#through love we will live forever etc

[couthbbg]

– Chen Chen // x . x . x . x . x . x . x

[scattered-winter]

I think my favorite thing abt this rewrite so far is that I get to write everyone as they are at the very beginning (mentally unstable) and things only get worse from there <3

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

wish i could post my paintings of theatre stuff here bc i'm really proud of those (my theatre keeps making amazing adaptations with SUPER COOL costume and lighting and setting and colour and visual symbolism choices) but alas. the chance is low but very definitely above zero that i'd doxx myself HARDCORE. but maaaan. trust me when i say that stage is just plain amazing. i need to live in the theatre

[lilidawnonthemoon]

[obscure-imagines]

what you really want - Mihawk

👹 staring. Dracule Mihawk x afab!Reader

⚔️ preview. Some days you wish he’d settle down, wish he’d just choose an island and stay with you forever, but you know his first love will always be the sea. He’s a pirate, through and through, and you suppose you can’t blame him for that.

tw/cw. unprotected sex, quickie, multiple reader orgasms, big dick Mihawk, begging, dirty talk, breeding kink, fullness kink, slight cum kink, choking, manhandling, roughhousing, using a table hanging from the ceiling as a sex swing, instructed masturbation?, deep penetration, overstimulation crying, hair pulling, etc… I pet names: (hers) darling, good girl. (his) Captain.

🔞 rating. 18+ explicit I SMUT I wc. 3.2k

⚔️ aus. One Piece Live Action, established relationship, pwp, etc…

🎈 mlist + an. It's the way I haven't been active on this blog in 3 years and then this stupid pirate show comes out and now I'm sinning again- I honestly couldn't help myself with this one

You’re in the kitchen rolling out dough when you feel a body press against your back. There’s only one person with the balls to touch you like this. As a girlfriend to one of the seven warlords of the sea, and the greatest swordsman in the entire world, everyone knows your body is off-limits to anyone but Mihawk.

“When did you get in?” you ask, pressing your ass back against him, enjoying the feeling of his breath on your throat.

“Just now.” His hands trace the curves of your hips, and you have to fight the groan that threatens to slip out of your mouth at his touch.

“Did anyone see you?” It’s definitely interesting being a member of the Strawhats while being involved with Mihawk. He’ll show up out of the blue, completely unannounced, and it’s clear to everyone what he’s here for.

You often feel very sinful any time he leaves, when you exit your cabin or the bathroom or wherever he just fucked your brains out, only to find the crew watching you with unreadable expressions.

“Your cook-”

“Sanji,” you interject, doing your best to teach Mihawk the names of your friends in the hopes that he’ll be more sociable with them.

“Sanji,” your boyfriend repeats with a sigh. “I bumped into him on the deck, he said the kitchen is all ours.”

“This should be fun.” You grin, releasing the dough and wiping your flour covered hands on your apron. “I’m guessing you didn’t show up to talk.”

“Definitely not.”

“So the question is…” you grind your ass back against him, “is that a sword in your pants, or are you just happy to see me, Captain?” 

He lets out a small laugh, digging his fingers into your hips to pull you flush to his chest. Mihawk is always amused when you refer to him as Captain. It’s always in a sexual capacity, and even though he’s a crewless pirate, the title feels fitting. On top of everything else, the ‘sword in your pants line’ is somewhat comical, as his sword, Yoru, is absolutely unmistakable when pressed against your body. 

“I guess I’m just happy to see you,” Mihawk sighs. He’s not the best with praise or dirty talk, preferring a more silent approach, but it’s always rewarding to work admissions of interest out of him. 

“So why are we still talking?” you ask.

It’s as easy as anything for him to turn you in his embrace, one hand reaching up to pinch your chin as he presses his lips to yours. Your arms wrap around the back of his neck, and you press your chests together, enjoying the feeling of your breasts against his muscles. 

The kiss is almost gentle at first, but it quickly becomes heated, with his tongue dipping into your mouth. You sigh at the feeling. You’ve missed Mihawk. Some days you wish he’d settle down, wish he’d just choose an island and stay with you forever, but you know his first love will always be the sea. He’s a pirate, through and through, and you suppose you can’t blame him for that.

His hands slip down your body, squeezing your breasts, toying with your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt. He pulls away from your mouth, staring down at you with Hawk eyes full of lust. “Turn around, and bend over the table, darling.”

You swallow thickly at the command, grabbing his jaw and pressing one final kiss to his lips before following through. The solid cooking table has more than enough space for you to flatten your chest against it without having to worry about messing up the dough or getting flour on your shirt. In fact, it’s probably one of the sturdiest locations for Mihawk to fuck you from behind. 

A soft sigh escapes you as his hand trails down your body, then he’s roughly gripping your trousers, tearing them down until they pool at your feet. He’s discarded your panties as well, and your skin tingles at the cool air that brushes over your hot, exposed core.

You hear Mihawk dealing with his own pants, and you wiggle your ass as an invitation, impatience getting the best of you. It’s been over a week since you’ve seen your boyfriend, over a week since anyone has touched you, or kissed you, or filled you up to the brim until you were crying-

“I missed you,” you tell him, relaxing your cheek against the wood of the table as he rubs his cock through your pussy lips, coating himself in the wetness already beginning to drip out of you.

Mihawk doesn’t return your sentiment, he only lets out a small grunt, grabbing your hip roughly as he begins to push into your core.

There’d been hardly any foreplay, so the stretch of his thick cock against your inner walls has you crying out and grabbing the edge of the table. You kind of like the pain though- being with a warlord of the sea is just like that sometimes. It’s quickies, and roughhousing, gasping into each others mouths and stripping naked the moment you get each other alone.

Your boyfriend can be kind though. He doesn’t push all the way into you, doesnt sink balls deep- he thrusts shallowly, and you can feel his gaze fixed on your tight pussy as you swallow more of him up, inch by inch-

“Fuck,” you groan, clawing at the wood. 

“Good, darling?”

“So good,” you whimper, feeling your toes curl when he’s finally pushed all the way inside of you, the tip of his cock just kissing your cervix. “Oh my god, you better fuck me stupid-”

“I intend to,” he promises, grabbing your waist with both hands to keep you presses to the table. His first thrust is rough, making you cry out and wiggle in his grasp. Your hips are pushed uncomfortably against the edge of the table, and as Mihawk finds a fast pace, each rut of his hips sends you forward.

It’s not very painful, although, you might bruise tomorrow. Part of you almost wishes you do. You love reminders of him, marks that make you think of him balls deep in your aching core-

“Captain-” you whimper, panting against the wooden surface of the table as he fucks you harder and harder, making you almost dizzy. 

“Let me hear you,” he instructs.

His hand finds the back of your neck only for his fingers to slip around the front of your throat and pull- he makes you arch your back, body contorted for him. The sensation makes you gasp, deep groans escaping you. Each smack of his hips against your ass has whimpers leaving your lips. Your eyes are closed, mind entirely focused on the feeling of his perfect cock filling you up and destroying you for any other man.

“Mi-Mihawk,” you stutter, lower lip warbling with effort, your body nearly overwhelmed already.

“Touch yourself. I want you to cum.”

You swallow thickly while he pulls you up from the table, tightening his grip on your throat and  giving you the space to slip your hand down to your pussy while he fucks you in a half standing position. You can feel his breath against the nape of your neck, can hear him panting-

Even small sounds are such a turn on for you. You can’t see his face right now, but it’s sexy to know that he might be as effected as you are by all of this. 

Your fingers brush by your clit and you cry out at the sensation, clenching your eyes shut while your pussy throbs around his cock. “Oh my god-”

“That’s it, darling. You’re close.”

You can only nod, applying more pressure to the sensitive bud while he continues fucking you stupid. His grip on your throat doesn’t help the situation- it makes you lightheaded in the best possible way, your stomach muscles tensing as your orgasm builds in the pit of your stomach.

“I’d like to hear you beg for this first one.”

You moan loudly, the throbbing intensifying between your legs. “Please, Captain, please-”

“You can do better than that,” he scoffs, lips finding the side of your throat before his teeth bite at your shoulder.

“I’m so close, please make me cum- only you can make me cum this way, oh my god, your cock- it’s so deep- it’s so good-” 

You feel a tear slip down your cheek, and your core clenches unbelievably tight around him- you’re on the edge, but you can’t cum without permission. Mihawk has trained you well, and by the satisfied sound he lets out, you think he knows it.

“Good girl,” he praises, and it goes straight to your pussy, making your legs quake with effort- “Cum.”

It’s the one word you need to fall over the edge, and as your pussy practically explodes with pleasure, you find yourself being pushed down to the table again. Mihawk’s hand leaves your throat, fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

You can feel your juices dripping our around his cock, making a mess of your thighs- all you can do is claw at the wooden surface and take what he gives you, cries of ecstasy leaving you uncensored. 

He fucks you until you’re shaking, fucks you until your core stops throbbing around his thick length, then he pushes into you completely, holding you flush to his front. “Take a breather, darling,” Mihawk tells you, “I’m sure your Captain wouldn’t be pleased if I leave you completely broken.”

You can’t believe he’s bringing up  Luffy at a time like this- can’t believe he sounds so nonchalant, as if your pussy didn’t just try to milk him for everything he’s worth. Mihawk is just like this, you suppose. He’s always controlled, and it’s one of the sexiest things about him.

“You’re my Captain,” you whisper, heart still thundering in your rib cage. “You can leave me however you want.”

His hand caresses your ass, squeezing the flesh and making you twitch around him. 

“Turn around, I want to see your face.” He pulls out of your pussy and you moan at the loss. Your legs are shaky, you can hardly stand as you move to face him, leaning back against the table. 

Mihawk is too handsome for his own good. His facial hair is immaculate, and his eyes are bewitching. 

He cups your cheek and you lean against his hand, enjoying the soft moment of reprieve before the next round that you know is coming. 

“Beautiful,” he tells you, leaning in to kiss you gently. 

You reach for his hat, taking it off his head to place on yours, and it makes his lips stop. He pulls away and looks down at you darkly. You can only grin up at him. “Am I still beautiful?” you prompt.

“Always,” Mihawk responds easily, reaching own to cup your ass and lift you off the ground, prompting you to wrap your legs around his strong hips, trousers now discarded on the ground.

Your lips find each other, and you kiss him deeply while he carries you through the kitchen. When you’re set down, you find yourself on top of a wooden table platform hanging from the ceiling on four chains- you’ve never realized before that this is practically a sex swing.

This wooden platform that Zoro laid on while recovering from wounds your boyfriend gave him, is now going to be the very tool used to fuck you absolutely stupid. You’ll never be able to look at it the same way again, and you don’t want to. 

Mihawk pulls away from your lips, and you watch him take off his jacket. He places the duster and his beloved sword on the cooking table just behind you, taking the hat off your head to discard it with the rest of his clothes. You take the opportunity to remove your shirt, leaving you completely bare for your boyfriend, whose gaze takes in every inch of your body now that you’re exposed.

“I missed you too,” he says softly, reaching up a hand to grab at your breast, teasing your nipple between two fingers. 

You arch your back, legs quivering around his hips from the stimulus as well as his words. “Then fuck me,” you tell him. “Fuck me full of your cum until I’m dripping. Fuck me so deep that I’ll have a part of you with me even after you leave- I want to feel you inside for a week.”

Mihawk gives you baby fever like no other man you’ve ever met, and staring at him now- knowing he’ll leave you soon after this, it makes you even more desparate. You love him more than you’ll ever be able to say- but maybe if you gave him a baby, you’d be able to show him that he’s the only man that will ever have your heart. 

You watch his adam’s apple bob with effort, his hands slipping down to your thighs. He massages your skin, pulling you forward, his aching cock teasing between your pussy lips-

“You’ve always had such a dirty mouth, darling,” he tuts.

“You love it,” you insist, leaning back down against the wooden platform. “You love how dirty you make me. Love it when I’m begging for you.”

The tip of his cock pushes into your core and you both let out sounds of pleasure. You’re so wet, it’s the easiest thing for him to sink into you, and the swinging platform allows him to pull you close, only to push you away a little, using the hanging table to his advantage. 

With one hand, he can control the table, and with the other, his thumb can find your clit. 

Your legs shake around his hips, the sensitive bud is still trying to recover from your first orgasm, and the stimulation isn’t helping. 

“Mihawk,” you moan, already feeling desperate again. 

“You’re pretty like this, darling,” he tells you. “If you start to beg, I might just give you what you want.”

He’s not applying enough pressure to your clit to make you cum and you both know it. He’s just teasing you, gently rocking you onto his cock while your toes curl and your body nearly shakes. He’s such a fuck, but you love him so much.

“Please, you know what I want,” you whimper. “It’s the same thing I always want.”

“Go on.”

“I want you to fuck me rough. Want you to feel good. Want you to cum deep inside.”

“There’s more too it though. Don’t deny it, darling. I know what you want. What you really want.”

You blink at him in confusion, and he begins to rock into you harder, faster. His thumb applies more pressure to your clit, working it in tight circles that have your pussy clenching tightly around his cock.

“You want me to fuck a baby into you, don’t you?” he asks, although, the question definitely feels rhetorical. “You want me to give you the one thing I’ve never given anyone. You want me to make you mine, completely. To do the one thing that would show everyone who you really belong to.” 

“Mihawk-” you whimper, body tingling with overwhelm from his words alone.

“This is why you’re always begging for my cum like a whore in heat, why you always want me to cum inside since the first time we fucked.” Mihawk lets out a small chuckle, grinning. “Bet you thought I had no idea, but trust me darling, I know your games.”

“They’re not games,” you try to insist, but your words are broken and whimpered as he fucks you more intensely, the wooden platform swinging almost aggressively now with each rough thrusts. 

“Tell me what you really want.”

You gasp as he pinches your clit between two fingers, your body contorting against the tabletop. Your eyes clench shut and you feel your skin heating with your impending orgasms. “I want you to give me babies!” you admit, feeling a wave of relief to finally say what’s been on your mind for months. “I want to swell with your cum and have your children- I want to be with you forever-” 

Mihawk lets out a sound that’s nearly animalistic, and then he’s hauling you off your back, leaning over your body and forcing his lips against yours while your hands grab at his shoulders. 

It’s the most intense kiss you’ve ever shared with him, all tongues and growls- 

Your pussy throbs around him, and you eat up his sounds, trailing your fingers through his beautiful dark hair and pulling gently-

Mihawk lets out another groan, fingers unrelenting on your clit. 

“Please cum for me,” you mumble desperately, the cord in the pit of your stomach pulled achingly tight. “Please, Mihawk, I need it- I’m so close-”

He pulls his lips away from yours, your foreheads touching while he stares deep into your soul. You can feel tears of pleasure already building against your lashline, and the way he’s panting has your stomach twisting into even tighter knots-

Then he’s smashing his lips against yours again, fingers digging into your hip as he pulls you flush to his front, cock burried as deep as it can possibly go inside of you. 

You can feel him cumming, and it triggers your own orgasm, which jitters through you like electric ecstasy, making your hair stand on end and your skin tingle. You’re gasping against his lips, enjoying his moans and returning them with sounds of your own.

Your arms are wrapped tightly around him while your pussy milks him for all he’s worth, your tits pressed against his strong chest. His hand moves from between your bodies to flatten against the small of your back, embracing you tightly.

You’ve never felt closer to him in your entire life.

There’s never been a moment like this one. 

You can taste the love he has for you on his tongue as it invades your mouth, tracing your lips and teeth-

Even though he’s still inside of you, hips flush to your own, it’s one of the longest orgasms you’ve ever had. There’s nothing like this type of closeness, nothing like being stretched to nearly your breaking point while he fills you completely with his cum, cock so deep you can feel him painting your cervix. 

It feels almost like a promise. As if he’s as dedicated to knocking you up as you are. He’s not said it explicitly, but you get the sense that he wouldn’t mind starting a family with you. In fact, he might even enjoy it.

You can imagine him teaching your child to use a sword, can imagine a three year old running around with the tiny little dagger Mihawk wears around his neck-

“I love you,” you whisper, tightening your grip on the warlord.

He lets out a groan. “I love you too.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I'm honestly considering doing more One Piece stuff on this blog, but I guess we'll see. My main account right now is kpop blog, which you can find here or @smileysuh

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here

© obscure-imagines — all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any fic, reaction, or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.

[saturngalore]

afrofuturism🪐

☆ one ~ solange hair by darknightt (tsr warning) ☆ two ~ loretta hair by @simtric ☆ three ~ bahati braids by @sheabuttyr ☆ four ~ isonoe hair by octetsica ☆ five ~ binah braids by @sheabuttyr ☆ six ~ cornrows & curls hair by @leeleesims1 ☆ seven ~ indie hair by @sashima ☆ eight ~ loc petals by @shespeakssimlish ☆ nine ~ mnemosyne hair by octetsica ☆

mini dedication essay to black simmers and ts4 creators below! pls read if you have the chance! <3

this edit is a small homage to afrofuturism and the various unique black hairstyles (and especially the black creators of most of these hairs) that i have downloaded and admired over the years! some of these are old and some of these are new.

to me, afrofuturism means constantly honoring/reclaiming/challenging the past while constantly creating/dreaming of a better society/world/future. a society/world/future that embraces and empowers all of our differences, ingenuity, aspirations, and unique lived/cultural experiences. a society/world/future that does not limit us through the various systems of marginalization and oppression (racism, homophobia, transphobia, fatphobia, sexism, xenophobia, ableism, classism, colorism, etc.) that often affects how we, as black people, live today.

blackness is so diverse and intricate yet it's always been a struggle to find my culture within a game that's known for being so limiting, bland, and extremely eurocentric when it comes to hairstyles, clothing, food traditions/events, etc. black simmers have always had to figure out how to make this game more inclusive and make it resemble either more like how our ancestors lived, how our current lives are, or how we would want our lives (and even our children's lives) to look like in the future no matter how dystopian the real world look and feel now. fortunately, these hairs and their uniqueness bring a huge sense of culture and style to this game. they have always inspired me and made me feel extremely proud to a part of the lovely african diaspora (and the ever-growing black simmer community).

in a way, being a black simmer and cc creator usually means that we are often digitally creating our own worlds as afrofuturists to varying degrees (whether we know it or not) every time we open our game, make our sims, make houses, and/or make black cultural cc. also, now i know that cc making is not easy to do and is extremely time-consuming so this post is also just me giving all black cc creators especially those who create for free their well-deserved flowers! here are some other black cc creators who created cc that have greatly impacted my game since i first started playing sims 4: @/leeleesims1 @/simtric @/hi-land @/yuyulie @/sims4bradshaw @/ebonixsims @/xmiramira @/sheabuttyr @/qwertysims @/oplerims @/sleepingsims @/shespeakssimlish and so many more im forgetting probably (im too shy rn to tag ppl but i greatly appreciate y’all fr i hope y’all telepathically get this message somehow 😭).

last but not least, i am hoping that this inspires somebody to keep creating or start creating regardless of what they think their skill level is! somebody will absolutely fall in love with your work and/or your art/work will 100% change someone's game forever <333

[gay-dorito-dust]

Either college or old man Ford being with someone who, even after all the years theyve spent together, still looks at them like a lovesick puppy

like theyre blushing and getting flustered when he rests his hands on their waist or doing normal couple stuff, etc.

it's like their mind still doesn't register that they're together and instead, to cope, just proceeded to have the most down bad crush on their HUSBAND

(like that one reddit post LMAOO)

You knew that you were staring but you didn’t care, and you knew that Ford knew that you were staring and yet you didn’t care when the finest man in existence was before you and was also your husband?!

You still found it impossible to come to terms that this silver fox was yours forever and always, you still get flustered when he compliments you and your bed head, even more so when he cups your cheeks in his hands and kisses your forehead.

You really shouldn’t be this badly affected after being with Ford for so long, but you couldn’t help it! Your husband was hot and you’d be blind to not take time out of your day to stare at him, shamelessly admiring his aging face and silver fluffy hair that looked like storm clouds! It was unfair that Ford looked so effortlessly beautiful no matter what he did that it left you swooning and pining after him like a lovesick fool, you’d find yourself asking if he was single…

Only to remember that you were married to him and got to see him be so effortlessly handsome every damn day of your life and you end up smiling stupidly.

‘You alright my love?’ Ford asked and you internally squealed like a little girl.

‘I am just perfectly fine my dear, just admiring my beautiful and talented and smart husband is all.’ You admitted also sheepishly as though you were confessing to him all over again as you felt the best rush to your cheeks and tips of your ears.

Ford smiled softly as he walked over to you and held your face in his hands, feeling the warmth radiation off of your cheeks as he caressed them; After all this time together Ford was aware of the fact he still held some power over you and he couldn’t help but feel flattered at how little had changed from then to now.

It was charming and sweet and kind of you to still look at him through the lens you did since your time at college together, he didn’t feel like he deserved it, but he knew that feeling would fade the moment he looked into your eyes and saw the abundance of love you held for him was still thriving and very much alive.

‘That is very sweet of you my dear,’ Ford said softly as he kissed your forehead, ‘you truly enlighten me with your love and affection that I can not thank you enough for marrying this old fool.’ He chuckled as he saw your eyes widened as though you still weren’t accustomed to the reality that you two were indeed married and have been for the past two months. Ford often wondered what what off in that head of yours but from the look within your eyes, he already knew his answer and couldn’t help but find it endearing.

‘I’d be the fool if I didn’t marry you Ford, even a bigger fool if I didn’t say anything back in college. I think I’d fight myself if i didn’t.’ You admitted as you thought of an alternate universe where you didn’t spill your guts to Ford back in college, you honestly didn’t want to think of where your life would’ve been like had you not married Ford as you were certain it was one full of regret and longing for what could’ve been. So you thanked god every night as you cuddled up to him in your shared bed that you got to live in a reality where you got Ford to be yous in every aspect possible.

Ford chuckled. ‘I highly doubt there is one where we don’t end up together my darling, and trust me I’ve been through the entire multiverse for the past thirty years.’ His eyes then soften as he rests his forehead against yours, causing your whole body to heat up at the action as you found yourself melting into him and his warmth. ‘I’m just happy that you were willing to wait so long for me. So, so happy.’ He adds in a whisper.

You nudged his noses with yours, flighting off the butterflies that were now within your stomach and running rampant at his words alone. ‘I would’ve waited far longer if needed just to see you home safe and sound.’ You told him as you kissed his nose and cheeks softly, happy to be in his arms and breath him in, content in knowing that he was here and that he was real unlike the dreams you had in the past. ‘So don’t thank me for doing something I would’ve done ten times over. You deserve as such Ford.’ You add as you pecked him lightly on the lips reassuringly.

‘Still I must thank my adorning wife/husband/spouse for being by my side when they had every right to walk away.’ Ford said as he tugged you closer to his chest, just innocently holding you in his arms lovingly but yet you couldn’t help but feel your heart hammer in your chest at being so close with him as you burrowed your face into his heck.

‘Your wife/husband/spouse is just happy to see you home where you’d belong with your family.’ You murmured again his red turtleneck, holding his waist tightly as you indulged in his comforting scent, something you loved about him that rivalled your love for his six fingers.

‘And I’m happy that I get the opportunity to call you my wife/husband/spouse.’ Ford admits as he kisses the top of your head before nuzzling his face into your neck, pressing a tender kiss there which made your breath hitch in your throat. ‘I love you my darling, so, so much.’ He whispers as though it was something that would only be shared between the two of you, like no one else is allowed to hear such talk between lovers and soulmates.

Your love for Ford was insurmountable, no words could properly describe just how much you love this man that you were more then willing to rip heaven and hell for, to rip through time and space just to see him home safe, anything if it meant seeing a man as sweet and loving as him smile that adorable smile of his in your direction.

You needed Ford like you needed air to breathe, water to drink and food to eat. Ford was a necessity for your survival and you weren’t going to let him go ever again, for you didn’t know how you’d be able to cope without him again.

Sure you might still have an embarrassingly massive crush on your husband, and become flustered every time he held your hand, kissed your forehead or even looked at you lovingly but you weren’t ashamed of it as it just meant that you were that your love rang true even after so long. If anything it meant that your love was stronger then most that fizzle out after a certain period of time, and yet you couldn’t help but smile stupidly and look away whether Ford complimented you or engulfed your hand with his own.

Ford was your best friend, husband and your crush all at the same time and you were more then happy to have finally gotten your happy ending with him, all the while staying perpetually in love with him regardless of the passage of time because Ford was so much more then your husband but he was massive part of yourself that you couldn’t live without nor intend to.

‘I love you so much my beloved Ford.’ You said as you rested your eyes and listened in on his strong heartbeat that told you he was alive as he held you tighter. ‘So very, very much.’

‘Then I hope you keep loving me for a long time.’ Ford confessed as he kissed your neck some more.

‘And I’ll promise to love you for an even longer amount of time after that.’ You admit as you moved your neck so that he’d have more access as you clutched onto him, smiling dopey as you felt as though you were on cloud nine within your husbands arms, blissed out of your mind as it ran rampant with ideas for the rest of your shared lives together.

[samara444]

everything i learnt during my break (ie all you need to know about manifesting)

hi guys, i took a months long break from tumblr. i used to be depressed, suicidal, constantly looking for results, having only failures, whining, being affected by the 3d every turn, crying almost everyday, to now not being affected by the 3d at ALLL, knowing my true power, and having it all easily conform in the 3d, i dont have anxiety/depression anymore and i feel so blessed, now i literally cry happy tears.

i used to be someone who used to spend my whole day on here, morning to night, looking for answers and the final "key" to manifesting/shifting, taking a break was much needed. here are the things i finally learned after so long.

dont be double minded // i would like to start by saying, see its a choice. we have 2 very distinct sides in this world, one full of lack, negativity, failures, sadness, losing, wishing, wanting....and the other of fulfillment, belief, positivity, determination, persisting, having, being, awareness etc. and whatever we choose, stick by it. i see so many people complaining and trying to say manif/shifting isnt real, and yes thats true FOR YOU in your reality. whatever you have choosen, a life of suffering or one of happiness through the law, please stick to it. if you want to say the law doesnt work, great, but if you have even a slight hope that its true and real, then give it a shot, and dont doubt, and with faith watch how it changes your life.

no circumstance can stop you // be it time, or the past, or trauma, every condition and circumstance only exist because we identify with it. the difference between a broke guy working a 9 to 5 that they hate, no purpose in life, debt and all relationships failing and a multimillionare, who doesnt have to work a single day in their life, life full of luxury and happiness, people who love them etc who probably doesnt even deserve their money but still gets to enjoy it, is simply their beliefs. believe better for yourself.

thinking from your desire and not of it // wishing and wanting and creating up fake scenarios is very different from knowing you HAVE your desire rn. the former is daydreaming, the latter is creation. you can waste years of your life thinking you're manifesting but its just us THINKING OFFF our desire. the results only show up when we HAVE right now. not to get, not to change the 3d but haveeee right now.

imagination is the only reality // we live in a multiverse, idc if people believe in that or not because its true for me, and every possible circumstance is possible and already created. already done. all our job is to HAVE it, and to CHOOSE to live in the state of having. and being fulfilled in our imagination instead of looking for in the 3d. if we look now we'll forever be looking, but when we close our eyes and know its done because our minds is the true consciousness, thats when it actually shows up.

stop manifesting with the intent of changing the 3d // physically trying to change the 3d is so hard, its so tiresome, its futile and useless, but being fulfilled and in the present moment, not worrying about the past or the future. just focusing on staying in the state of the wish fulfilled with our eyes closed is the key, dont worry about what you see with your eyes open. the 4d is the creator, the 3d will AUTOMATICALLY follow.

stop overconsuming/more techniques and enjoy life // you know already what you have to do. most of us know that living in the end means being the person who already has it. so does your dream ideal self do a million techniques trying to get? does you ideal self spend their whole day scrolling on tumblr looking for another technique? another magic affirmation? subliminal? post? that will fix it all? no. they enjoy their lives knowing its done. their wish is in the greatest hands and its all done. so really, stoppp STOP with the overconsumption, trust that you know everything that you are supposed to. everything is within you. stop searching for it outside.

i yap a lot. i love to write so dont blame me, but i wont make this post too long, my dms are always open for help/ or to make friends. ily guys, i feel so happy now being on tumblr, i used to read others success stories and now i have my own hehe so yes slay. bye

-love, sam <3

[yujisgirl]

Yuji NSFW Links / Visuals ᥫ᭡

... with short fics <3

These are real ns//fw links btw! Human bodies etc not animated! Need to be signed into Twitter/X to see these videos ♡

These stories happen in chronological order! ... ! afab reader

Next: Toji + Choso + Gojo + Nanami + Shiu + Sukuna + Higuruma... so stay tuned!

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 Toji's Visuals: Click Here ❤︎

"Come over to my place after school?"

was all you told your highschool boyfriend, Itadori yuuji. It was supposed to be a little hang out; especially since exams had just been over and you both had missed each other so much.

Needless to say, you guys definitely "caught up" ...

Highschool boyfriend Yuuji!

જ⁀➴

"Does this look good on me?"

You definitely used this mall date as an excuse to rile yuji up even more. He's sure of it. Why else would you be picking the skimpiest swimsuits to "try on" - you're not even part of the swim team!

As soon as you guys left the mall, he grabs your arm and brings you over to an alley, "Need to fuck this hole before we leave"

In public with Yuji

જ⁀➴

"Do you want your present now?"

you said . Yuji tilts his head in confusion, his graduation cap threatening to fall of his pink hair as he raises his wrist, dangling the bracelet you had just gifted him, "Isnt this your present?".

"I have another one you know" You gesture to the Love Motel just down the street.

Your graduation gift to Yuuji

જ⁀➴

"I love you. I love every part of you"

The first time yuji had said "I love you" was when you came to visit him in college. The pain of being away from you only heightened his desires and needs. He needs you, not just in a sexual way but in every part of his life, through and through.

He worships every inch of your body

જ⁀➴

"Lets test our new bed, yeah?"

Maybe it was the adrenaline of finally moving in with yuji, Maybe it was the stress build up from the moving process but as soon as the land lord left your new house you guys were onto each other like animals.

You tested the firmness of every single furniture you bought. The bed, the new sofa, the kitchen counter, the beanbag that you got from Yuji's old house, and of course the balcony.

Testing beds with Yuuji

Testing beds Part 2.

જ⁀➴

"Is this why you wanted to move in together?"

you giggled. "Fuck." Yuji was too pussy drunk to even form a coherent reply, "m'you feel so good. Wanna live in this pussy forever"

Morning's with Yuuji

જ⁀➴

"Im reading right now"

you said.

Yuji pouts.

Shit. Thats your soft spot.

"Fine, you win."

જ⁀➴

"Babe, you really shouldnt wear that around me"

yuji's eyes werent even looking into yours, he was staring right at your boob window.

"Why?" You questioned.

"Makes me wanna suck on your tits" He deadpanned, eyes tracing the curves of your breasts.

"Whats stopping you?"

જ⁀➴

"Good job baby"

was all you said. Really.

How were you supposed to know that it would result in a marathon of rounds with Yuji?

He finally got recognised as a Jujutsu sorcerer by the elders, and you couldnt be more happy for your boyfriend. You expected him to come home with tears in his eyes, or something but no- he came home and went straight to your room, "Baby, I need to fuck you"

Is it his fault that youre all that plagues his mind night and day, and when he experienced emotions in a grand scale, he immediately gets horny?

Maybe you're all he needs

[harmoonix]

🦚 Honest Astrology Observations 🦚

🦚 - Malefic Planets such as Mars and Saturn can act differently in the sign of Cancer, usually because they don't feel as comfortable in this sign as much as in the others, although they're very karmic placements

🦚 - 8H placements/stelliums prefer to keep things private, you won't see them sharing much of their lives

🦚 - Moon conjuct/trine/sextile Jupiter natives have a kind aura, they tend to be optimistic and open-minded and that helps them being better with themselves

🦚 - 6H placements don't like to complain, they rather like to get the hard work in their hands than complain about how hard it is

🦚 - Sagittarius in the 12H is such a beautiful sign for the 12H!! It shows a mix of cultural background, definitely check your ancestryyyy

🦚 - Neptune can make you addicted. The house and sign can tell you things you're addicted to ex: 6H to a job, 7H to relationship etc

🦚 - Pluto Dominant & Saturn Dominant natives usually have a difficult childhood in order to evolve into better people when they're older

🦚 - I think you guys got tired of me writing soooo many times about Pisces Venus, but I literally can't help it. It's such a beautiful place for Venus

🦚 - Gemini's and Virgo's beauty is so underrated since their ruler Mercury rules over the youth, also their skinnnnnn

🦚 - Aries Moons and Moons in the 1H are the ones to raise the energy up in a room, I love their energy so much! Just keep it up

🦚 - Sagittarius Moons and Mercuries are brutal honest, if you want someone to tell you the hard truth go to them

🦚 - Libra Placements have a good sense of dressing up, you can always see them getting good clothes on them

🦚 - 2H Venus/Mercury/Moon has a soft voice, they can also not talk as loud as other, more shy voices

🦚 - Playing with Aries Placements feelings is like you play with the devil because they won't accept such treatment

🦚 - Since 9H represents school/learning what's your 9H sign and what was/is your favorite subject in school/high-school/etc.??

🦚 - Water Placements especially water Moons can heal when they're in a water place, for example my sis is a Cancer Moon and she loves to go at the sea to heal/meditate

🦚 - Where Capricorn sits in your chart. That's the house you'll work the most in this life for ex:4H family, 10H career, 7H relationships

🦚 - Leo Moon/Moon in the 5H can make you discover what you're talented at since your childhood/young age

🦚 - Cancer/Libra/Pisces/Taurus Placements can have a sweet tooth, meaning they like to eat lots of sweats/candy type

🦚 - Leo Placements like to be in the spotlight which is not bad at all because afterall they deserve the recognition!

🦚 - Mercury is a fairy planet (fairycore) in Aquarius/11th can indicate you are good at socializing/even in online

🦚 - You'll never know what someone with Lilith in the 6H/12H thinks at, Lilith has such a shadow energy in those houses

🦚 - Lilith and Pluto both in the 7h can attract toxic people in a relationship or people that will change them forever

🦚 - Pluto in the 10H or 11H gives you the power to influence others, you can just have an impact in the world

🦚 - Venus/Mars in the 5H are such hotties, we love them and we appreciate them. They just have a specific type of lure

🦚 - Mercury aspecting Pluto can indicate you can tell when people lie to you, in the same time can also make you a good liar

🦚 - If someone has their Neptune in the same house as your Mercury they can manipulate you through talking/manipulation ex: Your ex has Neptune in the 8H and you have Mercury in the 8H

🦚 - Saturn aspecting your North Node especially in harsh aspects, can make you stronger with the time I can confirm that as someone with Saturn square NN

🦚 - Air Placements especially Risings will always remind me about the 90's somehow, it was their era, I think the 20's are more of a Fire Risings era

🦚 - Mars/Sun/Venus/Uranus in the 1H can make you an athlete, like a good body for the gym, and they have that good motivation

🦚 - Mars in Sagittarius/9H can have foreign names, same for Mars in Pisces/12H

🦚 - Are there ppl with Moon - Pluto aspects attracted to paranormal things? Like seeing entities, hearing whispers etc...

🦚 - Jupiter aspecting Venus are really meant to be a charming prince/princess, is the energy they have, such a powerful energy

🦚 - 2H placements/stelliums can also be talented at cooking. It can be their love language

🦚 - 9H/12H Lilith can come from a religious background with trauma, like religious trauma. Trust me Lilith got enough give her a peace

🦚 - 2H/Taurus Lilith can be a bit insecure about their bodies. They have attracted bodies, but they can also be insecure about it. At the same time, if it makes sense

🦚 - Mercury in harsh aspects can have some troubles with understanding,maybe even with writing, maybe even dyslexia at some point (Not for everybody)

🦚 - Gemini and Sagittarius Placements like to write a lot. Their secret diaries have more than 200 pages for sure and I love that

🦚 - Sagittarius Venus ppl have that humor combined with flirt, I adore their energy, they're usually flirting 24/7

🦚 - Virgo Placements can be vegetarian, and I mean not everyone, but since they love to eat healthy, I have a sidereal Virgo Moon, and I love vegetables much more than meat, ofc this is just a preference

🦚 - Jupiter in Scoprio are able to attract wealth in their lives if they manifest that! Is a powerful placement for manifestation

🦚 - Taurus Moons/Suns/Venus and Rising have the mosttttt peaceful energy!! They're like a breeze of fresh air in someone's life

🦚 - Moon in Scoprio/Moon in the 8H can be very secretive people. It can be because of their private life and they give that vibe of people wanting to know more about them

🦚 - Moon aspecting Sun can indicate the native has more personalities/behaviors/moods, and it really depends on how behave

🦚 - Venus aspecting Saturn can sometimes indicate being rejected in love relationships, like you keep falling in love but with the wrong ppl

🦚 - Moon in Gemini/Moon in the 3H ppl radiate such a good vibe, I love their social skills but for real they communicate with everyone in the room

🦚 - Virgo Venus/Mars/Moons are the best supporters in a relationship, they'll support you with everything they can

🦚 - Mars aspected Jupiter ppl tend to be more sexual, this is such an unholy energy but so attractive in the same time

🦚 - Pluto aspecting Venus natives have such crazy love stories, the drama, the popcorn, the obsessive energy everything is on point

💚 Hope you enjoyed the post!! Have a blessed week!!💚💚💚

H a r m o o n i x 💚

[jewelleria]

I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again, and I’m finally ready to start. Here are some of my thoughts.

I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be. 

But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate. 

This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified. 

I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not nearly as close to what’s happening as I am.

How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying “I live in Palestine” and “I live in Israel”? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map. 

I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places along America’s east coast, and traveled all over the world. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle. 

If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more. 

I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop. 

But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I have looked at pretty things and taken out my phone because, despite it all, I still think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments. 

So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life—compared, of course, to those suffering in Gaza—one filled with sunsets and over-sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation (or, alternatively, escape method) as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on. 

But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not. 

They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways. 

These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfire makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine. 

Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war. 

No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.

But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this: 

I am a Jew. 

Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love. 

I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your arbitrary criteria is generally not seen as good manners. 

Now, let’s go back to thathateful message (read: poorly disguised death threat) I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee! 

Then they sent me this: 

I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.” Oh, the wonders of incognito tabs.

Where this person drew these conclusions after reading my (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them, and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die. 

For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind. 

But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake. 

I remember thinking, I don’t have the power to free anyone.

I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired. 

And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel? (Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate the modern state of Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two entities interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.

But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people? 

There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and fret about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.

But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews. 

So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. I’m still waiting to break, even now.

I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like. 

I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for. 

I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.

But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war. 

When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, forever unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.

My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why. 

I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be. 

Feel free to send any genuine, respectful, and clarifying questions you may have to my inbox!

EDIT: just coming on here to say that I'm really touched & grateful for the love on this post. When I wrote it, I felt hopeless; I logged off of Tumblr for Shabbat, dreading the moment I would turn off my phone to find more hate in my inbox. Granted, I did find some, and responding to it was exhausting, but it wasn’t all hate. I read every kind reblog and comment, and the love was so much louder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🤍

Source Reading

The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications

Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn

Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha

I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg

The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes

Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board

There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart

The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit

“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi

When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss

Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller

Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer

What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins

The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore

Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman

The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman

How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner

This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press

Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss

[sophvilla]

Enmity to Ecstasy

°°°°°°°°°Enha Series°°°°°°°°

Pairing: Sim Jaeyun X Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You both Were sworn Enemies since childhood, but as They say that there is a thin line between Love and Hate, And that Line is called Pleasure

Warning

: Heavy Smut, MDNI, 18+, lots of moaning overstimulation, Reader gets called Baby etc,Unprotected sex.

SIM JAEHYUN | 심재현

I’m not sure how we went from mortal enemies to this,

He was your high school enemy who made your life hell. You knew him since childhood but never were on good terms with him, you continued to hate and also torment him here and there and He never stopped teasing you.

And now here you were, in bed with him, naked, legs spread open, taking his cock into your mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was, Maybe that's what happens when you're around someone all the time for years, When you get used to them. When you learn their patterns, Their habits, Their likes and dislikes, Their triggers and quirks, You get comfortable around them, So comfortable that they become part of you. A part of your life that you can't imagine living without.

But that didn't mean you had to be friends. Or even civil. No, That would be too much work. Too much effort. Too much compromise. Besides, what good could come out of friendship? What good could come out of being nice to each other? Nothing, that's what! It was better this way - just keep things status quo as they always have been. Just let things remain the same forever more. Forevermore.

"Fuck, baby," Jake moaned. He thrust his hips forward and buried himself deeper inside of you. "Fuck! Oh god', fuck! So fucking tight, you're so fuckin' tight"

His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back against him again and again. He fucked you hard and fast, slamming into your body over and over until you both came together in a frenzy of passion and desire.

You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, watching as his face contorted into pleasure. His eyes rolled back in his head before locking onto yours once again, He leaned down and kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding past your lips to taste the sweet nectar that was dripping from your pussy.

You moaned softly against his mouth, returning the kiss with equal fervor. Your fingers curled into fists, digging into his back as you pushed yourself closer to your climax,

"Yes-s just like that, jake-e don't stop” you moaned out as he sped his thrust up continuously plunging his cock inside your overstimulated cunt,

Jake pulled away slightly, panting heavily. He smiled down at you before leaning back down and kissing you again. This time, though, he didn't stop kissing you. Instead, he continued to ravage your mouth with his tongue while simultaneously thrusting his hips forward. Each time he did so, your body tensed and shivered in response.

A soft whimper escaped your throat as Jake continued to pound into you mercilessly. The sound of flesh smacking against skin filled the air around you.

Finally, after several minutes of intense fucking, you both came undone from your high as Jake released a loud groan and collapsed onto top of you, leaving you breathless and drenched in sweat.

"God damn," he muttered. He rested his forehead against yours and took a few deep breaths to calm down.

"I can't fucking stop, I don't want to stop" he said before He knelt down between your thighs and gently pressed his fingers against your clit.

"Ohh' hngg" you whimpered at the touch his fingers on your abused clit, You gasped as soon as he touched you, causing your muscles to tense involuntarily,

"Shhh," he whispered. He stroked your clit slowly at first, then began to pick up speed until you felt yourself start to relax. As he continued to rub your clit, he slid his thumb inside of you. He pushed his thumb in deeper and deeper until he found your g-spot.

"Oh god," you moaned. You arched your back and squeezed your legs together, trying desperately to keep quiet. But it wasn't easy. Especially since you knew that if you let go of your control, you would probably scream out in ecstasy.

Jake chuckled darkly as he continued to massage your g-spot. "Mmmhmm," he hummed. "That's right baby. Let me hear you cum for me."

He started to move faster, rubbing your clit harder than ever before.

"Jake-e~," you cried out. You couldn't hold back anymore. Your entire body trembled uncontrollably as wave after wave of pure bliss washed over you,

"Oh fuck yes," he growled. He increased the pressure on your clit, making you squirm beneath him. "That's it baby. Give in to me. Make a fucking mess."

He continued to tease and taunt you until finally, you surrendered completely. All resistance melted away and you allowed yourself to fall under his spell. You let him take control of your body, allowing him to do whatever he wanted to it.

As soon as he sensed that you were ready, he plunged his cock deep inside of you. He held still for a few moments, letting you adjust to the size of his shaft. Then, he started moving again. This time, he thrust harder and deeper than ever before.

You moaned loudly as he pounded into you relentlessly. Your body shook violently from the force of his pounding,

"Yes! Yes! Too much' jakeee, too much ~" you screamed. Your entire body convulsed with pleasure as Jake slammed into you repeatedly.

"you can take it all baby, take all of it," he grunted. He continued to pound into you furiously, his pace increasing with every thrust.

You closed your eyes and focused all of your energy on experiencing the exquisite sensation coursing through your veins. You lost track of everything except for the incredible pleasure he was giving you.

After several more minutes of intense pounding, you felt your body tremble with you orgasm as his cock was reaching your cervix, making you cum hard, followed by Jake filling your pussy full of his cum as Jake pulled out of you after a few moments. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him.

You opened your eyes and saw that he was smiling broadly at you. He leaned down and kissed your cheek tenderly.

"Thank you," he whispered softly.

You blushed fiercely, feeling embarrassed by the fact that you had just given yourself to him completely. But you couldn't deny the truth of his words. There was no denying that you had enjoyed every single second of it.

"well I really like it as well so yeahh" you murmured. "Really. I mean, I guess it's kind of weird considering our history."

Jake laughed heartily. "Yeah, well, This had to be done much earlier but I'm glad we still did it."

You grinned sheepishly. "Guess so."

"Also this is not a One-time thing, I'm taking you again' and again until the very end" He whispered but His Face shows all of his Seriousness and sincerity,

As you nodded at his words looking up at him as he pulls you into his embrace, kissing your forehead gently.

[devildomwriter]

Pact Mark — Bond Placement

What if pact marks appeared in specific areas based on the connection you had with the demon when you first made it? Like the heart is for love and faith, a shoulder means you can lean on them, a hand is someone you made a quick deal with or someone who very much wanted the deal, somewhere along the spine shows trust sense a broken spine can end it all, a hip or tailbone represents something more sexual, etc.

Lucifer

Lucifer’s pact was made out of trust, respect, and let’s be honest—serious sexual tension (you literally have the option to “spend the night” with him right after the pact is made). His pact mark appears on your tailbone, a sensitive place on your body.

Mammon

Mammon’s pact was made manipulatively without a close bond between you two so his appears on the hand like a deal being made in a handshake. This bothers him nowadays.

Leviathan

Leviathan’s pact was made as a deal and following through on it despite the competition weighing heavily in your favor. His appears on your chest as a symbol a faith and good-will (though originally he was going to eat you—this is canon)

Satan

Satan’s pact was made from respect rather than his original intention to just annoy Lucifer. His pact appears on the back of your neck, a place people reach for comfort because you can take comfort in the fact he is genuinely on your side, it’s also a sensitive part on the body, showing you can trust him.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus’s pact was made in complete awe of your strength, plus he thought you were cute and unique. His appears on the back of your hand like a kiss of respect.

Beelzebub

Beelzebub’s was made with a promise to help someone he cared for and his trust you’d follow through. His appears over the heart for the care in which the promise and pact were made.

Belphegor

Belphegor’s was made as a gift and apology, a sign of loyalty. His appears on the back because he will always have yours for as long as he lives.

Possible Pacts

Mephistopheles

Mephistopheles has a developed bond with you at this point. Though he mostly scolds you for behaving improperly, he also helps when you need it or when interests align. He mostly only aids if he’s given something in return but when it counts he will be there. His pact mark appears on the back of your hand as he is a deal-maker through and through.

Barbatos

Barbatos did not develop close bonds with you as quickly as the others. It took a long time for him to completely trust you. His would appear on your shoulder as he is someone you can lean on and trust.

Diavolo

Diavolo cannot make a pact but if he did it would be on the small of your back. He cares and trusts you deeply. He has a very strong influence in your life, someone to guide you forward like a hand on your back.

Guardian Angel Pact

Much like demons who make pacts, an Angel can only become someone’s guardian once in the human’s life span. What if they had guardian symbols?

Luke

Luke may be a child but he’s smart, he learns and grows quickly and he helps you as he does this. He keeps your heart warm and guides you to do what’s right like a moral conscious. His would appear on your temple, displaying the wisdom he’ll bring to your life, especially as he grows.

Simeon

Simeon cares for you very deeply, enough that he’d give up everything for you as we have seen in the game. Simeon’s guardian pact would be on the finger he placed the Ring of Light which saved your life and forever changed his.

Raphael

Raphael is hard to get close to but you can tell that he cares. His pact would be on your temple above the ear as he is a voice to guide you even when you don’t want him to be.

Michael

Michael is pretty concerned about your safety and who you become. He’s simultaneously intrigued by you and protective of you, he’s saved your life multiple times. His guardian pact mark would be near your heart since time and again he’s been the only one who kept it beating.

Reaper Pact

What if Grim Reaper’s had a pact symbol with the humans whose souls they would reap or keep with them?

Thirteen

Since Thirteen has been promised your soul once you pass (unless you end up like Solomon) her reaper pact would appear on the sole of your foot, representing the steps you walk as your life moves forward.

Sorcerer Pact

What if Sorcerer’s closely bonded, or otherwise made pacts like promises to each other? A coven-symbol of sorts.

Solomon

Solomon’s would appear on your forehead, much like a third eye of wisdom.

[candyk0rn]

Cuddles : BG3

It’s been a while! I hope you’re all doing great, and I’m sorry for once more going on a forever break lol. But of course, Baldurs Gate 3 brainrot is so real

Before reading: Fluff, headcanons, Astarion, Lae’Zel, Gale, Shadowheart x reader (separate), gn reader

Astarion:

“Oh? I see you still can’t say no to my endless charm..”

At the beginning of the relationship, touches and prodding aren’t uncommon

Anything that can bring your attention to him

It takes a while and a lot of convincing from you that his somewhat risqué touches was not all that pleased you

And eventually he can even process that you don’t just love him for his body

Although hard for him to realize, with your help he can

So after your relationship has really blossomed and grown, his touches become softer, calmer, more intimate

Nights by the crackling fire, you in his lap, his hand massaging your nape

His fingers are dangerously cold against your skin, but there’s a sense of comfort that comes with the chill

Although he will brush off your reassurance as pitiful and unneeded..

Please reassure him omg

For the longest time, he will surely believe you are like all his other conquests,

Seduced by him and his charms

But just small whispers of love into his ear, your comforting touch against his skin

That’s enough for him.

Gale:

“Come with me, we shall rest under the stars tonight.”

I am of the firm believer that Gale is horribly touch-starved, poor man

Taken advantage of by his own Goddess, thinking that that is the best he would ever be able to do

Then when you come along, it all changed

His thoughts about himself seem to change, his standards seem to change, his love seems to change

He cares so much about you, he cannot help but think he is not worthy

That a cursed, unfaithful man as himself could never even breathe the same air as you

But all of his doubts and worries seem to melt away when you two hold one another underneath the stars

Your fingers lovingly combing through his hair as he rambles on about something he is passionate about

Wether it be a book, his expertise in magic, or Tara (lmao)

Others would shove him off as a show-off, annoying, etc

But you are so willing to hear him go on and on, that he can’t help but love you

His index finger instinctively draws shapes into your back when you hold each other

When he’s cuddled up with you, his worries that today might be his last don’t even cross his mind

He’s more worried about you, how you feel, if you’re comfortable

He doesn’t care if tonight is the last night he shall ever see you

He’d rather die tomorrow than live for an eternity never knowing you

Lae’Zel:

“Chk..I do not take part in worthless acts of intimacy.”

Lae’Zel is not much of a ‘cuddles’ person

Like at all…

She’d rather feel the thrill of battle with you, bathing in the blood of your enemies

Her way of loving is slaughtering anyone who even just looks at you the wrong way

But, if you’re particularly lucky, or especially down

She can’t help but..pity you

In her mind, it’s such a disgusting feeling. This ‘love’ makes her weak, but she cannot run from it no matter how much she tries

The most touch you’ll get from her will only occur in private

A hand perched protectively on your hip or waist

Her head slumped on your shoulder when you’re on watch for the night

acts like this, although small

It means so,so much from her

And she’ll kill you if you go telling Shadowheart about how ‘sweet’ she was being last night

Shadowheart:

“My love…ugh. I’m still not used to calling someone that.”

Shadowheart is lost when it comes to you

Not only is she horribly confused that you of all people would love her

She’s confused as to how she’s supposed to love you

Her entire life, for what she can remember, she’s never been shown comfort or remorse

If she did something wrong, she was punished

She doesn’t remember a single moment in her life when she was loved the way you love her

And although grateful, she feels unworthy

Hugs are common with her, of course in private, but common nonetheless

When she hold you in her arms, the pads of her fingers massage your back lovingly, worried if she lets go, you’ll flee

Let! Her! Play! With! Your! Hair! 🙏🏻

And please play with hers omg

At night, she’ll let her hair down and allow your hands to explore her long, black (or white) locks

Your touch sends shivers down her spine, a feeling she’s not used to, but craves so much

She truly hopes that you’ll never leave her, for now that she has tasted your touch,

She never wants that sensation to leave

Thanks for reading!

[astradyke]

I would adore a deep dive into your thoughts on Phil’s quiet but wonderful way of showing his love for Dan being through photos

hi, i’m sorry i’m responding so late to this, but i really appreciate you enabling me here because i do seriously think about this constantly. i don’t know if i have the words to articulate it, though, so… bear with me. i'd quite like to try.

nobody loves in just a singular way, that’s the preface to this. when i say that Dan loves through words and Phil loves through photography, i don’t mean that Dan doesn’t use photography as an act of love— because there is a polaroid, in their house, of Phil that Dan took— and i don’t mean that Phil has never said something profound about Dan, because we all remember how he talked about Dan’s book at the end of the haircut video (19:13). i, at the very least, never really left the parts at the end of what Dan and Phil Text Each Other 2 where Phil constantly amplifies the work Dan is trying to do, unmasking his own frustrations at the struggles Dan has to experience, and meets Dan's self deprecation with affection (here's that dissertation) (19:57). Dan may use words in a very abstract, artistic way, professing his love for Phil as a ‘soulmate’, an unmatched connection, but Phil still has a careful, casual way of endlessly maneuvering himself to stand by Dan’s side. etc. and of course, there are five thousand other ways to adore a person. Dan and Phil do a little bit of everything; we are lucky to see a spare few snippets.

all that said, let’s talk about photography, yeah?

there is a permanence to photography, even if it’s not always a tangible permanence. they are timestamps, living commitments; i refuse to accept the idea that photography is somehow a ‘stand in’ to ‘true human connection’, rather than a critical facet of it. ex. i know that my best friend is real even if i didn’t have a photo of him sitting beside me on a wayward bus, but it’s still important that i inscribed that memory distinctly into the fabric of my life by taking a moment to chronicle it.

Phil Lester uses photography as a way to immortalize a thousand different fragments of his forever with Dan. there’s a distinct thought process, right, to see someone you love and decide— i never want to lose this moment. that decision, in of itself, is enough of a love confession, but there’s another layer when you decide, on top of all of it, i want the entire world to see this. when Dan described his love for Phil as "more than just romantic", he opened up a piece of himself to show the world, this is how i love this person. this is how i see him. when Dan calls Phil bubby, or dear, this is him cracking a hard exterior to say this is how i see you.

the two of them, upon first meeting, took a selfie together at the Apple store— Phil was the one to press the button. when they sat at the top of the sky-bar, Phil was the one to take a photo of Dan amidst the golden hour light. maybe he didn’t know that Dan loved him back, yet, but he had a certainty in his own adoration of Dan— that regardless of whether Dan wanted him back, Phil wanted him. the image feels timid but assured, like swallowing down anxiety to look yourself in the mirror; you can feel that through the pixels of it, so transparently. Phil’s love of Dan was not conditioned on anything: it was a terrifying but beautiful thing, and he wanted to preserve it, so even if it all went wrong he could say this is how i loved you. this is how you are loved, to me. you don’t have to want me back, but know that you were wanted, here, crawling into your own head sitting across from me in a city i’d like to call home with you, someday. so let me. and when you look at this photo of heart eyes Howell, cradling a bear, it’s louder than a blood rush: i love you.

[ID: Dan Howell sitting in the sunlight, looking outside the window while holding his phone. end ID.]

[ID: Dan Howell in a fuzzy hat, holding a stuffed bear against his face and looking at the camera with a small smile. end ID]

(sorry. it was necessary to include).

every year, Phil spills this oath into his camera roll. when Dan’s birthday arrives, Phil has a thousand candids to show for it, a thousand of silly and unflattering photos— a “loving” selection (7:41). exposing my heart a little here, but when you are someone who struggles with insecurity at some level, photos of you that are unflattering circling around feels horrifying. you want to be composed, and pretty, and loved— but then, maybe, it settles in that you are loved someplace beyond conditions. Phil chronicles these casual, vulnerable moments with Dan, and he shares them, because he loves Dan to a level past the flat logic of if he is composed, if he is pretty, then he is loved. Dan may be unattractive at points, but he is never unloved. never again.

these photos also demonstrate how much Phil romanticizes the little moments with Dan. watching him play Skyrim in VR; sitting beside him while he plays Elden Ring (3:40); admiring an oddly-shaped tear in his pants (missing citation); taken aback by a large poodle jumping into his lap. there are hundreds of photos of Dan taken by Phil which have escaped. imagine how many more linger. if we can go off of this (admittedly horrifying) tweet, we can envision a camera roll overflowing with him.

when they go on vacation, Phil takes soft photographs of Dan. here’s this love in a new city, just like we did fifteen years ago in Manchester, before i knew the right way to hold your hand, the right way to counter your cynicism, the right way to systemically reject every pet name because saying your name like a promise is enough— i’m putting this love into the world because i no longer live in a world where i go a second without it. Phil saves photos of Dan looking at him like he hung the stars, and he saves photos of Dan walking in front of him— he would never save them, as an Orpheus, but thankfully he doesn’t have to anymore, not after 2019— and he saves photos of Dan happy, because he wants to save that, too. Phil will save photos from every era of Dan’s life, but he wants those photos the most.

Phil has seen Dan perform in front of thousands. he has seen Dan pass out from standing up too quickly in their living room. he has seen Dan stumble home from a unexpected solo walk, he has seen Dan try to hide his fear-to-death in Phil’s childhood bedroom, he has seen Dan try to use a laundry machine, he has seen Dan in every way a person could: i love you.

Dan knows all of this. Dan sends Phil photos of himself when he’s solo traveling for his tour; the two of them almost never call, not unless Dan’s in a cab, but they regularly facetime. Dan winces at old photos of himself, but Phil coos at them.

Phil Lester is a romantic. he likes to hold his love to his chest— sharing photographs, but careful not to share too much. i think we under-estimate the shift Phil had to make, sometimes, in 2019: coming out was a major deal to him, too, even if he had already been out to some. more than that, coming out while Dan was also out is a very different experience. still, he likes to stay private, which is why we’ve not seen what i imagine to be hundreds of photos of Dan in Phil’s arms, or Dan kissing him on the cheek, or Dan asleep beside him in his bed (because we know how often he takes photos of Dan asleep, but i can't even begin to get into that right now).

even still, from what we can see, God, it’s everything, isn’t it? i can’t imagine what it felt like, for Dan, first trying to reconcile all of this. when you go so long without experiencing a safe kind of love, your reality fundamentally shifts. everything is brittle: you have to be hard enough to survive it, but not too hard to break the little you have entirely. half of you is a secret, the other half of you feels like it should be— who you are shifts, when you are loved, so in the reverse: when you go so long without it you feel displaced internally. when you find that love, you throw yourself entirely into it, expecting nothing but wanting everything. you punch a wall only to feel the plaster cradle your touch; you tell yourself you’d never turn back and you hate that need to; you expect to hit the sea but the wax never seems to melt. impossibly, you are okay. maybe i showed too much of my own heart there, but when i look at 2009 Dan, i see all of that. eighteen years old, and for the first time since he was a tiny child, he actually felt safe.

because Phil says Dan like it’s the sweetest word in the world. because Phil has a hunger for everything Dan creates. because Phil held Dan when he dropped out of university, picked up his first radio job with him, moved in with him, and never left. because Phil never treated Dan like an experience to hide away. Phil loved parts of Dan back into life.

because Phil takes photographs of Dan, everywhere in his life, to say: this is my world, now. you can’t take a photo in the daylight without capturing the sun. you can’t take a photo in the nighttime without capturing the absence of it. Phil says Dan’s name in every video, and he takes another hundred photos, because he’s so fucking sure about this love. there’s not even a question to be asked.

this is only a fraction of what there is to say about it, some messily constructed analysis, but it's hard to capture. i'd call Dan a lucky bastard, but it's hardly luck, is it? Phil makes the decision to love Dan every single day, and it might look quiet, but it's so unfathomably loud.

[revasserium]

hi! I've been reading your opla!zoro stuff and I wanted to tell you your writing is so gorgeous! it's truly breathtaking, you're really talented ❤️ i've looked through your prompts tag, im not sure how requesting works, but could I ask for "edge of falling" or "the spaces between us" (whichever one you like the most) with zoro and fem!reader? i'm a goner for longing and feelings realization and the prompts give me those vibes, but i'm sure anything you write will be lovely <3

reqs are open!

the edge of falling

opla!zoro; 7,475 words; fluff and angst, hurt/comfort, passing mentions of: cult!, physical violence, & trauma/cult-programming, ex-cult member!reader, strawhat!reader, traumatized!reader, protective!zoro, healing from past trauma, learning to trust etc, angst with a happy ending!, a metric TON of plot

summary: "Lie to me," Time said to Love; Love smiled and said, "I promise, I'll never let you slip away."

a/n: thank u for the request anon!!! i uhm idk what happened with this fic tbh. there's def uh -- longing of SOME kind here??? welp. pls read the tw list! there's some dark-ish content in this. but i promise it ends well u__u

prelude: in which a fox teaches you to speak

Time is the greatest liar, so you are told, over and over and over. For the longest time, you think it’s the only truth you’ll ever know.

But we will live forever…

So long as you do the things you’re told. So long as you make the Fox happy. So long, so long, so long.

There is no way to mark the passage of time in the compound; with no sunlight to guide the way, you are left to other, more primal ways of keeping track — that elusive, silver-fish creature — time — always slipping through your fingers when want to hold on most.

You measure it in wounds, in the time it takes for a fresh wound to seal over, for the scab to break and reveal the soft, tender pink flesh beneath. You measure it in gulps of water, in bites of cold food, in the droplets of artificial rain that they let fall through the ceiling sometimes. You measure it in rewards too, in long baths and hot meals, in the evenings when the Fox would tell you stories in his low, lilting voice instead of leaving you in his seething silences.

And he is ever so good with stories. If you stay still and keep quiet, and let his voice wash over you like a hungry tide across a rain-starved beach, you can feel the words seeping into your bones, ringing out till they feel like nothing but god’s given truth.

As long as you’re good… I promise I’ll make you live forever.

Like this, you learn the weapon of words, the power of speech, how to listen for lies, and how to tell them, and tell them, and tell them.

The Fox is good at lying; you’ll just have to learn to be better.

act i: yet another sad, desperate soul

Roronoa Zoro has never been a man of many words, but it would be remiss to say that he isn’t a man of his word — you see, when he does speak, he speaks with intention. And always, with conviction.

“Hey. No one’s gonna hurt you anymore.”

This, then, is the first lie he tells you.

“Liar.” You spit out the word, drawing back, your body a tangle of livewire nerves, your eyes darting back and forth, an entire life’s worth of fight and flight caught on the hair-pin trigger of his breath as he jolts back slightly and blinks at you.

“Y-you — you can’t know that,” you say, your voice still ragged. But Zoro sees it for the attempt it is — an olive branch, however tentatively extended. And he takes it, wordlessly.

He nods once, reaching out to help you up. The compound crumbles around you, and you unconsciously wrap your arms around yourself, as if to hold yourself together, to keep from shattering into a hundred million tiny little shards of pain and mistrust.

“The fox-guy’s dead! But it looks like this whole island’s gonna blow!” Nami races out of the massive, temple-esque structure just as it starts to collapse from the inside out.

Luffy slingshots passed, cackling as Sanji and Usopp bring up the rear. On the Merry, Robin and Chopper are waiting, and the second Zoro manages to hoist you onto the main deck, the ship careens off into the dark tumult of waves.

You skitter away the minute Zoro’s arm slips from around your waist, and he turns to find you pressing yourself back against the railings, staring at them all with wide eyes, your expression caught halfway between fear and consternation. He takes half a step back, crossing his arms just as Luffy bounds forward with a bright, unassuming smile.

“Don’t worry! You’re safe now!” He makes to slap one of your shoulders but you duck out of the way, chewing on your bottom lip.

Robin clears her throat gently and offers you a smile, “We’re not going to hurt you.”

You narrow your eyes, your gaze darting between them like a trapped animal, but after another beat of stillness (punctuated only by Nami swearing softly to herself as she steers the Merry around a particularly difficult formation of rocks), your entire body seems to soften, and Zoro uncrosses his arms again, resting a hand casually on the hilt of his blades.

“Th-thank you…” you bob your head once, swallowing hard passed chapped lips and a raw throat. Your white linen dress is stained with blood and dirt, a tear at your collar making it slip from your shoulder.

“’S alright now, darlin’ — how bout we run you a nice, hot bath? I could cook you just about anything y’like. Fancy a drink as well? I think a bubbly would be good for a —”

“Lay off, cook.” Zoro cuts Sanji off with a scoff, barring Sanji’s approach with an arm in the gut.

You watch them with dark eyes, your expression curiously blank.

“Will you let me look at your wounds?” Chopper offers.

You jump a little at his voice, piping up from your left side. You glance at Zoro once before looking back at Chopper and nodding.

Sanji tucks his hands into his pockets and watches as Chopper leads you beneath the deck, Zoro following a few steps behind. He lights a cigarette as soon as the trap door clanks shut.

A beat of silence, and then —

“Wow, that island really, really sucked!” Luffy says, turning back to his crew.

Sanji lets out a puff of smoke as Usopp slumps down against the main mast with a groan.

“You can say that again.”

“What happened?” Robin asks.

Sanji sighs, shaking his head, “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

Below deck, Chopper dabs at your wounds with expert ease as you sit very still on the kitchen island and Zoro watches from the sofa, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“These surface wounds aren’t that bad but…” Chopper trails off, his eyes running over the network of old scars that mar your skin, layers and layers of them — down your arms and along your torso.

“It’s fine,” you say, your voice smooth as polished marble, “I’m —” you swallow, “I’m fine.”

And if it weren’t for the hiccup, the slight hitch in your breath, you would’ve been utterly convincing. Your expression is flat, your voice, even more so.

Across the room, Zoro makes disbelieving noise, “If it hurts, just say so. Chopper’ll fix it.”

“I’m… I’m fine,” you say again, tugging at the sleeve of your torn shift, your tone now a bit more honest, your words tired and resigned. Zoro looks to Chopper, who gives a faint nod of acquiescence before Zoro stands up and jerks his head towards the door.

“Cook’s right — you should wash up before dinner.”

You follow him down the hallway, through a small door that leads into a washroom that’s much cleaner than one might expect a ship’s bathroom to be. A large, wooden soaking tub sits in the middle of the room, and a clean change of clothes has already been laid out on a bench next to the bath.

Zoro grunts after he takes a once-over of the room, satisfied that all’s in order, and makes to leave.

You tug at his sleeve, head lowered.

“Can you…” you lick your lips, “can you stay?”

Zoro glances down at your fingers curled into his shirt sleeve before his eyes flick up to find your face. You’re looking at some indiscriminate point over his left shoulder, but your lips are trembling and your jaw is set.

He lets out a long breath, slowly twisting his body towards the room and you.

“Sure.”

He makes a show of turning around to face the door as you slip off your clothes and sink into the steaming bath water. A long exhale and the light slosh of water is all the indication he gets that it’s safe to turn back around.

He leans himself against the door, his swords propped on his shoulder, his head lolled back, his eyes closed.

He listens to the soft sounds of the water, to the faint splashes as you rub the grit and grime from your skin, inch by inch.

“We were only allowed to bathe as a reward for doing a good deed.”

Your voice makes him open his eyes, his gaze focusing in on the shape of you, nearly submerged in the bathtub, your hair slick and sticking to your pale shoulders. Even in this dim lighting, he can see the patterns your scars make against your skin. Water glimmers along the contours of your face as you run your palms along your cheeks, rubbing at them till they’re ruddy with color.

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth, “Quit bein’ so rough,” he moves forward without thinking, reaching out a hand to help you with some of the more stubborn pieces of dirt but he pauses, realizing how utterly still you’ve gone.

You stare at him for a long moment before relaxing back into the water and shifting towards the edge of the tub to allow him better access.

He runs a callused thumb along your cheekbones, wiping away the remaining dirt there.

“What was a ‘good deed’?” he asks, letting the tips of his fingers skim the warm water’s surface.

You shrug, “Mostly anything that made Mr. Fox happy… so all of us would —” you take another breath, your hand opening and closing beneath the surface of the still bath water, “we’d spend all our waking hours trying to think of something — anything — that’d please him. No matter how small… no matter how… terrible.”

“This Mr. Fox… what was his deal, anyway?”

You stare down into the dark water, now rapidly cooling from warm to lukewarm.

You take a deep breath, lifting a hand out of the water to distort the image of your ghostly reflection.

“He… was a liar. Except… he could make all his lies sound like the truth.”

“It was uncanny, really,” Sanji says, now at full throttle in the kitchen prepping for dinner service, Usopp lounging on sofa, his feet propped up on the hanging table.

Chopper and Robin both frown.

“What do you mean?” Robin asks.

“It was like… the guy could say anything and make it sound like the truth — even though you knew somewhere inside you that it can’t be real. Like — he could tell you the sky was green and every single part of you would believe him, even though you’re outside and starin’ up at the sky.”

“Yeah! Like he said I’d never be able to beat him and… for a second, I kinda almost believed him!” Luffy offers, munching on a bushel of apples and spitting out the seeds.

Robin’s brows furrow, tapping at her chin with a thin finger.

“It sounds like the Uso-Uso no Mi…”

“Ugh, what a weird, scary power…” Chopper shudders, shaking his head, his tiny hooved hands coming up to cup his cheeks, “I’m sure it’d mess with people’s heads!”

“It sure did. But he also used it to feed false information to the Marines,” Nami says, slipping through the half-opened door to join the rest of the crew on the sofa, “ran a series of taverns that just so happened to be situated in major Marine towns.”

Sanji glances up from a huge, steaming pan of paella, a cigarette caught between his teeth.

“So what was his end goal then? Just to fuck over the Marines?”

Back in the bathroom, you run your fingers along the edge of the tub as if playing an invisible piano.

“Power, domination… I don’t think he had a goal or purpose… I think… he just got off on it…”

Your voice is light, conversational, almost as if you were talking about the weather. But Zoro sees the glazed look in your eyes, the tightness at the edges of your lips.

“You called me a liar,” he says, reaching into the tub and flicking you lightly with a bit of water.

You blink, a smile threatening the corners of your mouth.

“Yeah… guess I did.”

“I wasn’t lying.”

He pulls out his hand and wipes it on a towel, leaning back to stare at you.

You shrug, “Sometimes… people lie to others, and sometimes, people lie to themselves. It’s the ones we tell ourselves that are always the most convincing.”

“I don’t lie. ‘Specially not to myself.”

You let out a tiny laugh, “But I guess… sometimes, if you believe in something hard enough… it’ll just start to be come the truth.”

There’s a note of… something in your voice that Zoro doesn’t like, but he can’t put a name to the feeling so he stays quiet as you continue the laborious work of scrubbing your skin clean, till all the water in the tub’s gone cold.

The rest of the evening passes as most evenings on the Merry do after a big fight — with a lot of food and even more booze. With music and laughter, and new crew member, sitting in the corner, watching mostly and smiling occasionally. No one pushes you, though Sanji does make a valiant effort in getting you to admit to your favorite foods, and Luffy tries two or three times to drag you into the more raucous celebrations (mostly involving way too much meat being roasted on a spike).

No one questions the way Zoro never wanders too far.

No one questions the way your eyes track him around the room, or how, even when Robin and Nami finally get a laugh out of you, you still instinctively searched for Zoro’s figure till you’ve found it in the other corner, a bottle caught between his lips, his eyes half-shut but his gaze caught on you like a fish to a seaman’s hook.

act ii: everything and nothing

A week passes, and then another. And you slowly, but surely, come out of your shell — it’s a strange sort of blossoming, the way you reveal yourself in shards and pieces, jagged and jarring. The shrapnel bits of your personality peaking out amidst the flotsam and jetsam of all your manifold defense mechanisms.

You’re a brilliant liar, but even better at spotting a lie, and it’s a thing that none of the crew had ever really thought about until you’d come along, casually poking holes in their daily deceits.

“Mm! These pancakes are perfect! Just the way I like them!”

“The new dress looks beautiful, Nami.”

“I absolutely did not finish the last bag of popcorn… Luffy did it!”

You clear your throat.

“Okay fine… the pancakes were really good but… but I like them… sweeter.”

“The dress is… well, everything looks gorgeous on you, of course, you know that Nami! But — the color… clashes just a tiny little bit with your… hair.”

“I might’ve uh… taken a few bites out of the popcorn bag… last night… but I was keeping watch and I needed to keep my energy up!”

Robin titters, a sphinx-like smile spreading across her lips.

“Apparently, 60% of people lie at least once every 10 minutes,” she says, casually taking a sip of orange juice as Zoro runs through his daily training regime, seemingly unbothered by the chaos currently taking place on the main deck regarding the “popcorn incident”.

“Dunno why people bother,” Zoro says, working through a set of single-armed burpees.

“I suppose it’s just human nature. We want other people to like us… so we say what we think they might want to hear, instead of what we really think. It’s harmless, mostly,” Robin remarks, leaning back against a white planter box, basking in the shade of the tangerine trees.

“Till it isn’t,” Zoro says, finishing up his workout and pushing himself up for a long stretch. He casts his eyes once more towards where you’re now laughing as Usopp tries to think of some new tall tale to tell.

It only takes you half a second to turn your head, and Zoro wonders at the kind of life you might’ve led to make you so sensitive to another person’s gaze. What must’ve happened to warrant this kind of alertness? But then again, he’d been a hunter long enough to know exactly what being hunted looks like.

He caught a glimpse of it at the compound but — still, his fingers itch toward his swords, his jaw clenches tight enough for Robin to cock her head and raise a brow.

“Yes… until it isn’t…” she echoes, her eyes also trailing towards you.

Zoro holds your gaze for a second before rolling his shoulders and looking away, squinting at the far horizon.

“Oi. Looks like trouble.”

Robin straightens, and a second later, Chopper sounds the alarm from the crow’s nest.

“Marines! Marines!”

There is the shink of swords being drawn, the gentle echo of Robin’s voice as her arms multiply. There’s canon fire and a lot of yelling. But at the end, there’s only bodies and blood and the tattered remains of the Marine’s ship, bobbing in the stained sea below them.

“Should we go after them?” Sanji asks, lighting up a cig, watching as the tiny emergency boat rows off into the distance.

“Nah. We’ll be alright!” Luffy says, wiping a hand across his nose.

Zoro turns towards you, sheathing his swords.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine,” you say, your voice immediately taking on an unctuous sheen that makes Zoro take a step closer.

“You hurt anywhere?” he runs an appraising eye down your form and nods in the knowledge that at least you don’t look hurt.

“No… I —” you chew down on your bottom lip, fingers digging into the bare flesh of your arms. But you back away from him the moment he tries to take a step forward.

“Hey — quit that,” he taps at your wrist with the hilt of his sword, the touch hard but not harsh, forcing you to pull away.

“It’s — I’m — I’m alright,” you say, insistent and mollifying. Zoro runs his thumb against the hilt of his blades and scoffs.

“Liar,” he says, tossing the word casually back at you in a way that makes your breath hitch. Then, he turns, and marches below decks to tend to his own wounds.

A deafening silence rings out around you as you stare down at the ships blood-drenched planks before Robin places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“C’mon now — lets get your back looked at.”

Below decks, you find Zoro dabbing gingerly at a large slash on his right arm.

“Here, you’ve missed a spot —” you reach out to take the iodine soaked cloth from Zoro’s hand, only to have him jerk away. You flinch back, wide-eyed.

Zoro softens, if only ever so slightly.

“I’m fine,” he says, a harsh edge to his voice as he goes back to trying to twist around himself enough to see the spot he’s missed. You purse your lips, watching him for a second, two seconds, three — before you glance back at the place Robin had been only to realize that she’d gone.

“May… I?” you reach out your hand, palm up, tentative and imploring. But you hold yourself still, waiting for Zoro to make the next move. And he does, eventually, sighing as he turns back around to drop the piece of cloth into your palm.

You reach forward as he turns to his side, offering up his arm as you slowly start to wipe away at the bits of dried blood caking his skin to reveal the raw, red gash, the angry, raised flesh around it. You lean forward, blowing slightly as you daub at the wound, making your way down his bicep till the entire cut’s been coated in iodine.

“There. All done.”

You lean back to toss the cloth into the sink but Zoro stops you. He catches your wrist in his good hand and with a slight tug, has you toppling forward towards his chest.

“Turn around.”

His voice is soft, but firm. And it leaves no room for protests as you stare at him for a long moment before sighing and resigning yourself to your fate. You turn to show him your back.

A disgruntled huff is all you get before you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro rummaging around the first aide kit for a fresh piece of cloth, and the pop of the iodine bottle opening again.

“Who did this?” he asks as he slowly reaches out to tug a thin spike from your skin, small as a needle and just as sharp. You bite back a wince.

“The porcupine guy…” your voice trails off as Zoro grunts.

“Right.”

He tugs out another spike; it tinks against the metal of the sink as he tosses it away. A brief sting, and then the cooling feeling of the iodine cloth.

After a few minutes of working in silence, Zoro sighs.

“Geez, he really got you bad, didn’t he?”

“Not really,” you say, and you feel Zoro’s hands pause.

“No?”

You shake your head, “I’ve… been through much worse… and lived to tell the tale so…”

Zoro doesn’t need to ask to know that you’re talking about your past on the island, inside that windowless compound. He can see it in the scars that mar nearly the entirety of your back, the criss-cross lines of what looks like knife-wounds, the occasional puckered marks that look suspiciously like burns. He steels himself then, and continues to work — plucking out a spike and cleaning out the wound.

“You were right,” he says, when he finally finishes cleaning up your back and you both straighten to face each other. He wipes his hands clean and winces slightly as he flexes his newly bandaged arm.

“Right about what?” your voice is innocent, but the flash in your eyes tells him that you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“That first day — I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t… make sure that no one ever hurt you again.”

His fingers curl into fists at his sides and you can see the muscle ticking in his jaw as he clenches his teeth.

You reach out, tracing a thumb along his jawline. When you pull back, there’s a small daub of blood on your finger and you wipe it away without breaking his gaze.

“No, you couldn’t but… you tried.”

Zoro scoffs, “Tryin’s not good enough.”

“No,” you jerk up to glare at him, your voice harsh in a way that he’s only ever heard right after they’d rescued you, the edges of your words raw and ragged as a serrated blade, “trying is everything.”

interlude: truth or dare

It gets better after that, and you grow and bloom and grow some more. Zoro does too, though in his own way — he gets stronger, gets faster, hits harder. And though you two never quite agree on anything, he is always by your side, and you’re somehow always by his.

“’M not even a lil drunk —”

“Liar~” you singsong, giggling as Zoro shakes his head, tipping the remains of a bottle of sake back down his throat before wiping at his lips with the back of his hand.

“Mm… ‘s that all I am to you? Just another guy who lies?” Zoro swings lazily on the hammock hung on the main deck, his eyes half-lidded and alight with the dancing firelight.

“Stupid question — drink,” you answer, bringing our own bottle up to your lips.

Zoro laughs, quiet and pleased as he reaches for a new bottle.

“Alright then — truth or dare?” he asks, uncorking the new bottle and reaching out to offer you some. You bat him away, your movements languid and heavy, your back pressed against a heavy wooden barrel, one leg propped up to support your arm, the other stretched out long and lithe in front of you.

“Truth,” you say, your voice easy, your smile even more so.

“Alright then — do you trust me?” Zoro’s voice dips, and your eyes flash up. There’s a sobering light somewhere behind the alcohol soaked haze clouding his gaze and you can tell by the steadiness of his hands that he’s not nearly as drunk as he might seem.

“What do you mean?” you ask, casually evading the question.

Zoro tuts, “’S not an answer.”

“I’m asking for a clarification.”

Zoro shakes his head, taking another soft swig, “Simple question — do you trust me?”

You purse your lips, mulling over the myriad answers you could provide and make it sound like the truth. But that’s not really how the game goes. So instead, you take a deep breath.

“I — I want to,” and it’s the way your voice breaks that makes it honest, the way you can’t hold the truth in by the seams of your careful cadence, no matter how hard you try to smooth out the ragged edges.

“So… that’s a no,” Zoro says, keeping his tone even. You can’t help reaching for him — imploring.

“Not yet but —”

“Why?”

“Why… what?”

“I guess…” Zoro leans back, casting his eyes up at the wild, dark sky, careening above the ship in an ecstatic spread of stars and, long sinuous, moon-silvered clouds, “why d’you want to trust me? Doesn’t seem like something you’d be eager to do after… y’know, everything.”

You lick your lips and stare into the empty bottom of your glass.

“Honestly?” you say, “because you’re kind of a shit liar —”

Zoro lets out a soft, rumbling laugh, but doesn’t deny it.

“But… also because you’re the only person I’ve met who… who treats words so carefully — I mean…” you swallow, leaning forward slightly as Zoro drops his gaze back down to you, “it’s like — my whole life has just been people saying things they don’t really mean, and never meaning what they say, and then trying to figure out what’s really happening — trying to say the right thing, not the thing you mean but the thing you think they’d want to hear —” your breath quickens, “and — and if you don’t or if you’re bad at it, then bad things happen to you and the people you care about —”

“Hey.”

A hand presses down on your shoulder and you gasp, your breath knifing through your chest as you clasp your shaking hands to your sternum.

“Breathe. You’re okay.”

You nod, unable to say anything as Zoro sits in front of you, his hand like an anchor in a summer storm, keeping you tethered.

You breathe and take stock of your limbs — feet, legs, hands, arms. It’s then that you realize Zoro’s crouching in front of you, your drink glass resting by his side.

“Thanks,” you say, nodding as he gives your shoulder a slight squeeze before pulling away. Physical touch has never been one of your strong points, and it seems Zoro’s learned that without you ever having to tell him.

It’s strange — the sudden knowledge that somehow, his understanding of you has been wordless and implicit. Complete, from nearly the day the Straw Hats had picked you up on that island. You’d never had to explain, never had to draw your boundaries.

And yet somehow, he knew. As if he’d always just known.

“Truth or dare?” you ask him, your voice barely a whisper, shifting to make more space for him on the dark deck of the ship’s forecastle. Zoro sits down in front of you, crossing his legs.

“Dare.”

You don’t fight the grin as it lifts the side of your lips.

The quiet pulses between the pair of you like a heartbeat.

“Tell me a secret.”

“Gotta be more specific,” Zoro’s grin lilts to mirror your own.

“Any secret,” you say, “something you… something you wouldn’t otherwise say out loud.”

“Isn’t that what a secret’s supposed to be? Something you don’t say?”

You laugh, tasting the sound like a mouthful of champagne, bubbling up through you and spiraling towards the endless summer’s night.

“Quit stalling!”

“Think I wanna kiss you.”

A gasp slices through the air between you. You feel the weight of it in your throat, the white-hot flicker of his gaze as he glances down at your lips. You wet them without thinking, and as Zoro lean’s in, you can sense the night around you slowly coalescing into something warm, something solid. Like a marble clutched in a child’s palm, or a pearl held on an oyster’s velvet tongue.

“Truth or dare?” he asks.

He stops just short of your lips, his nose almost grazing yours. You can nearly taste the sweet sake on his breath —

“Dare.”

“Close your eyes.”

Your lashes flutter and for a second, an eternity revolves in the space between your heartbeats. Faintly, you register the gentle rocking of the ship as an indolent wave catches her starboard side.

You close your eyes.

For a second, there is space. For a second, there is breath. For a second, there is gravity. And then — all of that disappears. All of it eclipsed by the kiss. And then, the kiss is all there is.

All there was, and ever will be.

There’s a graze of fingers against skin, the bump of legs against legs against thighs against knees — there’s knuckles and noses and hair falling, hair being tugged into closing fists. There’s the clink-clink-clink of earrings, and the clatter-clap-clat of swords and hilts and rough, wooden planks.

There’s the dull thunk and baseline rumble of a glass being knocked over and rolling away.

But all of that is afterthought. All of that is supplement, a postscript, marginalia and footnotes.

Because there, then — there is only the kiss, and nothing but the kiss: a catastrophe of inevitability, smooth as a secret, and whisper-sweet.

When the pair of you pull away, there’s a chaos of wings against your ribcage.

There’s the honeyed, lambent light in Zoro’s eyes as he grins down at you.

“Truth — or dare,” a breathless gasp punctuates your words.

Zoro’s grin only grows as he tips your chin back between his thumb and forefinger.

“Dare.”

It’s only then that you realize his cheeks are wine-flushed, his chest rising and falling nearly as fast as yours. You swallow slow and track his eyes as he watches the pale bob of your throat.

“Kiss me again.”

act iii: fool’s gold

It takes all of three hours for Sanji to get something out of Zoro, and three days before Robin and Nami manage to wheedle something out of you.

“No seriously! Things have been different since that one party we had —” Nami presses her palm to the kitchen table, here eyes wide. Robin sits on the couch, her expression one of mixed amusement and near academic interest.

“Different how?” you reach into the cookie jar and fish out a crumbled corner of what used to be a double chocolate chip cookie.

“Ugh! You know what I mean!” Nami turns to Robin, motioning towards you, “Help me here!”

Robin laughs, tossing up a graceful hand, “I suppose something does seem… changed.”

“Something?” you ask, licking at a smudge of chocolate on your thumb.

“Well…” Robin says, drawing out the syllable and making to examine the nails on her long, thin fingers, “it’s definitely not nothing.”

You allow yourself a smile, “Something’s definitely not nothing.”

Nami lets out a frustrated groan, but she’s smiling too.

It’s been long enough that you’d learned to relax around them, and you’d since also learned that nothing is so sacred as the sanctity of sisterhood. That bonds between friends might be forged in fire and brimstone, but bonds between women are forged in cinder and smoke — in the wreckage of after, when the fighting’s been done and all that’s left is the mending.

“What’s all this giggling about?” Zoro ducks into the half-ajar door, staring at the three of you.

Nami cocks an eyebrow; Robin shrugs.

You, for your part, smile and bat your lashes.

“Oh nothing,” you say.

“Just girl-talk,” offers Nami.

“Nothing to interest a legendary swordsman like yourself,” Robin polishes off.

Zoro’s eyes narrow, his gaze jumping between the three of you before it lands on you and he scoffs.

“Yeah, whatever. We’re docking soon.”

And that’s all he offers before sauntering back out of the room, leaving the door swinging behind him, but not before you catch sight of the redness at the tips of his ears as he hurries away.

You give it a beat of three seconds before pushing to your feet and following after, humming to yourself. Behind you, Nami and Robin share a knowing look.

“Definitely not nothing,” Robin says as she stands to follow you.

The island, if it can even be called that, is nothing more than a rough conglomeration of steep cliffs strapped together by a thin band of land barely wide enough to be categorized as a beach.

“Well! This is something!” Luffy declares, his arms akimbo on his hips as he stares at the island.

“Yeah… it’s uh… something for sure,” Usopp agrees, making a face as he squints at the cluster of rocks that look more like the jagged edges of a broken bottle than any kind of proper land formation.

“We’ll just anchor here for the night… get some good rest, and then...” Sanji’s words trail off, interrupted by a ghostly wail that rises from the gathering of dark cliffs, turning them into an echo chamber until it seems to rumble through the sand beneath them.

“… gold, all gold! — no, not a liar — please!”

A shiver etches itself up your spine and instinctively, you wrap your arms around yourself.

Zoro steps out in front of you, as if to shield you from whatever might come. His thumb presses against the hilt of his swords, his shoulders tense as corded wire.

“Uh… everyone else heard that too, right?” Chopper asks, peaking out from around Robin’s legs.

“Yep. Definitely not just you,” Sanji confirms.

Luffy grins, “Seems like there’s someone else on this island! Maybe they can show us around!”

Time passes by strangely on the island — one minute, the sun is still hanging low on the far horizon, and the next, the sky is the color of a bullet wound, darkness seeping in around the horizon.

“Whoever’s here on the island — they sure aren’t making it — easy —” Sanji grunts as he hoists himself up a slippery piece of rock face, sweat glistening on his forehead as he squints into the looming blackness.

“Luffy? You sure you know where we’re going?” Nami shouts, her voice ringing back in a way that makes everyone wince and cover their ears.

Zoro grabs your elbow a second before you slip, fingers digging into your flesh even as you steady yourself against him.

“Sorry — thanks,” you say, unsure of which one you really mean.

“Yeah! I can smell something — like a campfire! And… cooking!” Luffy’s voice calls back from somewhere in the gathering dark. Everyone shares a glance before bracing themselves and trudging on.

By the time you all catch up to Luffy, no one is certain of what time it is, only that it’s dark. But the kind of darkness that seems to cling to the skin — a darkness so dense it starts to take on shape and weight.

It presses in around you and you feel your breaths shortening in your chest.

Beside you, Zoro reaches out to brace a hand at the small of your back.

“Oh! I see a light ahead! C’mon!” Luffy’s voice rings out from somewhere up ahead, followed by the patter of sandals on stone. The rest of you follow, and then all too suddenly, light flickers to life in what seems to be a huge, subterranean cave deep within the cliffs of the island. It casts stark shadows against the slick, cavernous walls.

You frown, goosebumps rising along your arms and legs.

But before you have time to dwell on the wrongness of something there, Luffy’s voice snags your attention like a thread on an errant splinter.

“Hi! Oh, wow — that looks delicious!”

You turn a corner to find Luffy hunkering down over a blazing campfire and the silhouette of someone sitting opposite him, a sharp spike held out in front of them, turning slowly over the flickering flames.

“Oh… please… come join me — sit and listen to a story — I have so many stories — so many adventures to share!” the figure across the fire seems to quiver with the dancing flames, his voice filling up the whole of the cave, loud and boisterous and eager. But strange and hollow too.

You frown, chewing on the insides of your cheeks.

Ahead of you, Usopp and Chopper both take tentative seats next to Luffy, who had cheerfully plopped down next to the fire.

“Wow, this looks great! Are you here by yourself? I’m here with my crew! Are you a pirate too?” Luffy asks, his endless enthusiasm pouring from him like a spring.

Robin, Nami, and Sanji all hold back, but you take a step forward, and then another. Something compelling you towards the voice, pulling you closer. There’s a desperation, a loneliness with which you’re all too familiar — you inch closer, and then closer, till you’re almost level with Luffy, and you lower yourself to the ground next to him, Zoro dropping down beside you, his knee pressing against your leg in a silent reassurance.

“Come… come closer! It’s a good story — I promise!”

“Truth,” you mutter, just beneath your breath. Beside you, Zoro lets out a puff of breath, though his stance doesn’t loosen.

Behind you, you can hear the distinct sounds of the rest of the crew drawing just a step closer.

“Once upon a time… there was a city on an island where everything, and I mean everything was made of gold!”

The figure across the fire sounds cheered, elated even. Behind you, you feel Nami take half a step closer. Cold seeps into your veins despite the warm, dancing flames, and your fingers dig into the hard packed earth beneath you.

“I found it — I did! With my crew — the best sailors and seamen around! But the king… he was greedy! And he wanted his own men to take the treasures, so he forced me to lead them to the city again —”

“Truth,” you say again, but something in the tone of the figure’s voice makes you frown.

“Except… the city had gone… and there was nothing left… nothing but lies!”

You shudder back, swallowing hard. All around you, the darkness presses in with long, thin tendrils like so many loving fingers. The fire flares up, casting sparks up towards the cave’s ceiling, where stalagmites hang like broken teeth in a petrified monster’s maw.

“Oh… don’t be scared… come back — I won’t hurt you —”

“Liar!” you spit, the word scraping its way out of your throat.

Zoro leaps to his feet just as Luffy does the same. The fire flares again, a second before snuffing itself out, but in that second, you finally catch sight of the figure, hooded in shadow, sitting across from you — it has the shape of a man, tall and broad, but the limbs of a spindle-legged monster. It wears the darkness like a cloak, with beady, red eyes and a too-wide mouth.

“Don’t! Call me a liar! That’s what they called me — that’s what they called when they killed me! KILLED ME FOR TELLING THE TRUTH!”

You scramble back, Zoro nearly lifting you off the ground in his haste to pull you away. Luffy whips back his arm and swings it forward but all it catches is tendrils of shadow.

“Hey! That’s not nice!” he shakes off his fist, frowning as he stares at the bits of wriggling darkness still clinging to his skin.

“Run!” you shout as everyone bolts for the lightless path you all took to get to the heart of the cave.

“NOT A LIAR! NOT A LIAR! I FOUND IT! THE CITY! BELIEVE ME! BELIEVE ME!”

You clap your hands around your ears and race for what you hope is the exit. Behind you, you can hear the distinct sounds of Zoro’s blades whistling through the air*.*

“Damnit! How’dyou fight a shadow? There’s nothin’ to hit!”

“Quit tryna hit it and just run!” Sanji’s voice answers a second before he breezes passed you.

“Why don’t you believe me? Why?!”

“We — I believe you!” you shout, your chest a thundering mess of footfalls and scrambling bodies, and against all instinct, you turn around to face the darkness again, cupping your hands around your mouth, “I believe you! I know — I know you’re telling the truth!”

“What’re you doing?” Zoro asks, leveling himself by your side, his arm pressing against yours. Behind you, the thinnest sliver of light is creeping into the cave from what you assume is the entrance.

Morning. Has it really been that long?

Time is the greatest liar, you remember, suddenly, violently, the thought tearing through you like teeth.

“I — he’s telling the truth,” you say through gritted teeth, even as you take a few steps back. Inside the cave, the figure seems to shrink back from the encroaching light.

“What truth?” Zoro asks, his blade held aloft, his stance wide and ready.

“All of it,” you say, forcing your voice to be gentle, turning your face back towards the darkness, “I know, I can hear it — I know you’re telling the truth — about the island, the city — all of it!”

“Yes… all I wanted was to get back to the city… but… no one believe me… and I died… I died for it!”

“I know, and I’m sorry… no one should be punished for telling the truth —” your voice cracks.

“I tried!”

“I know…” you say as the figure shrinks and shrinks and shrinks and the light behind you grows and grows and grows, until you can feel the warm seeping into the skin of your back.

“And trying is everything,” you say, biting your lip as Zoro wraps an arm around your waist.

“Come with me… I’ll take you to the city — we can go together!”

You shake your head, heat prickling at your eyes as you turn away from the darkness of the cave and towards the light of the oncoming day.

“Liar…” the word falls from you like a rock, or a tear, cast off the cliff that greets you and Zoro as you both stare over the edge. The rest of the crew is nowhere to be found, but Zoro’s arm is still around your waist, and you can feel his warm breath by your cheek.

“Hey — do you trust me?”

You look up; in the dawning, morning light, Zoro, with his sun-kissed skin and dark moss hair appears to be limned in gold.

And maybe it’s the air, or the sea, or simply the angry pieces of this jagged, left-behind island of shadows like broken teeth trying to tear apart the sky, conducting his voice into a cacophony of echoes that sing and scream through the crags and eves of the valley beneath — but the whole island seems to reverberate with the question —

Do you trust me?

You close your eyes and breath. When you open them again, your heartbeat is steady. And when you speak, the rising sun streaks the tips of the saw-toothed peaks in strokes of molten gold. The valleys beneath you conduct your answer into an entire single-syllabled symphony —

Yes.

You feel his arm tighten around your waist, the wind as it tangles soft fingers in your hair. All around you, everything is light, and light, and light.

“Jump!”

You close your eyes, and jump.

-----

footnotes/appendix

uso-uso no mi translates to "lie-lie fruit"; i made it up bc it would be too op to have in the actual animanga i think

the "acts" refer to a classical 3-act structure that most movies/plays/scripts are written in: setup, confrontation, and resolution... with a smattering of other things sprinkled in for ~vibes~

in much of classical japanese and chinese mythology, foxes are associated with trickers and lies, often turning into beautiful women to deceive men, luring them into forests and mountains before taking their lives

the "figure" in the last scene is... can you guess? noland! kudos to anyone who figured it out as they were reading *\ (>o<) /*

did i absolutely take the "do you trust me" line from disney's aladdin??? HELL YEAH i did !!!! tru trust is my kink u__u