#was working on a larger piece and then just

[reiding-writing]

HI LOVE UR WORK ESPECIALLY COLD READER IVE BEEN BINGING THEM AND I NEED MOREE

Soo speaking of i think prompt 15 could be a really cute cold reader prompt for something and I WOULD LOVE IT

HOMETOWN [CLIMACTERIC]

/ˌhəʊmˈtaʊn/

15. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

WARNINGS: fem!reader, mentions of spencer’s bullying, made up childhood bully (sorry spence <3), swearing as per, typical cold!reader antics

spencer reid x cold!reader || fluff?? || 3.0k || event masterlist!!

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ cold!reader masterlist!!

a/n: great minds think alike huh? the fact that both these requests specified for it to be cold!reader as well is insane to me 😭😭

There’s that saying that the worst people in school always end up going into jobs that provide for others; The idea that petty school bullies take up careers in hospitality or community service despite all of their obvious social flaws.

Honestly, Spencer always found the idea ridiculous. They had just as much of a chance as going into a hospitality job as they did a 9-5 office job.

Their attitude didn’t have any causational impact on their future career whatsoever, people just focused on the people that did end up in those fields and then generalised it to the larger population with no reasonable backing.

But he’d be lying if that wasn’t the first thing that ran through his head when he walked into station 14 of the LVMPD and ran right into somebody from his middle school.

Somebody who fit that god awful false idea to a T.

“We’ll get you set up asap, Robinson, DeGaris, show the agents to 22B will you?”

Spencer knew the second he turned around. Some people’s faces never really mature through puberty. The bone structure doesn’t change and they just end up looking like a taller version of their child self.

“Would you look at that? Looks like we’ve made it to the big leagues,” Officer DeGaris nudges his partner with a raise of his eyebrows, and Robinson shakes his head with a short laugh in response.

“More like we’re doing such a bad job they had to call in the big leagues,” Robinson pushes DeGaris’ head away with the palm of his hand before clasping his fists together at his waist. “Welcome to Las Vegas, land of casinos, neon signs, and… serial killers apparently— Uh I’m Caleb, this is Will, chances are you’ll see a lot of us over the next however long you’re here,”

“Pleasure,” Hotch holds out his hand to shake the two officers’, who promptly move to shake hands with the rest of the team afterwards.

By the time the two reach you and Spencer stood at the back of the group he feels like he might throw up his heart from how fast it was beating, and he swerves the shakes with all the awkwardness of his usual evasions as he excuses himself to walk ahead of the team.

It was stupid really. It had been almost two decades since what had happened, yet even just being in his proximity was making Spencer sweat like he was a final girl in a horror movie.

“Excuse us,” Your words hold no social grace as you slide past the two officers to follow after Spencer. He wasn’t the best with meeting new people, but he never left the conversation before it could even start. “Reid-”

Although mildly confused, the two officers don’t seem all that disheartened as the two of you disappear into the meeting room, their attention turning back to the rest of your team.

“Well,” Caleb claps his hands together with a politely awkward smile. “We’ll let you guys get settled in, if you need anything at all come and find one of us and we’ll do our best to get it for you,” He gestures between himself and Will stood next to him, gazing half-blankly into the open shutters of the window into the room with furrowed eyebrows at yourself and Spencer like he’s trying to put puzzle pieces together in his mind.

“Thank you officer, we will,” Hotch gives the two a small nod before gesturing the team into the room and leaving the two policemen outside.

—

At least the station had a coffee machine. Spencer’s one saving grace in the fact that he was not only working on a case in his own home city but also in the same town he grew up in, a town with some very familiar faces.

The scent of the caffeinated beverage was enough to bring him back to his right mind a little as it hit the ceramic mug with a burst of steam, and Spencer watched the liquid flow aimlessly as he waited for his drink to be made.

Coffee solved all his problems.

“Hey,”

Most of the time.

With a slow breath and his eyes shut to compose himself, Spencer turned around slowly to greet the voice, hit lips pressed into a straight line as his eyes opened once more, greeted with an all too familiar sight.

“I thought I recognised you Spencer, or sorry, it’s Agent Reid now right?” Will raised an eyebrow slightly, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

There was no real malice behind his tone, no sarcasm or taunting, no twitch in his facial expression that could make Spencer think he was trying to get under his skin. But he did. And it made Spencer feel like a 9 year old all over again.

“It’s uh, Doctor Reid actually,”

Will gives a short laugh and a nod, like Spencer’s title was something he’d expected. “Right, right, of course, so you’re not an FBI Agent then?”

“I am,” Spencer answers shortly, hands wringing together behind his back as he leans against the kitchenette counter. “But the title of Doctor outranks the title of Agent,”

He could see that familiar glint in Will’s eye as he explained the reasoning behind his official title, like he was looking at some puny know-it-all rather than a person of his own age.

“Very impressive,” Will gives him a slow, almost animated nod, and Spencer has never been more grateful for the shrill beeping of an automated coffee machine as he tears his eyes from Will to pick up his mug, cradling it between his to hands.

“Well, it was uh, good— to see you again Billy I’m glad you got where you wanted to go in life—“

“I don’t go by that name anymore,” Will crossed his arms over his chest with a shake of his head, his expression cordial despite the way his fists clenched like the mae had caused physical discomfort to him. “I go by Will now.”

“Right, Will, I should get back to my team now,”

“I’m sure they can wait a few minutes, we should catch up, for old time’s sake,”

—

“Where is Reid?” You exhale exasperatedly, biting your tongue to keep yourself in check as you turn towards Morgan and Emily with a show of your hands.

“Maybe the coffee machine was broken,” Emily shrugs nonchalantly as she sorts through the scene photos, occasionally passing one over the table towards you to hang up on the board.

“As if I needed any more reasons to hate those pieces of shit,” You groan exaggeratedly, dragging your hand down your face.

“Calm down lover, being away from the pretty boy for an extra few minutes won’t kill you,” Morgan rolls his eyes at your attitude with a short laugh, tapping his fingers against the table.

“Oh shut your mouth,” You scoff as you walk down the length of the table, pushing the heel of your hand against Morgan’s temple as you pass him as an extra form of chastisation which he promptly laughs at you for as you leave the room in search of Spencer.

“Oh to be young and in love,” Morgan laughs to himself as he clasps his hands together, leaning his head backwards over the chair to look at Emily with a knowing look.

“$50 on less than a year,” Emily doesn’t even look up at her proposition, and Morgan laughs with a shake of his head.

“Oh no no, they’re playing the long game, it’ll be at least another two,”

“Deal,” Emily holds her right hand out in Morgan’s direction, and he grasps it in his own with a firm shake.

“Deal.”

—

Spencer is still standing by the coffee machine, a steaming mug in his hands. It does not take eight minutes to make a single cup of coffee.

Well it wouldn’t if he wasn’t stood talking to one of the local police officers.

More like the officer was talking at him.

And if the way he was fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve was any indication, he was not enjoying the conversation.

If it weren’t for the harsh fluorescent lighting, the furrow of his eyebrows would be imperceptible from where you were standing, but the way he rolls his ankles and shifts his weight onto the balls of his feet would be noticeable from a mile away even in pitch black darkness.

Time to go and save Spencer Reid from his own social ineptitude. Again.

He doesn’t acknowledge you as you approach despite you clearly being in his eye line, his sole focus on the man in front of him even as you near close enough to be able to hear their conversation.

“…were quite the character weren’t you Pick?”

Spencer purses his lips together uncomfortably at the nickname, and you take the break in the conversation as an invitation to get between the two.

You clear your throat with crossed arms, eyes flickering between the two of them as they turn their attention away from each other and towards you instead.

“You’re needed back in the meeting room,”

Spencer nods at you a little too eagerly, clearly ready to rid himself of his new companion. “Right, good bye Bil- Will, sorry,” He doesn’t make eye contact with the officer as he all but power walks past you to head towards the meeting room, and your eyebrows furrow ever so slightly as your glance wanders from Spencer to the almost smug expression on the officer’s face.

“Is something funny?” Your question is enough to bring Will’s eyes away from watching Spencer scurry off with his tail between his legs and towards you with horribly feigned innocence.

The look in your eyes is less than savoury, and it’s enough that small glimpse of condescension simmers in his irises to break through his pleasant facade.

You don’t stick around to have to speak to him any further, and with a final look over you leave him by the coffee machine to rejoin the team in the meeting room.

—

“You can’t avoid him forever you know,”

Your voice stirs Spencer out of his focus, and he straightens himself up in his chair as he looks at you, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

You hadn’t really said anything since you re-entered the meeting room, not even bothering to defend yourself against Morgan’s musings about how much you were complaining about Spencer not being present to help you with the profiles, yet less than a minute after Morgan and Emily left, your conversational battery had suddenly returned.

“I— What do you mean?”

“Officer DeGaris,”

Spencer looks at you like you’ve read his diary without his permission.

He forgets just how observant you are sometimes, how easy it seems to be for you to distinguish between Spencer’s general dislike for small talk and meeting new people and when his discomfort is specifically aimed.

You look through the meeting room’s glass window with roaming eyes, Spencer presumes it’s to find the Officer in question. “He acts like a glorified man-child so I can’t blame you for resenting him,”

“Did he say something to you?” He sounds almost afraid at the idea that Will might’ve said something distasteful to you, his face scrunching up in concern, but you dispel the thought with a quick shake of your head.

“No, he didn’t say anything to me,” Spencer can physically see the moment that your eyes catch on Will across the station in the way that your micro expressions change, the way your arms cross tighter over your chest and your nostrils flare. “He was more than distasteful to you though,”

You sigh in mild frustration. “You’d think that people would mature once they reach adulthood, but there’s always a few that cling to their childhood relevancy like their life depends on it. Pathetic really,”

he doesn’t know whether he should even be entitled to being surprised that you knew Will was character from his childhood. It doesn’t stop him. “I never said I knew him when I was a child,”

“He called you Pick, and you called him Billy,” You deadpan like it’s obvious. “You’re not exactly hiding it,”

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” You can see the genuine befuddlement in Spencer’s expression as you relay the cluing details into his past, like he seemingly can’t comprehend that you were actually paying attention and storing Spencer’s divulgence into his childhood in your memories.

“Believe it or not Reid, I do actually listen,” You sound almost offended at how surprised Spencer seems, and he back tracks immediately with a surrendering wave of his hands.

“That’s not— I didn’t mean to insinuate that, I just meant—” Spencer sighs exasperatedly at his failure to string together a coherent sentence. “I only mentioned it offhandedly is all, it’s not something people usually dwell on,”

“It’s not difficult to listen when someone confides in you Reid, it’s basic human compassion,” You move away from the window with a start, stopping just shy of the door right as it opens.

“Can we help you?” The small amount of empathy in your tone vanishes immediately as you meet Will’s eyes, your head cocked in obvious impatience despite the fact that he hasn’t even spoken a word to you yet.

And although mildly deterred by your expression, he follows through nonetheless. “I need to speak to— Agent Reid, it’s something about the case.”

You’d wager it’s definitely not about the case.

“Doctor Reid is busy, if you have something important go and find SSA Hotchner,”

Spencer can’t see your expression as you stand with your back to him, but if he had to make a guess based off of the way that Will’s face falters he’d say you were probably glaring at him. That signature glare that you never hesitated to utilise when deemed a necessary reaction.

He’s half glad he can’t see your face, because it means that you can’t see his, and the way his cheeks redden against his will at not only your intervention between him having to have another conversation with one of the nightmares of his childhood, but also how casual you were in correcting his use of Spencer’s official title.

“I can’t find SSA Hotchner,” He responds like he’s got you beat, but you barely so much as acknowledge it at all.

“Email him then, your chief supervisor has the details.” You take a small step forward to motivate him to step backwards out of the doorway, and you uncross your arms only to grasp the edge of the door. “Now if you’d please excuse us, we do our best work without distractions.”

You don’t give him time to reply before you close on him, but there’s just enough time for Spencer to see the astonishment dawn on Will’s face at your dismissal before he’s shut out completely.

Your frustration is still present on your face as you turn to walk back over to the whiteboard, and Spencer presses his lips together in an awkwardly endearing fashion before muttering out a soft “thank you,” in your direction.

“I don’t tolerate bullies Reid, it’s nothing to be thankful for,” You shake your head to dismiss him, a much lighter—much friendlier— dismissal than you’d awarded Will.

”You didn’t have to do that though,” Spencer sighs softly, playing with the sleeves of his sweater. “Let me buy you a coffee at least? There’s a cafe a few minutes away from here that I used to go to when I was younger, and I think I need the break,”

You can’t really blame his sudden want for fresh air, and you’d rather not slave away on the profile without him to filter your thoughts through, so you don’t really have much option but to join him.

“It’s not one of those ridiculously expensive coffee places is it?” You raise your eyebrow at him warningly and Spencer shakes his head with a soft laugh, one your happy to hear as a sign that Will hadn’t knocked him off his game too much.

“No no, last time I was here it was $3.49 a cup, perfectly normal,” He brushes a strand of hair from his eye with a small smile. “So you’ll join me?”

You let out a small exhale and a shrug of your shoulders, and Spencer knows that you’re feigning more begrudgement than you’re feeling. “I guess I could do with a break,”

Spencer’s smile seems to get just that little bit brighter at your response.

“But I’m buying my own coffee.”

“Okay—” Spencer gives you a small nod, joined by a laugh, and you wait until he’s got his back to you before letting a small smile invade your mouth at the sight.

[whoblewboobear]

Kipperlilly being primed as Porter’s “right hand” instead of Jace’s makes so much more sense now. I don’t think she’d look up to him in the same way she probably does to Porter because their motivation is so similar.

When things are unfair, use your rage to take what you think you deserve. Porter feels entitled to ascend to godhood and kipperlilly is driven to gain the attention and accolades of a famous adventurer. Where they differ is how long they’re willing to play the game to get there.

She was already so easy to manipulate because she wanted what the bad kids had for herself. The minute he showed her any attention she wouldn’t even bat an eye if he asked her to get Devils Honey from Gertie.

In her mind, Kipperlilly feels like her part in this is larger when she’s still such a small piece of the puzzle Porter has been putting together for YEARS. He’s playing 4D chess and 4Dogs is just fetching his pre-work shake ingredients.

[novlr]

I once saw a piece of writing advice that spoke to the idea that you should start and end a chapter differently. I suppose the idea was that it helps keep the story moving along. I thought it was good advice but didn't like the post and therefore cannot find the full explanation of this point. Do you have any advice like this? For starting and ending a chapter?

As a creative writer, you’re always looking for ways to improve your craft and keep your readers engaged. One piece of advice that can help you achieve this is by starting and ending chapters differently.

This technique can help keep your story moving forward and maintain your reader’s interest, but it is not the only technique you should employ. Like any other part of your writing, it’s all about variation, and knowing what serves your story best is the most fundamental part of improving your writing’s craft.

Starting a chapter

When it comes to starting a chapter, there are several techniques you can employ to grab your reader’s attention and propel your story forward. One effective method is to begin with action, throwing your character into the middle of a scene and immediately drawing the reader in. Alternatively, you can introduce a new character to shake up the story’s dynamics or change the setting to signal a shift in the narrative.

Opening with dialogue is another great way to quickly establish the scene and provide context for the reader. You might also consider posing a question that piques their curiosity or describing a vivid sensory experience to immerse them in the moment. Ultimately, the key is to experiment with different approaches and find what works best for the chapter you’re writing.

Ending a chapter

When it comes to ending a chapter, there are several effective techniques you can use to keep your readers engaged and eager to turn the page. One popular method is to end with a cliffhanger. You can then open the next chapter with something mundane. An example of this would be the shocking entrance of someone unexpected at the end of one chapter, then opening the next chapter with the revelation that is just the goofy uncle the character hasn’t seen in a while. Alternatively, you can resolve a minor conflict, giving the reader a sense of satisfaction while still leaving larger issues unresolved to continue into the next chapter.

Another option is to introduce a new complication, presenting an obstacle or twist that raises the stakes and propels the story forward. You might also consider ending with a revelation, where a character discovers something important or experiences a significant realisation that shifts their perspective.

Creating a sense of anticipation by hinting at what’s to come in the next chapter is another effective way to keep readers engaged, or you can end with a strong image or emotion that leaves a lasting impression on the reader. Experiment using these endings with the opening examples above, and you’ll soon find that there’s a rhythm you develop that suits your writing style.

Variation is key

The key to effectively starting and ending chapters is to mix things up and keep your readers on their toes. Don’t rely on the same techniques every time; instead, experiment with different approaches to find what works best for your story. By varying your chapter beginnings and endings, you’ll create a more engaging and dynamic reading experience that will resonate with readers.

For some chapters, a clear break will work really well, like the example of a cliffhanger that opens the next chapter with something far more ordinary than the reader was expecting. But other chapters will be well served by a simple continuation of the scene. Pacing isn’t dictated on a chapter-by-chapter basis alone; it’s all about the overall arc of the story and how everything fits together. There are no hard and fast rules for how to begin and end a chapter, so in the end, it all comes down to trial and error and seeing what feels right in service of the story you want to tell.

Additional tips

In addition to the techniques mentioned above, there are a few more tips to keep in mind when starting and ending chapters. Varying your chapter lengths can help keep the pacing dynamic and prevent the story from feeling predictable (although some stories are served by consistent length, so do follow your intuition here). Using transitions, like transitional phrases or imagery, can smoothly connect the end of one chapter to the beginning of the next.

Experimenting with different techniques and reading widely to study how other authors begin and end their chapters can provide valuable inspiration and insight. And don’t be afraid to rewrite your chapter openings and endings in as many versions as you like to see what works for you.

Ultimately, trust your instincts; if a particular starting or ending technique feels right for your chapter and serves your story well, then that’s the one you should go with.

[mayashesfly]

Run Away

Vox and Alastor gets trapped together in a situation where both of them have to work together in order to escape and survive.

However, Alastor is still recuperating from his fight with Adam and his powers being limited from his deal and his cane being broken that Vox has to be the one that majorly deals with their pursuers.

Their pursuers were ready to deal with Alastor by himself, making it difficult for him to escape through his shadows but Vox still has a few tech he could travel through plus being able to teleport anywhere normally in a short distance.

Vox could've easily escaped by himself if he wants to.

He's not even the main target these people have, it's Alastor.

But regardless, he's adamant with escaping this situation with Alastor alive to showcase just how much more powerful he is and not a coward unlike Alastor.

Time passes by as tensions and emotions well up to the front with the amount of time the two has to experience with the other. Vox was ever so slowly losing steam as his powers were starting to run up dry with how much he has to compensate for protecting two Overlords while being pursued by a larger group all by himself.

Alastor hates this.

Alastor hates having to rely on Vox.

Hates being weak.

Hates being helpless and forced into this situation by a bunch of weaklings who's only as strong as they are because they banded together to take down the Radio Demon.

Hates that it had to be Vox.

Vox can't contact the other Vees.

Doesn't know if he can contact the other Vees.

Or if they're fine and safe and well and

.....

He just hopes that they're safe and unaffected by this little side venture Vox is on.

And that he and Alastor can get out of this alive even if his.... ...something... never wanted this to happen.

It all comes to a head when they finally found a spot Alastor and Vox can both escape from.

A weak point in their pursuers' structure.

But they were getting surrounded and Vox's demon form was too damaged to use.

Alastor tried to go into his demon form, but his magic sputters out as Vox shields him with his body.

"I can look for another escape. Leave. Radio Demon. That's the one thing you're good at. I can handle this by myself!!"

"Don't be preposterous you stupid little picture box! Even you can't handle them at this state "

"JUST LEAVE!!!"

His ears pinned down as he stared into that swirling red eye. Anger, frustration, and fear welling up as digital tears before quickly disappearing.

Alastor could only gawk as he felt his influence get into his brain before he snapped out of it.

"No. I won't do something so stupid, Vox "

"Please"

A flash of that hopeful smile entered his mind as big beady square eyes stared at him lovingly. Before being shattered into a million pieces as Alastor left.

Feeling the suffocating feeling of the chain around his neck as he was being pulled apart from him.

"Just do it for me. Just this once."

He was begging him.

There was a hopeless quality in his voice as radio waves muffled his voice.

But Alastor could clearly hear.

"Just go."

He hates Vox so much.

Making him run away yet again.

(he'll make them pay)

[castiwls]

tolerate it pt2 - a.s

Paring; anakin x reader

Prompt;

Requested; anon

Notes;highly requested sorry its taken so long. I'm a sucker for a happy ending so this one is less angsty

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

It had been days since you’d last spoken to Anakin. Ever since that night, you’d taken measures of your own to ensure that neither of you crossed paths besides when you’d fall into bed a night, though even then you’d continued to give him the cold shoulder.

While you’d spent the last few days purposefully taking on extra work in the senate and helping to prepare for the ball Anakin had found himself aimlessly wandering between your apartment and the temple. The morning after your argument he’d immediately gone to the council ready to take on any assignments they may have, yet much to his disgrace he’d found that they had none.  

The day of the ball grew closer and closer and with each passing minute, the pit of anxiety in your stomach only continued to grow larger and larger. Sure you and Anakin and fought before but never for this long. Part of you wanted nothing more than to fall back into his warm embrace where everything seemed simpler and safer in a galaxy which was riddled with war. Yet your pride would not allow you.

Your pride left you leaving your apartment each morning, nothing more than a small glace in his direction. Anakin himself had seemingly been able to alter his routine in a way that meant he woke after you and usually would fall into bed after as well. Though unknowingly to him you’d been lying in bed awake waiting for him. When he thought you were asleep he’d trace small shapes on your back as he whispered hushed apologies into your ears before rolling over taking his warmth with him.

Every whispered apology seemed to break down your pride piece by piece as your want for him slowly began to win the internal battle. 

A small laugh escaped your lips as another senator recounted a story you’d found barely amusing. You’d spent the night making meaningless small talk just barely managing to keep your attention on whoever you’d been speaking to.

The whole night you’d found your gaze being longingly pulled towards a certain Jedi who seemed to always be only a few feet away. Anakin’s gaze had been locked on you ever since you’d entered the room. He pushed aside the conversation he’d been having in favour of slowly trailing your movements from a distance. 

While part if his brain screamed at him to stay away, you were in the safest place you could possibly be and his behaviour would only bring attention to himself. This whole argument had started over his need to stay in the order yet the more he’d thought on it the less appalling the order had seemed to him.

You were his entire world. Nothing else mattered to him besides your happiness and it killed him inside slightly knowing that he was the cause of your unhappiness. He wanted nothing more than to make your marriage public, to let the whole galaxy know that his heart belonged to you and you only, but that wasn’t possible.

Doing that would only place both your careers at risk and that was something he wasn’t prepared to do.

A small frown pulled on Anakin’s lips as he watched another sentor approach you, placing a hand on your arm before leaning down and whispering something in your ear. Your body tensed slightly at the voice. His breath ghosted over your ear sending shivers down your spine. Just as you prepared to excuse yourself the sound of someone clearing their throat brought the conversation to a halt. 

Anakin flashed a camera-worthy smile as he introduced himself to the small group before holding an arm out. “Care to dance, m’lady.” He flashed you a small smirk as you rolled your eyes at his formality. “I would like that very much.” You quickly took his arm before any protests could be made and you both disappeared into the crowd.

Anakin quickly leads you past the dance floor and out onto the large garden. He pulled you around a secluded corner before dropping your arm, a small breath of relief left his lips. “I hate those things.” He groaned causing you to laugh quietly. “I’m well aware. You like to remind me at every chance about your dislike of politicians.” You smiled at him. “Unfortunately I’m also one of those politicians you hate so much.”

Anakin shook his head, a smile of his own growing on his lips. “No. No. You're the only one I like.” He reached out and then hesitated for a minute. “I’m sorry for the other night.” He gently grasped your hand in his. “I want to tell people about us, I really do. You're the most important person in my life…and that’s why I can't risk being made to choose.” He gently pulled you closer moving a hand to gently cup your cheek.

“Because you’d choose the order.” You spoke dryly your gaze hardening slightly. A small pit of annoyance grew in your stomach. He’d apologised just to go right back to the same excuse he’d been using in your apartment. A small scoff left your lips at his silence. The war had changed you both, but you’d never expected Anakin to suddenly be so loyal to the order which just weeks ago he was convinced was against him.

“No. No. I’d pick you every time.” As he gazed down at you with a fondness you hadn’t seen since your wedding day. A small ‘oh’ left your lips. “One day. I promise we won't have to live in secret. When the war’s over we can both run far far away from here. Just promise me you’ll wait.” 

“Of course.” You nodded feeling his other hand gently squeeze your waist before his lips met yours and for the first time in days, you felt at peace again. While all wasn’t fully forgiven you were willing to wait. Standing here now you felt the opposite to how you’d felt in your room only a few nights ago. 

Wrapped in his arms you felt loved.

[skelekins]

kelek [blue] is mine; snaps belongs to @didderd

[deservedgrace]

i appreciate the curiosity and desire to understand when people ask me what growing up religious/in a cult was like, how religion and religious trauma impacts me, why i'm so against christianity, but i kind of dread those questions now because it's so... impossible to explain it properly. i don't know how to explain to people that don't have that experience that it's everything and it's a million little things.

[floralcrematorium]

but i'm not her and she's not me

[marlenacantswim]

manic pixie dream twink, love of my life, infinite beacon of joy, changeling child living its best life, hyperactive ball of charisma, ceo of howling at the moon, that's right ladies and gentlemen and all folks beyond category: it's campbell bain! ❤️❤️❤️

[thychesters]

Usopp tracks him down after dinner, as if there’s really any place to escape on a ship the size of the Going Merry, though the storage room was always a viable option up until Sanji caught Zoro napping on crates and told him to get out, bitching about how he had to check on their provisions.

Now one of his preferred spots is toward the stern, where he can rest by the mikan trees, enveloped by the warmth and scent of citrus and loamy earth on the open sea. Usopp comes to sit beside him, his nearly full sketch pad in hand and assorted charcoals in the other. It isn’t something he shares often, and Zoro finds it an extension of trust when he lets him peer over his shoulder as he sketches, or perhaps turns it just enough to blatantly put it in his line of vision.

He flips through outlines of Chopper’s hooves and sketches of three boys who thought he hung the moon to land on a half-finished profile of Luffy. He drums his fingers on the edge of the pad, poking through charcoals that all look the same to Zoro, and he tears his gaze away to stare at one of the bullet scars on his forearm. His back still burns from where Luffy had decided to lounge across it in the middle of a push up, which had been easier to ignore until his wandering hands had veered away from casual and annoying.

He can still feel Luffy's fingers pressing into his ribs or the arm winding around him to drag a hand across his stomach before he'd bitten his ear, just to laugh when Zoro shoved him away.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” Usopp asks, head bent. He has his bandana tied up higher to keep his hair out of his face, eyes fixed on the page before him. He also calls this the golden hour, says it’s great for drawing, but Zoro doesn’t really see how since it’s such a short window and it’ll be dark soon.

“No,” he says.

Usopp makes a soft ah sound but doesn’t push it beyond that. A few sketchy lines later and he has the outline of the Going Merry’s figurehead.

It’s comforting then, because he genuinely does not want to talk about it, perfectly content with burying it away in a hollow in his chest until he draws his last breath. A bit melodramatic, yes, but his … longing (he doesn’t like that word, because it isn’t what it is, but it is too) for his captain will remain only that: something kept to himself. He will not cross that line.

“I don’t think it’s the worst thing ever,” he says, because woe for Zoro to think he wouldn’t actually bring it up. Luffy wasn’t exactly subtle and apparently Zoro didn’t school his expression as much as he thought he did. His projected annoyance clearly wasn’t strong enough, even though annoyance had been a big part of it. Usopp’s too aware and Chopper was too blissfully ignorant and entertained by their antics.

“Right,” he mutters, because it’s actually a terrible idea. He’s not as stupid as Nami and Sanji like to say he is.

Usopp smudges some charcoal with the side of his thumb. “When I first joined up I got the impression there were more to things than you guys let on. You didn’t say anything outright, and maybe it was just me putting too much stock into your dedication, so, y’know, I didn’t want to say anything. I’ve seen the way the looks at you though.”

“He doesn’t look at me like that,” Zoro says, voice sounding perfectly level, he thinks. He doesn’t want to talk about this anymore, but then he’d never wanted to talk about it in the first place.

Usopp finally turns to look at him, stares right into him in a way that makes him want to growl, bite back that maybe he should mind his own fucking business, that he knows he’s a liar but he should know when to cut the crap. He swallows and turns away.

“If you say so.”

This time Zoro does growl, or at least mutters something indelicate because he kind of wants to tell him to fuck off, but that’s a little too harsh and will like draw unwanted attention.

“I was there, remember?” he says after another minute spent fidgeting with charcoal that oscillates between shading and smudging. His voice is quieter though, like he’s afraid Zoro’s going to overhear, as if he isn’t talking to him right now. “I heard the oath you made to him, Zoro. At this point I think you and I both know there’s a lot more weight to it now than there was before.”

“It’s not happening,” he returns with a tone of finality, because it isn’t, and Usopp better drop it.

He turns back and Zoro’s mildly surprised when he doesn’t flinch back and shrink in on himself when he glowers at him. He does wince, just a little bit, but he meets his gaze head on and looks like he wants to say something else. The sketchpad teeters on his knee, and he starts before it hits the deck.

Zoro hunches his shoulders and forces himself back to his feet.

“I’m not dealing with this,” he mutters, reaching for his swords. It was better when it was just something he himself had to address. It was never meant to be shared.

“Clearly,” Usopp mumbles under his breath. “Zoro, wait. Don’t be stupid about it—easy, that’s not what I meant,” he’s quick to interject, holding his hands up. “I just mean … be realistic about it for a second? Luffy trusts you more than the rest of us combined. You’re his go-to for everything, and I don’t think that’s just because you’re his first mate in everything but title. He looks at you in ways I can’t describe, like—”

“Usopp.”

“What are you afraid of, that it’ll change the dynamics between the crew? How?”

“I’m not afraid, Usopp.”

“That’s not what I said. Do you think it’ll change the dynamics of the crew?”

He grinds his teeth, hard enough a grating noise screams in his ears. “Enough.”

“Fine, look at it this way: we’re not part of this crew for a few weeks, right? We’re in this crew for the rest of our lives,” he falters for a moment, and he sounds almost wistful and Zoro so badly wants him to shut up when he says, "Would you rather live your life full of regret for something you had the opportunity to act but never did?”

“Usopp, stop,” he says, gritting his teeth. His fingers flex around the hilt of Wadō as he loops his swords back into his belt, but Usopp’s paying that no mind and watching him with a furrowed brow. Settling back against the deck his hands still, the Merry’s sketched eye and his own watching him too closely. A bead of sweat trickles down his brow and he swipes it away with the back of his forearm before he blinks and looks away, chin ducked in his chest as the sea swells and calms against the ship.

Zoro will pull, and will twist, and will pry and will split himself apart to protect his crew. There are a great many things Zoro would promise Luffy without any hesitation, any number of vows he would make in a single breath. But this cannot, and will not, be one of them.

No, no this is never something meant to be shared. This, this affection Zoro harbors for Luffy, the one that has morphed in a steadily growing resentment toward himself, is his and his alone.

Zoro is not one to ask for things he cannot have, and this—this is his burden to bear.

“Okay,” Usopp says after a minute, sketchpad long forgotten and charcoal staining his fingertips and palm of his hand. Zoro draws in a breath and it bubbles up into a burst of pain between his eyes. He can hear him swallow, eyes darting away in fear of further reprimand. “Sorry.”

His footfalls are heavier, weight dragging into the ache that nestles between his shoulders, but Usopp says nothing more and Zoro says nothing less. The stairs creak in an amalgamation of wood and metal, and as he descends to the lower deck the sunlight catches on the waves, leaving him squinting and raising a hand against against the blinding light.

He pauses at the bottom, looking out over the expanse of the ship and the rolling sea spread before them in every direction, full of the promises of their dreams and freedom, and spots a familiar figure in his seat atop the masthead. As if he senses him, he sits up a little straighter, hand against the brim of his hat as the breeze kicks up, smelling of salt and the last remnants of dinner.

Luffy turns him and beams, and it’s a sick, twisted pleasure to burn, isn't it, as he meets his gaze.

a missing chunk from ode to an ocean. !

[inlocusmads]

Listened to Hozier's EP and now I have 10,568,679 wips, thanks a lot.

[chaotictomtom]

distressing the amount of illustrations i wanna make since ive watched this movie for the 1st time in theater

[dahldahlbills]

yuuta’s cursed technique is actually Curing Mental Illness i know bc he cured mine

[mercyofempty]

transmasc amy. yeah

[applesconez]

gunslinging gaslighting girlboss

[calenhads]

sabiba :(((