#working on chapter 2 atm

[misqnon]

Parallel

Through the power of a strange new devil fruit encounter, Sanji gets turned into an anchor between universes. Zoro doesn't really get to help his crew deals with this, though, because the instant he makes contact with the cook, he's teleported right next to the man again. 

Only this time Sanji's wearing different clothes, and looking at him weird. And they aren't on the Sunny anymore. They're in some weird, gray kitchen, and Sanji's holding a weird looking piece of technology, and also looking at him like he doesn't know who the hell he is.

"Who the hell are you?" Sanji says, and it's his voice, but with an accent he doesn't recognize, and Zoro realizes something is very, very wrong.

-----

modern au sanji / canonverse zoro. because i'm insane

only posting the first short chapter here, but the rest will be on ao3 as it goes on

By the time Zoro wakes up, the invading pirate crew is already halfway unloaded onto the Sunny’s deck.

His stomach drops.

Did he fucking fall asleep on watch? 

“OI!” He shouts, voice less of a yell and more of a deep-throated growl, alerting both his own crew and the invaders. A large man in an oversized coat looks up at him with a scowl, curly black hair obscuring his face. But then he smiles. The captain, Zoro presumes.

As he does so, Sanji and Robin appear on deck, followed shortly after by Nami, Usopp, and Chopper. They all get into fighting stances within seconds, meeting head to head with crew-members already on the Sunny’s lawn, dyed dark blue in the nighttime’s dark haze.

Zoro’s still staring at the captain from the crow’s nest, the other practically daring him to come down and fight. Wasting no time, Zoro unsheathes his swords, jumping from one of the crow’s nest windows, swords gleaming the whole way down. He slams into the deck with enough force to rock the boat, causing a loud splash on its starboard side. Luffy and Franky emerge seconds later, quick to join the battle with eager grins. 

Zoro feels a bit bad for taking the captain. He usually leaves that honor for Luffy. But the guy’s pissed him off, and he feels responsible for dozing off during watch. 

Seriously, what the fuck? Zoro may love to sleep, but he takes watch seriously. He’d never endanger his crew for something as fleeting as a little shut-eye. Mistakes happen, but not to him. Not Roronoa Zoro, master of willpower and control.

He takes all that anger and shame and uses it to beat the shit out of the captain now defiling the Sunny’s deck with his presence.

But the other man is fast. And now he’s finally talking.

He jumps up to the top level of the ship, narrowly avoiding the fight behind him, where Sanji is throwing kicks at a man that looks strikingly similar to-

Wait, what? …Twins?

The man follows Zoro’s stare and gives a hearty laugh. “Whatever you’re thinking, it ain’t right.” He explains. He snaps his fingers, and Sanji suddenly stops behind him, looking uneasy.

“What the hell?” The blonde whispers to himself, looking down at his hands. He feels…wrong. Overwhelmed. Nauseous. The man the cook is fighting has stopped to, looking at him with the same grin as the man Zoro’s focused on.

“I’m Captain Morales of the Parallel Pirates.” The Captain declares.

“And so am I.” Says the man in front of Sanji, now turning to look at Zoro. He steps forward to stand beside Captain Morales (the first one, anyways) and Zoro is shaken, because even identical twins aren’t that…perfect.

It’s obvious this is some kind of devil fruit power, but Zoro isn’t in the mood for learning tonight. He just wants them dead or off his ship.

“Huh?” Usopp pipes up from somewhere to the left of him. Luffy and a few others take notice too. 

“Hey, Zoro, why’s there two of that guy!?” Luffy exclaims, slapping away some insignificant crew member.

…Now that he thinks about it, something is off about this guy’s crew, too. He glances around again, at all the faces scattered among the deck and the ship beside them, and he realizes none of them go together at all. Most pirate crews have some sort of theme, yes, but he doesn’t mean it in the way that they don’t share a similar motif. No, they look like they’ve all come from completely different worlds. 

One man wears old leather greaves, another wears a three-piece suit. One looks straight from Thriller Bark, another is dressed in nothing but silver chrome. One woman boasts a wide array of guns, while another looks slightly more Neanderthal than is excusable by old genetics. It’s a big world out there between all four seas and the Grand Line, he knows that, but this feels like…something even more than that. They feel out of place in a way he can’t place.

“Confused, aren’t you?” Says the man Sanji was fighting. The cook tries to kick him again despite the nausea, but Captain Morales the Second catches him by the leg and throws him down next to Zoro. Zoro doesn’t blink an eye.

“This is the power of the Verse-Verse Fruit.” Says the first Captain Morales.

“I don’t care what the hell your power is. Get lost, or you’ll be split into more pieces than two.” Zoro growls.

The Captains laugh. “Split?”

“No, no.”

“We’re both entirely intact. And no, we aren’t twins.”

“And I’m not a copy, either.”

“He’s me. From another world.”

“I mean, who better to have as a First Mate than another you?”

“Never have to worry about stupid decisions or insubordination. You can always trust yourself.”

“He always makes the same choices I would have made had I been there. It’s awfully convenient.”

Zoro loses track of who’s saying what at some point, but he doesn’t care. “Listen, I already told you, I don’t care about your stupid crew or your stupid powers.”

“Whaaaaat!? I do!” Luffy exclaims, apparently entranced by this guy’s…These guys’? Speech.

“Other worlds!? Like what? How?” The captain continues.

Zoro holds himself back only out of his own loyalty to Luffy. He knows the idiot wants answers, and he can’t go attacking their opponent while the two…three, are talking. 

The Morales’ laugh. “Well, you see, I have the ability to traverse other worlds. It’s how I found half my crew, if you hadn’t noticed.” Says the first captain.

“But he can also turn others into anchor points between worlds, allowing anyone who touches that anchor to travel to another world where that anchor exists.” Says the second captain.

Luffy looks completely lost, as do a few other Strawhats who are listening. 

Usopp pops his fist onto his other hand. “Oh, I think I get it! So say if Zoro existed in another universe, I could touch Zoro and travel to the other world he exists in?”

One of the Captains nods. “Exactly.”

Nami crosses her arms. “And how do they get back?” She looks concerned, scenarios swimming in her head already. 

“Well, if I’m available, of course I simply turn him into an anchor again. He touches the other world Zoro, and he returns here. If I want it that way.”

Nami doesn’t move. “And if you aren’t here?”

They both shrug. “Too bad, so sad.” They say in unison.

Nami grits her teeth. “Hey! Nobody touch anybody! Not even the crew! There’s no telling who he’s already turned into an anchor.”

They both laugh again. “Good work, girl! You’re exactly correct. One of your own is already an anchor, ready to take anyone who touches them to somewhere far, far away from here. And I won’t bring them back no matter how much you beg.”

Zoro grits his teeth. 

That’s it. He isn’t waiting any longer. He can take this guy out without touching him easy-peasy. It’s just his swords that need to make contact, after all. He puts Wado in his mouth and darts forward, demonic eyes set on the dual Captain and his First Mate, when someone stumbles to their feet behind him.

He doesn’t take stock of this, of course, he’s far too focused in the fight- but the Captain notices. He snaps his finger and someone appears in front of him like a wormhole, kicking him harshly back where he came from.

He collides with the cook behind him, Wado knocked from his mouth as the wind is knocked out of him, and before he can even realize what’s happened, he’s standing in a small, gray kitchen, with strange futuristic design completely unfamiliar to him. And before him stands the cook, only now Sanji's wearing different clothes, and looking at him weird. He holds a small flat screen, a piece of technology Zoro doesn’t recognize. The cook turns to him.

"Who the hell are you?" Sanji says, and it's his voice, but with an accent he doesn't recognize, and Zoro realizes something is very, very wrong.

[skrunksthatwunk]

misguided angel / angel mine for your kuwameshi consideration

[shortandgay]

ugh your tags... the way it doesnt strike pete as odd to be scolded by may in that scene. Because if it was anyone else-- it should have been!! But he takes it and he looks so mollified with his "I'm sorry" and the tilt of his head like... you're doing an awful job of not giving yourself away here, Pete. They make me so crazy.

Exactly exactly!!!! Ever since i first read it it always stuck with me the way that interaction just….wouldnt work with anyone else but May. Nobody else could speak to Peter like that, nobody else would! I definitely think like…she doesnt want to believe its him, but clearly it is and thats another part of why shes hammering home the no killing thing- if hes going to be running around fighting crime and shit, she cant stop him, so she has to take her one chance to get it into his head that he doesnt have to kill to do that. There’s not much she can do for him at this point and it must be horrible.

And the ‘im sorry’ god it kills me. We know ur sorry Peter everyone knows ur sorry. May stood in the doorway after he leaves. May knows thats her boy and she so desperately wants him to stay being her boy, but the longer he holds onto that gun the farther he gets from the nephew she knows.

[duhsty1]

WIP!!

[askamnesiamoonjumper]

Brother the aau chapter one rewrite was insane how was this the same fic wtf ,, I forgot how actually hard I had edited it. got damn

[andthebubbles]

reading earlier chapters of my own fic like it's sustenance

[toastsnaffler]

after I've worked thru my current library stack I think im gonna reread tlt for the millionth time. bc I deserve it <3

[afalvi]

Completely forgot to post my fic on here!

Summary: Lucifer can't remember how long it's been since he's seen either Lilith or Charlie. Instead of laying in bed like he originally planned to, he gets an unexpected invite from Asmodeus. After some tea (and a mental breakdown), Lucifer stays in the Lust Ring for a breath of fresh air. Inside the one of the Ring's many malls, he finds a shop selling latex bodysuits. The King of Hell decides to try one on out of curiosity and finds that he feels quite attractive! Interestingly enough, others seem to agree. Maybe staying in Lust for a bit longer wouldn't hurt...

[dallonwrites]

organised everything i have for it so far + tentatively cut some things (that i may put back if i find there’s missing beats but otherwise they were kinda unnecessary for the current vision) and refined my chapter two outline so if i have time at work tomorrow i can play around with it and write something like yayyyy i love when past me sets myself up like this

[aberooski]

I'm finally learning my lesson and that it's okay to write things out of sequence. It's actually very helpful ✋😭

[lovecrumbss]

.

[inkblackorchid]

Some very interesting entries in my google search history due to chapter 2 of the WIP fic:

Do all homes in Japan have AC

What does motor oil smell like

Does motor oil burn

[skrunksthatwunk]

i started a new kazumaji fic if y'all wanna read it bashfully kicks my feet and bats my eyelashes

[starry-nights12]

Now that AO3 is back up and running:

If you love timebomb and my writing then drop a comments on my fics please?🥺🙏 It would make my day💚💙

[vvatchword]

Hobnobbers

Sinclair’s apartment was in Athena’s Glory, only a 30-minute railcar ride from Naomi’s apartment, and “lavish” was an understatement. He had an entire floor to himself. More marble. More gilding. Servants in uniforms, flowers in their buttonholes. A foyer filled with paintings of plantation mansions, figures crushed in their shadows.

When Sinclair had said “small party,” John had imagined a group of a dozen people or fewer. Instead, there were nearer to a hundred, mostly men of middle-age or greater, and a record player crooning beside an open bar. The room was hazy with smoke. Everyone was in black, reflected against windows and polish like a throng of monoliths.

Breathless, Naomi clenched John’s arm, eyes flicking this way, then that, like a cat who had just spied a roomful of mice. He gave her a twisted grin.

“Jesus, kid, what are you so worried about?” he asked. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be out of my element here.”

“Nothing!” she said. “Only this is wonderful! I haven’t met so many of these people.”

“Go wild,” he said, loosing his grip.

But she clung with extra fervor.

“They want to see you, remember?” she whispered.

“Are you kidding?” John asked. “You’re adorable. Every hot-blooded man here would be ecstatic to meet you.”

Her face brightened, and when she turned to him, it was as though her soul embraced him. For a moment, they were both in a little world only they knew. Their noses nearly touched; he could feel her breath on his throat.

“No,” she said softly, her cheek brushing against his. “I’ll go with you.”

“All right.” He hugged her arm against him. “Point the way, then.”

“Sinclair, first,” she said softly. “Oh, he’s one of the biggest players in the whole city. I can’t believe…”

Sinclair was impossible to miss. He had misplaced both jacket and hat. He reclined at the bar on one of the stools, leaning on one elbow, legs flung out, fresh cigar in hand. Another man perched on the stool beside him with a drink, fedora pulled down over his ears. When Sinclair saw them coming, he slapped his neighbor on the arm.

“Well, if it ain’t Johnny Topside and friend,” he said. “Ms. Spunky-second-cousin-from-Boston.”

“Yes, thank you!” Naomi giggled, and took his hand. “Naomi Lucas. I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance. I hope you enjoyed the play.”

“Very much!” Sinclair slapped the bar. “Hey, Vince, get me a mint julep. You folks like bourbon?”

“Of course,” Naomi said. She flushed so prettily. A sweat-dampened curl glistened above her ear.

And she’s coming back with me, John thought, giving her a squeeze.

“And you, Mr. Topside?” Sinclair shook his hand emphatically.

“I never turn down a drink,” John said with a grin.

Sinclair threw his head back and laughed. “That’s what I like to hear! Vince! Two bourbons, neat. Thanks.”

“Who’s your friend?” John asked.

“Me?” The man on the stool squeaked around. The baby-face was unmistakable. “You don’t remember? I’m hurt.”

John’s smile wavered.

“Fontaine,” he said.

“That’s right,” he said. Smoke curled out of his nostrils. “You been making a splash ‘round here lately. I’m ‘preciative. You got that monkey off my back for a while. Hell, that thing you did last night? Fuckin’ glorious. I’ll be laughing for weeks.”

“What?” John asked. “What’d I do?” He started running through his memories. Fuck, they were all so fuzzy. Why’d he have to drink so much?

“He don’t know what he did!” Fontaine said, slapping Sinclair on the shoulder. The two of them started cackling.

“Come on,” John said. “I’m new here. I know jack-shit.”

“Ryan actually went to a party last night,” Fontaine said. “Ava Tate’s. Actress. You know that bird? Yeah? No?”

John scowled, eyes wandering the floor as though her identity might be listed there.

“Of course we know Ava Tate,” said Naomi, perhaps too eagerly.  “She’s a legend!”

“Yeah, well, Ryan almost never goes nowhere, but this time he did, and what do you know? Almost no one came,” Fontaine said. “Because everyone went to see you.”

John groaned. “Oh, shit!”

He’d said it too loudly. Some of the partygoers turned to look.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t wanna be you,” Fontaine said. “All I gotta say is, get some padding between you and that bastard. Something to remember around this joint: money solves everything. So I hope you got more fortunes tucked away in those pockets, Johnny-boy.”

Naomi squeezed his arm, hard.

“What can he do to me?” John asked softly.

“Fuck, what can’t he do?” Fontaine asked. “He disappears my boys all the time.”

“Where do they go?” John asked.

Fontaine glanced at Sinclair. Sinclair shook his head, shaking with silent laughter, and took another drag on his cigar.

“To the dirt,” said Fontaine. “Whaddaya think?”

“I thought there was no death penalty here,” John said.

“There is if no one’s looking,” Fontaine said. “So if I were you, I’d make sure everyone’s looking all the fucking time. Except for now, maybe.”

“Now?” John asked. “What’s different about now?”

“It’s just not a good look, us talking here.”

“You mean there are spies?” John asked.

“Not conventionally,” Sinclair said lazily. “I don’t invite the press. But you know how word gets out. And folks do like to talk.”

“Shit,” John said, and grabbed his bourbon.

“Don’t take Frank too seriously,” said Sinclair, snipping a cigar and extending it to John. “He likes seeing folks squirm. And as long as you aren’t buying and selling contraband, well. I can’t imagine how Andy is going to justify a disappearance. Even his security team has standards.” He turned to Naomi. “Sorry about this conversation, miss. Not my usual fare, I must admit. Would you be amenable to a cigarette?”

“Yes, please,” she said. She was no longer bouncing on her feet. A veil had passed over her eyes.

“So you’re the dame who gave up a million dollars,” said Fontaine.

“I am.” She smiled up at him as she lit her cigarette. The lighter lit twin stars in her pupils.

“Is he worth it?” Fontaine asked. “I woulda turned him in, myself.”

“Of course he’s worth it,” said Naomi. “I wouldn’t have done it if he weren’t.” She gave his arm a little squeeze.

John stared glumly over his empty glass, turning it in a little circle.

“Worth it how?” Fontaine asked. “You got yourself a redneck in a tux. I could buy six hundred of those for a year each with that kinda money.”

“You’re talking to me now, aren’t you?” she asked. “I am in a party hosted by the Augustus Sinclair today, am I not?”

“Oh boy,” Fontaine said. “It’s one of these.”

“Frank, Frank. You’re going to give Johnny an ay-poh-plectic fit,” said Sinclair. “Would you folks believe he’s actually in a good mood?” He motioned at the bartender, jerked his thumb at John’s glass.

“I do,” Naomi said. “I’ve met many like him.” Her voice was freezing.

“And yet,” Fontaine said, hitting the last t like a cue on a pool ball, “you’re not my date, thank Christ.” He took a sip of his drink. “Gotta say, you two have been lookin’ cozy.” He made the adjective feel filthy.

“And you opened yet another charity,” said Naomi softly.

“Yeah, I can’t help myself.” He laughed. “You one of those die-hard believers, then? How does it feel, making Ryan squirm?”

“I’m not Ryan,” she said. “Why should I care?”

She could have delivered the question any number of ways. It came out sounding earnest. When she fixed her eyes on Fontaine, it was with a flat expression, like a blank piece of paper.

“It puts a target on your back,” Fontaine said, sticking his cigar in the corner of his mouth. “You care about that? Because you’re a nobody, lady, and being a nobody is dangerous business.”

Although Naomi laughed, she did not blink.

“You’re right,” she said. “Although not in the way you think. Ryan thinks nothing of women, and he will never begin. Nor, I believe, will you. No, of all of us, I am the safest. And that is if Ryan turns against every honest value he has ever cultivated, which I am certain he will not.”

“All of us?” Sinclair said, pressing his hand to his breast. “Damn, darling, what’ve I done?”

“You’re sitting here with Frank Fontaine, darling.” She smiled down at him.

Sinclair slapped his forehead. “Guilty as charged!” he said. “They’ll throw me in the trench at this rate.”

John had turned his shoulder to the trio and focused on his bourbon, calculating exits. But Sinclair grabbed at his elbow.

“Johnny, did you have any idea this woman is using you to get into parties?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, fellas,” John said, knocking back the rest of his drink. “I don’t think this conversation is for me.”

“No, no, Johnny, don’t head out.” Sinclair rocked up to his feet in one fluid motion, cigar champed down. “This is Frank’s real crime: chasing away my guests.”

“Now I’m confused,” said Fontaine. He drew a circle with his cigar. “I thought we was having a good time.”

“You always have a good time,” said Sinclair. “Don’t get too rowdy while I’m gone, you hear?” He slapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, Johnny. You, me, let’s go work the room, eh?”

Naomi took a sip of bourbon, her eyes hooded. Her overcoat gapped a little, and all that John could see underneath was skin. Fontaine stared without reserve.

“Naomi,” John said pointedly, throwing out a hand, “you said you wanted to meet some folks?”

“Of course,” she said, rising languidly. “I think I just saw my old ad manager. I’d love to say hello.”

“Good! Good!” Sinclair threw his arms over their shoulders. “This way.”

John staggered a little as he dropped off the stool.

“Good luck there, buddy,” said Fontaine. “Enjoy the time you got left.”

“Don’t worry about Frank,” Sinclair said as he pushed them into the crowd. “He loves drawing blood.”

“And you?” Naomi asked.

“Oh, I do imbibe,” Sinclair said. “But I’d hate for that to be your only impression of me. Frank brings out the worst in everyone. Alas! I am no exception. Now, what say we meet some more cheerful sorts?”

UPRISING: BLACK SCRAPBOOK HUB

[ghostputty]

hi i hope ur doing well!! i was just wondering (i'm a very impatient girly LMFAO) when we might get the first post to deck of fate? no pressure or anything at all! i am just so excited abt fantasy stuff, have a good day! :)

hi !!! omg ur fine !! first of all ty for being interested in my lil story ;,) and as for When .... i'm planning a chapter 1 preview rn so that should go up in a week or 2 if it goes smoothly and then IDEALLY i can actually start posting by the end of this month or early next month