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#which does what the show is doing no favors

toriangeli · 13 hours

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Armand's red flags in 2.02

You know how people kept accusing Lestat of isolating Louis from his family? And then Louis actually kept visiting his family, so if Lestat was isolating him, he did a really shit job of it?

Yeahhh. Armand shows us how it's really done.

Disclaimer: Armand is my favorite, precious boy, and I will defend his right to be as fucked-up as he damn well pleases, but he is indeed very fucked-up. So don't come at me accusing me of being biased in favor of Lestat (and even if I was, so what? this is Tumblr, not BBC News). I love Lestat, I love them all, but Armand is my trash son and if he isn't horrifically fucked-up on the show like he is in the books, it's a massive betrayal of the complexity of his character and the logical outcomes of his background. He hurts, and like any creature in pain, lashes out because of it. He knows how to do all kinds of diabolical shit, but he doesn't know how to be a person, and that's why I love him (trying to remember who the Youtuber was who said, "No one's a hero, everyone's a victim" about this series because they were so right).

First off, Assad is truly phenomenal at creating this effect:

If you don't suspect Armand of the shit he's about to pull, it's not your fault. This is how he is. Part of it is real innocence, in a way, or perhaps an inverse of innocence--he doesn't realize this shit isn't normal.

So it's very striking to me how Armand laid the foundation for his relationship with Louis so subtly and early on. He approached Louis in the park while he was alone, Claudia nowhere to be seen even though his invitation was for her as well. Claudia would ask questions. Armand wants to dangle the carrot before any questions are fired off. By the time anyone in the coven actually speaks with Claudia, she is already sold on them all. There is no time for her to form suspicions. With Claudia on board, Armand has free access to Louis. She feels at home with the coven, so she's not watching Armand too closely.

Then at the Delacroix mansion, Armand warns Louis against the rest of the coven. He says "a few of" the coven members are unforgiving, though he doesn't say who, which would be useful information if Louis is to defend himself (spoiler alert: it's all of them), just tells Louis to close his mind to the others. So Claudia is with the rest of the coven, while Louis is available only to Armand. Armand does not give this warning to Claudia. The only person she can hear it from is Louis, who she won't believe. They're now spending time apart, weakening the link between them. Armand knows he can seduce the hell out of anyone he desires, and once he does that, all he really needs is to break the filament binding Louis to Claudia and he's got what he wants.

He also warns him not to contact Roget again, which is probably good advice, but what Armand knows that Louis doesn't is that Lestat is alive. And Roget is the one person in the world Lestat would be able to contact if he could. So in the unlikely event that Lestat gets the chance to call Roget, Louis will not hear of it.

In just a few sentences, Armand has managed to distance Louis from Claudia, Lestat, and everyone else in the coven.

And how does he do it? By making sense, basically, by preying on Louis' preexisting (and sensible) fears about the coven. It makes sense for Louis to be on his guard. But Armand has set it up so he appears to be "different" from the rest of the coven, the only one Louis can trust, while issuing vague warnings about everyone else. And while Armand in the book is a pretty hands-off leader with the TdV, don't think for one second he can't do anything to protect Louis and Claudia himself. Here, he's acting like he has no sway with these people. He does. No matter what he says, he does.

So yeah. I'm really impressed with how smart the writers are being about this so far.

#armand #iwtv #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #louis de pointe du lac #theatre des vampires #tayatra day vompeer #claudia de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #lestat does not think ahead far enough to be machiavellian #like fr #people are overestimating him #but also he's prone to throwing himself off the slippery slope from time to time and climbing back up in shame and regret #armand just does not know right from wrong #iwtv spoilers #iwtv book spoilers

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sinsirellaxx · 2 days

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Please can you write more about Tom making Reader do an unbreakable vow like you mentioned in the Slytherin boys when they actually fall for you headcanons? I really like how you write him, you don’t hide away from the fact that he’s always gonna be some degree of toxic even if he’s head over heels for you and I find it so interesting! Xx

Tom Riddle – The Unbreakable Vow

Warning: Tom Riddle being the deepest shade of red. Not proofread.

A/N: Thank you so much! I'm glad you like my interpretation of Tom! I simply cannot see him as anything but toxic. 🙈

Hope you like it!

The first time he thinks of the Unbreakable Vow is when he sees you talking to another male student, followed by an unnerving dream about you leaving him for another in the following night.

Tom knows he has to be smart about it. He can’t show his true colors if he doesn’t want to scare you away. Nor does he want to appear weak in front of you.

After that nightmare he is obsessed with the idea of binding you to him for eternity – there would be no way out for you. No escape. And that thought pleased him greatly.

He would either coax you into it:

“Do you trust me.” Tom one day asked you while you were cuddled up in his bed with your head on his chest. His hand was absentmindedly combing through your hair, something you had confessed to loving early on in your relationship. The thought that he had never once skipped playing with your hair, whenever given the chance warmed your heart. The ever so cold and unreachable Tom Riddle, wrapped around your finger. With a shy smile you pressed your face further into his chest, drawing in a deep breath you simply answered with a short yes, drunk on his smell.

Your state of relaxation would surely work for his favor, so his free hand moved to your bare arm, drawing circles on your skin, and leaving goosebumps in his touch’s wake. The Riddle could practically feel you melt into his chest.

“There is something that I want to ask of you.” He continued quietly, carefully thinking about his choice of words. He knew you wanted to please him, no matter what, so, a simple request would surely not ring any alarm bells. He couldn’t b too aggressive about it.

You hummed softly, your eyes closed in bliss, urging him to continue.

“You are the one I want to spend my life with, but we are still too young for marriage. Which is why I want to prove my love to you in another way.”

He clenched his jaw when you lifted your head from his chest to look into his eyes – his tense muscles immediately relaxing when he noticed the blush on your face and your wide eyes. “I want to swear my love to you and make the Unbreakable Vow.”

Or he would force you to make the Vow – either with the help of the Imperius Curse or he’ll threaten/blackmail you into cooperating.

You frowned when you finally entered the Chamber of Secrets – the place your boyfriend had been disappearing to all the time. He had never wanted to show you – up until now. The place was huge and intimidating and the air was stuffy and almost suffocating. The abject vastness of the chamber was overwhelming, and you felt the desperate urge to flee. He softly pushed you further to the center of the room, the hand on your back eerily cold as you let yourself be guided to the room. A weird feeling settled in the pit of your stomach, the feeling of fear slowly spreading through your chest.

“S-So, what did you want to show me?” You asked breathlessly, desperate to break the silence. The absence of an answer sent a pang of nausea to your stomach, flinching when he turned you to face him, both his hands gripping your shoulders firmly. From the corner of your eye you could see movement, whipping your head around to see a masked person walking closer to you, with his wand in hand. Your whole body tensed as you tried to break away from Tom’s grip.

“T-Tom, what is the meaning of this?” You turned to glare at him, your voice painfully shrill with nerves.

Again, he didn’t answer. His grip on your shoulders tightened, his hands moving to grasp your smaller ones tightly instead. The stranger moved closer, placing the tip of his wand onto your linked hands.

Without another word you tried ripping your hands free, twisting and turning but his grip only tightened around your wrists – sure to leave bruises on your skin.

“Let go, Tom. This isn’t funny.”

“It isn’t supposed to be, love. Now stand still.” He growled, roughly pulling you closer to him again.

“Now, be a good girl.”

#slytherin boys #toxic slytherin boys #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom marvolo riddle #yandere tom riddle #slytherin boys imagine

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local-queer-disappointment · 16 hours

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Fuck's a pro shipper?

We've got a new one boys try not to scare em off /j

Okay but seriously, I'm more than happy to explain. I assume that if you're asking this question you're not aware of the proshipper vs antishipper, uh, "conflict", I guess. So, here is what both of those terms mean, to the best of my descriptive abilities:

Antishipper (often just "anti"): someone who vaguely believes that consuming problematic fiction (usually specifically problematic sexual fiction like lolicon or incest) is either a true reflection of them as a person or a corrupting force that will cause them to play out these desires in real life, onto real people. Basically, if you read age gap, you touch real kids in real life or secretly want to.

Proshipper (sometimes "profic"): someone who does not believe the above, and believes that fiction is not the same as reality because it doesn't harm anyone and therefore people should be left alone as long as you have no reason to believe that they would ever do something like that irl. Often hand in hand with things like anti censorship, kink positive, etc, though being a proshipper does not necessarily mean you have a problematic ship or kink yourself (example: me).

You're probably asking this question because you saw me day in my bio that I am a proshipper. I've tried to stay neutral in this initial description, but obviously I probably didn't manage to be completely unbiased considering that I believe myself to be right (most people do) so if you want to ask further questions after this that's perfectly fine. That being said:

Why am I a proshipper?

So, to understand this, let's first look over the issues within both communities— every group has issues, after all.

What problems do proshippers have?:

- sometimes 4chan assholes co-opt the label "proshipper" just because they're lolicons, even though there's good evidence to suggest that they would do or even have done criminal sexual acts in real life, or that they possess actual csam (child sexual abuse material, a term being used in favor of "cp" these days as porn implies consent). Proshipping has nothing to do with the harmful idea that you should be allowed to exploit and abuse real children.

- there are still many gray areas which proshippers themselves don't agree on. For example: I've seen a bunch of arguments about if writing fanfiction of live action shows or movies changes the equation. The general consensus of proshippers is that writing fanfiction of a character played by a child actor is definitely a more delicate situation and should not be sexual as it's inextricably tied to the image of a real child, but there are others who believe differently.

- I'm genuinely struggling to come up with more of these. Um, sometimes lolicons are really shitty people, like in point 1. This isn't SUPER relevant though cause in reality the overlap between predominantly queer or female proshippers and Reddit incels who just wanna jerk off to a petite anime girl is pretty small, though I'm sure it exists somewhere .

Now, what problems do antis have? (Fair warning, this is gonna sound even more "biased" but I hope my logic is still sound from the outside :p):

- I don't have any statistics on this (haven't exactly been many research papers on fandom drama), so you're going to have to trust me when I say that antis are absolutely NOTORIOUS for extreme harassment campaigns. The first time I was exposed to the word "antishipper", it was attached to a story of a former animator committing suicide because antis had gotten them fired by "exposing" their porn alt on Twitter and they could no longer afford medication for their disability. So, hell of an intro!

- their opinions are, in pretty basic ways, not backed by science or even practical common sense. The human brain can distinguish between fiction and reality after around age four or five

and people certainly aren't trying to hand nsfw content to children that age so I think it's safe to say that the people who are reading these things won't be "confused" by them or whatever. Also, even just using your brain and talking to these people, you find out most of them project onto the YOUNGER character.

- they claim to support victims but often simply don't. I won't keep dragging threats into the spotlight because I know there are probably antis who aren't as violent, but it's honestly astonishing to me how often they jump straight to wishing death and terrible things on people, and this has included more than once telling a rape victim they hope they get assaulted again just because they're a proshipper. See, a lot of these "taboo" sexual fantasies like age gap and incest actually themselves stem from a traumatic experience, and any therapist will tell you that fiction is a much healthier way to explore intrusive thoughts and urges than more dangerous coping mechanisms like self harm or substance abuse. And when confronted with this, in my experience and many others', antis will simply ignore that fact or say that the therapist is some sort of evil enabler.

-the general cognitive dissonance of believing an incest fanfiction will make you "forget" that incest is bad vs being fine with horror movies and slashers speaks to a deeper and honestly kind of worrying anti-sex mindset. I'm not sure I'm qualified to tackle this particular topic, but I definitely agree that it's a thing; after all, I have no idea how else those two things could coexist.

Anyways, I'd like to close this off by saying not everyone is as crazy opinionated as I am, I'm just autistic and like talking lol. A lot of people who id as proshippers just have a sort of minding their own business, ship-and-let-ship mentality, and a lot of antis are unfortunately just teenagers who were told proshipper = evil pedophile groomer and thus they put "proship dni" in their bios just cause they don't know and don't really care what it means. It is undeniable that many antis are kids themselves, and that does worry me, because fandom drama (especially Twitter fandom drama) is dangerous and vitriolic and also they're putting extremely serious threats on their digital footprints at the tender age of 14! But whatever, I'm not their parents, that's just my worry. Sorry for rambling this long lol, I wouldn't blame you if you dropped out halfway through but this is basically my summary of this whole thing. Do with this knowledge what you will! Or, you know, don't! I'm not a cop!

#proship #proshipper safe #anti anti #proshipper

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fatalism-and-villainy · 1 month

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I think one thing that always bothers me about the Red Dragon arc is - well, it’s a common talking point in the fandom that each half of season 3 represents Hannibal and Will, respectively, living the lives they’d ideally want but without each other. But the thing is, we don’t actually really see much of Will “living without Hannibal.”

Like, in 3A, we get an entire episode of Hannibal’s life without Will, one in which Will doesn’t even show up (and for a season premiere, that’s an even more radical departure from the status quo - we feel Will’s absence as much as Hannibal does) but it feels like there’s this void of negative space where he is. And the contours of that void are so brilliantly and subtly suggested through the flashbacks to Gideon, which contextualizes the preparation of Bedelia (the inadequate substitute for Will Graham) and underlines Hannibal’s need to have others bear witness to his artistry (again, something only reluctantly done by Bedelia, and done in a manner unsatisfactory to him by Anthony Dimmond, the episode’s other unsatisfactory replacement for Will who gets recycled as a macabre valentine for Will). So Gideon saying “if only that someone could be Will Graham” feels like the culmination of what everything that has until now been unspoken has been leading up to.

And in 3B, we don’t really get any kind of analogue to that with Will. In some ways, that makes sense - given Hannibal’s Hannibal-ness, it’s possible to devote an entire episode to his murder and identity theft shenanigans and get some entertaining television out of it. But the life Will is living is a lot more mundane, so it’d be pretty boring to watch forty minutes of him fixing boats and playing with his dogs and eating dinner with his family.

But I do think there should have been something to indicate potential cracks there. We could potentially have had some bits of Will’s life interspersed with the expositional sections of episode 8 that were dedicated to Hannibal being a little shit while in prison, maybe featuring Will being haunted by murder (in the form of the disturbing visions the show is so good at) or missing Hannibal and feeling out of sync with Molly and Walter somehow (as opposed to waiting to get back to Will until literally the equivalent of the first chapter of Red Dragon). Or, they could have been included in flashback form in episode 9 alongside Hannibal’s memories of Abigail (especially in keeping with the themes of family, and Hannibal’s cruel contrast of the family he tried to give Will with the family Will chose for himself).

I get that time constraints were a concern, but ideally, this sort of thing would have helped a lot. Because what we actually get is somehow, simultaneously, Will leaving his family (apparently on a suicide mission) without any kind of mention of them at all, and Will seeming perfectly content with them without much qualification. (And even the book gives us more potential cracks in his marriage - both in it being made clear that Will never expected the marriage to last, and in the “maddening politeness” he endures near the end. The show does give us a little bit of that with the friction between Will and Walter after Dolarhyde’s attack, but Molly still isn’t as angry or distant with Will in the wake of that attack as she should be for me to really buy the dissolution of that family.)

So, all of that is to say that, while 3B has grown on me quite a lot, I think it fails to show us the Hannibal-shaped negative space in Will’s life. And I don’t buy the argument that we should just take it for granted that of course Will couldn’t live without Hannibal. Just as with the Minnesota Shrike, I need to see a negative to fully see the positive.

#i do think there's also something here about how show!Molly feels... softened from her book counterpart #which does what the show is doing no favors #hannibal meta #will graham #hannigram #hannibal season three #hannibal #my meta #hannibal talk #queue

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alicepao13 · 2 months

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The disrespect this show gets on a daily basis, from the production to the network(s) to even the pirates who prefer to rip shows like *checks notes* Big Brother Canada (same group)...

I wouldn't be calling them out if I hadn't done this myself, by the way. People who have never ripped a damn thing can stay in their lane. I have earned my stripes, I'm not someone who wants to talk shit about those who do this, and I understand the process involved. The webrips are a different story, as they are uploaded by Amazon whenever. The HDTV rips should be uploaded on time, shortly after the network airs the show, and it's the same process as it always has been to rip them. Uploading HDTV rips after the webrips has no value whatsoever, unless someone cares that much about the promo, which of course CityTV doesn't care enough to upload themselves, proving once again what a shitty network they are.

Hudson and Rex has an international fanbase, it shouldn't be so difficult to be able to watch it as an international fan in 2024.

#hudson and rex #this is now a whining blog #but what else can it be when nothing about this show is working as intended #I've been torrenting since 2005 #I've never had the misfortune of having to wait as long as I wait for this show through all these years #last season it took them three days to upload the season five premiere hdtv rip #the rip times are unbelievably inconsistent and they have been that way since this saw first caught my eye (season two)#the fact that there is a single group that does the hdtv rips means that if for whatever reason they can't upload it then we don't have it #the webrips are actually being ripped by one of the best groups out there so I can't complain #it's just that the streaming upload by amazon happens whenever they feel like it #once again I'm drawing similarities between canadian and greek programming which is so not in their favor #(I actually thought that by the time I'd finished writing this we'd have something but nope)#(ps I just saw a rip announce of family feud canada and I just... does someone actually hate hudson and rex?)#(pps do not respond to this if you live in a country where your government is actively combating piracy)

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theheadlessgroom · 8 months

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@beatingheart-bride

"I don't think she's ever mentioned how they met and married," he shrugged, thinking a little more about it-he wanted to say she may have mentioned in passing that they married after she took over the haberdashery, but even then, he wasn't sure. Minnie seemed to like gossip unless it involved her, and outside of complaining about her husband, she talked very little about her past.

"I'm sure it goes without saying now, but...I only ever want to marry for love," Randall smiled shyly, as he took Emily's hand in his, eyes full of quiet adoration as he gazed at her, his future wife. He hoped the two of them would have a long and happy marriage not only like they did in the future (how bittersweet it was to think that, even as ghosts, even when they were apart, they were still happily married, they still loved each other), but like his parents, who were happy together all their days, even in the face of so much discrimination from their neighbors.

"I never want to be that miserable," he continued, pale cheeks turning a soft pink as he gave Emily's hand a gentle squeeze. "And...I know I-we-never will be. I just...I can't see it happening! Even if I didn't know the future from what you've told me, I...I have a very good feeling that we'll always love each other, no matter what happens."

He punctuated this with a kiss to her knuckle, his heart skipping a little beat when he did so-theirs was a love that had already survived so many ages, and he believed in his heart of hearts that, even as they changed the future, it would stay that way.

#((it really does go to show that; doesn't it? every day is a surprise!))#((you take a gamble one day; and it goes on to change the trajectory of your life!))#((and you're absolutely right! june's heart belonged to wilhelm; even after his death))#((and although remarrying could potentially mean financial stability for her and randall))#((it'd fly in the face of her morals; like you said! even in death; she loved wilhelm))#((and still wore her wedding ring long after his passing; even if the public wasn't so discriminatory))#((towards where wilhelm came from; and by extension where randall comes from))#((i don't think she would've remarried then either-even if it were easier for her to find a husband))#((that wasn't discriminatory; i don't think she'd have done it!))#((i think also another reason for not remarrying is that she doesn't want the memory of her child's father))#((to be erased from randall's mind-his memories are few but he still has them-))#((i think she'd also feel that; even if her new husband treated her right; he may not treat randall right))#((and she doesn't want to potentially put her son at risk by bringing a bully into the house!))#((y'know; what if she remarried a widower who already had kids; and the new husband favored his kids))#((over his new stepson; or his kids treated their new stepbrother like dirt?))#((nope; she's not gonna do that. was it hurt? yes. would she do it all again? yes she would))#((because even if it was hard; it was all worth it for randall; and they still managed))#((and they still had each other; which mattered the most to them in the end!))#outofhatboxes #beatingheart-bride #V:Days of Future Past

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weaselle · 1 year

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i wanna do a thing where i lay out studies that show things in different primates that show us parts of ourselves as humans. Call it Primates: Through the Looking Glass or The Monkey in the Mirror or something

There are studies and documentaries that show things about Gorillas, Chimpanzees, Bonobos, Baboons, Macaques... that just make sense to me. That if shown right would make sense to a lot of people, i think.

like... they were studying this one group of gorillas --

okay wait. First of all, you know a silverback (the Big Male) of the group is not the leader or in charge or anything, right? He has a role, and it includes a certain amount of control, which i’ll explain briefly, but he’s not, like, in charge.

wait, you know all that Dominance/Alpha theory about wolves is all wrong, right?

wait wait wait, and also that like, the bull or the stag or whatever in a herd is not in charge of anything, right? right?

hold on. the wolves is it’s own post, the herd thing i might get back to, we’re on gorillas, okay. Silverback is basically just the male head of an extended family in which plenty of the leadership is handled by the women of the family.

There are often 2-4 silverbacks, but one, usually the largest, will clearly be senior to the others who are often his sons or brothers. Silverbacks have three main roles

1: defend the group from all physical threats aside from people, these threats are mostly random male gorillas, chimpanzee baby-snatching gangs, and the occasional leopard. Just his alert presence handles most scenarios, and then maybe a few times a year he has to risk his life fulfilling this responsibility. It is this role that provides most of whatever actual power he has over the group, namely this: while he isn’t necessarily the one deciding when and where the group goes on a daily basis, if the most powerful/capable silverback does decide to travel a direction, they pretty much have to go with him, the family isn’t safe without him.

2: make babies. And this is one area where the ladies of the group will sometimes sort of vote with their ovaries, and favor a silverback that isn’t the main one, like “yeah, Frank, you are the biggest, but honestly you’re a dick and we’re going to make sure the next generation of silverbacks isn’t another one of you.” When you see a main large silverback in a group of gorillas, it isn’t, like, his blindly loyal harem, they have to approve of him. Also gorilla females move between groups, and sometimes they take members with them or start new groups and stuff. Anyway i’m getting off track, one of the silverbacks jobs is making babies

3. keep the peace This functions a lot like being in the back seat with your siblings with your parents up front. Basically any disputes within the group have to be handled within a certain parameter of decorum, because if it gets too out of hand HE’s going to come over, and He’ll be upset, which is low-key terrifying because He’s huge, and there’s no telling who He’ll decide is at fault or what he’ll do about it, so letting a situation get out of hand is a losing scenario for everyone involved really. Tho typically he will favor senior females in disputes, in a “don’t you talk that way to your mom” kind of way.

one last thing, silverbacks don’t actually transfer power between silverbacks via battle every time.

Like i was just reading accounts from a multi-generational observational study of some wild gorillas that featured one big silverback just straight up taking over by performing the silverback duties better and becoming preferred by everyone else in the group. There was no fight, it just became, i do the job better, everyone likes me better, kicking my ass can’t change that, and boom, he was the primary silverback. And the other silverback might have been a bit dull, or a bit of a bully, but like us their species’ success is largely dependent on social intelligence; once he saw the writing on the wall, that other, slightly larger sivlerback didn’t even bother trying to change the situation with a physical fight, he understood what had happened.

okay so all that was just to tell you all this story. lol. Here’s what i saw in one documentary:

This very big, getting old silverback, who was hugely popular and successful, with a very large and tightly bonded family group, and a couple of his hulking adult sons backing him up. Everybody in his group seemed to love him a lot, he was particularly calm in that gentle giant sort of way, a safe, emotionally steady presence, happy to help raise his sons and daughters with kindness, and who could become a raging nightmare if pressed by a leopard ... exactly what a band of gorillas wants in a silverback.

But one of his adult sons had plenty of silver on his own back, and was getting itchier and itchier to be main man of the group, and this is where we start our little drama

It seems to be coming to a head, and the observers are nervous about a fight for the position. The silverback and his son are both are huge, probably approaching 400lbs, mostly muscle, with long thick fangs and skulls topped with jaw muscles as big as human biceps to wield those teeth, which nature has given them primarily to fight other gorillas with.

But then the next day, the old man leads the fam up the mountain.

it’s winter, which is why they have come down the mountain in the first place. But as we discussed, if he goes somewhere, they have to go, so they all follow behind.

up he goes, and then he sits. And waits. It’s cold and there is much less food up here at this time of year. There’s nothing to do but sit hungry in the cold. His size and metabolism makes him the most able to withstand the cold, but even he is pretty uncomfortable.

And so he sits. And his family, perhaps confused, but loyal, sits around him.

But his son, the other huge silverback, with years of training even as an adult under his wise father, is ready and able to go off on his own. Finally, he stands up, makes clear his intentions to leave this uncomfortable place. A small handful of the other gorillas stand with him -- if he goes down the mountain, then they can safely leave as well. He turns and heads down the mountain. After a moment, a few more gorillas leave the main group to follow. All in all it winds up being nearly half.

The wise older silverback thoughtfully watches his son leave with about half the group. He sits a while longer in the cold, in the company of those most loyal to him, and then takes them along a different path down the mountain

And those two groups still ran into each other sometimes, and were friendly. And sometimes a couple gorillas would change between the two groups. They were still close.

But i just thought that was such an elegant, meaningful way for that gorilla to handle that whole situation. And it makes a completely human sort of sense to me.

#science and nature #gorillas #primates

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chuluoyi · 3 months

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✎ stupid liar

- gojo satoru x reader

no way. impossible. you couldn't possibly be jealous of gravure idol gojo likes so much now... or could you?

genre: jealous!reader vs slightly jealous!gojo, crack, and obviously, fluff !!

note: based on this post :))

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

"Look, Suguru~ Isn't she pretty?"

Your eye twitched at the sing-song voice, lips twisting into a scowl as you glanced at him from the corner of your twitching eye.

No. You don't care. Not in the slightest.

You stabbed your fork into your cheesecake with more fervor than necessary though.

"Eh?"

"Inoue Waka!" Satoru exclaimed with an enthusiasm that felt almost too bright. "This is her in her newest issue!"

‘Newest issue’ being a bikini special, with the said model lay sprawled in the most revealing piece possible. That indecent photo had also become the wallpaper and lockscreen on your boyfriend's phone, and he shamelessly showed it off with pride.

You steeled yourself. Again. No. It's not a big deal. You weren't jealous, especially not over some... heavily-altered picture of a porn actress!

"Ahh, she does look nice..."

You attacked your now-mutilated cheesecake again, feeling your mood plummet further after hearing Suguru's response. Now you were convinced, all men are dogs!

"—but not exactly my type," he added quickly, his gaze darting towards you. His interest lay more in your reaction, which was why he stirred the pot further: "Is she your type, Satoru?"

Your boyfriend, whether oblivious or intentional, erupted into giddy laughter like a kid. "Ehh... why of course!"

His enthusiastic agreement seemed to echo louder in your ears than it probably should have. The cheesecake, once a treat, now felt like lead in your mouth.

That's it. One more time and—

But then, Suguru's voice cut through your irritated thoughts again, clearly amused. "Well, but I've always thought real beauty lies not just in appearances but in strength of character. Wouldn't you agree, Satoru?"

You knew it, Suguru was indeed the best. You dared to glance up from your plate, curious about your cocky little clown’s response. But you really shouldn't, because Satoru, the absolute cretin he was—

"Why are you getting philosophical all of sudden?" he sullenly grumbled. "Important thing is if she's hot, then she is hot." You could have sworn he briefly side-eyed you before saying, "And no one is hotter than Inoue Waka."

Stupid. Idiot. Insufferable.

Standing up, your patience dissipated into thin air. Your brisk pace made Shoko, who was beside Suguru, to quirk an eyebrow. "Oh, leaving already?"

"I'm going back. Have a practice."

"Ehh? You didn't say?" only now did your shameless boyfriend turned to you fully. "It's still break time—"

"Nanami is waiting for me, goodbye."

You didn't look back even once, too annoyed to notice that Satoru was gawking at your words.

Satoru couldn't believe this. You ignored him. You actually did… in favor of Nanami!

He was starring daggers at how the two of you conversing so amiably across the hall. You were his girlfriend already, but he could barely able to make you look as sweet as you were with Nanami just now. You were always prickly with him!

Okay, but rest assured—with Suguru he may have doubts, but with Nanami, he was convinced he outshone him by a wide margin, perhaps even ten or twenty times over!

"Why are you sparring with him?" he was sulking when he caught you on the way back to the dorms after school. "Why not Haibara instead?"

You scoffed. "And why do you idolize Inoue Waka and not Yuzuki Tina?"

Oh, so that's what this is about. Suddenly, he didn't feel as miffed as a stupid grin split his face. "Ooh, you're looking into gravure idols too?"

"..."

"Heh, if you're doing it for research purpose, that's totally okay~"

"..."

"Pfft, you're so jealous it's so great to watch—"

You halted abruptly, your annoyance now at its peak. Facing your infuriating boyfriend, you leveled a piercing glare at him that caught him off-guard. "Gojo, from today onwards, we're having a ban."

"Whoa, hey—"

"—and in the meantime, you can print Inoue Waka out of your phone, hang her in your dorm and kiss your wall instead—"

"Just a minute!" Satoru interjected, eyes rounded with slight alarm. "Don't be too hasty!"

He looked at you, really looked at you, and saw that you were actually upset.

A twinge of... what is it? Some kind of guilt, he supposed, pricked his chest. He didn't like seeing you like this, especially knowing he had played a part in it. You should be smiling sweetly and catching his heart with it, not frowning like this.

"Hey," he started, his voice softening as a small, sincere smile crept onto his face. You continued to look away, a stubborn pout fixed on your lips. Darn it, how did you manage to look cute while angry too?

"Look at me, I'm all yours, okay?"

That got you to shoot him a sharp glance, and boohoo!—the ice in your heart thawed slightly as you met his smile, which soon evolved into a toothy grin.

But then, in one swift strike, he pulled his phone out and took a snap of your very-not-ready face.

"Satoru!" you screamed in panic, trying to climb over him to pluck his phone. "No! Delete that!"

"Ah ah," he crisply snickers, raising his hand with the phone high above where you couldn't reach. After pressing a few buttons, he triumphantly showed you his phone screen, now displaying your flop picture in all of its glory.

"That's seriously awful!" you grimaced, a look of horror in your face. "Satoru, for real—"

“You’re adorable,” he countered almost immediately, his smile wide and unabashed—the very winning smile that won your heart. “My girl is cute as heck and you know what the best part is? She’s mine.”

. . .

—okay, you were now positively melting. This was irritating, how can you forgive him this easily?

You huffed, raising your chin high to cover the very sizzling heat in your cheeks. "Hmph. Keep that photo then. But I'm still sparring with Nanami though."

"Mm-hmm, whatever. I hope his foul hairstyle won't affect you—"

"Don't badmouth him! Wait, don't tell me... you feel threatened by him?"

"Wha? Why would I!? I have the better face, better wallet—!"

Together, you walked back to the dorms, the evening air somehow felt lighter around you. Satoru's hand found yours along the way, and the two of you kept up a playful banter, followed by shared giggles afterwards.

. . .

What you didn't realize, however, was that there was another reason behind Satoru's happy laughter... his secret little mission had been a smashing success~

Epilogue

“I put too much faith in Y/N. I’m disappointed.”

“We are paying Gojo, damn it.”

Suguru and Shoko let out collective sighs, looking at the two of you. They witnessed your little outburst and that sealed everything.

You used to not give in to so easily. Unfortunately now, you were whipped for that idiot too, enough to get jealous over him.

As Suguru opened his wallet, a realization struck. “Shoko, now that I think about it… why am I always losing these bets?”

“You could just suck… or maybe," she glances him over before letting out a snort. "Your bangs just bring bad luck?”

3K notes · View notes

revasserium · 8 months

Note

can i have one were zoro realises she does things bc of truama (like doesnt speak much etc)

hold me (still)

opla!zoro; 6,680 words; slow!!!!burn, fem!reader, ex-assassin!reader, straw hat!reader, general tragic backstory/trauma, fluff, hurt/comfort, bit of angst, emotionally constipated zoro, communication? what's that?, nami playing therapist bc she's the only one with 1 iota of emotional intelligence

summary: sometimes, stillness is a virtue, and others -- a tragedy. or, in which the straw hats pick up a new member and zoro is equally intrigued and weirded out by you.

a/n: well. you guys asked for slow burn and... the burn is so slow u gotta squint to see the smoke yall. but trust. the burn does get there! pls be patient!! and i tried to combine 2 dif reqs in this one fic :)

You are of the quiet sort. Just a shadow dancing in the periphery of their vision, and when they first met you, you’d told them it was your superpower, a soft, still smile slipping across your lips. Luffy had bought into it immediately, and the invitation was out his mouth before anyone could stop him.

“Come with us!”

“Oh…” your lips pressed into a thin line of consideration.

Zoro’s fingers itched towards his swords because something about you makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. But something else — something uncomfortable and strange, something very much like curiosity — seizes his chest and twists his stomach. Strange, he thinks, too strange.

“C’mon! It’ll be fun!”

And then, you’d smiled wider, and nodded, and that had been that.

It’s been three months since then, and you are still of the quiet sort, though it had receded a bit with time. What with Sanji’s gentle flirting and Usopp’s not-so-gentle stories and Nami’s bright, dry-humored companionship, you’d begun to “open up a bit”, so Luffy observed.

Zoro, for his part, has kept his distance. Because sometimes he still catches you at the bow of the ship, staring out across the midnight waters, still as a stone-carved statue. Still as a wooden beam — stiller, even.

“What’s with that?” he asks one day, strolling up to Nami as she traces a fine line over a new map she’s working on.

“Hm?” is her very eloquent response.

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth and casts his eyes about the ship, finding them drawn to the shape of you, up at the bow again, reading in the shade of the tangerine trees. Nothing moves except for the wind as it whisps through your hair and the slow scanning of your eyes as it skates across the page.

“New girl,” Zoro says, crossing his arms as Nami finally looks up at him and then off towards you.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Zoro lets out a puff of breath, unfolding his arms to glare at Nami. He finds her grinning a lopsided grin as she clicks shut her compass and puts down her pen. She leans a hip on the barrel she’d been drawing on and folds her own arms.

“Oh, you like her.”

“I’m weirded out by her. ‘S not the same thing,” Zoro snaps, but when he tries to leave, Nami blocks him with an arm and pins him with a sharp, leveling look.

“No, no, no — we’re gonna work this through.”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“Uh-uh, you still owe me after that round of drinks the other night — remember when you bet you could drink more than me?”

Zoro narrows his eyes, “I did drink more than you.”

Nami’s grin is gleeful, “No, you didn’t. You had to be dragged back to your room after clogging up the toilet. Or do I need to show you the evidence —”

“Alright — fuck, fine. But really? This is what you’re gonna waste your favor on? You could’ve asked me to —” Zoro gestures around vaguely, “clean the bilge or something.”

Nami shrugs, looking almost too pleased, “Nope! This is what I wanna use my favor for. And, really, you think a bit of bilge water is gonna gross me out? C’mon.”

Zoro heaves a sigh and leans back against the main mast, closing his eyes.

“Fine then. Go.”

Nami sits back on the edge of the barrel.

“No, you go. Admit that you like the new girl.”

“I don’t.” He doesn’t open his eyes.

“I’ve seen you staring at her. We’ve all seen you staring at her.”

“What, that a crime now?”

Nami fights the urge to roll her eyes, “No, but I’ve never seen you try so hard to avoid someone before.”

Zoro lets out a bark of laughter, hard and mirthless, “Yeah, so that must mean I like her.”

Nami cocks her head, “It means you feel something towards her. And I’d suggest you figure it out.”

“And how’d you propose I do that?”

Nami once again waves in your direction, “Go. Talk. To her.”

Zoro lets out another breath, eyes scanning across the ship, anywhere but towards where you’re still sitting and reading, finger flipping a page in a perfect, smooth, singular motion.

And Zoro’s not blind. Blunt though he may be at times and careless as he is about most material things, he can still appreciate beauty when he sees it. And you — there’s no denying that you’re beautiful. Your strange stillness aside, when you do move, it’s with a dancer’s lissome grace, fluid lines, not a single movement wasted. When you smile, it seems to light you up from the inside, and your words, though soft, carries the well-worn weight of river stones, glittering beneath the clear, spring stream of your voice.

There’s a sharpness in your eyes, a straightness to your spine, a way of carrying yourself as if you’re afraid that one wrong move might shatter you and the entire world around you.

Sometimes when he sees you, he wonders at the hands that had sculpted you this way. He wonders at your life before they’d picked you up in Loguetown, when you’d oh-so-silently slipped up the execution platform and helped Luffy down, all the while staying free of Smoker’s watchful gaze.

The few times he’s seen you fight, he can’t help wondering if you’ve eaten some kind of devil fruit as well. No human could be so fast as that. Or be so quiet. But then again, he’d fought Kuro, and they’d seen stranger things. Still, he marvels at the way you flicker in and out of sight, slipping around the edges of battle like a dark, haunting thing, and men would drop like flies beneath your quick, quiet hands. With nary a sound or shout before their eyes roll back and their breathing is no more.

On the instances when Sanji had asked about your past, your eyes had gone misty and dark, unfocused. You’d gone still, freezing for so long that Usopp would cough just to fill the silence. And then slowly, ever so slowly, you’d turn back towards them with a small, sad smile and say:

“There’s… not much to talk about. I grew up somewhere far away, where if you didn’t keep quiet and still, bad things would happen to you. And then when those bad things happened, if you weren’t quick — the quickest of all, you’d die.”

Bad things, huh? Zoro thinks as he makes his way towards you, a hand resting on the hilt of his swords. He comes to a stop next to you and leans against one of the white planters, casually peering over your shoulder at the book in your hands.

For a long moment, neither of you move. Then, Zoro clears his throat and forces himself to speak.

“Is it good?”

It takes you a second, but eventually, you turn towards him.

“The book? Yeah, I suppose.”

“Not exactly a glowing review.”

You laugh, a soft, breathy little thing as you look back down at the page.

“It's about a girl who falls into an enchanted sleep, and a prince who wakes her up with a kiss.”

“Must’ve been one hell of a kiss.”

“Yes, and one hell of a prince.”

Zoro finds himself chuckling, his shoulders loosening as he takes another breath.

“And then what?” he asks.

“And then… he asks her to marry him.”

You run your fingers along the page, smoothing your palm over the ink and parchment. Zoro watches you, wondering, always wondering.

“What’s she say?” and it’s then that he notices his own voice, hushed and low, barely a whisper.

You look back up at him and smile a smile a sphynx would have been proud of.

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten there yet.”

Zoro takes a breath, and the breath tastes distinctly different than all the breaths he’d taken before it. As if the world takes the breath with him, and some fundamental truth had shifted on the exhale.

The moment breaks, as moments are wont to do, when Sanji calls out for lunch and Zoro jerks out of his almost-reverie. You slowly close your book and rise to your feet, turning back to smile at him.

“C’mon, it’s lunchtime.”

Zoro nods and follows you into the kitchen, where Luffy and Usopp are already digging in, and Nami is pouring herself a drink. She spots the pair of you and catches Zoro’s eyes. A grin ticks at the edge of her lips but before she can say anything, you’re accosted by Sanji sweeping into a deep, flourishing bow, and ushering you towards the table, where he’d set your place in a manner fit for a princess.

“Where’s my setup?” Zoro asks as he drops into the seat next to you, cocking an eyebrow. Sanji shoots him an unimpressed look.

“I’m surprised you can use a fork and knife, moss-head. Just be grateful and eat up.”

Zoro scoffs but digs in nonetheless.

When next they dock, it’s on a rare, peaceful island — an island of light and books and learning, where the air smells of salt and ink and drying parchment, of unwritten words and untold stories. But it smells of a stillness too, and Zoro knows without having to ask that you’d like it here.

And you do.

He’s never seen you smile so much, never seen you so vibrant and full of life. You chat and laugh and read with a voracious hunger, and he finds himself drawn to this new, warm, moving side of you. He finds himself, more often than not, by your side, even when neither of you speak. And he basks in the comfort of the quiet that permeates the air when it’s just the two of you — him hanging in the hammock on deck, you reading by his side.

But now, there’s the soft tapping of your foot, the shuffle of pages when you flip forward to see what’s coming next, and of course the ever-present shush of the ocean as it washes against the Merry’s side.

The Log Pose needs two weeks to properly calibrate to the next island, so they’ve got time to kill.

On the fifth night, over dinner and drinks, Luffy asks the question that everyone’s been thinking since the day they’d all met you —

“So. Why’re you so still all the time? Not that it’s weird or anything — well, actually — it kind of is, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m just asking cause I'm curious!”

You look up from your half-finished wine but Zoro feels it happening, like the hush of a fan blade slicing through air, the gasp before a porcelain vase tips over and shatters. You stop. You stare. You’re frozen in every sense of the word. And he’s known you for long enough to know that you only go still as a reflex, only reach for it as a shield. Against what? He doesn’t quite know.

“It’s… something of a long story,” you say, your voice low and hoarse.

Luffy grins, smacking his lips as he sucks the meat off a chicken leg, “We’ve got tons of time! Right?” he looks around as if for validation, but everyone’s eyes are caught on you and your unnatural stillness.

Zoro shifts slightly in the seat next to you, opening his stance and turning towards you.

“Could do with a good story.”

Your eyes flash in his direction and he offers you the barest hint of a smile.

You relax, ever so slightly, drifting back in your seat, your glass cupped in the palms of your hands. And then, you begin to speak, your voice smooth and lilting, your words washing over them like the faint lull of the tides.

“When I was three, my father sold me for a barrel of beer.”

A dull clack echoes around the room and everyone turns to see Sanji hurriedly righting the thick stein he’s knocked over. Thankfully, it’d been empty.

“Sorry — I just — what?” he sounds furious but Usopp lays a hand across his arm and shakes his head.

You take a deep breath and continue, your voice oddly emotionless as you say, “The man who bought me took me to an island. It was… a dark place. A quiet place. I only learned its name after I escaped — an island called Elysium.”

Nami gasps before clapping her hands over her mouth.

“I’ve just — I’ve heard of that place before, but I thought… I thought it was just a made-up place.”

Luffy swallows hard, frowning, “What’s it like?”

Nami’s eyes flicker between you and Luffy, “Supposedly… it’s the home island for… for the most feared group of assassins in all the seas combined.”

Usopp’s eyebrows jerk up, “The most feared?”

A faint smile seeps across your lips like blood.

“Yes. The Shadows that Live.”

Everyone turns to look at you. Luffy picks up another drumstick.

“Whoa… cool name!”

Zoro hums, “I’ve heard of them before — but mostly, it was just an old wive’s tale about… shadow assassins who hunt in the dark. Mercenaries for hire. But… no one’s ever seen one before.”

“Because… once you see one, you’ll never live to tell the tale,” you say, your eyes now downcast and fixed on the glass in your hands.

“Then…” Usopp’s voice is soft, “What about… you?”

“I… I ran away.”

Silence greets you. But after a moment, Luffy spits out a bit of bone and uses it to pick at the space between his teeth, his eyes round.

“Wow! You must be pretty good to run away from an island full of shadow assassins!”

You almost laugh, his boundless trust hitting you like a punch to the stomach.

“So…” Sanji lets out a puff of silvery smoke, “the staying still thing… that’s just part of your training, yeah?”

You nod, “Something like that.”

Someday, you think, you’ll tell them about the hellscape that was Elysium island, of the long echoing halls, dark and still and silent. Of the mechanical beasts that hunted by sound and movement alone. Someday, you’ll let them know about the poisoned pomegranate seeds that they feed all the “recruits” to keep them hazy, of how you’d kept six of them suspended in your mouth and spat them all out when you’d finally made it far enough from the island to allow yourself to breathe.

“And… are these shadow assassins gonna come after us?” Nami asks, her voice careful and light.

You purse your lips, “I… I don’t know.”

Nami sighs, but a moment later, she moves to refill her drink with a slight shrug, “Well, just one more enemy to add to our growing list. Soon, we’re gonna have to post a sign-up sheet.”

At this, everyone laughs, and the tension snaps like a wounded spring.

Luffy burps loudly, patting his stomach, “I’m not worried — I mean, if you were able to run away from them once, that means you’re stronger than them, right?”

You pause, your hand hovering over the wine bottle. Zoro gently reaches over and refills your glass for you. You shift back into movement, casting him a small smile and taking a sip. The wine is cool and tangy as it hits the back of your throat. You breathe, and the world keeps spinning.

“I… I’m not sure — I’ve never fought… any of… them… before.”

“Guess we’ll find out if they try to come for you then — but you’ve got us now!” Luffy says, reaching for an apple and chomping into it, “ — Sho… you duon gotta wourry —” he licks his lips as he takes another huge bite before tossing the core towards the waste bin, “We’ve got your back!”

Nami makes a disgusted face, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, ugh.”

Sanji chuckles, tapping out his cigarette, “Yeah Luffy, mind your manners.” But his voice is full of laughter and you find yourself relaxing into the sway of the night, the swing of conversation. Beside you, Zoro refills his own glass and leans over to clink it against yours.

You turn, but he only raises his glass before taking a sip.

You mirror his movement, cradling the cup to your chest when you finish.

Later, he finds you by the tangerine trees, ghosting your fingers over their lush green leaves, dark enough to look black in the evening light.

“Hey.”

You turn, “Hi.”

Zoro sighs and looks out over the darkened waves, the moonlight refracted into a million shattered bits of sky.

“Luffy’s right, y’know.”

“What about?” you ask, joining him by the railings. The night air is cool and crisp. Behind you both, the island oozes with lamplight and laughter. Even from here, you can hear the joy, the peace that permeates the air here. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, you think, to stay here forever.

“If they come for you,” Zoro says, “we’ll have your back.”

You let out a small chuckle, looking down at your hands, “I know.”

“So,” he turns towards you, his earrings glinting in beneath the scimitar moon, “you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

You lick your lips, and instinctively, you reach for the stillness. All the days and weeks and months with the people around you have softened you, and for that, you know you should be thankful. Still, old habits die hard, and you have to clench your fists and dig your nails into your own palms to keep from freezing completely.

You take a shivering breath and force it out again.

“Fear’s a hard habit to break.”

At this, Zoro grunts, though it sounds something like consent. The moment stretches, long and soft and taffy-sweet.

He turns back towards the sea, “Yeah,” he says, and then —

“But we can take it slow.”

You swallow hard, passed the broken shards of forgotten words lodged in your throat (you find that they all somehow taste like thank you), and you nod. Warmth tickles your cheeks and you wonder why he’s said we instead of you — and later, lying in your bed at night, staring at the moon-slatted ceiling, you wonder if he was really talking about fear or if it was something else entirely.

You don’t get a lick of sleep that night.

The next few days pass in a light, repetitive blur. You and Zoro are sent on a few short shopping trips in the city, and you’re glad for something to do that involves movement. Shocking how quickly the body adapts once the weight it’d been holding on to is lifted.

You are still quiet, and he, the same; but the silence has shifted around you, and whereas before it’d been solid and steady, it’s now thrumming and charged with some unspoken energy.

Neither of you are blind to it; nor, it seems, is the rest of the crew.

Sanji’s taken to openly teasing Zoro about being with you all the time, complaining loudly that he can’t get a word in edgewise because Zoro refuses to leave you alone. Nami keeps on trying to drag you out for “girl's day” shopping trips, hinting at all the cute clothes you could get and how “green really suits your skin tone, y’know?”

Luffy and Usopp for their part, both just grin whenever they see you together — Luffy stoked at the fact that you seem more happy and talkative, Usopp gleeful at the way Zoro always seems so much softer when he’s next to you.

You’ve taken to watching him when he trains, sitting in the shade of the tangerine trees, a cold drink in your hand as Zoro runs through his katas. You content yourself with watching him flow through the movements, one and then another, and then another after that. He contents himself with your presence, knowing that you’re here, feeling your eyes as they skate down the length of his back or the width of his shoulders.

It’s a peaceful sort of companionship, even if it is living on borrowed time.

When you all wave the little island goodbye, it’s with heavy hearts and tearful smiles. It had treated you well, and you think you’d miss it. But adventure is as adventure does — it calls, beckoning to those with wandering hearts to listen.

The first week back at sea is a strange one, full of a ringing nostalgia. As if you’re simultaneously coming home and leaving one at the same time. Everyone is a bit quiet, except for Luffy, of course, who literally bounces off the freshly waxed planks, humming to himself as he sits on top of the great ram’s figurehead.

“Is he ever still?” you ask one day, sometime in the second week.

To which Zoro makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh, “You’ve been here a while. What’d you think?”

You sigh softly and tear your eyes away from the bright, shivering ball of energy that is your captain towards the far horizon. A sliver of uncertainty twines through you and your breath slows. Zoro glances at you, now long since attuned to your subtle shifts in movement and stillness. He narrows his eyes.

“What is it?”

You shake yourself back into the moment, forcing a smile.

“Nothing. I think…” your words fade as the feeling twists in you again, knife-sharp and stinging. You clear your throat and reach up to brush away a strand of hair. Skin grazes skin as Zoro’s hand meets yours in the same gesture and you both freeze — hands held up, his finger caught against the bend of your cheekbone, your fingers curling over his.

Time slows, slackens around the pair of you, and the moment stays, suspended in space — garnet dark and perfect.

Neither of you dare to breathe. It’s then that you realize how close Zoro is — close enough for you to see the entire ocean reflected in his eyes: big and dark and so endless it nearly unmoors you. Close enough for you to feel the warmth of his skin; his body, emanating heat. You’d often wondered, in the long hours of watching him train, at the glistening copper of his skin and the light-kissed quality, if the sun himself favored Zoro as well.

Like this, it’s easy to believe that beneath his skin, there pulsed something like sunlight.

“Look! It’s an island! It’s an island!”

And just like that, the moment shatters. Time slips back into motion and you pull away from each other, breathless, with warm cheeks and thundering hearts, feeling somehow lightning-touched and static-ridden.

You take half a step back, reaching up to press a hand to your mouth as if to stop something from tumbling through. But what? You can’t really say.

Zoro tips back as well, whipping around to help Usopp and Sanji with the sails as Luffy continues to holler, waving his hat. On the horizon, you see it looming — the silhouette of an island. You lower your palm from your lips to your heart and wonder what kind of island it will be.

Deserted — seems to be the answer when you all make landfall. The island is quiet, but the occasional chirp and cricket staves off your nerves as you all wander cautiously about the beach, squinting into the dense forest that seems to encompass the whole of the island.

“Looks like a good place to camp for the night!” Luffy says, grinning as he plops down on the sand.

Sanji nods, dusting off his hands, “We’ll need some wood for a fire, but I reckon I can whip up some grilled fish from the fresh catch.”

You wrap your arms around yourself and look around, glancing back at the darkening horizon.

“Something the matter?” Zoro’s voice is soft as he helps you carry some of the camping supplies from the ship.

“No… yes… I —” you look up at him, pursing your lips, “I don’t know. I’ve just… this island is…”

Zoro looks around, his dark eyes scanning the thick swath of forest just beyond the beach, “Too quiet?”

You let out a tiny laugh, “Yeah, something like that.”

He nods, “Don’t worry, I’m — we’re here.”

And he leaves it at that, hoisting a stack of wood over his shoulders and going to help Nami with the fire. You watch him with a smile, wondering what on earth you’d done to deserve this level of caring, this magnitude of kindness. Soon, dinner is had and drinks are shared and laughter is spilled like so many silver coins over the white sand beach. The lull of the evening takes over you all, and before long, Luffy and Usopp are slumped over each other, snoring loudly.

You stare into the depths of the fire and try to tamp down the growing dread festering inside your bones. All those years of holding still, of breathing and listening and feeling — you shake yourself — no, not all stillness is a bad thing. Not all silences are made the same.

“You’re doing it again,” Zoro’s voice almost makes you jump. Instead, you turn, finding him next to you as he nurses a half-drunk bottle of wine in his hands. He doesn’t look at you, but there’s a loose grin hinged across his lips.

“Sorry,” you say, ducking your head, feeling a now familiar heat creep into your cheeks that has nothing to do with the dwindling bonfire.

“Don’t be,” Zoro takes another drink, “But I told you… you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“I know… and I’ve said before —”

“Fear’s a hard habit to break,” Zoro echoes back at you, finally glancing over and catching your eye.

You breathe out, looking down at your own hands, “Yeah… but I’m trying.”

You both fall silent, and for a while, the only sounds are the crackle of the dying flames, the shush of the ocean waves, and the occasional snores from the rest of your crew. It’s late — later than you realized.

“Do you… want me to grab a book for you?”

You smile, “No, I don’t think it’s bright enough.”

“I could restoke the fire.”

“No, it’s — it’s okay.”

“Alright.”

A bird coos the distance.

“Why don’t you tell me a story?” you ask, turning to look at Zoro proper, shifting till your body is facing him.

In the faint light, you can see the edge of his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“You’re asking the wrong guy — you should wait till the Great Captain Usopp’s awake.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear one from you.”

Zoro sighs, his eyes fixed on the last of the flickering flames. He takes another swig of wine before he starts to speak, his voice low and a bit stilted, but he pushes on. He tells you about his childhood, the village he’d trained in, the doujou in the middle of the wood, his friend who he’d never beat — not even once.

He tells you about he early mornings and the late nights, and how the world had seemed large enough to conquer.

“… And then… there came a morning when she didn’t show up… and sensei came and told me that there’d been an accident.”

His voice almost breaks then, and your eyes catch on the shining white hilt of the Wadou Ichimonji — his thumb pressing against the guard, running along it’s hard metal edge.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

Zoro shrugs, “Don’t be.”

You nod, “Still.”

Zoro slates you a lopsided smirk, “So. Now you know my tragic backstory too.”

You laugh, leaning back to cast your eyes up towards the sky, “And you know mine — it’s almost like we’re friends or something.”

Zoro lets out a long breath, “Yeah… or something.”

There’s a tightness to his voice that makes your skin tingle and it takes everything you have not to look over at him, to try and see if he’s looking at you, watching you the way you’d imagined him to be. You fancy you can feel his gaze on your face, but you close your eyes instead.

You let yourself fall into the warm haze of sleep, and for a while you drift there, your mind sifting through shards of memories and slivers of sound, casting them against the backs of your eyelids as you slowly slide into the darkness of dreams.

You wake up to a gasping stillness — the silence pressing in on your eardrums like thumbs, the darkness around you so complete it’s almost a solid thing. You freeze, your breath hissing to a halt inside you. Then distantly, ever so distantly, you hear the sounds of battle — metal clashing against metal, the hard thud of boots against flesh. You shake your head and reach up to clap your hands over your ears and only then do your senses return to you, snapping back as if you’d been abruptly shunted back into your earthly body.

“Gum Gum — Pistol!”

“Seize her!”

You whip into movement, fast as a flash, dashing away, hoping against hope that it would draw your attackers far enough from your crewmates.

“No one… ever… leaves us…”

The voice is serpentine and susurrus, sinking into your skin like sharpened teeth, but before it can reach you, it’s cut short by a bright flash of silver.

You gasp, whirling around, reaching for the nearest pulse, instinct taking over as you sink your fingers into muscle and flesh. The rush of blood thrumming beneath your fingertips comes too easy, even as a familiar scent accosts you. A moment later, your hands are being pinned above you, and thick, rough bark is digging into your wrists as Zoro stands before you, a sword in one hand, the other holding you still.

His eyes are a little wild and a lot worried. There’s a ring of red rawness around his neck, thin trickles of blood trailing along his jugular, disappearing into the wide scoop neck of his shirt.

“Hey, look at me.”

You nearly whimper, struggling against him, fear still coursing through you like a drug but Zoro is strong enough to keep you held. Behind him, you can see the rest of the crew fending off several shadowy figures, Usopp waving a torch, screaming at the top of his lungs, Luffy whooping as he whacks another figure with his fist.

“Z-Zoro?”

“Yeah, it’s me — eyes up here.”

You swallow in a breath, and then another, and you feel the bright thrum of urgency leave you as your body slowly falls slack. And then you’re slipping, and he’s looping an arm around you to keep you upright.

“Th-they’re here — they —”

“They’re gone — we got rid of them — hey.”

Zoro takes you by the shoulders and gives you a gentle shake. Finally, your eyes catch on his and your gaze holds. You see yourself reflected in them, stark and terrified, but alive — somehow alive.

“They’re gone,” he says, his voice soft and low by your ear, his arm still wrapped around your middle. Shivers wrack your body as you bury your face in his shoulder. He smells of steel and skin and the metallic tang of blood. It’s then that you remember — the wounds on the sides of his neck. The marks in the shape of your hands —

You jerk back and feel a sticky wetness against your cheek.

“Zoro, I hurt you!”

At this, he scoffs, pulling back far enough to flash you a look.

“This is nothing. C’mon.”

He offers you a hand, and after a second you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Wordlessly, he presses his palm to the small of your back, his arm extended to keep you steady as you both make your way back towards camp.

“Phew! That was a workout!” Luffy is saying just as you both reach the outskirts of the now-darkened bonfire. Sanji is pulling out a cigarette, striking a match, and first lighting the end before tossing it into the remains of the firewood, fanning it up into a slow flame.

Nami and Usopp both look a bit shaken, but none worse for the wear.

They all pivot to look at you.

You go still against Zoro’s side, uncertainty flooding through you. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s fingers as they press into the bend of your waist, solid and steady.

Then, Usopp coughs, “C’mon y’all — the Shadows that Live? Psh! More like — the Shadows that Fled, am I right? Yeah? Didya see the way I sent ‘em runnin’ with my brand new fire-powered explosion rounds?”

Nami chuckles and Sanji follows suit, shaking his head and letting out a thin wisp of smoke. Luffy’s grins at you, pumping a fist in the air, clapping his right shoulder.

“See? Told you we’d have your back! We are your crew, after all!”

Weakness seeps into your limbs as you nod, hot pin-pricks of tears itching at your lower lashes. You lower your head and rub at your eyes before looking back up again with a smile. Sanji grimaces as he looks over Zoro.

“Got something on your neck, mate.”

Zoro glares but you glance over and feel your stomach twist with guilt.

“Sorry… I can clean that up for you. They’re not deep but they do need to be bandaged up.”

Zoro wipes down his sword before sheathing it and motioning towards the ship. Behind you, you can hear Nami yawning and saying something about catching up on some more sleep and Sanji reassuring her about having the last watch anyway.

The kitchen is still dark, but the dusty dawn sweeps against the far horizon and neither of you bother to turn the lights on. You carefully set the first aid kit on the kitchen counter and collect the supplies as Zoro leans back against the edge and folds his arms. You work in near silence, reaching up to first wipe the thin threads of drying blood before tending to the tiny, crescent-shaped puncture wounds.

You press an alcohol-soaked cotton ball against one of them and feel Zoro wince.

“Sorry.”

“I’m fine.”

You bite your lips, “If this had been a bit deeper or a few inches over —”

“But it wasn’t. So it’s fine.”

You don’t look up at him but you can feel his eyes on you. Your movements are fluid and sure; you’d clearly done this before.

“Hey, look at me.”

You freeze, eyes slowly gliding up the planes and divots of his neck, slipping up the line of his jaw, so sharp it might’ve been turned on a diamond cutter’s lathe. Your breath hitches as you finally meet his eyes, and there’s a dark, knowing glint behind them that makes your stomach flip.

“I’m fine.”

And for the second time in a handful of hours, you’re caught by the realization of your closeness — only a breath of space between you. There’s a crimp at the corner of his mouth that looks dangerously like a smile and then you’re tipping forward, a thumb reaching up to trace the line of his bottom lip once —

The movement acts like a trigger, and suddenly, he is leaning in and the breath of space disappears.

For all your life of stillness, you thought you’d learned to appreciate the depths and widths of movement. But nothing could’ve prepared you for this — for the push and pull of lips on lips, for the force and friction of skin against skin. For the gasp and hiss, for the breath and kiss.

For the feeling of his large palm as it settles along the swallow’s-nest bend of your neck, the way his thumb runs along your jaw like tracing the guard of his beloved sword, tilting your mouth towards him. For the way your heart might flutter like a tiny, caged bird, or the way you might feel his heart thumping like a fist from his chest to yours.

For the way his voice rolls over your name like a ship at sea; for the way it would shake your body from your bones and leave you more liquid than solid in his arms. For how you never used to think your story would be a love story, but then you realize that every story is a love story if caught in the right moment, in the right light.

And here, breaking apart from Zoro, with a thick, stolen streak of lemon-yellow sunlight leaking in from the kitchen window — that’s exactly what it feels like.

“Oh,” is all you have the strength to say.

Zoro, in all his solid brilliance and quiet audacity, laughs.

You taste the smile on your own lips before you realize you’re smiling. But when you try to bury your face in his neck, he winces slightly as you brush his still-fresh wounds.

“Crap, I forgot about these.”

Zoro chuckles as you hurry to press a few small bandages to the wounds.

“It’s okay. So did I.”

You finish dressing his wounds in silence, though this silence is markedly different from every other silence that had ever existed between you. There’s ease and tension, both, and when you’re finally finished, Zoro takes both your hands in his.

“So…” you say, unsure suddenly of where to look.

Zoro’s laugh is just as soft, just as uncertain.

“So.”

You try to look out the window, but by now, the dawning sun is so bright that it temporarily blinds you and you jerk back. Zoro smiles, reaching up to run his thumbs along your closed eyelids before dropping them to hook around your wrists again.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?” he asks, quiet as always.

You purse your lips and let your lashes flutter open. You find him watching you. Heat crests up your shoulders and into your cheeks, and suddenly, the exhaustion of the night before saps at your limbs. You sigh.

“Right now? Not really.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, sounding as relieved as you feel.

You bite your lips and cast your gaze shyly across his face, your bird-wing heartbeat still flapping in your chest. You fight the urge to go still, to reach for that shield that has always protected you before. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s thumbs tracing circles along the insides of your wrists.

“Can I ask for something else, though?”

“What is it?”

You reach up a finger, nudging one of his golden earrings. You don’t miss the way he shivers, or the way his breath quickens in his chest.

“Kiss me again.”

Zoro grins, tugging you towards him, leaning into the curve of your palm as he does.

And does.

And does again.