Hot Girl Summer Is Reading Soul-shattering Fanfiction About Dead Gay Wizards From The 70s.

“Because true and sincere friendships can transcend space and time, can last longer than a lifetime,” Mom replied. “Because you are a D and we laugh at the face of Fate. We don't let anyone define us or tell us what to do, we decide our own destiny.” Mom was right. Ace was the product of his parents and he had always hated it.

He got angry like his father and had the proud arrogance of his mother. He had his mother's taste for adventure and his father's charisma. He carried his parents' dreams and doubts and created his own path. He had Roger's eyes and Rouge's smile. He was both the best and the worst of his parents. But he also shared their will and their determination, their refusal to give up . They did not bow down to any man or god. (He was the son of a King, a Conqueror and an Emperor.) This realization left him strangely calm, as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Ace closed his eyes and let the wind carry him, the setting sun gently warming his skin.

At The Dawn of Time by TheStarsInBetween

Illustration by @drop-of-starshine

Snippet Saturday !!

This is just an excuse to show you this new paragraph in my WIP that I'm so proud of. And if all goes well, you'll be able to see the full fic tomorrow ;)

"Three swords pierced his heart as he clung to Marco like a rock in the middle of the raging ocean, the grief he had been running from for nearly two years pouring over him like oil on a fire. He cried and cried, the cracks in his facade widening with each sob, pieces of him falling to the ground like a broken vase. He would have shattered if it weren’t for Marco’s arms around him to keep him whole — to keep him afloat."

As a writer, receiving long comments with quotes and rambles is the best feeling in the world. There's nothing wrong with hearts, keyboard smashes or even silent readers, but the energy boost to keep writing that some of the comments I've had have given me is incomparable.

And as a reader, I often read my favourite fanfics on my laptop with two tabs open to comment my thoughts on real time. It works great for me !

BTW i see these posts all the time like "ohhh i dont know what to comment on fics.." and every response is "keysmashes! or hearts!! anything works :3" and thats GREAT!! thats helpful!!

but: consider. if u genuinely like analyzing writing.. do u know ur just allowed to go through and quote your favorite parts and ramble abt what they mean to u and the author will LOSE IT WITH HYPE?

genuinely. i felt SO WEIRD the first time i did it.. but like. holy shit authors love it. its crack for authors. the first time i did it, it was on a fic that hadnt updated in half a year, give or take, and the author made 3 updates that month BECAUSE OF MY COMMENT.

LIKE. as an author every comment is INCREDIBLE!!! but also, dont feel like your comment has to be short or otherwise ur invasive or smth!! authors ADORE long comments more than ANYTHING.

Chapter 1 : The Tiger Left First

It might have seemed impossible for the man who had arrogantly defied Death so many times. But it couldn't have been otherwise. The loyal Zoro could never have let any of his nakama die before him.

As promised, here is the first real chapter of "Until Death Do Us Part". This story makes me feel so bad, I hate killing my favorite characters but it's also super interesting to write. I also realized that in many of my Straw Hats-centric stories that I'm writing, I always start with Zoro's chapter. And this time is no exception. There's just something comforting about starting with Zoro. Words Count: 1,519 Trigger Warnings: - Character Death - Blood and Injuries Enjoy reading?

Zoro was the first to die.

“I intend to become the Greatest Swordsman in the World! No matter how I achieve this, whether it's good or bad, my name will resound throughout the world. If you stand in my way, you will pay dearly.”

“The Greatest Swordsman, that sounds pretty damn good! It takes at least that to be part of the Pirate King's crew.”

.

.

.

They were so close to Laugh Tale and yet so far away. With all four Road Poneglyphs in their possession, Robin had had no trouble finding the location of the Forgotten Island. Zoro had never doubted for a second that she was capable of it. Nami had mapped out a course; Franky had filled their Cola reserves; Usopp had settled into the crow's nest to keep watch.

It was only his newly awakened Observation Haki that saved Usopp from the sniper bullet that shattered the window behind him. Usopp let out a scream and quickly moved away from the impact of the bullet. Zoro put his hand on Wado's handle as Jinbei maneuvered the Sunny to prepare to meet the coming battle head on.

In Jaya, the crew had been taken by surprise but this time they were ready to face Blackbeard's crew. 

(Never again would Zoro let his crew down.)

Luffy stood on the figurehead, the black cloak draped over his shoulders billowing in the wind, his straw hat casting a shadow over his eyes. The crew gathered behind him, watching the darkness engulf the sea around them. The sky slowly darkened, turning crimson in the middle of the afternoon.

Zoro drew his sword, the cursed metal catching the last rays of the dying sun. Lightning streaked the skies as Nami rose up on Zeus’s back, her clima-tact clutched in his hand. Usopp’s fingers on Kabuto’s handle were unwavering, vines curling at his feet like snakes.

Cigarette smoke wrapped around the cook, flames dancing at his feet. Chopper’s horns elongated, his bones breaking and reforming as he changed form. Robin crossed her arms in front of her, the devil's soul shining in her eyes.

Franky pushed his sunglasses up his nose, steel shifting and settling beneath his skin. Ice formed on the ground around Brook as he hummed softly under his breath. Jinbe's grip on the rudder tightened, the waves crashing hard against the hull of the ship at his will.

Luffy's eyes didn't leave the horizon as he cracked his knuckles, the sun forming a halo around him.

The battle began.

The crew scattered, the fight spreading across both ships and an abandoned islet. But even as he fought the invisible bastard (the cook had cried tears of blood upon realizing what devil fruit Shiryu had eaten), Zoro kept his crew in his sights as much as he could.

Luffy was furious, and seeing him up close was like watching a supernova explode. Dangerous and yet beautiful.

Zoro parried an invisible blow, hating the way Shiryu fought. It had nothing to do with the art of sword fighting, it was cowardly and dirty. But Zoro would have his duel, his fight with Mihawk was coming, and soon his name would echo all the way to Heaven.

The Greatest Swordsman.

So Zoro treated this fight as what it was, a training in observation haki. The loss of his eye didn't matter here since neither of his eyes could see Shiryu. But he could sense him.

Attacking just behind him from the right. 

A spot that Zoro would have had a hard time reaching if he hadn't turned around in time. Zoro blocked and counterattacked in one motion, his opponent's blood clearly visible on his blades.

Zoro might not be able to see his opponent, but he could see the signs of his victory. Grinning to himself, Wado between his teeth, Zoro stopped playing with his food. Shiryu couldn't teleport, he was only invisible. His movements were predictable. And Zoro didn't give him a chance.

Zoro attacked relentlessly, not letting Shiryu get away from him. His long-range attacks were useless here, and would allow Shiryu to escape and potentially harm the rest of the crew. Not all of them knew haki, a mistake on their part that they had begun to correct, but he was sure that at this point, only Luffy, Jinbei, the cook, and Usopp could sense Shiryu coming.

A wave of haki hit the landscape, brutal and angry. The sun was exploding and no one could look away even though it burned . But it didn't burn, not for Zoro, not for the crew. It was both the first light of dawn after a nightmare and the corrosion of a solar flare.

It was everything . 

It was all it took for Shiryu to escape.

Zoro rushed after him, but the few seconds Shiryu had on him were enough. Shiryu left bloody footprints in the sand, flickering in and out of existence. He was on his last breath, but dying animals were the most desperate, the most dangerous.

Zoro saw clearly what Usopp would see too late, also distracted by Luffy.

Shiryu's blade sinking into Usopp's back, cutting right through him. Usopp spitting blood on the wet sand and missing his shot, letting Van Augur get Luffy.

Zoro stepped in, taking the blow head on.

(Always from the front, a back wound was a shame for a swordsman.)

Metal dug into his flesh, lodging in his ribcage just below his heart. Blood leaked from the corners of Zoro's lips as he smirked at Shiryu. Usopp gasped, Teach laughed, and Luffy screamed .

“ZORO!!!”

(two people on a rowboat in the middle of the ocean; sea salt, sand, and sun on his skin; elastic limbs wrapped around him in his sleep as the sun rose over the horizon)

Shiryu collapsed onto the scarlet sand, foam at the corners of his mouth and blood streaming from his eyes, ears, and nose. Shiryu had died before Zoro, Zoro had won. The darkness retreated as Teach's laughter still echoed on the horizon, haunting his final moments.

Zoro collapsed into Usopp's arms, choking on blood and seawater. Zoro was trapped in his own body, unable to move or breathe. He couldn't speak, he couldn't see, he couldn't hear.

He was going to die.

(He would never get the chance to beat Mihawk.)

(He wouldn't see Luffy become Pirate King.)

(He wouldn't be by his friends' side when they realized their dreams.)

But he knew they would, with or without him.

He could die knowing at least that.

A familiar weight settled on his head—a crown made of straw, the Pirate King’s greatest treasure—and his consciousness was brought back to his dying body one last time. His friends were around him—Nami holding his hand while shaking, his head on Usopp's lap, Robin's hand on his scarred ankle, Brook placing Wado in his other hand, hiding his tears—and the sun above his head. He squinted at the harsh, unforgiving rays of light.

Luffy rested his forehead on Zoro’s, eclipsing the sun for a moment—for ever—as his tears fell down Zoro’s cheeks.

“Stay with us, Chopper will heal you and everything will be fine,” Luffy pleaded.

Chopper worked tirelessly, desperately trying to stop the endless flow of blood by begging him to keep breathing. But Zoro had defied Death enough times to know that it was over. He had fought his whole life, to prove that he was the Best, but now that it was all coming to an end, he just wanted to enjoy the warmth of Sanji's hand around his elbow, Jinbei's on his shoulder, Franky's knee against his.

(He didn’t want to die.)

“Hey Luffy,” Zoro called softly, his lungs burning with the effort. “Remember when I told you I’d kill you if you got in my way.”

Each word was labored, barely audible over the sound of the waves but Luffy nodded, holding back a broken sob. Around him, everyone bowed their heads in grief, realizing the truth before Luffy could admit it. Zoro would have laughed at the tears shining in the cook's eyes if he had the strength.

“Guess I was wrong.”

“Zoro,” Luffy whispered. “Stay with me. Please.”

“Give them hell, Pirate King,” Zoro smirked.

.

.

.

They buried Zoro in Laugh Tale, his grave blooming with the tears of the Pirate King. Wado Ichimonji was laid to rest at his side, clasped in his hands and entwined with a rosary of 108 white and black beads. The two golden tears in his ears would serve as a passage to the afterlife and the third in his captain's ear as a memory of the deceased.

Far away on the ocean, Blackbeard's ship burned for three days in black flames, the celebration of a Pyrrhic victory. Legend has it that the waters around Laugh Tale remained red until the next King arrived.

And the name of Roronoa Zoro echoed to the heavens.

One down, nine more to go. I don't think I'll post the rest of this story on Tumblr, I don't find it very practical, but if you want it will be on AO3.

DAY 13: Till Death Do Us Part

The end of a crew. The end of a legend.

If you haven't seen the "Character Death" tag and you don't like when your favorite characters die, there's still time to turn around. The entire crew dies in this story, it's not a spoiler to say that. (And, the warnings will be put at the beginning of each chapter, in more or less gruesome ways.) I was looking for a poem to be the story's guideline but I couldn't find one that fit what I was looking for. And even though I don't really need it anymore, I decided to write it myself. The first real chapter will be coming tomorrow or in the next few days but in the meantime I left some clues on how each character dies if you want to decipher them. I originally wrote the poem in French and was unable to make it rhyme in English, to my great disappointment. So I left it for you in French with the translation for each line just below. Fandom : One Piece Character(s) : Mugiwara Kaizoku | Straw Hat Pirates Relationship(s) : Mugiwara Kaizoku | Straw Hat Pirates & Mugiwara Kaizoku | Straw Hat Pirates Words Count : 629 No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

À bord du navire des rêves,

(On board the ship of dreams,)

vivaient dix animaux

(lived ten animals)

Tous suivaient leur capitaine,

(All followed their captain,)

un singe avec comme couronne un chapeau.

(a monkey with a hat as a crown.)

Le tigre partit le premier, 

(The tiger left first,)

protégeant jusqu’au bout ses camarades.

(protecting his comrades until the end.)

Mais son dos resta intouché, 

(But his back remained untouched,)

marquant l'ultime preuve de sa bravade.

(marking the ultimate proof of his bravado.)

Le cheval solitaire fût le suivant,

(The lonely horse was next,)

son vieux squelette ne tenant plus le coup

(his old skeleton no longer holding up)

Ses amis ne le laissèrent pas seul un instant, 

(His friends did not leave him alone for a moment,)

tenant sa main jusqu’à son dernier pouls.

(holding his hand until his last pulse.)

La fin commença avec celle du caméléon,

(The end began with that of the chameleon,)

son courage inspirant le monde entier

(his courage inspiring the whole world)

Même devant la Mort il ne baissa pas le front,

(Even in the face of Death he did not lower his head,)

lançant sur la mer les navires par milliers.

(launching ships by the thousands into the sea.)

L’ironie n’échappa pas au canard,

(The irony did not escape the duck,)

quand ses yeux se fermèrent de leur plein gré.

(when his eyes closed of their own accord.)

Il aurait aimé que cela arrive un peu plus tard,

(He would have liked it to happen a little later,)

sombrer dans les bras de la mer dont il avait toujours rêvé. 

(to sink into the arms of the sea he had always dreamed of.)

Le taureau résista sans jamais faillir,

(The bull resisted without ever failing,)

quand se déchainèrent les sévices des enfers

(when the torments of hell were unleashed)

Il accueillit la fin avec un sourire,

(He greeted the end with a smile,)

tel était l’adage de l’homme de fer.

(such was the adage of the iron man.)

La chatte affronta sa fin sans ruser,

(The cat faced her end without guile,)

maîtrisant une dernière fois les éléments

(mastering the elements one last time)

Elle ne s’enfuit pas même si elle était effrayée,

(She did not run away even though she was frightened,)

libérant un pays entier du tourment.

(freeing an entire country from torment.)

Le petit renne choisit de rester,

(The little reindeer chose to stay,)

refusant de tourner son dos à ceux dans le besoin

(refusing to turn his back on those in need)

Face à la maladie il ne cessa d’essayer

(Faced with illness he never stopped trying)

et sa compassion causa sa fin.

(and his compassion caused his end.)

La seule grue qui avait réussi à fuir,

(The only crane that had managed to escape,)

finit par retourner à la maison

(ended up returning home)

Pour une fois elle ne pût pas courir,

(For once she could not run,)

et enfermée, elle se plia à la raison.

(and locked up, she bowed to reason.)

L’ours fût là quand personne ne pouvait plus l’être,

(The bear was there when no one could anymore,)

Guidant son capitaine jusqu’à la dernière minute

(Guiding his captain until the last minute)

Il ne laissa jamais sa peur paraître, 

(He never let his fear show,)

Continuant jusqu’au bout pour lui, la lutte.

(Continuing the fight to the end for him.)

Le singe resta le dernier,

(The monkey was the last to remain,)

Seul et froid au milieu de la nuit

(Alone and cold in the middle of the night)

Quand il partit, personne n'était là pour l’en empêcher,

(When he left, no one was there to stop him,)

et il prit le soleil avec lui.

(and he took the sun with him.)

DAY 8: Nightmares Don't Sleep

Zoro can't sleep, ghosts come to keep him company.

And here it is, it had to happen, first time (but not last time) that I'm late. I lasted a week so I'm happy. My mid-terms are starting so writing will take a back seat for me but I'm still going to try to finish Whumptober, even if it's not on time. I'll probably spend a few days to focus on stories that interest me more but I'll complete all the prompts. But for now, it's Zoro's time to suffer. This story will be in several parts (because I, too, need sleep and have yet to discover a way to write more than 10,000 words in two hours after class) and I promise, promise, promise there's comfort and fluff at the end. Not everyone will be so lucky this month. Fandom: One Piece Character(s) : Roronoa Zoro Relationship(s) : Mugiwara Kaizoku | Strawhat Pirates & Roronoa Zoro Trigger Warnings: - Multiple Electrocutions - Non-Consensual Body Modification (The Navy installs a chip in Zoro's neck while he's unconscious.) - Blood and Injuries No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)

HOUR 1

Zoro opened his eyes, the fog in his mind clearing as a brief but sharp pain spread through his ribs. Instinctively, his hand went to his haramaki but was met with air instead of steel.

Zoro sat up abruptly, the room spinning around him mercilessly. His mouth was pasty and he could no longer feel his tongue but the metallic taste of blood was not one he could forget. The screech of chains on the stone floor as he moved hurt his ears but he couldn't have covered them if he wanted to.

Zoro tested the chains that restrained him to the wall, the awkward position of his arms preventing him from going too far without dislocating his shoulder. His head felt heavy and he struggled to keep it straight, his eyes begging him to close for just a moment.

Still, Zoro found the strength—or the spite—to look down on the asshole marine who had just kicked him. It took a lot of skill to maintain such an arrogant attitude while being forced onto his knees, but Zoro was very good at what he did.

"Too afraid to hit me when I'm not tied up and unarmed?" Zoro smirked.

"Laugh while you still can," the marine ignored him — Bob, he looked like a Bob with his stupid mustache — and continued his villain monologue. "The unit in charge of escorting you to Impel will arrive in three days and I doubt you'll have time to laugh there."

Zoro didn't have time to come up with a sarcastic response (whatever drugs they'd injected him with to subdue him, cowards , were still in his system, so excuse him for being a little slow) as Bob leaned over to whisper in Zoro's ear.

"I'm sure you can ask your captain when he joins you in your cell."

The electric shock that ran through his body, leaving him spasming and drooling, was well worth Bob's cry of pain and horror as Zoro spat his torn ear onto the ground, red covering his teeth as he grinned victoriously. Bob slapped his hand where his ear had been seconds before, a thick trickle of blood running down his arm.

"You're a fool to think I won’t be gone by then. Pray your ear gets infected and you die before I get free,” Zoro threatened, his fingers still twitching uncontrollably.

Zoro had trained relentlessly for two years to become stronger, to never fail his captain again. It wasn't someone like Bob who was going to get in his way. He was just going to take a little nap and wait for the world to stop spinning before heading off to find his crew. They had probably gotten lost without him.

Zoro closed his tired eyes and the headache that was splitting his skull dulled for a moment. He just needed to sleep .

A second electric current went through him and Zoro could feel every single blood vessel bursting in shock. He convulsed violently, the rusty steel of his handcuffs digging into his skin, drawing blood. It took him longer to recover, resting his body weight against his chains, straining his shoulders almost to their limits, while he caught his breath.

(Zoro was used to the crackle of electricity in the air and the sound of thunder. But it lacked the smell of earth after rain and tangerines, the clink of gold bracelets and coins.)

When he raised his head (he only bowed his head to one man), Bob was grinning viciously. The blood on his jaw could have made him look menacing, but it only made him look like a child playing in the paint.

"I didn't think the chip would activate so soon," Bob sneered. "But let me introduce you to the new marvel of the Navy's science department. Whenever you're about to fall asleep, the chip in your neck will send an electric current through your body to keep you awake.”

Zoro twisted his neck, realizing that the dull bite in his neck wasn’t from the needle they’d used to drug him, but from a small silver metal chip.

Bob placed a finger against his cheek, pretending to think.

“A human being can go what… seventy-two hours without sleep? Pray that the Impel Down unit arrives before your hallucinations start talking to you. Or don’t. It’s your choice where you die.”

Zoro tugged fiercely at his chains and Bob looked frightened for a moment as pieces of the wall crumbled. But the wall and the chains stayed in place. Bob sighed in relief (bad idea, never show a predator that you’re afraid) and even allowed himself a small, strangled laugh.

“Enjoy your stay here, Roronoa. It’ll be your last.”

Zoro spat on Bob's freshly polished boots. "Run while you still can. You'll regret not killing me when you had the chance."

Face contorted with anger, Bob kicked him in the chin, his teeth clashing violently. He grabbed Zoro by the hair, forcing him to look up at a small remote control.

"I forgot, but luckily you seem very eager to get electrocuted, the chip can also be controlled remotely. If I were you, I'd start thinking about my attitude," Bob whispered, out of Zoro's range. He had learned his lesson at least. "You can start by apologizing."

"I'm sorry," Zoro began slowly, "that your mother abandoned you at birth. But I understand her, I wouldn't have stayed either."

The reaction was immediate, and damn if it didn't hurt a little—his vision went white and he practically choked on his tongue—but Zoro laughed as Bob walked out of the cell, still shaking with spasms.

Worth it.

For now, Zoro isn't suffering too much (from his point of view) and is more of a general nuisance than anything else but that will change as the sleepless hours progress. And speaking of which, go to sleep or take a nap, it'll do you good!

DAY 1: Tick Tock Goes The Clock

Sam gets lost in the forest. This action has consequences.

First day of Whumptober, one of the few times I'll be on time too. It's Dean's turn today! Congrats to him (?) This was supposed to be a story about Sam getting lost in the woods and it ended up being a character study of Dean and his self-worth issues. I'm not unhappy about it. Triggers Warnings: - Mild Graphic Description of Violence - Mild Blood and Injury - Broken Bone - Dean's Canonical Self-worth Issues - John Being an Asshole Fandom : Supernatural (TV 2005) Character(s) : Dean Winchester Relationship(s) : Dean Winchester & John Winchester & Sam Winchester Words Count : 2,714 No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

Dean tightened his grip on his silver blade, listening for any sound. He was alone in the forest, the full moon visible through the treetops. Dean barely dared to breathe for fear of being heard, every crack of branches or wind through the leaves putting him on alert in the deathly silence that surrounded him.

He had been separated from Dad and Sammy hours ago, but Dean wasn't worried. Sammy was with Dad, nothing could happen to him. Now it was up to Dean to fulfill his duty. It was the last night of the lunar cycle. If he didn't kill the werewolf he was tracking tonight, it could run away and continue to hurt innocent people for another month.

(There were five of them in the woods, all thinking they were the predator. But only three of them would get out of here alive.)

A shadow, lit by the cold, metallic light of the moon, shifted on a trunk and Dean turned abruptly. Good thing he did. The werewolf he thought he had been following for the past hour jumped at him, sharp claws aimed at his face. With a practiced reflex, Dean protected his head with his arm holding his blade, throwing himself out of the werewolf's path with agility.

Not fast enough.

A claw hit his arm, tearing through flesh as easily as the fabric of his jacket, drawing blood onto the forest floor. In pain, Dean let go of his silver blade, sending it a few meters away from him. He clutched his arm to his chest, quickly assessing the damage. For a terrifying moment, he could no longer remember if a werewolf's scratch was enough to infect a human.

(If it did, what would he do? What would Dad do? Dean couldn't imagine his father accepting a monster as a son. And Sammy? It didn't matter, Dean would rather die than hurt an innocent.

Dean killed monsters indiscriminately, no matter who or where they came from. That was what he had always been taught. Hunters killed monsters. Dean knew what he would have to do.)

Calm down and think, idjit!

Dean forced himself to breathe through his nose. A scratch wasn't enough to turn someone into a werewolf, only a bite could. Easy, Dean could avoid being bitten by a dirty mutt.

The werewolf snarled, drool dripping down its chin, yellow eyes flashing wildly in the night. It was getting impatient and the adrenaline that was pulsing violently in Dean's veins would soon fade, leaving him to face all the pain of his wound.

Dean had to get his hand on his weapon. And fast. He mentally calculated the distance between him, the werewolf and his knife. But the werewolf noticed the direction of his gaze.

"Oh no!" the werewolf threatened, its words chewed in its rage.

The werewolf threw itself at Dean, but this time Dean was ready for it. Using his opponent’s momentum against him, he kicked the beast in the sternum, deflecting its course and sending it into a thicket of brambles. The werewolf struggled through the brambles, howling in anger, giving Dean enough time to lunge for his silver blade. His fingers closed around the handle, a sigh of relief and comfort escaping him. 

A hand grabbed his ankle, claws digging deep into his ankle, cutting through tendons. Dean fell, his chin hitting the ground hard. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. He tried to grab roots, clawing at the ground to keep the werewolf from pulling him towards it, thorns digging into his skin. Dean struggled and kicked, ignoring the searing pain, to force the werewolf to let go of him. But the monster held firm, twisting his bones as it laughed in satisfaction.

A guttural cry escaped his lips, tearing through his dry throat.

“A fighter, I like that,” the werewolf mocked. “I don’t usually turn men, but I might make an exception for you. You’re pretty enough.”

“Go to hell!” Dean spat, choking on his blood.

Dean forced himself to turn his torso to face the werewolf, straining his bruised muscles. He swung his knife in a wide arc in front of him and sliced ​​the monster across the face, damaging one of its eyes. The werewolf cried out in pain and finally let go of Dean, bringing a hand deformed by claws to its face.

Dean stood up quickly, putting as much distance between himself and the werewolf as he could. He spat on the ground, a mixture of blood and dirt, and grinned victoriously, his teeth tinged red. He gripped his knife in his left hand, his entire body on alert.

(He had practiced using both hands, but his left hand was still his weakest. This would have to do.)

Dean had never wanted a gun more than he did now. But they had only managed to get one single silver bullet and giving it to Dean who had a better chance of missing his target would have been a waste. It had made sense for Dad to take the gun, he wouldn't miss. Still, sticking a standard bullet between the werewolf's eyes would have reassured him, even if it would have barely slowed it down.

"I take it back," the werewolf growled. "I'm going to enjoy tearing you apart and eat your heart. And when I'm done hearing you beg, I'm going to hunt down your delicious little brother and take him with me. That is, if my friend doesn't kill him and your demon of a father first."

Dean's ears twisted and his vision went red. Sammy .

"Stay away from him!" Dean growled, his voice as animal as the monster in front of him. 

The werewolf smirked and Dean knew he had made a mistake. He had just revealed a weakness, something precious to him and the predator in front of him had smelled it. Dean's determination only grew, he couldn't let the werewolf go now that it had so clearly threatened his little brother.

( Sammy, he had to protect Sammy. )

With his good foot, Dean kicked the dirt at his feet, creating a protective screen of dust and blocking him from the werewolf's sight for a few seconds. It wasn't enough, not when all the senses of the monster in front of him were heightened but it was something.

Dean attacked from the right, the side where the werewolf was blinded by the wound Dean had inflicted on it. But the werewolf abruptly turned to Dean, having sensed him coming, and met him head-on with a punch to the stomach. Dean's breath caught in his chest for a moment, bile rising in his mouth. He doubled over in shock and the werewolf grabbed his hair before yanking .

Dean kneed it between the legs, forcing the werewolf to let go of him and sank his blade deep into the werewolf's ribs. He brought his knife up to the werewolf's heart, puncturing its liver and lungs.

The werewolf grabbed his wrist, crushing his bones and twisting Dean's arm until Dean let go. A sickening crack echoed through the forest and his arm went limp in the werewolf's grip, broken mid-forearm. Dean couldn't help but cry out in pain and fear.

The werewolf grinned wickedly and, straining on Dean's broken arm, sent him into a tree. Dean's head hit the trunk hard and he fell to the ground, his broken arm beneath him. He staggered to his feet, slower than he would have liked, the world spinning indescribably around him.

"I'm going to kill you," Dean slurred, pointing his broken knife at the werewolf.

Dean realized a second too late that the blade of his knife had been separated from the handle, still inside the werewolf, just below his heart. A few inches more and Dean would have succeeded. Oh well, if he had to shove his hand between the werewolf's ribs to retrieve his blade and finish the job properly, he would.

The werewolf looked at him in horror, coughing up blood. The wound wasn’t fatal, but there was no way it could get the blade out of its body. With any luck, it would die from its injuries without Dean having to do anything. But Dean had stopped relying on luck years ago. He alone was in control of his destiny, and he couldn’t give the werewolf a chance to hurt someone— to hurt Sammy .

The werewolf took off running.

In the direction Dean had left Dad and Sammy.

Dean gave chase, excruciating pain shooting through his nerves every time he stepped on the ground. He couldn't take more than three steps before he collapsed, tears streaming down his cheeks and leaving trails in the dirt and blood.

"Dad!" Dean screamed as he tried to get up. " Dad!!! "

God, he was so useless.

His scream tore through the night, Dean not caring if he lured the other werewolf to him. The icy panic in his veins wouldn't let him think, he had to warn Dad. Sammy was in danger. Because of him.

"DAD!"

Dean finally stood up, his throat dry and every nerve ending in his body on fire. But Sammy was more important than him. He started running again, branches whipping at his face, following the werewolf’s tracks. A shadow appeared at the edge of his vision and barreled into him, pinning him in its arms. Dean struggled fiercely, trying to free himself.

“Dean!” the shadow snapped.

Dean relaxed instantly, recognizing his father. He could have cried with relief at the sight of him. If Dad was here, it meant Sammy was okay. Even if Dean had screwed up again, Dad would be able to help him.

“Where’s Sammy? We need to get him out of here,” Dean said, panicked.

(A part of his brain recognized that he was still in his father’s arms. He couldn’t remember the last time Dad had hugged him.)

“What? I thought he was with you!”

Dean’s heart stopped for a second.

This time, his tears were filled with despair.

“No, no, no,” Dean cried, shaking his head. “He was supposed to be with you. Safe .”

“Dean, tell me what happened,” Dad ordered calmly, his hands on Dean’s shoulders, but Dean could hear the urgency in his voice.

“I didn’t manage to kill the werewolf, he ran away. And he said he’d turn Sammy if he found him,” Dean explained, recognizing an order even through his visceral fear. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Dad clenched his fists in anger, his eyes stormy and his posture dangerous. But Dean didn’t know who his anger was directed at.

“I’m sorry,” Dean repeated. “Please, Dad.”

(Dean didn’t know what he was asking his father to do, to take him back in his arms, to help him, to forgive him, to save Sammy.)

“Apologies won’t help, Dean,” Dad said abruptly. “We need to find Sammy. Fast .”

Dean stopped himself from apologizing again and straightened up, waiting for the next command.

“It’s hurt,” Dean added, forcing himself to ignore his pathetic outburst of emotion. “My silver blade is stuck in its ribs under its heart and he can’t use its left eye.”

“Good,” Dad replied, deep in thought. “It’ll be to our advantage. And you, are you hurt?”

“No,” Dean lied, almost by reflex.

“I don’t have time for lies, Dean!” Dad shouted out of patience, making Dean flinch. “Your brother may be in danger and every second you waste could very well be vital.”

"Both my arms and my ankle," Dean answered quickly. "And my head."

"Damn it, Dean, I thought I had you better trained than this," Dad swore. "But I could use you. So stay with me. But if I tell you to run, you run. No protests. You'll only get in my way anyway."

"Yes, sir!"

Without another word, Dad started walking, handing Dean his silver blade. It was caked in blood and Dean wiped it on his pants before testing its weight in his hand.

"How are you going to do without a weapon?" Dean asked, following his father.

"I still have the bullet," Dad replied, patting the gun strapped to his thigh. "Now shut up, I don't want the bastard to hear us."

Dean lowered his head, concentrating on keeping up with his father's fast pace. He didn't want to be any more of a burden than he already was. Dad would never forgive him if Sammy died tonight. And he wouldn't forgive himself either. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain, each frantic beat of his heart feeling like a countdown to his little brother's death, a bomb waiting to explode.

(Dean was nothing without Sammy, he couldn't lose him. Not his little brother.)

They didn't have time to waste.

XXX

Dean and Dad had walked for what seemed like hours, searching for Sammy. The werewolf’s tracks had finally disappeared around a bush, as if they had never existed. The full moon setting on the horizon should have been a relief, the end of a long night, but it was only a mockery.

They were running out of time.

Reluctantly, Dad had agreed to let them split up to cover more ground. Every second that passed was like a stab through Dean’s heart. It was his fault, it was his negligence and weakness that had allowed the werewolf to escape, that had put Sammy in danger.

The adrenaline that kept him upright had worn off, and Dean struggled through the forest, limping like a newborn fawn. He was dehydrated, having not had a drink of water in hours and having thrown up even more times. His head was killing him, blood pulsing violently in his temples. But Dean welcomed the distraction of the pain, anything to avoid thinking that he might find Sammy’s heartless corpse with every step he took.

(He resolutely forced himself not to look at the inhuman shape of his arm—flaccid, shapeless, and in two pieces—or the bleeding, festering cut on his other arm.)

Dean didn’t let it slow him down, despite his body begging him. He would rest when he was dead.

At the end of a path, Dean could see the edge of the forest and beyond it an abandoned hunter’s cabin. He stopped, hesitating for a moment, and tried to think like Sammy. A cabin like this was a good shelter to wait out the full moon. Dean knew he'd regret it if he didn't at least check it out. But it could also be a waste of crucial time.

What would Dad do in this situation?

You're a smart kid. Follow your instincts.

Dean changed direction toward the cabin.

A branch snapped behind him and Dean spun around abruptly. His knife stopped inches from his father's jugular as he raised his hands in the air in peace.

"Sorry," Dean apologized sheepishly, relaxing his arm.

"Don't be," Dad replied gruffly. "That was a nice reflex you had there."

Dean was too tired to appreciate his father’s rare compliment and let his arm fall back to his side. But Dad stopped him, gently grabbing his wrist and examining the wound on his arm.

“That’s a nasty cut you’ve got there,” Dad said. “You’ll need antibiotics, I’ll call Bobby as soon as we find your little brother.”

“It’s not important,” Dean refuted, trying to pull his arm back. “Sammy’s the priority.”

Dad stopped him, looking almost sad for a moment.

“Your well-being is important. You’re important,” Dad said with a hint of desperation, as if he really meant it. He looked like he was going to say something else but thought better of it, his gaze drifting toward the cabin. “You wanted to go take a look?”

“That’s the kind of place Sammy would hide,” Dean said. “He’s smart like that.”

“Good thinking, wait for me here,” Dad ordered, finally letting go of Dean's arm.

“What? No!” Dean protested fiercely.

“Dean, I don't have time for this,” Dad snapped.

Dean didn't listen to the end of his father's sentence. A blood-curdling scream shattered the quiet of dawn and Dean rushed towards the cabin, stealing the gun from his father's hand. Dean knew that voice, he knew it better than his own.

(It should never have contained so much pain and fear.)

“ Sammy !”

Sorry for the cliffhanger (or not). I actually combined two days in this story (and played around a little bit with the prompts too) so you will have Sam's POV and the end of this chapter on the... (drum rolls please) 19th! (Also, it's my first time writing whump so I don't know if it's enough hurt. Feel free to give me your opinion on the matter.)

DAY 2 : Again.

Luffy relives the worst day of his life, over and over again.

I wasn't inspired by today's prompts so I chose one of the alternatives: Time Loop. Since I didn't have time to write everything, I'll post loop by loop as I go along, instead of all at once. This story is quite hard to read (and write), so pay attention to the warnings and take care of yourself above all <3 Trigger Warnings: - Graphic Description of Violence - Blood and Injuries - Burns - Major Character Death Fandom : One Piece (Anime & Manga) Character(s) : Monkey D. Luffy Relationship(s) : Monkey D. Luffy & Portgas D. Ace Words Count : 1,548 No. 2: ALTERNATIVE  Time Loop

First Loop

Luffy struggled to retrieve Ace's Vivre Card that was slipping from his fingers. It was in front of him, just inches away, and yet unreachable. He didn't really know why, but he had to retrieve that Vivre Card. It was important, it was a part of Ace. He couldn't lose it. Nothing else mattered. The outside world faded into the background around him — the screams of agony, the smell of blood and smoke, the corpses he was stepping on to escape — leaving only the small burning piece of paper in his field of vision. 

(Ace had been burned by Akainu. His big brother, the one who always walked two steps ahead of him, unreachable and strong , the living embodiment of fire, had been burned . Sabo had died in the flames of an explosion. Luffy had forgotten it, but big brothers could burn too.)

Luffy's hand finally closed around Ace's Vivre Card and the panic that clouded his mind subdued. He had succeeded, Ace wouldn't leave him.

He had promised.

“You won't leave here alive!”

Luffy looked up and met Ace's desperate gaze. Why was Ace looking at him like that? He should be happy, Luffy had his Vivre Card back.

“Luffy!”

The flaming fist of Absolute Justice charged at him, invading his field of vision until all he could see was flames — stories whispered by a campfire, the burn of the Grey Terminal fire on his skin, Ace's arm around his shoulders in the middle of winter — and bloody red.

Oh.

Luffy wanted to move, should have moved, but he couldn't. The world was so fast when he was so slow, exhaustion slowing all his movements to the very core of his bones.

(If his crew was there, he could have rested for five minutes before going back into battle, but Luffy was alone .)

Suddenly, without Luffy understanding what was happening — he was so tired — Ace was in front of him, smiling sadly. Luffy's eyes widened in horror as he noticed the fist through Ace's body. The smell of burning flesh hit him in the face and Ace vomited blood, a retch shaking his entire body.

Akainu stepped back, removing his fist from Ace's body carelessly, Ace's guts falling to the ground, bloody and steaming. There was a hole in Ace's torso, where his lungs should have been. The skin around the wound was burned raw, sizzling with blisters and peeling away to the bone. And amidst the mess of ruined and damaged flesh, hidden behind his broken ribs, his brother's still beating heart. 

Thud, thud, thud.

Luffy focused on Ace's fading heartbeat, clinging to his brother's last breath of life. Ace wasn't dead yet! Luffy could still save him. Luffy remembered yelling at Akainu who was raising his fist once more to finish Ace off, but he didn't remember Jinbei and Ace's friends intervening.

Everything vanished when Ace fell to his knees in Luffy's arms. Luffy caught him, his hand red, red, red when he looked at it after touching Ace's back. Luffy placed his hand on the wound, trying to stop the endless bleeding. Ace slid into Luffy's arms, his head falling onto his shoulder, and Luffy tightened his grip around Ace, refusing to let him go.

"I'm sorry, Luffy," Ace struggled to say, choking. "I'm so sorry, I stopped you from saving me properly. Forgive me.”

Ace was breathing heavily, just talking, draining him of his meager strength. Blood was dripping down Luffy's shoulder in large drops.

"What are you talking about? Stop talking nonsense!"

Ace wasn't dying, Luffy could still feel his heart beating between his fingers. Ace wasn't dying. He couldn't die. He had promised. He couldn't die.

"Someone!" Luffy begged, screaming until his vocal cords broke, feeling the heat leave Ace's body. “Heal his wounds! Save Ace!”

Luffy didn't like the cold. Cold meant being alone in the night, cold meant an empty place in the treehouse. Cold meant Death.

"Luffy stop," Ace said weakly. "My time has come. He burned me from the inside out, I won't make it this time.”

And Ace was never weak. He was bold and brash and mean at times, a raging fire. Never weak, always strong. Ace was the reason Luffy survived Sabo's death. Because Ace was strong where Luffy wasn't, learning to be kind and caring for Luffy.

Ace was strong .

Luffy wasn't.

“No! You promised”! Luffy refused, understanding what his big brother meant. “You told me Ace, right? You said you wouldn't die!”

Because Ace was strong but he was also stupid. He forgot obvious things sometimes and Luffy had to remind him. Like the fact that Luffy loved him. But if Luffy reminded him of his promise, then maybe Ace wouldn't die.

“You promised,” Luffy stopped himself from sobbing. Ace didn't like whiners.

“You know, if it wasn't for Sabo, if I didn't have a little brother like you to watch over. I wouldn't have wanted to live.” Luffy's heart clenched painfully in his chest. “No one wanted me after all. So it's completely normal.”

Ace clung to Luffy like a lifeline, as if Luffy was the only thing keeping him alive. Luffy was terrified that he wouldn’t be enough to keep Ace alive for a little longer.

“Oh right, if you ever run into Dadan again, could you say goodbye for me?” Ace laughed softly, his laughter cut off by a coughing fit. “It’s strange, now that I’m about to die, I feel like I miss her.”

Ace’s breath was labored, his voice hoarse. And Luffy didn’t dare look — because if he did, he’d have to face his big brother’s dying face — but he was pretty sure Ace was crying, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“I only have one regret, and that’s not seeing your dream come true. But I know you, you’ll get there, that’s for sure.” Ace and Sabo had been among the first to hear his dream, among the first to believe in him. “You're my brother after all.”

Luffy had two brothers. One had been dead for over ten years, the other was dying in his arms. Who was going to believe in his dreams now?

And yet Luffy couldn't do anything. He was frozen, afraid that the slightest movement would make things worse. The only thing he could do was hold his brother in his arms as he died, hoping that Ace would feel all the love Luffy had for him.

Ace was loved. He had to know that, right ?

"As we promised each other back then, I have no regrets about the life I led."

This time, Luffy couldn't help but protest. This wasn't how it was going to end. It couldn't be.

(Ace's heartbeat was getting slower and slower, more and more rare.)

"No, you're lying!"

"No, it's true!" Ace insisted, his fingers digging painfully into Luffy's shoulder with a surprising strength for a dead man. “It seems that what I always wanted in the end wasn't fame or glory. But just the answer to my question. Why did I come into this world? "

Ace had always been haunted by his past, by the past of those who had come before him, that of his parents. But Luffy didn't live in the past, he didn't care who Ace's father was. What mattered was the present, what mattered was that Ace was Luffy 's brother.

Ace was Ace and that was all that mattered. Ace had always been enough.

"Luffy, I want you to listen to what I have to say and tell the others afterwards," Luffy knew at that moment that his brother's words would be his last. He wasn't ready for that. “Even though I've been a good-for-nothing my whole life, even though I carry the blood of a demon.”

The fighting raged around them and yet it had never been interrupted. Ace's family fought to give them one last moment, one last hug.

"Thank you for loving me!"

Crying, Ace formed a smile on his lips for the last time. Ace collapsed in Luffy's arms, his hand falling from Luffy's neck where Ace had clung to during his final moments, leaving a trail of blood along Luffy's cheek.

Ace fell to the ground, alive one moment, dead the next, and Luffy screamed out all his pain and sorrow, inaudible amidst the horrors of war. Ace was dead.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. 

Ace was dead.

Ace.

Was.

Dead.

Ace was dead.

Years of memories flashed through Luffy's mind in a split second - all ending with the same tragic phrase "thank you for loving me", all ending with Ace's death - shattering his psyche to the last piece.

They were always meant to end up here - Ace, dead and Luffy, helpless - there was nothing Luffy could have done to change things.

“ACE!!!”

In the end, when the darkness reached out to him, Luffy welcomed it willingly. Luffy fell into nothingness, hoping to never come out. Not if it meant living in a world alone.

Click. Again .

I only have three modes during my finals: a raccoon that crawled out of a trash can and just learned to read, crying on public benches and the bravest girl in the world.

You'll Need It More Than Me (She'll Need You More Than Me)

A little something inspired by the fifth headcanon because I couldn't help myself. Love me some tragic sibling relationships.

The sense of déjà vu tasted like ash and ozone in her mouth as Athena watched Hephaestus get banished from Olympus like she had been before him. Everything was the same as last time, down to the last word spoken by the God-King. Except for the tears silently streaming down Hera's cheeks.

This time, the Queen of the Gods was devastated to see her true child leave — flesh of her flesh, blood of her blood. Athena knew that if she could, Hera would offer her own life for Hephaestus’. But goddesses could not die, Hera could not move from her place beside Zeus' throne and this was perhaps the cruelest of punishments.

(Athena would do it too, take Hephaestus' place so he could stay by Hera's side. As a family. It wasn't like there was a place for her anymore.)

Ares' rage beside her seeping into the white marble like poison made her lose her mind, made her want to take that step forward and save Hephaestus from his fate. Or maybe it wasn't Ares, maybe it was all her.

A look from Hera, full of sorrow and anger, made Athena stop in her tracks. Obviously Hera did not want her help, did not need her. Athena's eyes sharpened beneath her helmet and she placed a hand on Ares' arm to stop him from doing something even more foolishly reckless than her.

Hephaestus looked so small in Zeus' shadow, scared and fragile. Almost human. Has she ever looked this small? Not in daylight anyway.

(She had never had the opportunity to be an infant.)

(But it wasn't about her. It was never about her.)

Zeus tore Hephaestus from Hera's arms and for a moment Athena's blood froze in her veins as she thought Zeus was going to yeet him from the mountain. She took an instinctive step forward.

“I’ll do it,” All eyes turned to Athena — Zeus's savage satisfaction, Hera's cutting disappointment, and Ares's corrosive disdain — but she composed herself, keeping her head high.  “I shall take him to the mortals.”

If there had been hope between Hera and her before, it was over. Not when Athena was the hand that snatched her true child away. 

Zeus smiled. “Great idea, child-of-my-mind. Come dispose of him.”

Athena stepped forward toward Zeus and he dropped the infant into his arms without warning. She made her forearm guards disappear before he could collide with the rough metal, cradling Hephaestus as gently as possible. She felt more awkward than a newborn fawn, all sharp elbows and violent hands. 

Without a backward glance, Athena left the throne room, her wings spreading behind her as she took flight.

.

.

.

Finding a mortal family she trusted to care for Hera's son, her brother, was surprisingly not the hardest part. Parting with him was. It felt like she was tearing her chest open and ripping out her own lung. As a goddess, she didn't need to, but it hurt to breathe all the same. 

She landed in a forest, away from men and gods, and carefully brushed Hephaestus' cheek. Hephaestus grabbed her finger and babbled, so happy that Athena's heart could burst with joy.

“I'm sorry you won't know your mother,” Athena apologized softly. “She… she’s wonderful. And you deserved to know her. I'm so sorry, Heph.”

Tears fell down Hephaestus' cheek and he looked up at her with big, round eyes, full of innocence, empty of judgment. It wasn't fair that Hephaestus had to grow up without his mother. Not when Athena knew how incredible it could be.

But maybe he didn't have to. 

Hera had once promised her that she would be loved forever, perhaps Athena could pass on that promise even if it no longer applied to her. Summoning to her the necklace Hera had given her centuries ago — hidden in a pocket dimension, never on her person, never too far away — she placed it around Hephaestus' neck.

She smiled in spite of herself when she saw the iridescent colors of the little metallic peacock. She had truly trusted Hera and her promise at that time, and the necklace had continued to bring her comfort long after the rift between them had widened. 

“I hope you have a happy life,” Athena whispered as she kissed the infant's forehead. "Remember that you are so, so loved. More than you will ever know.”

When Athena left, Hephaestus clutched in his hand a peacock necklace and an owl feather.

Some Slipping through my Fingers headcanons (is it a hc if it's my story? Wouldn't lore be more accurate? Does it matter?):

Athena's first crafting-related hobby was embroidery from when Hera gave her an old project to occupy her with way back. She always kept that hobby, but she's switched to weaving more since she has her official domain to distance herself from her childhood.

Athena and Ares spent a pretty long period living in a palace with their parents before Hephaestus built their own palaces. Little Ares had a proper "Do you want to build a snowman?" phase with his older sister. Athena may or may not have soundproved her door for a while against his knocking (Mean, mean owl. XD Also peak sibling behavior)

Athena refused to settle down in Lake Tritonis for the longest time. She held onto hope that she'd be taken back to Olympus soon. She started training hard to be good enough to be allowed back, and feels extra guilty because Pallas' death gave her exactly that, though only once she didn't want it anymore.

Athena is actually not Zeus' eldest daughter, she's just the oldest he claimed. Persephone was born very very soon after the Titanomachy. (teen pregnancy go brr) and neither he nor Demeter like to talk about it.

Hephaestus has a necklace with a peacock pendant that Athena left with him when she brought him to mortal family to raise. It was the same pendant Hera gave her when she was younger to remind her she was always loved.

Aphrodite was washed up on the shore near Olympus in a shell a lá Birth of Venus. Nobody knows exactly how she ended up in the sea, not even herself.

Ares likes the smell of  olives but not the taste. (Yes he gives them to Athena)

Hera's animal form is a white peafowl (wedding dress birb fr), not a "common" female peacock. She does keep the peacock color scheme for herself tho cos it's pretty.

Post-Triton Athena only very rarely goes completely armorless outside of sleeping. That doesn't mean she always wears a full set, but she does mostly wear something on her torso at least. Something non-metal like leather would already be considered casual. 

Athena called Metis "Mama", so she would never consciously call anyone else that, even when she was younger. She got to calling Hera "Mom" tho (Hera cried a little. All her kids, bio or adopted, call her Mom btw), post-Triton, Athena calls Hera by her name. She addresses Zeus by "father", but refers to him as Zeus when speaking about him. When she feels extra like hurting herself, she'll refer to Hera as "your mother" around her siblings.

Chat, what do we think? :)

Three One Piece story ideas I might (or might not) write someday:

- The Faces I See In My Sleep: Ever since he was taken in by the Revolutionary Army, Sabo draws the same two faces over and over again without ever knowing their names. A little boy who smiles like the sun and another with stormy eyes and freckles like stars. And when Portgas D. Ace makes his debut on the high seas, Sabo can't help but notice the similarities between his wanted poster and the boy in his drawings.

- Pieces of Me: Nami had spent more than half her life serving Arlong. Arlong had stolen her mother, her childhood, and her freedom. He had taken everything from her. Her maps, her time, her hope, and her blood. Little by little, he had ripped away essential pieces of her, leaving behind only a broken, empty shell, just functional enough to be useful to him. But with the help of her crew, Nami becomes whole again, regaining the pieces of herself that Arlong stole from her.

- My Father Is The Worst Man Alive (And I’m His Favorite Daughter): After touring Wano, Yamato sets sail to see the world. His first stop: the grave of the friend he never got to know, the only person in the world who could understand the burden of being born of a monster, the pirate who gave him his first taste of freedom. Portgas D. Ace. It's been years since Yamato saw his vivre card go up in flames, but better late than never.

If this is something you would like to read, please let me know so I can motivate myself to write it. And if this is something you would like to write, please let me know so I can read it!