#we knew it was him bc of the samurai tattoo

[endofbeginings]

Since i started watching f1 ive had very few dreams about it (which is rare because i dream a lot and the things i watch constantly come up) but fernando is Always in them..... to be fair if someone is haunting me in my dreams freddy krueger style it makes total sense that its him right

[thiotchi]

Have you seen Zoro’s family tree from oda yet?

yes I HAVE

I've been obsessing over his mom. Like yeah, I knew he was most likely a Shimotsuki because of one of Oda's previous SBS'. BUT HIS PARENTS CAN WE JUST

inhale

Furiko most likely had dark blue hair like Ushimaru. And based on her silhouette, you can tell she has that strong Shimotsuki chin and nose and long eyelashes. Pinzoro? Don't know him. He isn't important beyond being a samurai and named Roronoa I guess.

Arashi probably takes mostly after his mom, because those Shimotsuki genes are strong, man. Though his hair may or may not be that strong dark blue, depending on his dad's coloring. The man never learned how to use a brush though.

TERA THOUGH.

TERA.

There's supposedly a character named Tera in FF? somewhere. I forgot which game. But green hair, silver eyes, and a swordsman? That's how I imagine Zoro's mom. And given that she was the daughter of a criminal? She definitely knows how to take care of herself on the battlefield, even if she wasn't a swordsman herself.

she was though bc I said so shh

With her small chin and nose, and long-ass eyelashes, you know Zoro got those from her. Also, how she ties her hair back in the silhouette? If Zoro had long hair, male or female, that's how I'd imagine it. It's. It's perfect.

Zoro literally taking after the women in his family tree.

as a side note, Kuina's mom doesn't have any noticeable eyelashes in her silhouette so all I can think of is Zoro ending up with more stereotypically feminine features than his cousin lmao

as another side note, Kuina and Zoro's moms both dying from the same illness while they're children. You know. Just to make it Sad™️

All their names are apparently gambling references? So that's probably an (albeit kinda weird) explanation for why Zoro was so good at gambling in Wano and also why he seems to be really good at math? idk but it'd be funny if that's why.

Ushimaru def had a back tattoo so I'm kind of curious about if the "marks on the back is a swordsman's shame" is from Pinzoro's side of the family hmm

but also I still can't get over PINZORO. I know it's a legit reference but PINZORO. Arashi and Tera named Zoro after his grandpa knowing that THAT was his name.

DID ODA HAVE THAT PLANNED SINCE THE BEGINNING???

Speaking of Ushimaru, I haven't caught up to the manga or anime but does he look like he has big tiddies? Because Tera def does so that would explain how Zoro has the biggest badonkadonks on the Grand Line. Because it's from both sides of the fam /joking /notjoking

Anyway.

I'm having IDEAS.

There was a wip I was thinking of about maybe giving Zoro a mom where she doesn't die like in my HS AU and now I have CANON stuff to work with. ehehe

[annhellsing]

Beloved

notes: more fluffy sakyo content bc that comes so easily to me, wow. rating: still teen, it’s not super suggestive. pairing: sakyo furuichi / reader word count: 1,401

“It hurt,” you say.

“You have no idea,” he replies, though you didn’t insult him by phrasing it like a question.

His back is an intricate web of faded ink in beautiful colours. A pool swirls around the feet of a geisha with eyes downcast, looking at the koi fish nipping her ankles. In her open palm is a lotus flower. 

For the moment, you only look. Touching seems more invasive than intimate, and this is the first time you’ve seen his tattoo.

It’s bigger than you thought it would be, following the entire length of his spine and stopping just below his neck. It’s hidden almost all the time, either by high-collared shirts or jackets. Sakyo hides it well, so well that you can’t help but wonder if he’s ashamed of it. It certainly wasn’t done recently.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know very much about the technique but it’s—” you cut yourself off, faltering while trying to imagine just how much pain it put him in.

“It takes forever and burns worse than anything, yeah,” he finishes for you, sounding nearer to amused than upset. He always seems to know when you’re walking on eggshells, and does his best to remind you that you’re safe around him.

“Yeah,” you parrot. “When did you get it?”

“I had to save up a little,” he hesitates, “but it was finished by the time I turned twenty-two.”

“Wow,” you reply. You don’t see him smirk. Sakyo’s got his face turned away from you, sitting comfortably on your unmade bed.

“It’s ancient is what you mean to say,” he teases. You shake your head. 

“Shut up,” you mumble, lifting your hand just a fraction. You’ve traced the lines with your eyes, now you want a little more. “Can I touch it? Can I tough you?”

“Why not?” Sakyo replies. You smile a little, and reach out.

You’re careful. And even though the ink is nearly a decade old, he still flinches when your fingers brush his back. You start at his shoulder blade, over the swirling clouds near the corner of the design. When you feel him stiffen up, you pause.

“Sorry,” he says, “it’s just been awhile.”

“Mhm,” you say, “it’s okay, baby.”

“God,” he sighs, with as much fondness as annoyance. You shift a little closer, pressing your palm to his bare back.

He’s not as inclined to flinch this time, at least. And you carefully follow the lines of his tattoo until he’s as relaxed as before you touched him. You get a little bolder when you know that he’s ready.

“Hm,” you smile, leaning forward and putting your chest to his bare back. You’re so warm. You kiss his neck and he flinches for a different reason. “My baby, isn’t that right?”

“Uh-huh,” he says, sounding dazed. “M’yours, always.”

“I love you,” you say, your lips agonizingly close to his ear. Goosebumps bloom on the back of his neck.

“Shit, I love you so much,” he exhales. Sakyo earns your soft, beautiful laugh.

“I shouldn’t overwhelm you, I’m sorry,” you say, “I’ll be careful, I know this is new for you.”

“No, it’s okay,” he’s quick to tell you, “you don’t have to be sorry, you don’t mean any harm.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, that’s all,” you say, “whether or not I mean to.”

“You couldn’t,” he replies, “just-- do what you want, whatever you want. If you’re the one doing it, then I like it.”

“You’re sweet,” you say. You kiss where his neck meets his jaw, feeling him shiver under your lips.

You move your hands slowly over his shoulders, still keeping your mouth close enough to his neck to kiss. Gently, you let your fingers wander over his muscles.

“Stop me if it hurts,” you say, “or for any other reason.”

“Okay,” he replies. He sounds sure of himself, it gives you the confidence you need to continue your downward exploration. 

Your hands wander over his shoulder blades and down his back. He’s distracted from it every so often by a soft, warm kiss pressed to the back of his neck. Sakyo waits for you to bite, or to sink your nails into his skin. It’s a reflex, but it never happens. Slowly, his shoulders relax again. He takes deeper breaths.

Far too soon, you pull away. But you’re just looking at the design again, tracing your finger over the ridge of his spine.

“You know, Sakyo—” you start.

“Huh? What?” he cuts you off, he’s not quite sure why. He misses your weight at his back, perhaps.

“She really is beautiful,” you say, your finger tracing the geisha’s left eye.

“I—” he can’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t know how. His tattoo cost more than it was worth, it serves as a permanent reminder that it’s too late to walk away from his past. Sakyo thought it was beautiful, once, but that was before he knew what it meant to have it be part of him.

“I mean it, she is,” you say. And he believes you. For whatever reason, you do think it’s pretty.

“I picked it ‘cause of my mother,” he admits with a heavy sigh. He glances over his shoulder. “It just— a samurai or an oni felt weird. I was working for her. It’s always been for her.”

“Does she know about this?” you ask.

“No, I haven’t shown it to anyone,” he replies.

“Nobody?” you continue, sidestepping his air of finality. You’ve found his stories very rarely end just because he wants them to.

“Not on purpose,” he says. You nod.

You slip your arms around him again, folding your hands over his chest and hugging him from behind. You know what you’ll find there, you’re more used to the thin-raised lines on his chest. Old wounds that have long-since healed, leaving old marks.

“And the scars?” you try. You press your cheek to his shoulder.

“She doesn’t nag me too much about them. Probably because they’re hard for her to look at,” he says. You click your tongue like you disapprove. 

“I think you’re too hard on yourself,” you say. Sakyo shrugs, though he’s careful not to disturb your hold on him.

“Keeps me humble,” he replies, so nonchalant as to be worrying. 

“They’re not hard for me to look at,” you say, but there’s no edge in your voice. Just sincerity, just the truth.

“Really, now?” he asks, caught off-guard by how easily you disagreed.

“Yes, really,” you sigh. “It’s your skin, baby. It’s skin that’s done it’s job and healed. That couldn’t be ugly.”

“You’re sappier than Arisugawa,” he teases, sounding long-suffering but still touched.

“That’s love,” you shrug this time.

“I guess so,” he says. 

“Turn a little, let me kiss you,” you continue, your hand on his shoulder urging him to listen.

He shifts, with no urge to resist when you want to lead him. It feels right, moving to face you so that you can pull him against your chest. With his tattoo no longer the focus, Sakyo feels less exposed.

You kiss him as you promised, holding the back of his head and keeping him close. It’s deeper than before, your teeth touch his lower lip and Sakyo still gets goosebumps when you carefully bite down. It doesn’t hurt, not even a bit. You do it because you know he likes that.

When you break from him to breathe, you’re smiling. Your hand comes to rest on his cheek, rubbing your thumb over his mouth to wipe away your lipstick. He’s lost in the way you look at him, with so much love it could stop his heart. What else can he do but smile too?

You hug him when his lips are mostly clean. Your palm presses to his mid-back, rubbing slow circles. He feels a little less strange about baring this part of himself to you, at the very least.

“Mm, that feels nice,” he speaks up. You’re surprised he’d admit something like that.

“Yeah? Come here,” you tell him, deciding to push your luck and move him where you want him again. You lie back on your bed, pulling him with you until he’s cuddled on your chest. Your heartbeat is loud and comforting.  “There we go.”

“Next time, I’ll be the one holding you,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

“Sure, if I let you,” you smile at him.