, and a smile moved across her lips. “You need to use your words, sweetheart.”

“Oh, don’t be mean, Wanda.” Natasha wrapped her arms around your midsection, resting her chin against your shoulder. You felt the incredible warmth she provided, nearly sighing into it. “This is a lot to take in. Baby steps.”

You couldn’t tell which of the two held more control over the situation, but didn’t much care when you felt Wanda’s breath hot against your lips. She closed the distance and you kissed until it stung, until your lungs were begging for air. A desperate noise that you had never made before escaped you when she broke the embrace.

All the while, the calloused pads of Natasha’s fingers were running softly over the expanse of skin between your waistband and shirt. Her touch was so delicate and impossibly warm compared to the coolness of the lab.

Natasha hugged you closer, and you allowed her to. Everything about both women surrounding you screamed control. The darkness that settled over Wanda’s stare made a wetness pool between your thighs. You squeezed them together in an attempt of subtly.

It was like fooling a seer. They could read your body like an open book and you clenched your eyes shut but could still feel the grin that stretched across Natasha’s face in the crook of your neck. It would be so easy to give up control to them.

“Does anyone else have the key to your lab?” Wanda purred, her hand splayed on your chest in a startling grounding motion. Your eyes snapped open, hazy with lust.

You were breathless, stunned. “Just you.”

Wanda’s head tilted, her tongue darting out against her bottom lip. Chills pushed down your spine, Natasha’s hold tightening around your center. You were sure that you’d catch flame right there and wake up from this dream. But neither of them vanished when you blinked.

“Good. What’s your safe word, darling?”

Natasha’s grin was nothing short of wolfish. She squeezed both of your hips possessively, hauling you with a spy’s quickness onto the nearest counter. You nudged a white mug with a SHIELD logo on the front. It fell to the floor, shattered into a million different pieces.

 None of that seemed to matter.

[froggiewrites]

May I request some Luffy smut? Maybe including some aphrodisiac of some kind or influence from a devil fruit- I don't mind! I'd just love to see your ideas

I am SO sorry this has taken so long, thank you to everyone who's sent in requests for being so patient. Life has been kicking my ass this month so badly I haven't even been able to read any fanfic, let alone write it. Fingers crossed that the end of November is kinder than the beginning!

I'm really excited to have finally finished this request, I'm a big sucker for sex pollen/aphrodisiac stuff so this was really fun for me! Also, this was my first time writing for Luffy, so I hope I did him justice!

Need

Pairing: Luffy x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You find your Captain in dire need of a little help. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't provide? Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiac, Oral Sex (Reader receiving), Vaginal Sex Word Count: 1.8k

You should have known something was wrong when the ship was quiet. The Thousand Sunny is never quiet. There’s always the sound of clashing metal, of excited voices, of a song dancing its way across the deck. But you don’t hear a single noise outside of your door, nor do you see anyone as you pad your way outside. 

You knew that you were docking soon, that your crew would leave to explore the island, but you didn’t expect them to leave without waking you up. You had been on night watch last night, so you certainly needed the rest, but you’re not used to them not at least momentarily waking you to let you know where everyone’s going.

Your surprise and confusion only grows as you hear someone crashing through the brush, and you see your Captain emerge, sprinting precariously toward the ship as though he’s being chased.

“Luffy?”

He doesn’t answer as he continues to rush forward, launching himself up onto the Sunny. Luffy stumbles onto the deck, teetering dangerously towards the railing. Before you can rush to catch him, his back hits the wood, and he lowers himself to the ground, legs splayed out. You can’t even tell if he can see you until he murmurs your name. He’s dripping with sweat, his face red.

You kneel down between his legs, leaning forward to try to get a good look at him. You can’t see any visible injuries, but clearly something is horribly wrong. “Are you okay, Luff?”

“No.” His voice is nothing but a whine, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “Need…something.”

“Something?”

Luffy glances around, pout on his face. “Something. Dunno what.”

You reach out to rest your hand on his forehead, which is burning so hot you almost pull it back in shock. He leans into your touch, giving off a soft hum. “You have a fever. Do you know what happened to you?”

“Nothing happened. We were all exploring, and we split into groups, and then…hm…I ate that fruit Zoro picked.”

Oh god. Zoro’s not exactly a botanist, or a survivalist, and for a single moment you believe with every fiber of your being that your dear friend has accidentally poisoned your captain. “What kind of fruit was it?”

“I dunno. It was sweet. And red.”

You sigh. “That doesn’t narrow it down at all. God, you would think that eating one mystery fruit in your life would be enough for you.”

His indignation beats out his discomfort for just a moment. “The first one went really well.”

You guess you can’t argue with that. “Can you remember anything else about it? We can rule out any devil fruit since you haven’t…exploded.”

“It was warm. And it made me wanna come find you.”

That makes you pause. “It…made you want to find me? Like specifically me?”

“Yeah.”

You have a bad feeling about this. “Do you know why you wanted me?”

He squints in concentration. “To…make it better.”

“How?”

He grabs your hand and places it back on his face. The sound he makes is borderline erotic. “Like this. This helps.”

The warmth against your hand, the moan that escapes your captain, the tent you can see growing in his pants, it all starts painting a very troubling picture. A very tempting one, but troubling nonetheless. “Luffy, are you warm anywhere in particular?”

“My stomach. And lower.” He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you and burying his face in your neck. His nose nuzzles against you, and he takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent and sighing. His hands gently massage against your hips, reveling in the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips. “You’re soft,” he murmurs, lips brushing lightly against you. You clench your thighs involuntarily, a move you hope he doesn’t notice.

“You’re—ahh!” One of his hands moves up to your breast, squeezing your breast through your shirt, and he moans again at your squeak. “You’re not in your right mind, Luffy! I think that fruit was—ah!” His hand slides beneath your shirt, then your bra, and finally he pinches your nipple. 

“Come closer.” His voice is thick as he pulls you onto his lap. “I think this is fixing it. Feels nice.” He jerks his hips, and you can feel his hardness rub against you. You try to keep your moan inside of your mouth, but when you do, he huffs, and ruts into you harder.

“Luffy!”

He grins. “That’s better.” As his hand begins to slide down the front of your pants you finally come to your senses and grab it, stopping him in his tracks. He blinks at you, a little clarity coming back to his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You–you’re clearly under the influence of something, and I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want–”

“I want it.” The hand slides slowly down further. His voice grows hungrier, more desperate. “I need it.”

With the way he’s looking at you, pupils blown out and cheeks flushed, you believe him.

“Well if you really need it, I’d hate to deprive you, Captain.”

He grins, and before you know it, you’re pinned to the deck, your shirt and bra removed, Luffy’s teeth pressing insistently against your chest. He shoves his hand unceremoniously between your legs, making a small noise of satisfaction against you when you squeal. His fingers slide against your clothed clit, sending a shiver up your spine and slowly building the heat in your gut. He hums quietly, “It’s wet.” He looks up at you. “For me?”

You flush, before nodding quickly. You can’t bring yourself to look at him out of fear you’ll combust. You can see the sweat sliding down the muscles in his arms and chest, his tongue peeking out of his mouth as he pants. He looks even better than you’d ever dreamed, his eyes radiating a hunger than you never expected to be directed at you.

He quickly slides down your pants and underwear in a single motion, and in your surprise you press your thighs together, shielding yourself from him. He practically growls, “Stop that. Wanna taste.”

He pries your thighs apart, diving into you with the same enthusiasm he does everything else. His tongue laps at you with reckless abandon as he sloppily takes everything you’ll give him. His hands pull you impossibly closer, his nose brushing against your clit as his mouth explores. When you moan, he laughs against you, the rumble of it spreading across your sensitive skin and making your thighs tense around his head. You worry you’ll suffocate him, drown him, but he doesn’t seem to mind losing to you.

You can feel the tension building in your body, your legs shaking as you come closer and closer to your peak. Your hands grip the grass beneath you, one second away from ripping it out of the deck entirely. Some part of you is hyper aware of the fact you are out in the open, where anybody could see or hear, but the rest of you is lost in the pleasure of the moment, in the feeling of your Captain’s tongue against you. So you don’t try to stop your back from arching as your climax grows nearer, nor do you make any attempt to hold back your cry as you cum on your Captain’s face.

He pulls away from you, his face dripping, his pupils blown out, and his lips upturned into a dazed smile. You can’t bring yourself to look away as he slowly licks his lips, savoring every drop of you. Without a word, his mouth crashes into yours, and you can taste yourself on his lips. His hands roughly force down his pants, exposing his weeping cock to the cold air. He lets out a borderline whimper of relief against your lips, before pulling back just long enough to whisper, “Get ready.”

“Lu–ah!” He thrusts into you in one smooth stroke as his lips once again insistently press against yours, stealing your breath away. You can feel every inch of him as your body welcomes him in, clenching around his length. He moans into your mouth, the sound deep and wanton. He gives both of you little time to adjust before his hips are rocking, chasing the release he’s been so desperate for. He’s moving so quickly you’re surprised he was patient enough to even wait this long. His hands are borderline bruising on your hips, his teeth clacking against yours as your kiss grows rougher and rougher, as your dear friend and Captain pounds into you with the fervor of an animal in heat. 

You can feel his muscles tense under your fingers as you pull him tighter. His breaths grow more ragged with every moment, and as he finally pulls away from your kiss you get to see the beautiful sight of the dam breaking as Luffy finally cums. His face is filled with a mix of relief, exhaustion, and affection as he gives a final few thrusts, your own climax coming not soon after. He collapses on top of you, and the weight is more comforting than crushing, though it steals your breath away anyway.

“I was right.” His voice is sleepy and slow, and you can’t help but picture the faces of your friends as they find you stripped bare and pinned to the deck below your Captain. Sanji might have a breakdown.

“Right about what?”

“I needed you. You fixed it.” His hand comes to rest on the back of your head affectionately, and he places a comically loud smooch on your forehead.

“So you’re all cured?”

“Ye–” He hums, and you can see an idea take him as his face scrunches up and his eyes shift away. “No. I think we’ll need to do this again.”

You can’t keep the smile out of your voice as you respond. “Oh yeah? How many more times, do you think?”

“I dunno. A lot. It could take a while.”

You laugh. “You know, I think we can do this as many times as it takes.”

He lets out an overjoyed laugh. “Awesome!”

“But first we should get inside before anyone else gets back. I don’t really want them to see me like this.”

He nods, quickly scooping you up and carrying you in the direction of his cabin. Before you can say anything else, you hear the voices of your crew coming closer, and you quietly urge him to rush.

You only get a moment of relief before you hear Zoro’s confused voice.

“Whose clothes are these?”

Your panic is quickly overshadowed by Luffy’s booming laugh rumbling through his chest, spreading the same infectious joy that he always does. The embarrassment is worth it, just to hear such a wonderful sound.

Tag List:  @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[cloudshuffle]

unmasked. yan!childe

index / prev / next / beta reader @lupikekee

warnings: explicit nsfw

You break the surface of the cold waters face first. There’s still a tightness in your chest, but you find it’s just the blanket, all twisted up with your legs and tugging at you. You grumble, still trying to shake off the sticky cobwebs of sleep, and struggle out of bed. 

Apart from the ticking of the clock, you realise that a silence has fallen and that you’re alone. A peek out the window reveals that you’ve made it to open sea, which means that everyone can now relax - an occasion for drinking to any Snezhnayan.

You leave your mask, knowing that the others would have done the same, and make your way onto the deck.

Nadia’s the first to greet you, grabbing onto your arms and whirling you into the ring of people grouped loosely around a fire burning in a barrel. “You’re up! We missed you!”

Judging by the way one of the women casts her an unimpressed glance, “we” more accurately means “I”. But you’re grateful for her induction into the celebrations otherwise.

She pulls you down to sit with her on an overturned, oversized bucket. She looks like a wild fae of the forest, her eyes alight from both drink and joy, and her cheeks flushed rosy. 

“Your hair’s a mess,” you comment, helping her settle the unruly curls.

She giggles, kicking her feet like a child, and dive right back into whatever conversation they were having earlier. 

You feel yourself fading comfortably into the background, smiling and laughing whenever appropriate. Someone passes you a shot of fire water. It goes down like, well, liquid fire, burning down your throat and stomach from the inside, warmth slowly spreading to every part of your body. Another one finds its way into your hand soon after, but this one you refrain from tossing back.

Your gaze wanders out over the deck. The sails flap every so often in a steady wind, the ship cutting through the calm waters like a hot knife through butter. At this pace, you’ll be reaching Liyue the next morning. 

The faces around the fire are familiar and friendly, but only a handful of names come to mind. Surely the captain of the ship wouldn’t be excluded from the activities of his own crew…?

A chorus of cheers rises from the men facing me. “El capitan!” one of them cries in a horrible accent, raising his glass and tilting so far back the other men have to catch him. We all turn back in unison.

“Markus!” Ajax calls back, raising a fist in return. He’s lost the red cape, usually draped around his neck and over his back, and his red harbinger mask is also nowhere to be seen. Without it, you think he looks… younger. More normal. Less like a tyrant and more like a boy. “Sorry my business took so long.”

The ring shifts reverently, allowing their leader in amongst their midst. Tartaglia takes a seat on a barrel to your right, heaving a satisfied sigh. A glass is delivered into his hand immediately, and he inhales it just as you had. “Finally. I’ve been on my feet all day.”

The conversation resumes, still cheerful and light-hearted, but it’s hard to ignore the undercurrent that tows you all towards his presence. Drinking or not, a harbinger is still a harbinger, the closest person to the Tsaritsa you’ll ever get to see, someone who can order your execution at the flick of a hand. Some seem to be trying to take advantage of that. Others shy away.

You watch him closely, taking back your second shot. Funny enough, the expression he wears is closer to a mask than it was on the archery field, though he doesn’t have his mask around him now. He laughs and chats with his soldiers just the same, but you can tell that he feels the undercurrent too, like a black hole swallowing a galaxy.

Too much thinking. You pour yourself a third, then a fourth shot.

Now the edges of your vision begin to spark with a mystical light, and the warmth from the alcohol coils in your body like a serpent. The conversation thrums in your temples like a tribal drum, and the pendant of your necklace pricks at the pads of your fingers as you fiddle with it. It doesn’t help. 

“I’m going to step away for a bit,” you murmur to Nadia. 

She giggles, nodding enthusiastically. She’s had nearly twice as many drinks as you and is likely on the edge of hysteria, but you know someone’ll help her if she passes out. 

The front of the ship feels like a world away from the chatter, the wind cutting through your coat and helping to take the edge off the heat inside you. The stars are quiet and calm, twinkling peacefully a million miles away, a soothing sight to your still-unsettled nerves. 

You had no fear of the water, but enclosed spaces made you feel like you couldn’t breathe. The ocean felt like your friend. Your cabin… felt like the mouth of a lion, maybe. It was a curious fear, but you’d never been able to figure it out.

You’re toying with your necklace again. The string begins to chafe at the back of your neck, so you pull it up over your head.

It’s a crude thing, a sundial shell wrapped up in a twist of rusty metal and strung up on a piece of cotton rope, but beautiful too. Moonlight shows faintly through its translucent surface, making the shell glow blue. 

He had brought it to your bedside as a good luck charm, the same ‘he’ who’d dove into the lake and hauled you out. 

Ajax had been kind, and cheerful, and popular amongst the other children because there wasn’t a dare he wouldn’t do. You’d never gotten along particularly before the incident. But afterwards, when grandmothers muttered that the lake had taken your spirit if not your soul, and the other children refused to play with you, Ajax would still spend time sitting in windows and reading fairy tales with you.

“Here you are. I was looking for you.”

You lower the pendant. There’s no need to turn around to see who it is - his slow, measured strides across the deck are telling enough.

“I just needed to clear my head.” You lower your head to tie the necklace back on, avoiding his discerning gaze, his easy smile. “I hope my lord wasn’t too concerned about me.”

The corner of his lips quirks up. “Let me help.” His cool gloves brush against yours. 

You hesitate, then lower your hands. He knots the string together deftly, then sighs and takes up a place next to you, leaning on the railing of the ship.

You glance back. Behind you, you can hear the festivities breaking up. Most are returning to their cabins, though a small knot of men remain, drunkenly carolling an old Snezhnayan lullaby to the stars.

“Are you afraid? That people might talk?”

“I might, if there was anything to talk about, my lord.” You allow yourself a small smile as he furrows his brows, evidently displeased.

“Since when did you call me ‘my lord’?”

“Since we were a part of the Fatui, and you became a harbinger.” You nod towards his belt. “Since you wielded a Vision, and I didn’t. We’re not part of the same world anymore.”

Ajax sighs, running a hand through his hair and turning his gaze out to sea. “Won’t you at least call me Childe?”

The drink emboldens you. “It’s a silly name. You could’ve chosen something better.”

The corners of his mouth raise, seemingly against his will. The moon casts the bridge of his nose in silver, turns the blue of his eyes into clear, unfrozen pools, illuminates the lovely flush spread across his cheeks from the fire water. This is Ajax, you think to yourself. The Ajax you knew.

You gradually become aware that he’s giving you a similar appraisal, lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something, and you know - whatever you choose to do now will forever alter the course of your life.

Ajax reaches out and pulls you towards him, and you choose to let it happen.

His sweetness envelops you first, a gentle scent entirely at odds with the rough calluses on his hands. He folds you into his embrace and you tilt your head back, accepting the shy kiss he ghosts across your lips.

“Are you afraid?” you tease softly. “That people might talk?”

His eyes glint dangerously. He kisses you again, but this time urgent, hard, adjusting his grip so he clasps both your wrists. A surprised sound escapes you, and Ajax takes the opportunity to have a taste of you, pressing you backwards into the railing.

He tastes like the sweet aftertaste of hard liquor and fresh spring water, breath shuddering with desire, a low groan rumbling in his chest. No, you think. Not the exact same Ajax you'd known.

You pull back. “Ajax,” you murmur.

There’s no turning back now.

“Come on.” He doesn’t let go of you, tucking you into his side and guiding you to his cabin, set apart from everyone else’s. 

It’s warmly lit with a number of wax candles burning low in their holders, parchment and maps scattered across the small but functional desk. Best of all, there are multiple windows, and the moonlight throws a grid of light onto the floor. 

Your observing is interrupted when Ajax kisses you again, this time allowing himself a purr of pleasure, kneading his fingers into your sides. He fumbles with the lock behind you, then leads you step by step to the bed, not once allowing you to pull away.

“Since when did you get strong?” you gasp, finally surfacing for air. He cages you in with all four limbs, and you finally understand what that glint is. Hunger. Desire. Desperation, even.

“Since I was a part of the Fatui.” A kiss, on the corner of your lips. “Since I became a harbinger.” On the jaw. “Since I received my Vision.” A trembling, reverent kiss on your pulse. “Since I left Morepesok, and I’ve been thinking of what I left behind since.” 

He nudges aside the pendant he gave you, and this time the kiss comes with teeth.

You bite back a whine as his hands paw at your shirt, undoing the buttons with trembling fingers. He blows cool air over the mark, peeling your clothes aside.

“The good thing about the uniform,” he pants, pupils blown so wide his blue eyes look almost dark. “Is that it covers up a lot of skin.”

Before you can protest, he ducks his head, working inward from your shoulder to your collarbone. Each bite feels like an electrical shock. He kisses each bruise gently to soothe the pain, but you're still shaking by the end of it, chest heaving.

You're not sure when he got rid of your clothes, but as he leans back to take a look at his handiwork, your skin prickles under the intensity of his gaze. 

“I'm glad you weren't my first,” he mutters, moving down to your chest. “Then I wouldn't know how to make you feel… this good.”

His mouth closes on a pert nipple, and a thumb strokes gently along your slit.

He groans into your soft flesh when he earns himself nothing short of a whimper of his name. 

“Ajax,” you plea, your nails scraping against his back. It's too hot, too restrictive, and he rids himself of his clothes too. 

He can feel your hole, already clenching and unclenching with want, leaking arousal onto his fingers. He releases your boob, inhaling your scent deeply.

It's sweet and salty and everything he's imagined your love to be. His dick jumps in his pants. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, and slides one finger in.

The moan you let out has him painfully hard, but Childe doesn't want to hurt you. He curls his finger inside of you, massaging gently, then pushes in another. 

You're trembling now, the pressure in your lower stomach mounting. The cool roughness of his glove against the hotness within you draws moan after moan from you. 

“Patience, darling.” You squeeze around him, fast and desperate… and he removes his finger, leaving you teetering on the edge. 

“Ajax,” you cry. Smiling, he bites into the softness of your stomach, and this time he catches your hips when they jerk up to collide with his chest.

“I imagined every one was you. I hoped I could fall in love with another,” he confides quietly. Your legs fold up your chest obediently. “But they were just… not enough. They just weren't you.”

“Is this a confession?” you manage to gasp. He's so large, larger than the few you've seen, his hot weight resting on your pussy. You can feel yourself throb, your slit weeping just for him.

“It's a declaration.”

His hands pin your wrists above your head, and he pushes past your entrance.

You make a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “Big,” you whimper.

He shushes you, leaning in for a kiss as he inches deeper, bit by bit. You squirm underneath him both in pleasure and pain.

“Tell me if it's too much.” His voice sounds strained. His veins scrape against every inch of your ribbed walls, pulsing and twitching as you swallow him whole. “Oh, baby, so tight, so warm… Baby, baby.” One hand clasps your chin. “Look at me. Don't look away.”

You whine assent. Your whole body alights with sparks, but you can feel him approaching somewhere dangerous.

His tip massages against a sensitive spot, your hips jump up of their own accord, and he slams into that sweet gummy area deep within you.

You throw your head back with a cry of his name, your hips shuddering, grinding you into him as you cum so hard you see stars.

“Shit,” he hisses, and starts thrusting into you.

You fit him so perfectly, it feels like your pussy was already moulded into the shape of his dick. Your walls flutter frantically around him, drawing him deeper, deeper, until he knows his tip is kissing your cervix because you moan with every thrust.

“C'mon baby, one more time, you can cum for me,” he mutters, beginning to lose himself in the obscene squelching of your cum all over him. “Inside, ah, gonna fill you up, gonna cum inside…”

He picks up the pace, and the pressure in your tummy begins to build again. Your back is arching, your hips shuddering, and still Ajax fucks you relentlessly.

“Look at me, baby, c’mon, cum for me, cum together, ngh, together, cumming, cumming, cumming-”

He moans loudly, and you swear you can see heart in his eyes, his hips still pistoning into you as hot, heavy ropes of cum spill into you where you never knew you were empty.

“One more time, yeah?” he pants.

— word count: 2506. thank you for reading!

[demonslayerunhinged]

Uhm...hello...oh my god, okay, this is my first time doing this so I probably should apologize in advance for I just know this is going to be a big yap session (there'll definitely be a question, trust).

I'm rather new to the KnY fandom so I haven't really completed the manga yet (as in, analyzed it) although I've gotten all the Spoilers I could get. I've read the light novels to an extent, too)

Sanemi really became my favourite character although it was a connection I couldn't really explain or express since he unfortunately remains one of the most hated characters in DS, and yes I began shipping Giyuu x Sanemi even though many people seem to think that's weird and came out of the blue.

A Pinterest pin with a link to your page; a post where you had a theory that Sanemi had some form of anxiety...and boy am I grateful to the person who made that post, I've been hooked to your blog ever since.

So, uhm, first of all let me just say that I love all your writings. They're convincing, elaborate, and the amount of research you've put into them is mind blowing! The Obanai analysis, the fandom discourse, to name a few, are some of my favourites. I've only read a few, so you might've already made a post answering a question similar to this, but uh...lemme ignore that. Okay, that's enough...onto the questions.

I wanted to ask you about Giyuu and Sanemi's relationship. One thing critics love to say is that their relationship would be "toxic." (That Giyuu's uncommunicative ways will be irritating and unbearable for Sanemi and since he's shown to be rather impatient, he'd lash out and Giyuu will only become even more quiet.) I genuinely want to know what you'd have to say about this. I can already tell you're an unapologetic GiyuuSane shipper, so I wanna know, as I don't know much about their relationship myself, but found that I adored the ship so much it became too much to bear.

Another thing is about Demon Slayer itself. I'm almost very sure that you are aware of how many people criticize the show. I've fallen in love with KnY and I genuinely want to understand why it's hated so much. So far I've been hearing that KnY is badly, poorly written; it has one-dimensional/ one-sided characters, sucks at world-building, is inconsistent, overrated, mid, cliché, unoriginal and what not. I've seen somebody make a freaking hour-long YouTube video on why DS is that bad. (I'm unsure if you've seen it, though.) Some people say there's way too much plot armour and the villains got nerfed, that Douma vs Shinobu fight was just the author rushing things; apparently the ending was rushed too. Its pacing was "horrible" the backstory dumping and the endless monologue is annoying to them, and "the only personality the characters ever have is their backstory." Someone even commented "the characters are basically caricatures with catchphrases."

I've heard that Obanai's character is boring, inconsistent and lacked development (that his character can literally be summed to "I hate all women except Mitsuri"), that Zenitsu is annoying, terribly written and is wasted potential, that Kanao is a typical Y/N character and that the Kamado siblings are nothing special, and are extremely generic and boring (especially Nezuko, she seemingly has zero personality.) Idk much, but there are some posts on Pinterest saying that all the canon ships except the Uzuis have poor writing. Even Giyuu seems to be a "Wattpad mafia lord who acts like he's carrying too much pain." Basically they're saying the characters are one-sided, lacking in development, mid, the villains are auraless, the anime is cliché and has nothing unique to it, and the only thing that carries KnY is Ufotable's animation.

Now the reason I'm writing to you is because I really, really want to know what your opinion on this is. I mostly think perspectives differ based on how people define "good" or "bad" writing, everyone has varied views; however as much as I want to defend an anime I've surprisingly grown embarrassingly attached too, I think you're better qualified. It hurts when people attack something that's close to your heart, even if it is just a bunch of pixels. I'm probably stupid to get affected by mere criticisms of a damn ANIME this much, but unfortunately this doesn't seem like something I can control. I am a deranged, cowardly escapist so I didn't even watch the criticisms properly but got the gist of it.

Uhm...yeah, I'm very sorry if I sound demanding, you can take your time, it doesn't matter how long it takes to reply (it's okay if you don't even want to reply, needed to get this off my chest to someone somehow), please don't stress yourself out, I've seen all the amazing titles you're preparing for, wish you luck.

(Okay I'll stop now. Sorry.)

Hey Anon,

I hope you're doing well.

Not gonna lie your ask made me tear up a bit especially towards the end of it because I get you, I get you so, so fucking much. Being a Demon Slayer fan, specifically an English-speaking Demon Slayer fan, is tough. It's like everywhere you look, all you see is negativity towards the series. At some point, you start to feel like you're the only one, you start to doubt yourself and feel, just as you described, crazy and deranged for getting so emotionally attached to such a'mid' anime series.

But lemme tell you this. Fuck those guys. Never be embarrassed for getting emotionally attached to a piece of media, that's what makes you human, it means that you have the time to critically assess and think about what you watch instead of just consuming it mindlessly. Creators LOVE people like you, and I'm absolutely sure that Gotogue-sensei would be touched that her work means so much to you. It's better to be attached or be a stan of something than to be a mindless bot wading through life with no passion for anything.

And I'm not just saying this because I'm also a deranged fan. This applies to any piece of media or any anime series. You know your heart, you know what you've been through in life, you know how life especially in this century is so fucking hard where it seems like everything is trying to crush you, where it feels like you're constantly trying to keep your head afloat in a vast ocean of despair being weighed down by, well, everything and if you find that one life raft that keeps you above the surface, that one thing that allows you to keep on going, that one ray of sunshine that makes you think hey maybe the world isn't so bad, as long as you’re in your lane, just enjoying KnY and engaging with the fandom in a positive way then who the FUCK are those barely sentient pieces of shit to take it away from you?

So with that being said, let's explore your concerns

SaneGiyuu is toxic

I feel the reason people think it’s a toxic ship is because a huge chunk of the fandom tends to infantilize Giyuu and vilify Sanemi. Which is a side effect of the lack of media literacy and shallowness that a lot of people possess.

Giyuu is always made out to be this soft, quiet, uwu-baby boy who is in need of protection because he's constantly bullied by the big, scary meanies like Sanemi and Obanai. Which people with working brains will know is far from the truth; Sanemi and Obanai talk shit about him yes, but if talking shit about someone constitutes as bullying then we’re all bullies and I bully my former boss.

Sanemi on the other hand is always made out to be either this irredeemable monster or this dominant, feral, 'hide-your-daughters' type man who's always alpha and on top, grrrrrr, he's both demonized and sexualized by a lot of fans. So with this mischaracterization of both characters, it's no wonder that people will see SaneGiyuu and come to the conclusion that it’s toxic because all they see is this soft, baby-uwu angel being paired up with this rabid monster. They want Sanemi and Giyuu to be Izuku and Bakugou from MHA so badly, which is just dumb. The other detractors of this ship usually lack the ability to recognize subtext or are just plain homophobic, thinking that the ship interferes with their fantasies.

Here’s a list of some posts I’ve made refuting these claims, but also exploring their dynamics. Just like you, this ship is really important to me because of it’s underlying themes of found family, trauma, miscommunication, isolation. And just the comfort of finding someone who has been through the same things you’ve been through and understands your pain.

The Anime is mid

Since you're new to the fandom it’s no surprise that the 'Demon Slayer is mid' comments would get to you, they used to get to me too. Long time fans will tell you how they’ve learned to just tune out the nonsense and focus on the fandom. Like yea yea we heard you, demon slayer is only carried by the animation, when you’re tired of complaining you’ll shut up and go back to snorting the Cheetos dust off your keyboard 🙄. 

I consider Demon Slayer a litmus test on how people analyze media, especially media that doesn’t have elements that they’re familiar with. See, here’s one thing that a lot of people, even fans of Demon Slayer, don’t get. Demon Slayer is a character driven story—every event or fight is done for the development of the characters in the story. That's why the plot is so simple because it’s not about the plot, it’s about the characters. When people criticize KnY’s plot for being simple, I can’t help but laugh because almost all the greatest stories in humanity have simple plots or some none at all.

Lord of the Rings is about a bunch of dudes who travel to a tower to destroy a ring. 

Gladiator is about a fallen general who is out for revenge on the emperor who betrayed him. 

The Matrix doesn't even have a proper goal until the third act of the movie. 

Harry Potter is about a bunch of kids who want to defeat the wizard that killed Harry's parents. 

American Psycho doesn't even have a proper story structure. It's just about a psychotic dude who goes axe-crazy, literally. 

The Star Wars franchise is about a bunch of people rebelling against a dictatorship. 

Sam Raimi's Spider-Man is about Peter facing the Villain of the week.

So why are these stories so close to our hearts? It’s because of the characters. All this talk about characters being nerfed, fights being boring, plot armor, pacing etc. etc. are all plot-related complaints which don’t apply to the story because it’s all about the characters. Those who say the characters are one-dimensional are just fucking stupid, lazy and shallow-minded. The rest don’t even properly watch the anime or read the manga, they just parrot whatever opinions are popular at the moment.

It also doesn't cater to the western gaze. KnY is completely and unapologetically Japanese, it can’t take place in anywhere but Japan. it’s so rich with Japanese culture, mythologies, folktales, and stories that it’s either you get it, try to get it or you don’t. Even the name 'Kimetsu no Yaiba' directly translates to Blade of Demon Destruction and not just any blade either, Yaiba specifically refers to a Japanese sword. It’s a love letter to Japan that celebrates Japanese culture and values so much that it borders on nationalism 😂. This is foreign to some anime dudebros who are used to anime that either takes place in modern Tokyo, Western-inspired fantasy countries, some version of 'San Fransokyo' or the Edo period.

This especially goes for that arrogant streak of shit who has dryer lint for hair that made the 1hr-long video. I’m sorry, but I’ll be damned before I entertain the opinions of someone who thinks Walter White is a great, complex character. Like bitch, you're not some deep, philosophical critic, you’re just a stupid edgelord who just happened to snare the interest of other stupid edgelords who want to feel like their existence and opinions matter in the grand scheme of things.

Here's a video where the creator refutes that asshole's bullshit criticisms. And here are some other positive and more nuanced analysis videos by people who have actual brains and, y'know, HAVE ACTUALLY WATCHED THE FUCKING ANIME AND READ THE FUCKING MANGA! Here, here, here and here. I'll post them in my pinned post and update when I find more stuff.

So please don't feel sad Anon! Nothing any of these cum-stain-should’ve-beens spew out of the cesspool inside their skulls will change the fact that Demon Slayer is a cultural phenomenon that revitalized the manga and anime industry. It is so popular that even the prime minister of Japan is a fan, that it introduced millions of people to not just anime/manga culture but also Japanese culture, that it revitalized the anime industry. There's also the debate about how it apparently outsold the entire comic book industry in 2020 and university researchers have studied and published analysis pieces on the characters. Not bad for a 'mid' series 😤

I hope I was able to answer your questions, and make you feel better. I'm glad you love my work but most importantly:

FUCK YEA!!! WE GOT ANOTHER GIYUUSANE BELIEVER!!!

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 10/?)

Your pov

I carry the heavy pitcher of wine waiting for one of the lords to wave for more wine. Ever since Papa named me heir he's wanted me to be one of his cup bearers. Nyra wasn't happy about it, nor was she about me being named heir instead of her. 

There hasn't been a night I wasn't guided out of the dining hall because Nyra and Papa got into a fight again. 

I go to fill Papa's cup, I'm a bit too short to see the top of the glass so I have to get on my tiptoes to see properly. I'm so focused that when the doors to the small council chambers burst open and Lord Corlys starts yelling I'm startled and accidentally spill on Papa's lap.

“I'm sorry!” I say as I search for a rag to wipe his lap.

“It's alright, Darling, it's not your fault.” Papa says with a grimace as he take the rag Nyra gave him. I can't help but frown at the cruel smirk she throws my way.

“Four ships have now been lost! The last one was flying my banner! The Stepstones have now grown into a conflagration, yet you sit here and ditter about court business!” Corlys yells as he states at Papa.

It is this moment that makes me hope I never anger him, for his eyes almost appear as if a horrible storm has taken the kind soft eyes I'm used to seeing. 

But instead of Papa answering it is the Lord Hand, Ali's Papa. 

“If you have something to discuss Lord Corly,” He starts but is quickly cut off by Lord Corlys.

“I want to know what is to be done for my ships and men!” He demands

“The Crown will compensate for your ships and crew, and make an offering to the men's families.” The Hand responds will a chilling calmness.

Isn't this important? People have died and they don't seem to care.” I think looking at all the councilman before turning to Papa who only seems annoyed, not worried.

“I do not want compensation! I want to take the Stepstones by force and burn out that Crabfeeder!” 

Papa sighs rubbing his face before leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

“I am not prepared to start a war with the Free Cities.” Papa says shaking his head with a chuckle as if the thought is hilarious in itself. 

This only seems to fuel Lord Corlys rage as he also leans forward on the table, his hands on the table as he glares at Papa. 

And with just as much venom as when he came in, he hisses. “These pirates are not of the Free Cities.”

This sentence seems to amuse Papa as the glimmer in his eyes comes, the one that comes when he hears a funny joke.

“Who do you think provides them with their ships and tenders?” 

It is this that seems to make Lord Beesbury to speak as well. “In all of its history, my lord, the Seven Kingdoms have never entered open war with the Free Cities. Were that to happen, the losses would be incalculable.” 

Lord Coelys only scoffs before saying. What reason does the Crabfeeder have to fear us? The King's own brother has been allowed to seize Dragonstone and fortify it with an army of his Gold Cloaks. Daemon has squatted there for over half a year without even a protest from the Crown.” 

The mention of Kepus makes my heart hurt, I feel tears rise to my eyes as I try to forget when he let me. He swore, he would never leave me, and now he has. What if I never see him again? I think feeling a sb rise in my throat as I turn to fill the pitcher with more wine in hopes no one sees me cry. 

Heirs are strong, they can’t cry or act childish. I remind myself of the words Papa told me when I had cried after I fell and scraped my knee. Why I must stop crying when I’m hurt all of the sudden seems strange, Papa said it’s because I’m the heir but heirs can cry too…right?

I’m snapped out of my thoughts by Nyra speaking. “You have dragonriders, Father. Send us.” 

I feel an instant fear Papa will agree. I’m not ready for war? Neither is Stormchaser. I still can’t climb her alone, how am I supposed to use her to fight in a war? I think as I shake my head wide-eyed towards Papa.

“I don’t want to go to war, neither does Stromchaser.” I plead which seems to make the men laugh as they all start to chuckling as if I said something very silly. Why are they laughing? If Nyra wants to go to war with Syrax that’s fine, but me and Stromchaser are fine right here, where it’s safe. I think with a frown as I look at the lords and Papa trying to find what was funny in my words.

Papa smiles towards me waving me closer, when I do he kisses my head and whispers. “Do’t worry, you and Stromchaser won’t fight.” 

With his words I feel instant relief as I smile up at him before he turns to look back at Nyra. 

“It is not that simple, Rhaenyra.” He says but from the way her brows turn in and her frown another screaming match is about to break out. 

“It would be a show of force.” Nyra says through her teeth. I hate when Nyra acts like this, it usually quickly leads to her throwing things, usually glass or porcelain, and i always end up with some shards stuck to my legs and at times my arms. 

Lord Corlys seems to agree with Nyra though as he says. “At least the Princess has a plan.” 

This seems to please Nyra as she stands straighter and smirks victorusly, though I think she’s gotten something in her eyes again as she’s blinking them a lot as seh looks at Lord Corlys. 

“Then by all means Lord Corlys, send your daughter of only seven and boy of thriteen off to war upon their dragons. But I am not risking my girls, let alone my heir. And know this, if you go to war, you will not get any support from me, nor the Crown.” Papa says as he strokes my hair and glares at Lord Corlys.  

This seems to only make Lord Corlys furious as he storms out of the chambers. The Lord Hand looks towards Nyra as she’s about to speak again and me as I tug on my Papa’s sleeve telling him not to let Laena go to war, and suggests that me and Nyra pick out the new guards for the Kingsguard. 

“Yes that is a great idea, besides you have been in need of your own guard for far too long.” He says patting my head before waving me and Nyra off with Ser Harrold. 

We walk silently, the only sound filling the space being the swish and sway of me and Nyra's dresses, and the clang of Ser Harrolds armor. Though I know the walk only takes a couple minutes it felt like hours with the feeling of Nyra's glare upon the back of my head, it felt like hours. 

So when we finally arrive and I see all the men in armor and a stool so me and Nyra can assess them, it is a welcome sight. 

I quickly step up onto the stool looking at all the men as Ser Harrold starts to grab the first podium figure. None peak my interest, none other than the tan one in stained and dented armor.

 He's the one who beat Kepus at the tourney. I think excitedly as I point to him. 

“What do we know of him?” I ask Ser Harrold. He seems to understand why I pointed him out first as he says. “Other than the fact he beat your uncle in the tourney, he has also been to war, Dornish marches I believe.” 

This brings back something Kepus always said. 

“When you have your guard, and he is your guard, he will need to be a man who has seen battle, one who has seen war. Not one of those knights who take down a poacher and think they are valiant, no he will need to have seen and done things that no one can imagine to be your guard. For if he can do that, there is nothing he wouldn't do for his guarded.” 

“Have the others been to war?” I ask as I assess the other men. They all are wearing shiny polished armor, so sparkly they almost appear to be bought this very day. 

“No, though the others have done great deeds as well.” Ser Harrold responds with a knowing look as he goes to kneel next to me.

“Would it be bad to pick the one who went to war? Kepus always said my guard needed to be a man who went to war.” I whisper to Ser Harrold. 

He quickly shakes his head. “No, there are two openings, a man from a great house can be picked for your sister. Ser Criston Cole would be a wonderful guard for you.” He whispers back with a knowing look, as if he knows something, something he mustn't say.

“I pick Ser Criston Cole!” I say loudly hoping the knight will hear me.

As if he appeared out of thin air the Lord Hand comes forward with a displeased look. “Now let's not be too hasty, princess. There are many houses who have helped the Crown that we should honor.”

I frown, shaking my head. “Then you can help Nyra pick her knight to honor those houses. But I asked Ser Harrold and suggested Ser Criston.” 

My words must have surprised the Lord Hand as he stares at me with a shocked expression. I only sigh and turn to Ser Harrold. “Will he join me now or will I have to wait?” 

“You will have to wait, Your Grace. He will be at your side tomorrow.” He says and I only nod before climbing down the stool and turning down the hall to go to my lessons with Septa Martha. 

I hope Laena is there already, sewing lessons are so boring without her pranks. Oh and Ali, she always helps with the really hard ones. I think not noticing the look of rage and jealousy upon Nyra's face as she watches me leave.

Series Masterlist

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @baybaybear1

[circeius-invidioso]

I do not get why the Red Corsairs are not a popular choice.

Like.

Like here is the elevator pitch for the warband and then we can come to some justified conclusion.

What isn't there to love?

You want me to turn into an infomencial and make a top 3 reasons why the Red Corsairs are great?

Cause I can.

And I will.

The Diverse Working Enviroment

Here in the Red Corsairs we might have started as Ultramarines but the barrier for entry is on the floor. So anyone can join.

You are Night Lord with a bad rep and no ship.

Buckle up we got you covered.

You are a Fallen and have 20 Dark Angels all up in yo business? Trying to shoot down the boss babe you are?

Fear not, or in our case. Know no Fear. We are strapped and don't get clapped.

You are a traitor that likes their Legion but sadly you got in our way?

Tough luck buddy, you will join or die and your geene seed will join our cause. Nothing personal battle brother. Just business as usual.

Everyone is welcome as long as they follow Huron's guidelines and don't aggitate the topless sweaty Khorne worshipping Ultramarines in the basement.

Sustainability

Unlike the corrupt Imperium of man and the corpse Emperor our leader is powered by miracles (which is trully a miracle how he survived but that on the next section), and we use 0 psyckers to power our crap.

Our carbon footprint is also minimum as we use salvaged goods and don't indulge in toxic industries that destroy worlds.

The Red Corsair base of operation is in the Eye of Terror and from there we expand our scope. A place greatly known for its constant shifts, and horrible conditions but the tan our serfs have are spectacullar from all that cosmic radiation.

Finally we are commited to recycling. As in we take from our victims benefactors and put those stolen goods to some great use. Nothing goes to waste, neither mortal, nor static object. If something is not nailed on the floor we will take it.

In fact we might take the floor too and the nails used to set it in place.

Nothing goes to waste!

Unmatched Leadership

Last, but certainly not least.

The man.

The myth.

The Legend.

Huron Blackheart.

Aka Lufgt Huron.

Aka what would happen if we gave a compressed Guilliman a daemonic familiar and left him to ferment in a warp storm.

Not only the name is so edgy you might cut yourself by saying it out loud. But also it's complex enough that if you say it quickly three times without twisting your tongue theres is a chance furniture might start levitating.

The man has put his Ultramarine brain to use and amased enough influence and power to put the Black Legion to shame.

Huron went from 0 to 100 in no time, he is a self made Warmaster. With no daddy issues or troubles in the world, he goes into battle blasting Alestorm in the voxxcasters.

He does not care.

He probably wears this when he wants to relax.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

He has a biker gang specifically organized to hunt down those who have betrayed him.

They slap those things on their armors not for the usual biker reason

(which fun fact the meaning is, 99% of the bikers are law-abiding, where the 1% are not. That's where the 1% comes from. The more you know 🌈)

no they wear that 1% because that's how high are your chances of escaping from them are.

Is that a bit extreme?

Yes.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

The dude once gathered his buddies and decided...

to you know. Have a casual outing. Nothing too serious, it was a sunday afteral.

So they decided on.

Kidnapping Guilliman.

Which they almost did if not for a Fallen of all people getting in the way.

But still.

The mad lad took Macragge's Honour and went on a joyride/ mini civil war.

Who in the galaxy can turn and say.

Yeah, I stole Macragge's Honour, almost captured my old Primarch. Told a daemon prince they are irrelevant on my way there. Anyway after crushing a fool who thought he could take my crown as king of the space pirates, I went to the home planet of the White Scars and kidnapped and tortured their Chapter Master. What did you do this week? 💅

Who wouldn't want to be a part of that?

You tell me I can be an immortal, gorgeous chaos Ultramarine goth boy going on pirate adventures across the galaxy?

Where do I sign up?

I don't need ink for a signature.

I will use my own blood.

[nn-ee-zz]

What are your other OC's like? I'm interested in hearing about the stories you came up with for them.

UH OH youre gonna get me talking!

My OCs are NPCs by origin. I was (still am) the DM of my friend group and to get their characters moving along I had to create my own.

Unexpectedly, my friends loved them.

ILYA - unwell henchman

i know its a boys name,

An aiding hand to an ambiguous villain, Ilya was introduced as sneaky, smiling, and untrustworthy. The facade collapsed once she vomited inside a cup after accidentally touching the liquified remains of (unbeknown to her) her younger sibling. The villain is a wizard of great power and transported all the liquid from their body to put out a fire, mummifying and killing the person in the process in an attempt to save several.

She seeks her sibling amongst the city. The tingling awareness of their demise at the hands of the guild she encouraged them to join and growing panic and grief led her to start a fight with someone who is spiraling as well.

She ends up at the local clinic, heavily injured and minus one eye, and spirals further from her injuries, her guilt, and the knowledge her family was correct about her being too mentally fragile to be in the city. Until....

(For now. The overall arc for this character is of recovery and improvement instead of pain and self-destruction. Forgive your past and find value within you that goes beyond self-sacrifice. With the help of others, of course.)

Despite her questionable moral position, a lot of characters feel the need to protect her.

Art - Her wearing another characters shirt and her getting a widdle kiss from said character, because even I (the monster freak artist) have my lovely ships

ED - emo organ trafficker

''Nez, I want my oc to be kidnapped and rescued by another oc'' ''Hm, I'll make up a guy to kidnap them then''

Originally meant to be a minor antagonist that would kidnap a character to harvest their organs and be easily defeated. Villain of the week type.

However, his snarky behavior, violent temperament, fancy victorian-boy-esque looks captured a lot of attention. He is a little freak but his direct words seem to bring out a lot of honesty in other characters.

Fun facts; His name is inspired by Edward Hyde. He is roomates and best friend/adopted sibling to Ilya. He makes an effort to be fancier than he is because he was born a bastard child and forced to be his fathers servant before he murdered his siblings and father and joined the army to escape (where he met ilya and ultimately got adopted into her family <333)

Art - Him, and him as a chibi fighting the guy who rescued the person he kidnapped. They also fall in love

REDD - funny bully

I recently made an oc just to mess around with the players while they were in jail! Well, now one of them drank his blood and is forever connected to him. The other one got her finger broken cuz she poked him. He also had the prision keys the entire time but pretended to be a prisioner as well. What a menace! I love making horrible pests. His name is red cuz thats how the others refered to him, because I described him as having red hair and red eyes.

Isnt it funny how despite being a DM I never use my monster designs?! I find it a lot more interesting to make characters specifically meant to alter the course of the character development of my players. I love to change deeply and irrevocably! : D

[clownhara]

is there like a jester ocs 101 i do wanna learn about them

Putting these under a read more because this might get long

My family :)

Edward Roberts-Rosales: I made too many jokes about this bastard being my dad and now he's my dad. High key wants to fuck plants. Evades taxes like no ones business. Kind of a shit guy but it's funny to watch him mess up everything so we keep him alive for that alone Max Rosales: My better dad. Can really do so fucking much better than Edward but he settled </3. Is a plant man. Likes baking. Is the dad that actually loves me. Heron Rosales: I don't do to much with her but I'm trying to do more. Max's trans sister. Wants Edward dead and honestly, we don't blame her. Average chronic pain haver tbh please get her some Ibuprofen. Boaty McBoatface: My brother who is a boat. Edwards favorite son, despite being terrified of being on boats after he was the sole survivor of a ship wreck. I fuckinh hate this thing

Project Moon adjacent ones

Despise Domek (Or just Des): Local Enkphalin hooked rat. Goes by it/they but people close to it can call them she/her. There are two remaining people who can call them she/her. Steals things from people it likes to keep a piece of them, so don't invite them to your house. Things WILL go missing. Says the phrase "Well it didn't kill me so I'm fine" way to god damn often. Ambrose Domek: Not actually related to Des at all his parents just stole Des's parents last name. We heart religious fanaticism to the point of self harm!!!!!! Has two boyfriends and has convinced himself neither of them like him. Him and Des are besties :) Keith: Real Jester-heads remember Keith. I made this bastard before Ruina came out and he keeps fucking staying relevant to whatever game is out. How does he do it. Lobcorp him is Geb and Myo's adopted son, a Rabbit, and had a complex where he's gotta prove himself 24/7 and ends up getting his leg ripped off. Ruina him is trying to find Gebura again after the whole Library situation happened, and is wildly distraught after learning Myo's whole deal. Limbus Keith is content, much older, runs a weapons shop, and is gay married to Heathcliff. Jesus Christ I made him before the new translation of Lopcorp happened I think HOW LONG HAS HE EXISTED WHAT THE FUCK

Damien Domek: Also not related to Des, just took it's last name because he liked it. They are qprs though. Also is broke as shit but mostly stays out of the Rat lifestyle by just old fashioned robbing people. Loves lying to people for fun and profit, but he is honestly a pretty nice guy. Minus the lying

Randos

Arlo: Disgusting rancid cyborg scientist who needs to bathe and touch grass. I adore him though. Ellie: Arlos little sibling. She/they user. Kills people for money and feeds the bodies to the eldritch horror that follows her around Hector: The eldritch horror that follows Ellie around. usually just looks like a dilf tbh its easier for Ellie to explain. Can't actually speak so he usually just talks telepathically while making a bunch of hums, chirps, and clicks to mimic speaking.

Oleander: Local unethical scientist that unethicaled a bit too hard when trying to revive his even worse older brother and turned off most of his emotions manually to avoid coping with the mental toil. Sad! Many such cases. Can't feel any emotions other then joy now. Kinda sucks but he certainly doesn't seem to upset about it :)

Simon: Oleadners brother. Kinda. Moreso a robot piloting Oleanders brothers body. Fucking hates Oleander but after Oleander lobotomized himself Simon begrudgingly takes care of him now. Despite his complicated feelings, he's wildly overprotective.

Cybel: A robot Oleander made! They are meant to gather as much information as they possibly can in case some horrible event happens that kills off humanity. is quite literally indestructible. Likes ice cream.

Octavius: I made this guy to be a danganrompa villain back in high school and I succeeded too well. I fucking hate this fake ass bitch

Tabb: This fucking guy. Trapped in a time loop but he doesn't know and its technically not a time loop. Met his (now) husband ages ago but died shortly after meeting him, so he revived Tabb, then the two got married, then Tabb died again so Halt (the husband) revived him again but he lost his memories then halt died and Tabb revived him the Tabb died again so Halt revived him but he lost all his memories so they dated again and got remarried then Tabb died again and you get the idea. Very nice guy, a bit anxious, perfectly normal minus the dying thing. If it wasn't for him losing all his memories and Halt tampering with shit so he was in love with him i uh. Don't think he'd actually like Halt all that much tbh

Halt: Just wants to be happy with his husband :(. Sad he unethicaled all over that science. Hey are you noticinga theme here. Also he's a cat boy but thats really not relevant to his depression issues

Urge: Halts kinda milfy twin sister. Really sick of all of this loop bullshit because she gets to watch her bestie Tabb die repeatedly, so she packed up her bags and left. Can't be in the same room as Halt without them getting into a fist fight. Do you see the themeing with their namesan d their ideals. Halt is kinda halted in place but Urge keeps pushing forward because she has the urgeto move on. Do you see it. It is almost 1 am

Russel: A kid that got roped into this whole mess because he walked in on a Tabb revival tube without permission. Sticks around Urge most of the time. Had a bad homelife to put it mildly, so Urge took him in.

Theres way more of these bastards but these are the most relevant ones. I am going to bed now. Goobnight

[elvendorx]

hiii this is the w*lfstar anon from before and i just re-read the harry potter prequel and oh my god. i reiterate... i really dont understand how anyone could be a w*lfstar shipper when we have canonical moments of james and sirius going out on the bike and being assholes .... the way they play off each other.... the chemistry ... some quotes i thought youd appreciate:

'“Get off the bike!” he bellowed at the smirking youths, who sat basking in the flashing blue light as though enjoying it' ... james and sirius looking for trouble being cocky and arrogant when they get caught bc theyre sooo confident they can get out of this situation + they both think its funny THEY ENJOY BASKING IN THE BLUE LIGHT!!!!

sirius immediately being an asshole when the guy asks for names and starts just??? listing random fucking names and james playing off it?? its so funny theyre so horrible together

'They were suddenly as alert as gundogs ... Then, with identical fluid movements, they reached into their back pockets.' IDENTICAL FLUID MOVEMENTS!!!!!! MOVING IN TANDEM!! this reminds me of that parallel you once made of james and sirius standing up and remus and peter staying sitting down.

'James and Sirius zoomed away into the night sky, their tail light twinkling behind them like a vanishing ruby' sorry isnt that like immediately more romantic than 100% of the w*lfstar hcs on here

so in conclusion i again cant fathom how w*lfstar is even a thing when we get CANONICAL moments like this between james and sirius

they're so UNINTENTIONALLY ROMANTIC they're actual soulmates and james is a full-on background character. it makes me ILL.

"the boy who was riding pillion was sure to be flung under his wheels" - sirius likes riding the bike with james best because he knows james can handle the sharp turns because of his broom skills <333

yesssss the fluid movement and moving in sync makes me feral. they do it in snape's worst memory as well

i will also NEVER get over the matching t-shirts - did they make them themselves??? do they buzz each other on the mirror like "u wearing the phoenix shirt? good me too see u soon love u bye"

i also think that “Names?” repeated the long-haired driver. “Er – well, let’s see. There’s Wilberforce… Bathsheba… Elvendork…” is such a good example of sirius' sense of humour. he's a silly boy at heart

i just love them - "vanishing ruby" should be their poetic ship name

[things-stankyle-probably-said]

yay your free from tumblr jail!!

what is your LEAST favorite stan/kyle headcannons?

this turned into me bitching about things I don't like in fanfic lmao these are just things I personally don't vibe with

bonus!!! I don't like that the fandom calls it stanky that sounds horrible the ship name should always be style or sp style to make it easy to find in the tags its also a cooler word

1. tall jock stan, short nerd kyle, it's the other way around!!! kyle is a tall jock, and stan is the short nerd!!!!

2. anything with internalized homophobia. like. do you even watch the show tamar? that's a reference it's not addressed to you personally. like homophobia internalized or not isn't something that these boys have and you can find different ways to give them angst that isn't OOC

3. kyle pining for stan when it's obviously the other way around (source? the whole show but especially cupid ye)

4. when people either demonize wendy as a heinous bitch trying to get in the way of stan x kyle, or put her on a pedestal to where she is incapable of any flaws or ignore her character entirely

5. I've read way too many style fics that have stan treating kyle horribly by stringing him along while he's obsessed with wendy, refusing to admit his real feelings for kyle until it's too late, using kyle for physical affection basically cheating on both kyle and wendy with each other instead of making a commitment, and kyle suffering through all of that, those kinds of style angst fics make my skin itch and I hate them

6. making kyle completely careless thoughtless and mean towards stan like characterizing him as someone who barely tolerates stan's existence. again. OOC portrayal, makes no sense

7. freckles. hate them. not a fan, personally I don't like them I don't see the vision, it's not for me

8. making stan's only interest football and nothing else

9. ignoring that stan and kyle are best friends and like each other and have fun together, a lot of fics I used to read forget that element when writing them going from friends to lovers instead of making them best friends who are lovers. it's a subtle difference but I can tell when it doesn't happen

10. the idea that either of them would use their worst habits and insecurities against each other in a fight, that's hitting below the belt and they wouldn't do that

[boredclarinet]

OKAY GAYMERS ITS THE CONAN GRAY x TMA LIST

STARTING WITH KID KROW (im only doing albums cause im fucking lazy and its easier)

COMFORT CROWD - NAOMI HERNE CAUSE SHE NEEDS MORE LOVE

The Cut That Always Bleeds - S4 Jmart from martin pov. I dont know okay i dont knownit just makes sense leave me alone

Fight or Flight - S1/2 martin. but like, i dont. fucking know? it just. the chorus. okay. piss off.

Affluenza - Mary Keay. literally a middle class woman in a rich white man dominated field (i don’t actually know what her income was). she did horrible things but i respect the grind. (still fucking hate her)

(Can We Be Friends?) - Tim and Sasha. Im fucking crying go away.

Heather - Martin misinterpreted all of jons interactions with the lesbians. theres a vision here

Little League - comparing S3/S4 to preS1/S1.

The Story - time sasha first bit, then jon and martin (shut up i know it worked out but piss off), then wtgirlfriends and jmart. iF you get my vision I love you.

SUPERACHE

People Watching - Martin. no, not jon. its martin.

Disaster - jmart or timsasha. idk. depends, you know what i mean.

Bestfriend - Tim and Sasha (im going to fucking die im tormenting myself arent i?)

Astronomy - tim and sasha. FUCK. FUCK IM ACTUALLY GOING TO CRY.

Yours - fuck you. LonelyEyes.

Jigsaw - my friend @wormpiratesblog said the bridge was martin, and i agree, but i believe the entire thing could be martin at his mother.

Family Line - the song to start it all. Lukas family. or martin or gerry. but i like the lukases more.

Summer Child - Martin. no notes

Footnote - Tim about Not!Sasha.

Memories - S4 jmart.

FOUND HEAVEN

Found Heaven - it. i dont. something about the avatars, and misfits, and the gays, and manuela domínguez. i dunno.

Never Ending Song - tim and sasha. fuck. what even is their ship name?

Fainted Love - can I say doorkeys? imma say doorkeys. make your own fucking list if you have a problem with my shit. i just need a break from thinking about tim and sasha

Lonely Dancer - Stranger. thw fucking circus 💥. FUCK ITS JUST TIM AND SASHA FU-

Alley Rose - guys our lord and savior conan gray hates me. its all timsasha and i dont think i can fucking cope.

The Final Fight - its. its tim. guys i need help. why is it all tim. im actually on the verge of tears.

Miss You - sasha. im so. fuck.

Bourgeoisieses - Mary Keay. Do i gotta explain? i think i already did.

Forever With Me - Jmart.

Eye of The Night - literally everyone in London whose had an entity encounter. jon is just around the corner to take their statement.

Killing Me - okay i dont want to say jonelias. but. its sorta jonelias. but if thats not your cup of tea. jmart and the eye/web.

Winner - god so many possibilities. S5 jon at Elias (not shipping), S4 Martin at his mother, Gerry at his mother. Hell maybe even micheal at gertrude. Who fucking knows, ya know?

Anyways. Now Im sad. What have we learned? The Archives wouldve loved Conan Gray. and tim is conan gray coded apparently. fucking hell.

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return: Stories from the Vault

Some old stories from when you were a kid! This is LONG but its eight short stories from various ages of the readers life!

For those of you that might be reading for the first time, this is a prequel to The Daughter’s Return, but you can read it independently if you’re just looking for cute little stories!

This idea was sent to me by anonymous! CW: some mentions of child abuse (in Age 5 story and Age 11 Story) Word Count: 7.3k Part One | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Magic - Age 5

You had gotten hopelessly lost. You had told Marco you knew your way back to the ship, and you had stormed off. He was taking too long. And now you weren’t sure which way to turn. You had a great sense of direction at sea, but it didn’t seem to be the same on land. 

Some men were talking nearby. They looked a little rough, but that never deterred your father from talking to people, and it wouldn't deter you. “Excuse me,” you said, and the men immediately stopped talking. “I think I’m lost.”

“Lost, huh?” The man with a scar on his cheek chuckled. “Too bad, kid. We’re busy.”

“But-”

“Hang on, Tank,” the man without teeth said. “I know her from somewhere.”

The two exchanged glances, and then crouched down to your level. You knew they would help if you asked. 

“Where you gotta get to, little girl?” Tank asked. 

“The docks,” you explained. “My dad has a ship.”

Both of their eyes got wide, and they looked at each other once again. 

“Say kid, what’s your dad's name?” Tank licked his lips. “Wouldn’t happen to be Whitebeard, would it?”

“That’s it!” you cried out. “You know him?”

“Yeah,” the other man said. “We’re good friends. In fact, we were just about to give him this too.” 

The man held up a strange-looking fruit. You weren’t sure what your father would do with a fruit. There were plenty of normal fruits on the ship already. Maybe it was special. Maybe it was magical. It certainly looked magical.

“Let’s go, kid,” Tank said. He grabbed your hand and gripped it firmly. It was almost painful, but you didn’t complain. You didn’t want to be in more trouble. 

The three of you walked for a long time, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were going further into the island. You were now in the middle of the jungle, and you guessed that the men were lost now too. You should’ve stuck with Marco. This was getting complicated. 

“Listen Sunny, I don’t got a good feeling about this,” Tank mumbled, his eyes on you.

“What are you talking about? Listen, the N-”

“Shush! Not around the kid! She’s worth 10 million berries for a reason!”

“Hey kid,” Sunny said looking at you. “You stand right here and don’t move. We’ll be right back.”

He placed the fruit on a log nearby, and the two of them walked a couple of yards away to speak privately. 

You knew you should spend your time listening in on their conversation, but you couldn’t stop staring at the black fruit in front of you. It was like it was alive, the undertones of the fruit shifting in color from yellow to orange to red, and then back again. It had to be magical.

You weren’t sure how you ended up beside it, or how it ended up in your hands. You were mesmerized by it. It would make a good gift for your father, but you wanted nothing more than to try it yourself first. Just a small piece. It wouldn’t even be noticeable. You closed your eyes and took a small bite. 

It took everything you had not to gag. This was a terrible gift. It tasted horrible. You chewed, and then swallowed, and finally began coughing from the horrid taste of it. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. 

“Hey! What the hell are you-” Sunny’s eyes got wide, and you heard him scream out a string of curses. 

“Spit it out, you devil!” Tank screamed, running at you. “We can’t sell that to the Navy if you eat it!”

The Navy? No, this fruit was supposed to be going to your father. They had told you that. 

Sunny got to you first, and he slapped you hard across the face. Your skin stung, and you could feel tears rising in your eyes. But you held onto the strange fruit. You refused to let it go now. It was your magic fruit.

“You little bitch!” Sunny screamed, shaking you like a rag doll. “You ruined everything! We were going to make a fortune off of that!”

“Sunny, relax,” Tank reasoned. “We can still turn the kid in. The Navy will give us more since she’s got powers now.”

“The Navy?” You were confused. “You were supposed to take me to my dad.”

“We hunt pirates. Which is what you are,” Sunny sneered. “You’re going straight to Naval Headquarters, kid. They’ll probably kill you the moment you arrive.”

“No.” You could feel tears rising, and you took a step back, trying to get away from them. “No. I want to go to my dad.”

“Get her, Tank.”

Tank’s large arms reached for you, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You let out a loud shriek, hoping to attract someone-anyone-who might help. You held your magic fruit tight and felt a strange pull in your stomach, but you refused to open your eyes. 

You couldn’t hear Tank and Sunny anymore, or anything for that matter. Everything seemed eerily quiet, even though you were in the middle of the forest. 

When you finally opened your eyes, it looked like a bomb had gone off around you. You were standing in a hardened lava flow that stretched out at least 100 yards on every side of you. There were no signs of trees or grass, only blackened volcanic rock.

You heard the familiar flap of wings above you, and Marco dropped down in front of you. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, checking your body for any sign of injury. You flinched when he touched your cheek, still sore from Sunny’s slap. “Who did this to you?”

“Nobody,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. You couldn’t let him know you had gotten lost. You couldn’t let him know you had gotten hurt.

His eyes scanned the surrounding area, clearly in disbelief at the power emitted. “Who did this?”

“I don’t know.” You wiped at your eyes. Your throat hurt from screaming so much. 

Suddenly Marco’s entire body got tense, and he pulled your magical fruit out from your hands, examining it. 

“It’s for dad.” You sniffled. “That’s what the guys said.”

“What guys?” His eyes found the small bite you had taken, and they grew wide. “Did you eat this?”

You took a step back from him, afraid he might hit you too. Marco had never hit you before, but the fruit seemed to make people do crazy things. 

“No,” you lied, trying your hardest not to cower.

“Y/N. Did you eat this?!” He shoved the fruit in your face, pointing to the tiny bite you had taken.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, falling to your knees. “Please don’t hit me. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Marco’s voice was instantly soft again, making you cry even more. “I’ve got you, kid. You’re safe.”

“It looked so good,” you cried. You let him pick you up, and you cried into his shoulder. “But it was so yucky.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed, rubbing your back. “They’re not very yummy, I know.”

“I want to go home.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he took flight into the sky, holding you and your magic fruit tightly. 

You must’ve fallen asleep mid-flight, because when you woke up, Marco was still holding you, but you were now on a boat. Home. 

“What kind of fruit?” Your father whispered.

“Some kind with lava properties, it appears. There was a huge explosion, and I found her surrounded by hundreds of feet of cooled lava on all sides.”

“Hundreds?” Your father sounded skeptical.

“I can take you back to the place I found her, if you’d like to see.”

The thought of going back to Tank and Sunny made you let out an involuntary whimper, and you squeezed Marco’s neck. “Please don’t make me go back to the bad men. I won’t leave your side again, Marco. Promise.”

“The bad men?” Your father asked. 

“Can you tell us about them?” Marco asked, prying you from him and setting you on the ground. 

“They said they were bringing me and the fruit back to you,” you explained. “But when I ate the magic fruit, they got really mad at me and then they disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” your father asked, “Disappeared how?”

“I dunno. I closed my eyes and screamed and when I opened them they were gone.”

Your father gave Marco a quick glance of concern, and then turned his attention back to you. 

“I’m just glad you’re safe, punk.” You father stretched out his hands and you ran to him, clamoring up onto his lap. 

“You’re not mad?” you asked, looking up at him with big, watery eyes. “Even though I ate your fruit?”

“It’s your fruit now.” Your father laughed. “What’s it called?”

“The Vulcan-Vulcan fruit,” you said instantly, though you weren’t sure how you knew it. “Am I magic now like you and Marco?”

Your father gave you a big grin, pulling you in for a tight hug. “You sure are! But we're going to have to teach you how to use that magic, okay?”

“Okay!”

---

Trouble - Age 7

Marco pulled open the doors to the supply closet, and bent his head down to make eye contact with you. 

“Whatcha doin' in here, kid?” he asked, seeing the guilt written all across your face. 

“Hiding.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I’m gonna be in trouble.”

He smirked. So you had caused that fire at the base of the main mast. “Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head, and he climbed in next to you and shut the cabinet door behind him. The two of you sat there in the dark, him waiting for you to speak. 

“I didn’t mean to,” you finally whispered. “I just got mad.”

“What are we supposed to do when people make us mad?”

“They were laughing at me. Calling me princess and making fun of me. I tried to ignore them, Marco. I promise I did try!”

“They’re not trying to be mean,” Marco explained, but you shook your head.

“They were being mean! They weren’t being funny-mean like you or Thatch or Izou! They were just being mean!” You could feel the magma under your skin start to churn, making it feel like a thousand bugs were crawling across your skin. A slight glow came from you as you shifted in discomfort, illuminating the closet. 

“Deep breaths. I don’t want this stuff to catch on fire too.”

You let out a small sob and buried your head in your knees. “Now you’re being mean! Just leave me alone!”

“I’m just teasing,” Marco said, putting his hand on your shoulder. He sucked in a breath at the heat you were emitting, but he didn’t remove his hand. 

“I hate this power,” you cried. “I can’t control it! It’s stupid and it just keeps hurting people!”

“Breathe with me,” Marco said. You heard him take a deep breath in, and you followed his lead. When he breathed out, you did. When he breathed in, you did. 

After a few minutes, you could feel your body starting to relax, the magma beneath your skin stilling, and peace returning once again. 

“Can I just give this power back?” you asked. “It’s been two years and I can’t figure it out. I’m failing.”

“You’re not failing,” Marco said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “You’re learning.”

---

Nap - Age 8

You preferred to sleep in your father’s study during the day. Marco always made you take a nap, but you didn’t really need naps anymore. You were getting too old for that. 

But, when you were “asleep” in your father’s study, sometimes you got to hear top secret reports. Things only the reporter and Pops knew about. And you, but nobody knew that. So you didn’t mind nap time too much, as long as you got to be in his office. 

Today had been boring, though. No reports at all. Just your father working quietly at his desk, the scratch of pen against paper slowly lulling you to sleep. 

And then the door creaked open. 

“Pops,” a man whispered. “We found it.”

Your father’s pen stopped moving, and your ears perked up as you laid against the cot in the back of his office. 

“Found what?” Your father asked. 

“The fruit.”

“Is it safe?”

The man sighed, coming into the room and taking a seat at the desk. “It’s with a kid.”

Your father paused, and you could sense him trying to figure out if you were asleep or not. You steadied your breathing and your heart rate as best you could, keeping your entire body still. 

You heard him shift back in his chair, his attention turned to the crewmate in front of him. “A kid?”

“He just started sailing in the North Blue. Just a teenager. Trafalgar Law.”

“How the hell did a kid get his hands on a fruit like that? And where in the North Blue?”

“We believe he’s from Flevance.”

“Flevance!?” Your father’s voice was louder from disbelief, causing you to flinch. He lowered it again instantly, aware of your presence and not wanting to wake you. “So he’s a walking corpse. It's just a matter of time.”

“That’s the thing, sir. We have reason to believe he’s been cured.”

“With immortality? That’s not how the Ope-Ope fruit works. Someone else has to-”

“We’ve confirmed he’s the one in possession of the Ope-Ope ability. We believe he used it to cure himself.”

“Incredible,” your father breathed out. “He was just a kid when it went missing. He was that knowledgeable at such a young age?”

“It appears that way. But all files about Flevance have been destroyed, so there’s no record of his family.”

“I see.” Your father hummed, trying to weigh a decision. “Have we sent people to him? To invite him to join us?”

“He didn’t seem interested.”

“But he’s not hostile?”

“Unclear,” the man said. “We have reports that he used to be a part of the Donquixote Family, but that doesn’t seem to be the case anymore.”

“Any idea what caused the split?”

“No,” the man said. “But reports say Trafalgar disappeared the same time another member did. Code name Corazon.”

“Damn that Doflamingo,” your father cursed. “He makes a mess wherever he goes.”

“What should we do, Pops? Want us to bring him in anyway?”

“No,” he said immediately. “Leave him alone. Seems like that kid has been through enough. Just keep tabs on him, and let me know when he enters the Grand Line.”

“Sure thing. You sure that’s all you want to do? The Ope-Ope fruit-”

“Belongs to Trafalgar. He decides what to do with it. We should respect that.”

“Alright.” You heard the door creak open and shut once again. 

“You are never to tell anyone what you just heard.” Your father’s voice was dangerously serious; so much that it caused the hairs to stand up on your neck. “Never. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut tighter. 

“Good.” He went back to writing. 

You tried to sleep, but your mind couldn’t stop wandering to the boy in the North Blue. You wondered if he was nice. You wondered if you’d ever meet him. You hoped your paths would cross some way one day.

---

Stargazing - Age 9

“Marco!”

“I’m busy tonight.” The first division ruffled your hair playfully. “It’s late anyway, you should go to sleep.”

“But-!”

“Go on! It’s going to get crazy here in a bit anyway,” Marco said. “You know how Pops feels about you being out during party nights.”

“That’s not fair,” you pouted. “I’m still part of the crew. I should be able to party.”

“Maybe when you’re in double digits,” Marco jested. 

“Really?!”

“Go!”

Thatch peeked his head in the door. “How about you come hang with me, squirt?”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “I’m not a squirt!”

“Of course. How could I forget?” He gave you a deep bow. “Your majesty.”

You giggled at his actions, already forgetting about Marco. “Take me to the kitchen, Mister Knight!”

“Gladly.” He scooped you up and dangled you upside down, causing you to squeal in delight. 

“No, Thatch! Not like that!” you giggled, squirming in his grasp. 

“Sorry madam, I can’t seem to hear you,” he said, shaking you and causing you to squeal even louder. “You said just like that?”

You erupted into another round of squeals and giggles, and he escorted you from the room to the kitchen upside down. When you arrived at the kitchen, he easily tossed you into the air and set you on the seat in front of the stove. “What would you like, O’ Princess of the Seas?”

It’s the name that had been coined for you across the Grand Line ever since your bounty shot up to 200 million. Daughter of Whitebeard: Princess of the Seas. You had a love/hate relationship with it, but when the commanders said it, you thought it sounded quite nice. 

“Ice cream!” you called, a glint in your eye. 

“Aw, come on!” Thatch complained. “You know you can’t have that this late.”

You gave him the biggest pouty face and sweetest doe eyes you could muster. “Just this time?”

He let out a chuckle and shook his head. “You’re devious, kid. Devious.” Bending down, he pulled out two bowls and an ice cream scooper. You immediately dropped the act, a huge smile appearing across your face. 

“Can we do chocolate?” you asked hopefully. 

“Might as well,” Thatch sighed, opening the freezer. “You better eat all the vegetables I give you tomorrow.”

“I’ll help you make them, if you want!” You were bouncing up and down in your seat in anticipation. 

Thatch groaned at your excitement. “I’m gonna pay for this, I can tell.” Regardless, he scooped out two heaping scoops for you, and two for him. 

He slid the bowl across to you, and you immediately dug in. He watched you in humor for a few bites, and then began eating his own. “How’s your training coming?”

“I’ve almost got the hang of it!” you said proudly. “I can practice small stuff on the ship now.”

Thatch laughed. “You’re not a fire hazard anymore?”

You smiled at his half-joke. “Only sometimes.”

“Good to hear.” He glanced down at your already empty bowl and smiled, impressed with your eating skills. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Wait!” You threw your hands up, begging him to stop. “Can’t we do something else? Please Uncle Thatch?”

It was a desperate attempt, you knew that. But the commanders always melted when you called them uncle. It was the easiest trick in the book, yet they bent to it every time.

You could see a slight rose color dust across Thatch’s cheeks, and you knew you had succeeded. 

“Fine, fine! Come on, I think tonight will be a good night.”

“A good night for what?” you asked, but he just picked you up and set you on his strong, broad shoulders, silently carrying you out onto the deck. 

It was loud outside. You had to cover your ears from all the music and the screaming. But Thatch didn’t head toward the party. He turned and the two of you snuck up the stairs to the back of the ship. 

It was significantly quieter back here, like someone had placed a wall between you all and the party. He set you down at the very back of the boat, and laid down next to you.

“What are you doing?” you stood over him, pouting downward. 

Thatch just laughed. “You’re looking the wrong way, kid.” He pointed to the sky. “Look up.”

You followed his finger upward, and found a sky more full of stars than you had ever seen before. 

“Woah,” you breathed out, full of amazement and wonder. “There’s so many.”

“Lay down.” He patted the deck next to him, and you did what you were told. “If you watch closely, you might see a shooting star.”

“Really?” you gasped, your eyes scanning the sky even more intensely. You were attempting to look at every place at once, desperate to find what he had promised. 

“Just pick a piece of the sky and watch it,” Thatch advised. “You’ve really never done this?”

“A few times,” you admitted. “But the sky has never looked this radent.”

“Radiant,” Thatch corrected, a smile on his lips. “Guessing you read that in one of your books.”

“Yeah. Sometimes-oh! There!” you pointed to the streak of light across the sky. “Did you see that one!?”

“Yeah! Good eye,” Thatch noted. “You’re very observant.”

“Dad says I’ll make a good strategist.”

Thatch glanced over at you. “Do you want to be a strategist?”

“I think so.” You kept your eyes on the sky. “I don’t know though. Sometimes it’s overwhelming to think that much.”

“You seem to like correcting Marco in the meetings.”

“Well, he doesn’t think of all the things he should!” Thatch laughed at your comment, but he didn’t say anything more. 

“There’s another one!” you cried after a few moments, pointing at the sky. 

“Gah! I missed it! Well, make a wish.”

“A wish?” you asked. You hadn’t heard of that before.

“It’s a thing you do in the North Blue. If nobody else sees the shooting star, you make a wish and they say it’ll come true.”

“But it won’t actually come true, right?” you reasoned. That was silly. 

Thatch just shrugged. “Might as well try. What does it hurt?”

And so you closed your eyes and thought about what you wanted to wish for. A friend. That would be nice. One your own age. One who you could play games with and laugh with and tell secrets too. You wished for a friend.

“I made my wish,” you said, opening your eyes again. 

“Don’t tell me what it was. You have to keep it a secret.”

“Okay,” you agreed. You watched the sky for a little while longer, but you didn’t see any more shooting stars. You must’ve used them all up on your wish. “Hey Thatch?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for never making fun of me. Like when I mess up or stuff.”

“Why would I make fun of you?” he asked. You could hear the confusion in his voice.

“Some people do. But you don’t. So…thanks.”

“Sure, kid. Let me know if I ever hurt your feelings or I accidentally make fun of you, okay?” He sighed, and you could hear that he was struggling to stay awake. “Thanks for hanging out with me tonight.”

“I like stargazing,” you said, your eyes starting to droop.

“Me too, kid.”

---

Friend - Age 11

You were eleven when your wish came true. You wished on several stars since that first one, an overwhelming amount of them were spent on a friend your age. And there she was. Standing in front of you. She was slightly taller than you, and maybe a year or two older. But she would do. 

“This is Whitey,” your father said, introducing you to the new girl. “She’s joining the crew as your new sister, so make her feel welcome.”

It took approximately four hours for you and Whitey to become best friends. The two of you shrieked with joy as you trampled across the deck. You bulldozed through people without a care in the world. 

At night, the two of you hid under the covers, whispering secrets while you held your hand over your mouth to muffle the giggles. You made up stories and told her about the crew, and she told you about her life hopping from island to island, working under new people every few years. 

One morning, it was just you and Thatch in the kitchen. You swung your feet while you sat on the barstool, waiting for Thatch to finish your eggs. You had heard enough stories, but you were afraid to ask Whitey directly. You didn’t want to lose a friend. Thatch wouldn’t make fun of you for asking, though. 

“Was Whitey a slave?”

You heard Thatch make a garbled noise, like you had caught him off guard with your question. “What makes you think that?”

“The stories she told me. She moved around a lot, and the people were always really mean to her. She has a lot of scars on her hands.”

“Observant as always,” Thatch mumbled. “Yeah. Pops and Marco found her in the street, searching for food. But she used to be a slave.”

“Did we kidnap her?”

“You can’t kidnap a slave, kid. You free them.” He plated your egg, and threw some bread on the pan to toast it. 

“So she’s free now?” you asked.

“Yep.”

“But she’s a kid.” Your brows knit together, trying to understand. “Kids are supposed to be with their family. Shouldn’t we take her back to her parents?”

“We’re her family now,” Thatch explained. “That’s what matters.”

“What if her parents miss her?” you asked. “Pops would miss me if I found another family.”

Thatch put the toast on your plate and slid it over to you. You could tell he was thinking carefully of how to word what he wanted to say. 

“I don’t think Whitey’s family was very kind to her. I don’t think they miss her,” he said. “I don’t even think they know her. She’s been a slave for so long, they probably forgot about her.”

“Forgot?!” you cried. “I could never forget my family! I could never forget you!”

“And I’ll never forget you,” Thatch promised. “But some families aren’t close like ours. Some don’t like each other at all.”

“That doesn’t sound very much like family.” You weren’t really hungry anymore. This discussion had made you lose your appetite. 

 “It’s not. That’s why we're Whitey’s family now. So make sure you’re the best sister you can be, okay?”

“Okay! We're gonna do Spa Day!” You jumped off the barstool and raced out the door. You had to make Whitey feel like the most loved person in the whole world. She was your best friend and your newest sister. 

“Your breakfast!” Thatch called, but you were already gone. 

“Whitey!” You jumped on her, still asleep in bed. “Whitey, wake up!”

“I don’t want to,” she groaned, flipping away from you. 

“But we’re gonna have Spa Day!”

Her eyes peeked out from behind the covers. “Spa Day?”

“Spa Day!” you cried. “Come on!”

You pulled her out of bed and to the female bathhouse. You immediately stripped down to your underwear, but Whitey kept all her clothes on. The two of you worked together to fill the tub full of hot water, steam spreading throughout the room. 

“Oh! I forgot!” you threw your back clothes on quickly. “I need the vegetables!”

“Vegetables?” But you were already racing out the door and back to the kitchen. 

“Thatch!” you yelled, running into the kitchen. Marco was in there, and he looked at you in an amused manner. 

“Is it inside-out day?” Marco teased, and you stuck your tongue out at him. In your haste, you had thrown your clothes on the wrong way. But that didn’t matter right now.

“Here,” Thatch said, handing you a basket. “There’s salts, peppermint, and lavender. Put those in the bath. Over here are the aloe-coconut facemasks, just apply those before you get in the tub. The cucumbers over your eyes. Got it?”

You squealed in delight. “Thank you!!!”

“I’ve got stones on the warmer for when you’re done!” he called out to you as you ran back to the bathroom. 

“You spoil her,” Marco chided. 

“Oh please, as if you don't.”

-

“Got the vegetables,” you panted as you entered the bathhouse, exhausted from running across the ship. 

Whitey was still dressed, and you frowned at her hesitance as you stripped down. “Whitey, you have to take your clothes off.”

“What?!” You could see her cheeks pink. “All of them?”

“To get in the bath, yeah.”

“Maybe I could just keep my shirt on.”

“No,” you said. “The fibers get into the drain and clog it.”

“Well I don’t want to take my shirt off.”

You scowled. “Why not? I have mine off.”

You could see the panic in her eyes at your question, her entire body tensing. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Whitey-” 

“Spa Day is stupid!” she screamed. She slammed the door as she left, making you jump at its echo in the room.

You tried your best not to cry. You really did. But by the time you were in the kitchen returning the ingredients to Thatch, your vision was too blurry to see his frame. 

“She didn’t want to do Spa Day,” you sobbed, globs of lava mixing in with your tears. “She said it was stupid!”

“Oh, okay.” Thatch took the basket from you and set it to the side. “I’m sorry, kid.”

“I hate her!” you screamed, your skin starting to boil. “She’s so mean! She’s just like everyone else!”

“What exactly happened?” Marco asked, coming over to help mitigate your frustration.

“I told her no shirts in the bath,” you said between breaths. “Because that’s the rule!”

“Okay, uh, kid-” Thatch took a step back, letting Marco take over. The doctor had a bit more heat tolerance with your literal meltdowns. Your tears were starting to drip down onto the wood, burning holes into them.

“Y/N. Stop.” Marco said, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I know you’re upset, but we’re not going to destroy Thatch’s nice kitchen because of it, okay?”

Your lips puckered out, trying to hold in your sadness. “Sorry,” you whimpered. You wiped the hot tears from your face.

“Why do you think Whitey didn’t want to take off her shirt?” Marco asked. “Think about it.”

You bit your lip, thinking long and hard about why a shirt was a big deal. “She’s embarrassed.”

“Good,” Marco said, nodding his head. “Do we think we can bend the rules for it this one time to make her feel more at home?”

“But-”

“The drain, I know,” Marco finished for you. “I’ll talk to Pops. Don’t empty the tub when you guys leave, and let me know when you’re done, okay?”

You looked over at Thatch, trying to ask him a secret question. Why was she embarrassed? You silently asked. 

Thatch nodded, understanding. “Think about what we talked about this morning.”

Family? No, not that. Whitey used to be a slave. She had scars on her hands. Maybe she had scars on her back too. Maybe she didn’t want to show them. 

“Thank you Marco.” You gave him a hug, finally calm again. “And thank you Thatch.” You ran over and gave him a hug too. “Sorry about your floor.”

“It can be fixed,” Thatch assured you. He handed the basket back to you. “Just like you and Whitey.”

You walked back to your room, your stomach bubbling with nerves.

“Whitey?” you knocked softly on the door, and then opened it. 

“Go away.”

“We can still do Spa Day,” you said. 

“I said go away.”

“You can keep your shirt on,” you said. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll keep my shirt on too.”

Whitey turned over to look at you. “You will?”

You nodded. “We can have Shirt Spa Day.”

Whitey giggled. “Shirt Spa Day. That’s funny.”

“Shirt Spa Day!” you chanted, and she joined in with you. The two of you skipped down to the bathhouse, still chanting your silly string of words, and solidifying a tradition that would last for years to come. 

---

Learning - Age 13

You screamed out in frustration, volcanic glass shattering around you. You had been trying for days to get this new technique right, and you could never make it like how you were envisioning. 

A small beam of volcanic magma. That’s all you were trying to do. But you couldn’t get right. It was either the wrong consistency, or the wrong angle, or didn’t even come out at all. 

And this evening you all were leaving the island. It would be at least a few days before you could practice again. Not that you had made any headway. You were still back at square one. You hadn’t done anything. 

“Looks like you're struggling,” a familiar voice boomed, laughing at your distress. 

You quickly composed yourself, trying to appear somewhat level-headed before you turned to the voice. 

“Teach!” you said, putting on a smile and giving a laugh. “Yeah, just a little bit.”

“Maybe I can help?”

You gave a polite smile, not wanting to appear rude. You weren’t entirely sure what Teach could do to help, since he didn’t have a devil fruit ability. But Marco and your father had left you to figure it out on your own, and you could use any help you could get. 

“What exactly are you trying to do?”

“Just a thin lava stream projectile,” you explained. “One that can be small and precise if I need to take out one person in a group.” 

Teach nodded, impressed with your idea. “Have you got the lava beam worked out yet?”

“No, that’s the problem. I can’t make it at all.”

“Let me see.”

You frowned, but you did as you were told. You held your hand out, pointing to a rock, and tried to make a small strand of lava shoot from your hand. You could feel the energy building up, like all of the pressure was stuck behind a wall. 

And then there was a flash, and magma erupted from the ground around you, spewing hundreds of feet into the air. 

Luckily Teach was far enough away that the blast zone didn’t hit him. He simply laughed at your misfortune, a loud booming cackle. 

“I see your problem,” he said. “You’re too strong.”

You scowled at him, thinking he might be trying to make fun of you. “What do you mean?”

“You’re trying to make a tiny beam. But you don’t even know what the beam should look like. You’re doing too much at once and overloading your senses.”

“Marco said I should start small,” you said. 

“Marco doesn’t have your kind of power.” He laughed again, walking over to you. “Look, kid. Just focus on making a beam. It doesn’t matter how big it is. Don’t limit it. Just envision a beam hitting, say…that rock over there. Try that, okay?”

You looked at your hands, skeptical of his advice. “Okay.” You took a deep breath, and held out your hands in the direction of the rock. “You might want to step back.”

“Don’t need to. Don’t kill me, okay?”

You couldn't kill Teach. He was one of the oldest members on the ship. He had always been there. You'd never forgive yourself if you even burned him a little. You had to get this right. You took one more breath, trying your best to center yourself and envision the kind of thing you wanted. And then, you pushed the lava out of your hands, aiming for the rock. 

It hit. Exactly how you imagined it would. Well, it was kind of hard to miss the rock. Your beam was about 10 times larger than what you had initially wanted. But it was a beam. 

You could hear Teach cheering behind you, whooping and hollering at your success. 

“I did it!” you screamed, hardly believing it yourself. 

“You’ve got power, kid!” Teach patted your head in approval, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. You had been failing because you had been limiting yourself. But you weren’t a failure. You were powerful. 

“It’s my dream to perfect this,” you said, a grin on your face. “Perfect this and become division two commander.”

“That should be a pretty easy goal for you to reach,” Teach said. “Better start thinking of another dream soon.”

“Do you have any dreams, Teach?”

“We all have dreams, kid. I’m just glad I could help you get closer to yours.”

“What’s yours?”

He cackled at your question. “There’s a devil fruit I'd like to find one day.”

“Oh! Well, the Grand Line is huge, it’s gotta be out there somewhere. Any fruits I find you’re welcome to. ” It's the least you could offer.

“Well that sure is kind of you! I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.”

“I really hope you find it, Teach.”

“Me too, kid. Me too.” He sighed, a smile dancing across his lips. “But let's focus on you! Keep practicing! Make it smaller and smaller until you’ve got it the way you want. You’ll get there!”

It was the first time someone really understood how you learned and operated, and every move you perfected in the future came from what you learned that day. 

---

Kiss - Age 16

You hadn’t expected your first kiss to be on your 16th birthday, but that’s just how it happened. 

He was a new crew member, and he had caught your eye almost immediately. His name was Palms, and he was quite the looker. 

You must’ve caught his eye as well, because every time you looked at him, he seemed to already be watching you. 

The two of you played this silent game, flirting only with looks passed between one another, when finally Whitey nudged you. 

“Will you just go talk to him! You guys have been fucking each other with your eyes since the sun went down!”

“Whitey!” you gasped, giggling at her bluntness. She rolled her eyes and waved you on, encouraging you to get a move on.

You met him over by the keg, and you filled up your tankard while waiting for him to speak.  

“I hear this party is for you!” he yelled, trying to make his voice heard over the music. 

“My 16th birthday!” You yelled back. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t know! I would’ve brought a present!”

You gave him a wink. “You still have time to think of one.”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, his eyes raking your body. “Yeah, I can think of one.”

You had never felt self-conscious before in your outfits, but Whitey had chosen this one for you, and it was a bit more skin than you were used to. But she had told you that confidence was key, so you gave him a smirk and walked inside the doors. You wanted a little bit of privacy.

He was a terrible kisser. Or maybe you were. You weren’t sure. It was your first time kissing, after all. But it was still euphoric. A rush of the senses, you could feel your body temperature rising in response to-

“Holy shit you’re hot,” Palms said, pulling away from you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, that just happens sometimes,” you explained, rushing back to his mouth.

“No,” he said, pulling away from you. “You’re like, burning me.”

“Oh.” You could feel your cheek blush. Your skin started to churn, anxious at this new revelation. You couldn’t even kiss without your ability going haywire. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He said, watching the magma beneath your skin start to glow with slight concern. Not concern for you. Concern for himself. 

“Yeah.” The moment was gone, and you only felt shame now. “Thanks for the birthday present.”

He gave a nervous laugh. “If you need another one when you cool down, you know where to find me.”

You gave him a polite smile and rushed out onto the deck. Instead of returning to the party, you went up the stairs and to the back of the ship. You just wanted to be alone. 

You knew what some people said about you. How you couldn't control your emotions. And since your emotions controlled your powers, you couldn't control that either. People constantly questioned your father on your abilities, and his decision to make you lead strategist at such a young age. The only people who really trusted you on their teams were Marco and Thatch. The other commanders would tolerate you, but they would never use you to your full potential. It's like everyone was just waiting for you to mess up.

You leaned over the side of the ship as you cried, trying not to get any burn marks on the wood. You had been with your devil fruit ability for over ten years now, and you still couldn’t completely control it. You hated it. Some days you wished that you had never eaten that stupid thing, or that you had just let those men take you to the Navy and it-

“I thought we’d find you here,” Whitey said, coming up next to you. She gave you a light bump on the shoulder. 

“We?”

“Come on,” Marco said from behind you. “We’re going to play Strategist and Commanders.”

“You said I’m too young for that.”

“Not anymore,” Thatch said, a smile spreading across his face. “You’re sixteen now, aren’t you? Welcome to the club.” 

“But I’m just the lead strategist. I don’t belong to a division.”

“Don’t belong to a division,” Marco scoffed. “You can be on my team. Or Thatch’s. Whoever you don’t choose is stuck with Whitey.”

“Stuck with?!?” Whitey pouted, rolling her eyes. “More like graced with!”

“But-”

“Stop making excuses,” Thatch said, ruffling your hair. “Let’s go.”

You gave him a smile, already forgetting about your disastrous kiss. “Let’s go.”

Oh, they had no idea what kind of monster they had awakened that night. 

--

Departing - 2 years ago

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Marco asked, looking at you. 

“A lot of things will change in two years,” Thatch warned.

“I’m ready.” You nodded, adjusting your things on your back. “I need to do this.”

You walked over to Whitey, the goodbye you were dreading the most. 

“You gonna be okay without me?”

Tears filled her eyes. “Yeah.”

“You don’t have to lie, Whitey. I’m not going to be okay without you either.”

She let out a soft sob, and clamped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

“Don’t be.” You wrapped her in a hug, crying too. Normal tears now, though your lava tears rarely affected your ice-witch best friend. 

“I know you have to leave to get stronger,” she said, her voice muffled by your gear. “But I hate it so much.”

“We’ll have SO much to catch up on when I get back, though!” you let out a choked laugh. “We can stay up all night under the covers, just like old times.”

“Promise?” she sobbed, clutching you tighter. 

“I promise.”

The two of you finally broke apart, viciously wiping the tears off your face. 

“That was embarrassing,” you both said in sync, which started another round of laughing sobs. 

“Y/N.” Your father’s voice boomed from nearby, quiet, but urgent. “We have a small window of operation to get you where you need to go.”

“Right.” You gave Whitey one more squeeze. “I’ll see you soon. And I’ll make a journal every day so I remember everything to tell you. You do the same.”

“Deal.”

You walked over to your father, towering above you. “Thank you for everything, Pops.” You tried to keep your voice level, but you could feel your lip trembling. 

Thankfully, your father’s was doing the same. “I know this is the right call. The timing couldn’t be better. I'll remind you, you’ve already done it, but continue to make me proud.”

“I’ll do my best,” you promised. 

“That’s all I can ask for.”

He pulled you in for a hug, and you could feel he was holding back tears, just like you were. You had never been away from your father, besides small missions and scouting trips. And now you wouldn’t see him for two years. 

“Ready, Izou?” you asked, looking toward the man who would take you to Wano. 

“Let’s go.”

You walked through the crowd, saying goodbye to the only family you had known your entire life. 

“Good luck!” called Haruta. He had just joined, and you were sad you wouldn’t get to know him more. 

“Get nice and strong, and come be our commander!” Teach yelled, and you gave him a grateful nod. 

“We love you!” called a group of young adults. You spotted Palms amongst them, and blushed as you waved.

You knew things would be different when you got back. You just didn’t realize how different they would be. 

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01@deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598  @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi  @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @aikochan4859

(if you'd like to be included in the tag list, just comment or send me a message!)

[kinki-cami]

Yknow im split again on whether or not i would want the affini to exist

Because honestly, truely, if i could literally just have basically star trek with pretty much infinite ethical food, slay but also if it was just like me and my like 8 neighbors (making 10 total people) i wouldnt mind, like just nature and chilling

Cause lets be honest, if you were sad in any way shape or form, even if its simply "i want to go take a 5 hour walk in a real forest" the affini would probably just be like "oh petal dont be sad" and inject you with (i can never remember the class names but i know what they do so) what is essential dopamine/serotonin, and youre pretty much removed of any individuality which. Suuucks. Especially for someone like myself who pretty much never had an opportunity to fully express myself.

Now dont get me wrong i LOVE identity death BUT i wouldnt wanna be erased, instead id rather just be trapped into a paradise of my own making in my mind. Like. I can look at whats happening to my body, buuutttt for the most part i just get to experience things i wanted to but never had the opportunity to, hell, {in the ben sharpiro talks about banning luigi from ssbu meme voice} lets say, hyypothetically, luigi grabs you- kidding! No lets say this scenario did happen, if the affini in charge of me pretty much told my replacement if any trauma was effecting that paradise to tell them and theyd deal with it, that would be even better bc i think i do have trauma considering every fictional character I've ever made that i would use another character that represented me to talk to, ""my"" ""friends"" (the fictional characters) always resent ""me"" (the character that represents me) in some way always using an annoyed tone

So yknow if i were to just exist as essentially a repressed thing in the back of my mind but i have my own little world i get to interact with back there while physical me is completely otherwise braindead from the affini, then i wouldnt mind, but yeah as it stands, uhh yeah i dont like 24/7 bdsm relationships, i want there to be a seperation between sexual me and normal me, especially since there already is a massive divide in that form, only really noticeable in private vs public and edged vs finished

And otherwise if i was in the hdg world and didnt have that option, you know the moment i was left alone after being captured by an affini and they didnt say that theyd do that, id be dead on the floor, probably crying as i die bc i wouldnt know a very good way to die, bc presumably humanity would have found a cure to diabetes by then, i mean considering it might happen by 2026 uhh i could also just inject myself with a lethal amount of insulin and go peacefully although probably panicked, otherwise, assuming theres no non oxygen, non carbon dioxide gas on the ship, yeah i would probably die a pretty painful yet pretty fast death, crying the whole way there bc fuck if i have to chose to basically watch myself lose myself, death, or trapped in my own mind but i dont know i am i would take option 3... unless thats unavailable, then i would take option 2

Now would they try to keep me alive? Yeah probably but then again you cant really recover a stab to the heart, neck, and lungs, or a hanging, or insulin with about 20 minutes of wait time so yknow

Idfk why im talking about this im depressed as FUCK right now but I'm also being real about if i was in that situation because... yeahhhhh but yeah uhh this is definitely a combo of saying "hey heres my solution!" And "fuck i have horrible thoughts i dont want in my head right now i dont know how to get them out without fucking doing something l Iike fucking finding sone way to cut myself, drink alcohol, or literally have enough fucking energy to get up, which i dont have that energy right now sooo yeah uhh fucking no ones going to read this haha its WAYYYYY too late so like 95% of people who follow me arent online and like , lets be real who the fuck is going to like a post about "oh if i was given the chance to remove all ambitions i had in life to just live in pleasure or do that but its all fake OR kill myself, i would kill myself" like. Thats fucked up. And also now that i think about it its like that comic about the time traveler who goes to the future and is given a choice to continue on her journey or experience eternal pleasure as you hallucinate the things you love and are constantly injected with dopamine and she never leaves and it shows basically everyone doing the same thing sooo uhhh yeah good luck finding THIS post sherlock, i doubt even BATMAN could find this post

[olderthannetfic]

(spellchecking this was a nightmare; I got sent this a while back as a response to a topic I commented on, where I basically agreed there is an oversaturation issue of a specific nature form not friendly people making the community they clam to be supporting look bad in the process. I agree with them but what is your take?)

First off no hate intended but I sometimes forget form past experiences that Mod (s) form a specific blog get bit heated around the shipper issue. (Fujoshi is the proper term for this specific shipper type; but tumblr has issues with that term being used in its proper context. there is actually a darker reason why this became a term its a Idol culture rabbit hole to be saved for later.) As for the topic I genuinely believe that they can't really relate to this topic without proper context. A great deal of this is probably because they defend who they should not and I will do my best to explain this issue without calling anyone out. No hate intended, I like to see the best in people and encourage that to grow more as individuals. The fandom in question is pretty small but the issue is not. There are other fandoms that can relate thou this one is for a game genre. I can't fathom why people defend other users for this horrible behavior towards others just because they ship the only popular guy on guy ship in the fandom.

Lets start by providing context, there are two different types of user here the kind that just mind their business and enjoy their ship, these ones are not the issue, and (lets call them Troublemakers since tumblr hates the term. The term literally means "Filthy Girl" and more importantly I know why it means this but that is somewhat irrelevant here and not the topic.) Basically I really want to understand why no one is calling out their vile behavior because to me its just as bad to not hold them accountable for the bad things they do just because they throw around a trigger or two. I am not saying they can not better themselves, just that not frowning upon their actions does not help them.

Sorry for the long clarification I just wanted to make this clear before getting to the topic because this is about a specific set of individuals, not he group as a whole and I think some people forget that this is a thing with said group. The inconvenient truth is there is a good and bad way to handle it, ignoring the issue and praying it goes away is not a way to handle it.

NOW FOR THE STORY: Because it is a general issue we shall improvise with names, it also makes cleanup easer). In this Game story the ML (Author) and the FL (Gwen) are portrayed as having a deeper bond, the only other character (Lance) also has a deep bond but is a different relationship entirely and you can tell form the interactions hinted at the the deep lore.

During the course of the story Lance becomes cannon fodder for Author's development after he makes a bad deal; yet his tragedy is not a total loss for Lance as lore in this story says Lance IS able to warn Author of a plot form his father that would lead to Author being turned into a literal human puppet.

Here is where the Trublemakers come in, They have been drawing people into the fandom claiming that a offshoot of the story in question that is teased could be centered around Author and Lance as a couple to spite the writers of this series saying if Author were to get with anyone it would be Gwen.

They also mention that is not where they want Authors story to go. Basically developers were saying that the romantic openness is just that an openness to interpret the relationship as romantic and something they only put with Gwen and Author. They also clarify that Authors relationship with Lance before Author has to end him is a "Brothers in Arms" one thou they are very close as friends they are not romantic.

Lances story is meant to be a tragedy as you discover Lance was not in the best of health in the game he even says he "Made a deal with a devil and regrets it" and it is hinted that this deal has taken his freedom form him rendering Lance nothing more than a tool for the Antagonist to use against Author in the end. When Author makes the final blow Lance thanks him for finally freeing him form his terrible fate. This isn't to dog on the ship but in the end the issue is the Trublemakers are ruining the chances of this small fandom to grow by trying push that this is a canon Pairing when its a tragedy that was meant to grow the Protagonists resentment towards his father who is hinted as being the devil in question. Something that is meant to progress to the final confrontation where the protagonist is given a choice to side with his father (become the human puppet) or rebel against him which leads to his fathers tragic end after the epic final battle of this story. This series is NOT sunshine and rainbows it is classified as a Dark Fantasy hence why we using fantasy references. and Cannon fodder like Lance is common in this genre. The concern is that the Trublemakers are creating false expectations for incoming fans about the series; sadly Lance is not likely to come back, thou he was developed as a character who could, as it is made abundantly clear that Lance in the end found his freedom in his passing. The Bad actors are making light of the fact Lance sacrificed himself to Warn Author and is in some since disrespectful to the writers as well who are trying to not falsely advertise the games story or genre. Oh but it gets worse; in the fandoms they are literally intimidating and bothering fans that refuse to shill the ship going after people who just do not post the things and that could be any reason what so ever there. It could even be personal preference we are talking full on attack mode, hiding behind a gray face, trashing people behind their back to people they interact with exc. So enter my dilemma; am I really wrong for thinking this behavior is bad? I do not feel as if its right to consider my stance here flawed or worthy of scorn and hate. My concern is not the ship existing but the bad actors that are in it being coddled when they behave just as vile as the "Unicorns" in the Idol fanbase trying to force real people to bone to appease their single sex couple fetishes. (That is literally why its so bad I did say it was a Rabbit hole, thou the term Hole is a gorse understatement of how deep.)

--

Ahahaha. What the actual fuck is this?

Am I understanding you that most of this is a c&p of something you received? Okay, then, let's break it down.

Okay, big picture:

It is bad to pressure creators to make your ship canon.

It is bad to pressure other fans to ship your ship or harass them for not posting enough about it.

But as for this little essay, no, of course I don't agree with it: It's so full of red flags it has barely any room for anything but red flags.

'Fujoshi' has a ~darker reason~? What? The history is simple: 2chan bros used a rude but kind of funny pun for women who were "spoiled"—i.e. undatable—because they liked m/m content. Those women found the pun amusing and reclaimed it for themselves. The end.

It's just the 'fu' from 'tofu' and is a pun on a homonym, 婦女子, that refers to a married woman. It's "rotten" like food going bad, not like moral depravity (though I'm sure the 2chan bros do think it's morally depraved for women not to cater to them).

Right off the bat, this is a red flag because it's trying to hint at some dark depths here that just are not present and are not a big deal. It's trying to set up a tone that the author has Special Knowledge and we should just trust them. Sheesh.

I am not saying they can not better themselves

And here we dive straight into "I'm just trying to help you" bullshit. This is condescending and creepy.

The description of the canon is convoluted and pointless. Brothers in arms is the main driver of oldschool m/m ships. Yes, of fucking course people are going to ship this.

"Baww, the creators said they didn't mean it that way!" What the actual fuck is this? Who cares what the creators think? Why is this essay fellating the idea of canon compliance?

"The het subtext was intentional!!!" is not an argument that anybody should be making because there is literally no reason fans should care which subtext was intentional when it comes to whether they ship something.

Almost the entire description of the canon could have been cut out to just leave:

"They have been drawing people into the fandom claiming that a offshoot of the story in question that is teased could be centered around Author and Lance as a couple to spite the writers of this series saying if Author were to get with anyone it would be Gwen."

Now... I think the second half of that is a reach. Are they actually doing it out of spite? What's the evidence? Canon's plot is not evidence.

Tinhats are a plague everywhere, they aren't usually doing it out of spite, and they aren't all m/m shippers. It's far more likely that a bunch of dummies are seeing shippy potential and extrapolating to think it's intentional and leading somewhere. Sherlock fandom was full of this. Many fandoms are.

But regardless, the first half does make sense as a complaint. If I'm understanding the situation correctly, some fans are bringing in new fans with false promises of canon m/m.

in the end the issue is the Trublemakers are ruining the chances of this small fandom to grow by trying push that this is a canon Pairing when its a tragedy that

Okay, you've lost me. You've lost every fan with a single particle of sense.

Don't talk about fandoms like you're talking about the third quarter profits of a corporation. That's obnoxious nonsense.

Either your fandom will grow organically or, most likely, it will not. Some annoying m/m shippers aren't the real reason: the fact that most things don't get that popular is the real reason.

Why aren't the het shippers or the gen fans able to draw in more people? Maybe the m/m ship is more interesting. Maybe these other fans should make more of an effort if they really want to treat fandom as a job or religious evangelism.

And moreover, who says tragedy and ships are opposites? Even canon ships! Even canon ships where someone died!

Look, I believe you/the person you're c&ping that this particular canon is not gearing up for "Lance" to come back, but considering how many fujoshi are still creaming themselves over The Untamed or Scum Villain, I really do not think that one of the dudes falling off a cliff or even dying for real is much of an impediment.

This is Tumblr, dude. Have you not seen that "Your greatest enemy will rise from the grave and never leave you alone" story? Come the fuck on!

If the canon's creators wanted to bring Lance back and make this BL, they could. If they prefer not to, that's fine.

The issue is entitled fans demanding that their vision be the creators' vision. Full stop.

The minute you try to hand-wring about the m/m aspect of it, you sound like a homophobic and/or misogynist douchebag. It does not matter what specific thing the demanding fans are demanding. It only matters if they're harassing people.

their single sex couple fetishes

And now we have the mother of all red flags!

Having sexual fantasies is not a ~fetish~. Clowns who think it is are not to be trusted. Does this person (you?) think that, what, idol band RPF fandoms are where the concept or term 'fujoshi' comes from? I have bad news about the levels of bonkers stalker bullshit the band guy/female self shippers pull, not to mention the bullying by people who just like a group and don't want anyone to like them the "wrong" way.

The issue is not horny thoughts. The issue is bullying and harassment.

What I'm hearing here is "Wah, wah, waaaah. Other fans of the game I like keep inviting their friends, and they all ship a ship I don't like! Won't someone think of the (near) canon het!"

That shit was tired and old in the 1970s. It's worse now.

--

If you cannot describe the harassment without resorting to all of this anti-m/m nonsense, you're never going to convince anyone that there's a problem.

If the issue is "These tinhats say X is going to be canon, but the creators have said it's not", ditch the other shit and just say that part.

M/M fans have dealt with the likes of the Johnlock Conspiracy before. We also hate annoying tinhats who create false expectations and over-promise canon m/m.

Just say:

It sucks when people pretend a canon is BL after the creators have said they aren't going to include m/m.