#slaying in the literal and metaphorical

[beifong-brainrot]

Ok but it was lowkey so cunty of Ozai to do this swirly lil move when going to kill Zuko lol

[chloesimaginationthings]

Vanny’s story in FNAF help wanted summed up

[thevampiresbirthdayparty]

Nobody's been through more than her.. she's like jesus to me

[tapestryundone]

constantly thinking abt the long quiet and the shifting mound and their relationship w humanity. because the two are very much not mortal and even in the what happens next ending its very ambiguous if they ever WILL be or Can be. but even still they have both felt what its like to be mortal

i feel like its vague if the entity the two used to be even percieved its own existence. the way the narrator talks about it makes it seem like the two only existed conceptually and as a result lacked a complete sense of identity, and didnt need to, and wouldnt want to. but in the same way a thought cannot be unthought, the narrator gave them a glimpse into what it felt like to be mortal and the two can never un-know it, even if it wasnt exactly the same

the long quiet in particular seems especially tied to humanity and in some aspects seems to want to BE human (which feels so potent given how decidedly Not human he is). the game tends to imply that every option you get is a thought he DOES have, and in the spaces between, the choices dont seem as influenced by a given voice, which highlights even more how much he feels conflicted on his own nature that he gets Multiple options to express discomfort with himself being a god

it just gets to me how one of the options during the fight is literally "appeal to your shared humanity". because even if the two are gods, their separation and reshaping has given them humanity that they can never un-feel. for how much the shifting mound grieves what she once was, she cannot will her humanity away. shes mourning what the two of them once was and is desperate to have it back at any cost, even though they can never be together how they once were.

even if the long quiet goes with her, theyre still apart and lack balance, because the two once just Were and werent two parts. they werent both halves, they werent two concepts, they were just one concept that happened to, by human eyes, consist of two halves. and the narrators insertion of humanity into the mix in order to separate them, separating them into concepts that humans understood, manually put into existence a struggle for equilibrium where that balance had simply Existed

but theyve already perceived what felt like reality and can never un-see it. they were separated and Need the other to feel whole and for reality to BE whole but the moment that either of them realized their own free will, the moment the two fully came to feel like people, they could never be together the same way once again

im struggling to come up with a metaphor that isnt silly but its like if you took a piece of fabric and cut it in two and made them both into shirts. youve added a piece of humanity into them and doing so cost its original form. to take them apart and try to put them back together would never get you the original, whole piece of fabric back, because theyve been completely changed by their own unique destruction and reconstruction

they were separated in a way that gave them humanity that they have such conflicting feelings on. both seem to have a deep love of humanity but vastly different ideas on what humanity needs to thrive, because its in their natures

in order to get one to kill the other the narrator let the long quiet interpret the both of them as mortal. and for a being of perception and an god thats being lied to, this became part of their limited view of the world, on top of all the other reasons that the two gained humanity. the long quiet couldnt be told what to do if he didnt have the ability to potentially act on the narrators desires, and the shifting mound could never die if the long quiet didnt believe her to be capable of death

the narrator gave the two humanity and the shifting mound is very reasonably distressed by this. because the two of them never asked for this but they cant undo it. it is her OWN subtle desire for things to be the same as they used to be, her own piece of that stagnation that also led to her experiencing humanity, that makes her so adamant during the fight. she misses the long quiet and wants to undo a change that cannot be undone in search of a constant state of being that was taken from her

and the long quiet felt so closely tied to mortality, both its existence and absence, that no matter what, he wants to aid humanity. but hes been lied to and denied autonomy to the point where he doesnt know what that entails. but he wants to be a part of it. he was given fake mortality and cant seem to figure out how he feels

the shifting mound is set in how she feels it best to aid in the existence of life. she is stagnant in her feelings because its all that feels right to her. the long quiet is ever-shifting in how he feels it best to aid in the existence of life. he is changing in his feelings because its all that feels right to him

getting to the heart of the shifting mound allows them a moment to discuss it as the closest they can get to mortals. the two care about their impact on life and what it means to be alive and what better way for the two of them to truly decide what they want to do about it, outside of the conflict thats been forced between them, than as the mortals they never were?

[inoreuct]

thinking about mermaid sanji and sailor zoro,,,

the sky is cloudless, the sun’s glimmering off the calm water, the crew’s relaxing on the deck as they’re sailing through a clear patch of ocean; by all accounts, it’s a perfect day. luffy hasn’t gotten them into another shenanigan as of yet and zoro’s chilling up in the crow’s nest, half asleep and lethargic with the heat— and then he swears he hears laughter. and it isn’t coming from the ship.

he’s up on his feet immediately and squinting against the glaring light, wondering for a second if he’s seeing a mirage or a trick of the heat shimmer, because they’re sailing by a large, flat rock.

a rock with merfolk on it.

zoro’s shimmying down the mast in record time, ropes lashing around him as his boots hit the deck and he tries not to look like he’s running to the taffrail to catch a better look. (look, he’s curious, alright? merfolk aren’t a total myth, but they aren’t a common sight either.)

(that, and he feels oddly like someone has cast out a fish hook and it’s lodged behind his sternum, tugging him forward and forward until his hands are pressed palm-flat to the railing and he’s leaning over the edge.)

he hears that laugh again, rich and bright, wide eyes snapping to the mer who made it. golden waves shimmer over a leanly muscled shoulder, curling around a sharp jaw to reveal the mer’s pale, slender throat as they tip an oyster back into their mouth. leaning back on his hands — zoro is rather sure he is a he now, as a deep, smooth voice fills his ears, though he’s had enough tongue-lashings from nami to know not to assume — and tossing his hair back affords zoro a glimpse of a beautiful smile and bright blue eyes, blue as the goddamn sky. or maybe the sea. or perhaps the bioluminescent algae that had speckled the walls of this one cave that he’d been to ages ago—

he’s getting sidetracked. some sound must escape him, because suddenly a gaze so keen he feels his skin prickle is on him and he gulps involuntarily. and then for some reason, he opens his mouth. “are you a siren?”

the man’s curly brows narrow in irritation. “are you dead yet?” he snarks, casting zoro a flat stare and sighing in annoyance when zoro just stares back blankly. “no, I’m not a damn siren. lucky for you, we happen to be their… less bloodthirsty cousins.”

“less bloodthirsty meaning…?”

he shares a bored, bemused look with the woman on her elbows beside him, a mer with the richest purple colouring zoro’s seen in his life and a one-shoulder top made of shiny black kelp. “meaning we wouldn’t drag you down to the depths and feast on your carcass, but keep running your mouth and I might just change my mind.”

the mer’s tail is folded elegantly to the side as he lounges, fan-like tail fin trailing in the water, turning his body so that he can look at zoro properly as he tips back another oyster like it’s his god-given right. a tiny voice at the back of zoro’s mind whispers that this isn’t a good idea, whatever this is. it goes ignored. flaxen hair flutters in a slight breeze, sticking to the man’s milky skin in darker spirals where the tips are wet, and zoro’s breath catches as he watches the mer smile with teeth that are just erring on the side of too sharp.

the words register all at once and zoro lurches back, away from the railing, away from golden curls and blue eyes and pale skin. “what did you do,” he grits, resisting the urge to press the heel of his hand into his chest where it suddenly aches.

the mer shrugs. “nothing.”

“bullshit.”

“what’s the matter, sailor? feeling charmed?” that laugh, again, and zoro feels his heart throb. he watches the other man cock his head, studying another oyster in his hand, tilting the shell back and forth as he sucks on his teeth. “we can’t thrall,” he says finally, posture slackening with a sigh and a pout that seems to say what a shame as he picks up a knife and spins it deftly, shucking the shell open with a neat flick of his wrist. “only sirens can do that. whatever you’re feeling, whatever it may be, hasn’t been borne of any influence of mine.”

the oyster goes down and somehow, that sentence makes zoro feel even worse. it’s like he’s had the air punched out of him; he’s rooted, eyes wide, breathing hard as the mer makes a noise of pleasant surprise and pulls a pearl from his mouth, shimmering between his elegant fingers under the sun.

(zoro doesn’t know it yet, but he’s doomed. he was doomed from the start.)

*

back under the ocean, sanji has a crisis. he doesn’t see humans. he doesn’t meet humans. he and robin had just gone up to enjoy the sunshine and then this— this— brute swings by, with his stupid green hair and his three earrings and his obscenely grimy used-to-be-white shirt— sanji is fuming and he doesn’t know why. swimming laps back and forth across his cave isn’t helping either.

"might you possibly have something to get off your mind?" robin asks lightly, the pages of her book drifting in the water.

sanji does an about-turn and holds in a screech with all his might, forcing himself to relax with an exhale. "i'm just fine, my dear. peachy keen."

"you're making grooves in the floor."

"i'm redecorating."

he rolls the pearl from earlier between his fingers, squeezing it tight until his hand aches. "are you a siren, he asks," he mutters mutinously, fins fluttering as he throws himself onto a seaweed bed with a scowl. "how could a human be so stupid? if we were sirens he'd have been a waterlogged ball of moss on the sea floor by that point— and that hair. he looks like— like—"

"algae?" robin supplies helpfully.

"algae! sentient plant life, that's what he is, a kelp bed. water lettuce. duckweed, even." oh, he's so mad. that marimo pisses him off. the whole lot of them had sailed away, good riddance, because sanji never wants to see any of them ever again. they probably all smelled horrid anyway.

*

the merman's been following them.

the crow's nest is zoro's territory for a reason; he's the crew's lookout, and he's damn good at his job. for the past few days he's been seeing flashes of a broad tail fin and twists of golden hair. (he very firmly tells himself that he's not just seeing what he wants to see, because one, he might have one remaining eye but his eyesight is still as sharp as he keeps his cutlass, thank you very much. and two, why the hell would he want to see that merman? he isn't about to win any awards for his own manners but that guy had been stuck up and prissy and just rude. he's only been allowed to tag along this far because he hasn't presented himself as an outright threat. zoro doesn't want to see him. nuh-uh.)

(zoro sees things in his dreams, too. ocean eyes and a sly smile. a pale torso, knife in hand and teeth too sharp. he reaches out to see if the other man's hair feels as soft as it looks and he always wakes before he finds out.)

rum doesn't help to loosen the tension that settles against his spine at night, like he's waiting for something. he doesn't know what. anticipation, maybe, would be a better word— but that has a slight positive connotation, and— no. this man might not be a siren, but zoro’s enough of a sailor to know that it sure as hell doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous.

he can't afford to go off chasing pretty mermen when he has a crew to protect.

*

the ship docks for a few days at a barren island. sanji swims laps around the sandy coast and pretends that the thought of his the sailor being beyond his reach doesn't make an anxious itch ripple beneath his scales.

*

water splashes against the side of the boat, and zoro's at the railing in an instant whether he wants to be or not.

“hello, marimo.”

the merman treads water leisurely, golden hair swirling about his shoulders and gleaming in the faint lantern light. it's early enough after sunset that the stars aren't out yet and it's dark as hell. zoro squints.

a laugh echoes in his ears, light and melodious. already familiar. zoro tries to be mad about that. “a little more to your left, moron.”

“well, i can’t very well fuckin’ see, can i?” he scoffs, and bites back a gasp when the water starts glowing, what the fuck. his stupid heart stutters when he sees him, lit up with gentle blues and yellows from below, flickering with the push and pull of the tide and sweeps of that powerful tail. "hey."

"hello," the mer hums again, lashes long and wet enough that they catch the wavering light. "gonna tell me your name, sailor?"

zoro almost lets it slip. almost. but he bites his tongue as he feels a chill run up the back of his neck; sure enough, a glance over his shoulder confirms that nami is glaring at him. don't do anything stupid, her gaze says, and he turns away with a shudder. their navigator is a threat in her own right. "no."

"okay. marimo it is."

"you— that is insulting," he hisses, because it is. he is roronoa zoro. he came from nothing and made a life for himself out of it. he's one of the best swordsmen on the damn seas and he's part of the best crew he's ever known, and he's been reduced to, what? a floating ball of moss?

"it's accurate," the other man corrects with a smirk. "unless you tell me what else to call you."

zoro fumes, fingertips digging into the taffrail. he's sure his nails are gouging scratches in the wood. "no."

"marimo."

"shut up."

"mosshead."

"shut up!"

"algae-brained, kelp-haired, water cabbage-headed—"

"zoro!"

the mer finally stops, lashes fluttering as something passes over his face.

"my name," he ekes out, "is zoro." nami swears somewhere behind him.

the merman's lips part around the syllables of the word, before he draws in a breath and grins, smug. "okay, marimo."

"wh—?!" zoro throws his hands up in exasperation, scofffing. "you bastard!"

"i asked for your name. never said i would use it."

"you're a piece of shit, blondie."

"call me that again and i'll show you how hard i can bite," the mer sneers with all his teeth on show, blue eyes lit up furious, turning away as he prepares to dive and—

"wait!" zoro yells before he can stop himself, and he curses under his breath. ah, fuck it. already got one foot in it anyway. "what's your name?"

"...oh, darling," the mer sighs, half-amused and airy, his voice slipping away. "you're gonna have to work a little harder for that."

it feels like hours later when zoro steps back with a shaky sigh. the merman reminds him of a strong brandy he’d had what feels like lifetimes ago, burnt caramel and warm sugar and smoke with enough hidden bite to take you by surprise, to sink its teeth into you three shots down. enough to intoxicate if you weren’t careful.

he yelps when nami slaps him across the back of the head, faking a lunge at her with bared teeth even as he rubs a hand over his aching scalp with a huff. her nagging about being more careful barely registers. his hair's getting long; maybe he needs a trim.

(that little voice in the back of his head is wary. hesitant. but now it's asking what if.)

*

the ship docks again. this island is teeming with life, thriving, lush with rich green foliage and thick forestation— and beautiful women who all seem to find zoro the height of masculine appeal, apparently. sanji curls himself into a nook in the coral reef and lets his fins trail in the water, the corner of his mouth ticking up a little when a baby clownfish comes to nibble curiously at his fingertip. he's not sulking. he's not. that would be fucking embarrassing for so many reasons and he refuses to think about even one of them.

it's the first time that he starts to feel a little stupid. it had been all fun and games, in the beginning when he'd upped and left on a whim; curiosity and intrigue and the good old urge to stick his fingers in all the cracks this human had until sanji understood every part of him, laid out in the sand like the skeleton of a great sea beast.

but now he's so far away from home, aimlessly following a ship— no, not even a ship. following one person on a ship for no real reason at all.

the clownfish ducks beneath his hand, and sanji cups it carefully in his palm. "you're lucky you don't have to deal with romance yet," he tells it sagely before gently shooing it out of his hiding spot. the water above ripples. it's dark again; the crew must have returned to their boat for the night. sanji sighs and unfurls his tail.

it honestly seems like blind optimism at this point, but he really hopes he's not being played for a fool.

zoro's there when he surfaces, peering over the railing and backlit by the lanterns. sanji focuses and brings out his bioluminescence until the little cove they're in is filled with coloured light. "marimo."

"swirly brow," zoro greets in return.

sanji raises one said swirly eyebrow. "that's new."

"i've got more. blondie, of course. curly head. fishboy—"

"fishboy?!" he squawks, enraged. "fuck you!"

"you wish."

"more like the ladies did," sanji scoffs, and immediately wants to try drowning himself.

zoro frowns. "the hell you talking 'bout, curls?"

the burst of bitterness at the back of his throat is just enough to take him by surprise and loosen his tongue. "they were hanging off your arm like—" mm. nope. he's not gonna go there.

the swordsman's eyes widen like he's just realised something, and sanji does not like that at all. "you're jealous."

"no."

"you are!"

"fuck you," he spits, gills flaring. "i am not." he has no reason to be jealous. they are nothing. this— there is nothing between them.

zoro just grins. "catch."

a white thing drops downwards and sanji darts forward on instinct to let it fall into his cupped palms. "what, s'this supposed to be a present for me, marimo?"

"it's— yeah."

he opens his mouth to reply, before he realises what exactly it is he's holding.

the water lotus fills his hands, its soft white petals edged in pale pink, velvety against his fingertips. something catches in his throat and he dips beneath the water to submerge his gills, carefully holding the flower aloft. his heart squeezes.

the waves lap at the bridge of his nose, hiding half his face as he watches zoro rub at the back of his neck, uncharacteristically shy. zoro isn't shy. sanji knows this much. he is loud and unabashed and unashamed with everything, with how he lives, with how he talks, with how he loves his crew and everything they entail.

but he looks almost— he's blushing, just a little, red across the tips of his ears as his gaze darts away, looking very much like he's mad at himself. "nami said it means strength and resilience, or something." the breath he huffs is harsh as he scratches at his nape. "i don't know, it's stupid, curly, i just—"

"sanji."

"what?"

"sanji. my name."

sanji doesn't want to know what he looks like as he rises out of the water to cup the flower to his collar. dumb, probably. rightfully so, because all of this is a very dumb decision and it's probably going to end in shambles with his heart broken into pieces in the silt but zoro— he looks up, floating on his back, and zoro's already looking at him with something that could be wonder, if sanji dared to name it.

"where did you get this?" he murmurs, tail fin creating large ripples as he swims a circle, holding the lotus like it's fragile.

"there was a pond full of them on the island. thought you'd like it."

"you don't know what i like." it comes out breathy. his hair melts against his shoulders as he tries to push himself closer, closer, across the space between them, like a fool. "you don't even know me."

and yet, he startles back when zoro jumps the railing, splashing feet-first into the water boots and all and shaking his head like a dog when he resurfaces. sanji shrieks and shields the lotus with his body, everything else momentarily forgotten as he whacks zoro with his tail just hard enough to send the sailor back underwater with a sputtered laugh. "you fucking brute!"

"i want to."

"that made no sense—"

"i don't know you, but i want to." zoro treads closer, and sanji's light ripples off his skin. his eyes are grey. warm granite and the inside of an oyster shell. "will you let me?"

sanji wants. there is nothing between them, but he wants there to be. he wants so hard it hurts. it feels like he's holding his heart in his hands and not a flower. it's the only way to explain how he's suddenly aching, hollow, in the face of something that isn't even a goddamn confession but feels too much like one. there is a flower in his hands and he wants.

“why?”

“dunno.” he gets a shrug, blunt and earnest as ever even as zoro’s mouth twists up at the edge. “maybe i’m charmed.”

he swallows hard, his mouth dry, and he doesn't want to say it but he has to. "if this is some sick thing about me being a mer—"

"wh—? no!" zoro blurts, and he looks so fucking horrified at that moment that it settles something in sanji's stomach instantly. "god, fuck, no. no. it's not like that. i swear on my life."

there are reasons why merfolk don't interact with humans. sanji grew up with the stories. he's seen the skeletons on the sea floor, mangled with the hunting tools of man, incomplete remains of his kin tossed away to their deaths, unable to swim or save themselves— still a better fate than the ones who never returned. the ocean is gentle after the burn of her salt; her waves are familiar, and her children are raised in their push and pull. captivity, at the hands of men for whatever reason, is never so kind.

he inhales sharply as callused hands cup his.

"i'm sorry," zoro says softly, rushed and maybe a little desperate, throat bobbing as his eyes dart across sanji's face. "i'm sorry. i didn't think of that at all."

"good," he finds himself replying as he looks down. "that means it didn't cross your mind."

a muscle ticks in zoro's jaw. "that's fucking sick, curls."

"i know." sanji's tone is matter-of-fact. "but it's what we have to deal with, sometimes." he deflates with a soft huff at the expression on the other man's face, looking away. "if you start saying shit like i'll protect you or whatever, i'm gonna smack you. i can handle myself."

zoro sighs through his nose, slowly, and his hands tighten around sanji's. "i know you can. i've watched you hunt. doesn't mean i can't be mad about it."

his eyebrows go up. "you saw me hunting?"

"mhm," the swordsman hums. "you're strong. fast. resourceful, too."

sanji preens. he knows he is, knows he’s one of, if not the best, but hearing it from zoro is another thing entirely.

"...also, my captain's been begging me to get you to fish for us because we're all crap at it."

that startles a laugh out of him, and he smiles so wide so quick that his cheeks ache. "that can be negotiated."

up this close, it's easy to see that zoro's hair is shorter than it was before, shorn short at the back and blunt enough that it just had to be freshly cut. the possibility of it being for him does something funny to his chest. the dark green strands are spiky, sticking up everywhere now that they're wet, and sanji wants so badly to touch.

he looks down at the flower in their hands, and he doesn't.

"this can't survive in saltwater," he murmurs instead, carefully putting his lotus into zoro's scarred palms. "take care of it for me."

he watches zoro trudge back to shore, one hand with the flower held above his head. he yells, "it better still be alive the next time i come check, marimo!" and he doesn't bother waiting for an answer. he knows zoro heard him.

sanji's gonna play this slow. he's gonna play this smart. and if zoro fucks up, well— he’s on friendly terms with a particular shiver of great whites.

*

zoro does not, in fact, fuck up. but now he’s constantly being given shit about his pretty merman boyfriend and as much as he pretends he hates it, he really doesn’t. luffy takes one look and declares that sanji’s crew now, zoro, you can’t hog him! dinners are now seafood more often then not, mussels and clams and all sorts of fish, even lobster when sanji finds out it’s nami’s birthday, and franky engineers some sort of transportable bathtub to get him on board.

(sanji brings robin around and franky falls all over himself making transportable bathtub 2.0, but that’s not the point.)

*

“bioluminescence, right? am i saying that right?” zoro asks, spinning this way and that as he tries to get a good look at sanji’s glowing tail under the water, eyes wide.

“mhm.” the mer lifts his tail fin out of the water, pulling himself closer so zoro can hold both of them up seeing as the pool they’re in is shallow enough to stand in. zoro’s hands twitch around nervously until sanji reaches out and grabs his wrist, pressing his palm flat to wet scales, and his chest aches at the look on zoro’s face.

the cave they’re in is small enough for every little sound to echo. sanji’s tail drips rhythmically, punctuated by the staggered breath zoro sucks in as he hauls sanji closer with an arm low over his stomach. careful fingers trace over the glowing patterns on his tail, fading upwards into his torso, and zoro slides a palm flat against sanji’s spine to lift him up as he presses their foreheads together.

“beautiful,” he breathes, reverent. the reflections from the water dance off his wet skin, and his eyes are mother-of-pearl.

sanji wants to touch, and so he does. he winds his fingers into zoro’s hair and pulls him down and kisses him, tastes salt and rum and the promise of blood when his teeth catch and zoro doesn’t shy from the bite. for the first time in a long time he is safe enough to let himself drift; his tail drapes itself over zoro’s side like a elaborate feather fan, and he giggles at the mental comparison.

he feels zoro smile at his laughter. feels calluses and gentle hands as zoro carries him back out to sea. tastes love when zoro pulls him in for one last kiss before saying goodbye for the night.

*

it starts with more flowers. then jewellery, intricate metalwork that would be hard to come by under the sea, fishnet cords and crystal pendants and pretty trinket rings, then daggers, silver hairpins with edges sharp enough to slice bone and a particularly beautiful watered-steel knife in a sheath of butter-soft leather. sanji cannot help but feel like he’s being courted, which makes no sense, because zoro knows nothing about merfolk courting traditions.

and then they talk as zoro braids shells into his hair the way perona taught him to (“you didn’t tell me you had a sister?!” “she just never came up!” “what do you mean she just never came up, marimo, what the fuck! this is important?!”) and sanji finds out zoro talked to robin about it, the sneaky bastard.

a tail doesn’t stop him from tackling zoro to the sand to kiss the crap out of him, braids unfinished and hair wound through zoro’s fingers. his heart feels fit to burst when zoro turns to ensure he takes the brunt of the fall because they both know how much sanji hates getting sand stuck in his scales.

*

the first time sanji gets hurt, zoro goes rather frantic.

it’s barely a scratch, just a slice near the base of his tail courtesy of a rock he hadn’t been able to avoid while hunting, but zoro bodily hauls him back to the ship between bouts of very concerned yelling and yanks off the black bandana always on his arm, scrubs it clean in hot water for good measure before wrapping up his wound, all while making sure no parts of sanji were drying out in the tub.

“marimo, i am fine,” sanji stresses for the twentieth time, shifting up to cup zoro’s face and sighing in resignation as zoro just shakes his head again.

“i don’t care,” the swordsman announces, throwing his hands up like deal with it. “i don’t care. no more hunting until this is completely healed.”

“it is a scratch. a scratch.”

“i don’t give a shit. you’re staying with me for the next few days.”

sanji groans and grumbles and bitches about it, and when zoro bickers right back it just riles him up even more.

(he stays put. he lets zoro scoop him into his lap with unnecessary care. he leans into the kisses zoro presses to his temple and he feels like crying because he is grateful. always.)

*

slavers attack the ship. sanji may not be a siren, but that does not mean he isn’t dangerous. he has his tail, and his knives, and his love for his crew. this is his crew.

he drags those slavers into the ocean and drowns them one by one.

*

now, sanji’s friend ivankov is a literal sea witch— so when they toss sanji an amulet and a wink on his birthday, sanji already knows it’s gonna be good.

the amulet gives him fucking legs.

only while he wears it, of course, but when he stumbles out of the surf like a newborn fawn zoro nearly chokes in shock. they spend the day falling over each other laughing as sanji tries to walk. he eats shit more times than he can counts and gets enough sand in his mouth for a lifetime.

later, there is a blanket beneath them and the moon above them and the endless ocean, shimmering under the light as zoro gathers his hair out of his face and kisses him so softly it hurts.

“beautiful,” zoro breathes. he preaches it like the truth. swears it like a promise.

their hands fit, calluses against calluses as zoro thumbs over the tiny patch of scales on sanji’s wrist, iridescent yellow-blue. their fingers lace in a motion they’ve done hundreds of times and still it never feels different than the first.

sanji lays back, and all he sees are stars.

[sarafangirlart]

I lied, put your clothes back on we’re gonna talk about how modern discourse and rewrites on the ‘damsel in distress’ trope are actually low key victim blame-y and don’t actually give the damsel in question more agency but rather make her “‘strong’”’ in a masculine sense.

[howtodisappearcompletelyand]

20/10 stars little guy

[mommyesque]

Who is this DIVA 💜?

[deathbydarjeeling]

✨ You’re about to get THE edgiest pat on the head ✨

Rose from the FGO grave when this edgy bastard was revealed, immediately regretted suffering through the detail work - we all laughed at Douman’s hair bells, but you can probably hear Dantes jingling from three singularities away :D

[17magpiesinatrenchcoat]

ALL THE SLAY THE PRINCESS ANALYSIS-ISH POSTS IVE FOUND ON HERE SO FAR

As someone who can never really grasp meanings in media beyond surface level, analyses like these are always lovely to read. Here are all the ones I’ve gathered during my short time in the fanbase so far, this is mainly for myself, but maybe it would be useful to someone else!! Also. If anyone knows of any more, please please send them to me!! I will add more as I go too.

I don’t think these all count as analyses, but they all made me go “oooh :0” so yeah

https://www.tumblr.com/momentomori24/735278091386126336/i-just-had-an-epiphany-about-the-cold-that-i-never

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735000176332259328/the-pristine-blade

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/735270452740734976/id-like-to-point-out-that-in-the-wild-if-you

https://www.tumblr.com/dapperrokyuu/735178155760992257/alright-now-that-ive-seen-the-end-slay-the

https://www.tumblr.com/momentomori24/735068416032047104/something-i-really-love-about-the-smitten-is-how

https://www.tumblr.com/geebeeskoos/735078530884534272/the-nightmare-the-moment-of-clarity-might-be-the

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/734951196420358144/id-like-to-point-out-that-while-the-tower-and-the

https://www.tumblr.com/bpdwwx/734705488874422272/insane-over-slay-the-princess-imagine-death

https://www.tumblr.com/satellite-slickers/734633384872132608/slay-the-princess-is-really-cool-because-learning

https://www.tumblr.com/satellite-slickers/734573430353117184/i-just-realized-that-even-though-our-protagonist

https://www.tumblr.com/satellite-slickers/734558408577073153/i-like-how-the-twist-in-slay-the-princess-isnt

https://www.tumblr.com/golvio/734492024048369664/it-was-a-bit-of-whiplash-going-from-the-damsel-to

https://www.tumblr.com/three-lesbians-of-the-apocalypse/734467272705490944/theres-something-so-chilling-about-asking-the

https://www.tumblr.com/in-fair-verona-we-set-our-scene/734463751524319232/the-more-i-think-about-it-the-more-not-exactly

https://www.tumblr.com/honeyfizzly/734464645923045376/i-think-the-horror-of-deconstructed-damsel-comes

https://www.tumblr.com/colorful-noircuts/733183847545683968/rambling-about-something-i-realised-in-slay-the hello my lovely mutual!!

https://www.tumblr.com/k20spock/734344272686481408/i-feel-like-i-havent-seen-as-much-discussion-of

https://www.tumblr.com/nerdlordofnerds/734384189011607552/man-dont-you-hate-it-when-you-try-to-rid-the-world

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735338029994115072/oh-for-the-stp-questions-what-do-you-think-of

https://www.tumblr.com/honeyfizzly/735336172257198080/i-really-adore-the-witch-wild-route-because

https://www.tumblr.com/supervillainies/735028943239921664/ive-mentioned-it-before-but-voice-of-the-cold

https://www.tumblr.com/lots-of-little-pink-clouds/734249738756620288/follow-up-thought-tsm-says-when-you-meet-he-gave

https://www.tumblr.com/angelofthemornings/734527183265185792/one-thing-i-like-about-slay-the-princess-is-that?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/metanarrates/734373760026705920/if-you-choose-to-chain-yourself-next-to-the?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/satellite-slickers/734216961853095936/durring-slay-the-princess-our-leads-have-the-only?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/golvio/734035911415857152/tried-the-damsel-route-today-this-shot-and-the?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/733870455536173056/say-what-you-want-about-the-smitten-but-the-man?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/733801315338190848/the-way-the-skeptic-implicitly-trusts-the?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/733269659334426624/the-way-the-shifting-mound-ends-every-ending-by

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/733333027972907008/the-way-the-princess-has-no-name-but-at-the-same

https://www.tumblr.com/justsalpals/733475592170848256/the-spectre-really-had-no-idea-what-she-was-doing

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/733630301609295872/the-way-you-can-only-kill-the-princess-with-the

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735453678374469632/also-what-do-you-think-of-the-adversary-i-like

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735448991864635392/oh-oh-another-question-what-do-you-think-is-up

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735538031989293056/oh-what-do-you-think-of-the-spectre-and-prisoner

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735509320346812416/what-do-you-think-of-nightmare-and-spectre

https://www.tumblr.com/minotaur-asterion/735506279592787968/might-be-a-weird-question-but-what-do-you-think this one isn’t an analysis at all but I thought it was funny

https://www.tumblr.com/birdmitosis/735586819735961601/this-honestly-really-fascinates-me-because-it

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735614693262196736/ohhhh-and-what-about-the-narrator

https://www.tumblr.com/elieclowngamer/735849806204960768/okay-but-like-spoilers-for-slay-the-princess

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735902648917721088/what-do-you-think-about-the-beast-in-stp

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/736242037895168000/what-do-you-think-about-the-fury-and-the

https://www.tumblr.com/k20spock/736789844699807744/birds-and-trees-in-slay-the-princess

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735509712935829504/what-do-you-think-of-nightmare-and-spectre

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/736243685245730816/what-do-you-think-about-the-fury-and-the

https://www.tumblr.com/fierce-little-miana/736431035990016000/strange-beginnings-ending

https://www.tumblr.com/chi-the-idiot/736610535159873536/ok-but-we-need-to-adress-how-slay-the-princess

[too-antigonish]

Evans wearing hats...

What it says on the tin, plain and simple.

[wineredsea]

that was a major slay. left me speechless.

[zorostitties]

sephiroth the whole game: shows up, shits on cloud, serves cunt, disappears

[teamfortresstwo]

In a life swap AU rather than just a role swap I think it would be sooo fucked up if Patroclus swapped with Theseus and Achilles with Asterius

[tapestryundone]

thinking about the narrators lines in the beginning of the game

"no more birds"

self explanatory. the long quiet is represented through birds, theough feathers. the narrator is represented through birds, but a more grounded version of them. less draconic. but the princess is tied to birds more abstractly- HEA exemplifies this. the construct is her birdcage

birds are highly symbolic throughout the entirety of slay the princess. they represent death, change, the concept of free will. is it any question that the long quiet is a bird, when he acts of his own free will the most?

"no more trees"

the woods are the first thing the long quiet ever truly sees. before awakening, it is the first thing he even knows. trees are the anchor of the construct, and the last to change as the long quiets perception of the princess changes the construct itself. but they are discarded by the heart of the shifting mound- only the cabin is visible, something created of the woods. trees constructed into something new. trees are not static, even as the narrator relies on them being so

just as significantly, the princess is on occasion depicted through vines, and trees. even the shifting mound is highly reminiscent of the shape of a tree. more specifically, she calls to mind a deciduous tree- a tree that changes through the seasons. life that is not static, but is still sturdy, long lasting

the long quiet, however, hears the narrators description of a forest and immediately thinks of coniferous trees. trees that retain their leaves, and remain relatively static through a year. but they still grow. they are still, but not forever. the construct retains the shape of these even as the cabin and the woods erode away, leaving nothing but the imprint of the woods

and perhaps most problematically of all, no more people

ive discussed this before, just how deeply tied to people that the long quiet and the shifting mound both are, so i wont repeat it all, but above all else, the two are deeply interested in and care about people. people are the reason that the nature of reality is questioned at all, and it is the narrator- the original narrator- who grants them humanity at all. the shape of something human. as far removed as either may be or become, that humanity is never fully lost. it can never be discarded or forgotten

being a person is not a "you are or you arent" thing. the long quiet often thinks of himself as a person, but the shifting mound discards it entirely. they are both right, and they are both wrong. because being a person involves the experience of life, but also the experience of death. and yet it is also the capacity to know what you are experiencing, to feel the world around you and to know that it is. the long quiet and the shifting mound arent 'people' in a literal sense, but how else would one describe the experience of being? the ability to care about others? the ability to care about yourself?

'people' are just one lens that can be looked at to interpret the world. the two are many lenses, but those lenses are all their own people. the voices and the vessels are all people that make up the sum of two vast people

the narrator, within his first moments acting in the construct, is calling to mind all the most important things to the long quiet and the shifting mound immediately, intentionally or not. the capacity for agency and free will and the nature of the self, change and permanence as concepts that can and do coexist as forces in nature, and above it all, how these concepts tie into the experience of life itself. a constant that does not last forever and is experienced by and to life. from a writing perspective, it is incredible how one line feels so powerful with the context of the whole narrative

[trentskis]

julian ryerson with the bleach blonde buzzcut is like coriolanus snow in his peacekeeper era. if he slayed