Your Fanfiction Is Valid

I started making this earlier but got distracted and forgot but this was the first thing that popped up in my mind LMAO. Killer is not paid enough to deal with this poor guy

Opposites of Attraction, Chapter 2

18+ MDNI | on Ao3

The other chapter

Thank you to @nocturnalrorobin and @limitlesstildil for beta-ing this work!!

Your POV

“ - and so this Squirt is comin’ on board. Any problems and I’ll dump her overboard,” Kid yelled out to the assembled crew. He’d finally released you from his arm and demagnetized your lips now that the ship was sailing on the open water.

“No you won’t,” you said with disinterest, looking around at the ship past the assembled crew. You were familiar with some of them from wanted posters - Wire, Heat, Quincy, Emma, as well as some others you thought you recognized but weren’t sure. 

“Heh, don’t tell me what I will or won’t do. I’m the Captain here -”

“You gave yourself the nickname ‘Captain,’ doesn’t make you one,” you said dryly, now walking away from Kid and towards the mast for further inspection. Kid went red up to the tips of his ears.

“It’s not a nickname you fuckin’ bitch! This is my ship-”

“Then why’s it in quotes on your wanted posters and no one else's? Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid?” you smirked at him, making air quotes. You weren’t looking at him anymore though, you were more interested with the metal on the ship. You reached out to touch the steel-plated mast. Shitty quality , you thought to yourself. Now Kid’s chest was red too. You wondered if you could turn him red from the top of his ears down to his feet. Maybe he’d run out of blood before then and die - it was a theory you’d like to test.

“Besides, you can’t throw me overboard. I would fuck your shit up before you got the chance,” you said, now touching the shitty iron. Damn, what did they pry this off of? A kid's sandbox?

“Yeah, and how? I control -” 

“You control magnets but I control the metal,” you said with a grin, flipping him off with one hand. Still touching the metal on the mast, you added significantly more (and better quality) steel to what was already there. You used your power and a little creativity to shape it into a giant sized hand giving Kid the middle finger.

“Good likeness,” Killer said, giving you a thumbs up.

“Thanks Killer! I’m okay with sculptures, but -”

“You like it so much, you can fuckin’ stay there!” Kid yelled, probably annoyed he was already forgotten due to your awesome statue. Without warning you were jerked backward so the entirety of your body was stuck against the mast. You hit the mast hard, the air pushed out of your lungs with the unexpected movement. Kid stormed off to another area of the ship, boots stomping all the way. You rolled your eyes and molded the steel you’d added back around the mast, giving yourself a metal chair to be magnetized to. You couldn’t leave the mast but you could make it nicer for yourself. The crew broke apart to go back to work but a few came up to you as you stayed put. You watched Quincy stand up from the crate she was sitting on and hold onto it for a few moments while bent over before she righted herself. You’d always liked the looks of her from her posters but unfortunately, she left and the Commanders came over.

“You’re Wire, right?” you asked, looking the tall man up and down as he came to introduce himself.

“You know that’s right. You heard about me, Babe?” he said, leaning over you onto his forearm and giving you a wink. Did that actually work on anyone?

“Smallest dick on the seas, that’s what they say,” you deadpanned as the Commander’s face soured. Killer and another Commander laughed heartily as Wire gave you a scowl and stomped away, much like his Captain. You weren’t sure how they’d made it this long with such fragile egos - you’d make it your personal mission to deflate them.

“I’m Heat, nice to meet you,” the blue-haired man said to you, extending his hand.

“Nice to make your acquaintance but your fuckface of a Captain magnetized my hands to the mast so I can’t shake your hand,” you said with an overly saccharine tone. 

“Ah, right. Well, I’ll see you around I guess?” Heat said, a faint blush rising to his cheeks.

“I’ll be here until he gets the stick out of his ass, which seems like it may never happen. Feel free to stop by,” you replied. You hoped Kid remembered to give you water to drink otherwise you’d die on his stupid ass fish ship. 

Kid’s POV

Kid was burning off steam in his workshop, welding tiny pieces of metal together to make a metal hawk. He'd felt the iron you created - it was better than almost all of the stuff on board. Creating was a great way to relieve Kid’s stress - after he’d already used the axe-throwing room and decimated the wooden target board. Kid wasn’t one to doubt his decisions but you were already a huge pain in his ass. You hadn’t been on the ship for 12 hours and he wanted to throttle you. Who the fuck did you think you were, flipping him off with his own ship? Talkin’ to him like he was some street rat in front of his crew? He didn’t like your attitude and the more he thought about your interactions, the angrier he became. He was the Captain, you worked for him, that’s all there was to it. You thought you were some tough, hot shit mercenary but Kid knew better. He’d break you and you’d regret ever fucking with him.

Killer popped his head in the workshop, the only person who could do so and keep it attached to their body.

“Dinner’s ready,” he said, hiking his thumb backward to indicate the galley. Kid put down his welding equipment, ready to destroy some food. The delicious smell wafting in from the kitchen told him it was spaghetti and meatballs, Killer’s favorite dish. A passing thought came to him as he stood up from his workbench.

“Make a plate for our guest,” he ordered, his painted mouth splitting his face wide. 

A few minutes later, after Killer prepared and gave the Captain what he asked for, Kid sauntered up to the main deck. Of course, you were exactly where he’d left you, though you’d molded yourself some kind of chair to sit on. Clever. Kid felt a raindrop on his skin - looked like a cloudy night.

“Did you finally remember humans need food and water to survive?” you mouthed off to him. Even with your high and mighty attitude, you were exactly where he left you, unable to move. Really you should be thanking him for his mercy in allowing you to open your mouth and eyelids.

“Tch. You'll survive. Humans need water every what? 4 days?”

“Oh my fucking gods. No, humans die before then. Are you - who's the doctor on the ship?” You asked, trying to look around. Kid's eye twitched with your continued sass.

“You want this food or not?” Kid grunted, holding up the plate of spaghetti while ignoring your question. You narrowed your eyes at the food but your stomach gave off a loud grumble.

“I could eat,” you said offhandedly. Kid laughed.

“Then beg me for it,” Kid sneered. Your mouth set in a way that told him your answer before you said it.

“I'd rather eat shit, Eustass,” the venom in your tone was belied by the continued growling of your stomach.

“Ah well, that's too bad,” Kid said with false sincerity. He pulled the plate back and used the fork to twirl a large amount of spaghetti onto it. Your mouth dropped open as Kid shoved it all into his own. He felt a few more raindrops on his skin but paid it no mind.

“If you feel like eating, or yanno, leaving the mast again slurp , you know what to do,” Kid said with an exaggerated shrug, already turned away with the food in his hands. You didn’t say anything but he did smile as he repulsed a wave of iron coming at him back to you. 

Your POV

It was a bitterly cold night at sea, something you were well used to. One of the many perks of being a Logia fruit user was that you didn’t feel differences in temperature as you could always turn into your iron form. Sure, it was less comfortable to stay as a solid piece of iron than laying in a bed but the benefit of being able to sleep literally anywhere outweighed a night spent with a fluffy pillow. You hadn’t lost a wink of sleep since the day you’d eaten your fruit.

Except when you were completely wet.  

And you were right now due to the raging rainstorm outside. You weren’t able to use your powers anymore and you felt like complete shit but lucky for you whatever intrinsic nature your devil fruit had given you left you still magnetized to the mast. So you were freezing to death and couldn’t make yourself immune to the cold, but also couldn’t move from where Fuckstass had left you. Your teeth were chattering together and you had lost sensation in your toes and fingers as the rain pounded you relentlessly.

The clothes you wore weren’t waterproof or meant for the cold - you had long stopped buying clothes and made your own out of finely woven iron mesh. From afar it was indistinguishable from other textiles but had the additional benefit of providing some protection against attacks. It was not, however, meant to get wet and cold and stick to your freezing body like a second skin. You were hungry, tired, wet, losing the will to live, and freezing.

If the Captain was trying to kill you, he was doing a passable job. If the rainstorm kept up and you caught a severe enough cold, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that you could die. It figured, you led a life as an infamous mercenary and what would take you out was being left out in the rain. You closed your eyes, trying to gather up the scraps of your will that remained. You had come to terms with the fact that water took away your power and ability to swim but the loss of will to live always upset you the most. Shivering as the wind whipped your hair into your face, you tried to steel yourself for the rest of the night. Morning would eventually come and hopefully, the rain would abate soon.

Kid POV

Kid was feeling a little better now that he’d tormented you over dinner. He wasn’t planning on starving you to death, he wanted your abilities for his own gain. He had touched the kind of iron you made for yourself and it was higher quality even than the steel he used for his arm. So luckily for you, he’d give you food and water or whatever after you dropped your bratty attitude. He was absorbed in making the feathers for the hawk when he felt Killer’s gaze at his back. 

“What,” Kid said, not breaking eye contact with his project.

“ ‘S raining hard out there. Coupla hours now,” Killer said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah, buckets. Cold as shit too. No big storm though. Need me on deck?” Kid was unsure where Killer was going with this but Killer never interrupted without reason.

“Squirt’s still stuck to the mast,” Killer said with a shrug.

“Fuckin’ dammit, ” Kid yelled, slamming down his blow torch onto the table. He picked up what Killer was saying - you wouldn’t be able to turn into iron and avoid the cold with all the water but also couldn’t leave where he’d put you. Killer moved out of the way as Kid stomped back up to the deck, his coat billowing behind him. 

Of course, you were right where he left you. You were huddled up as much as you could, shaking uncontrollably. You were wet and shivering and your skin looked blue - Kid almost felt bad for you. You deserved it for pissing him off too much but it was probably not good, he ultimately decided. Grunting, he demagnetized you and removed his red coat as he moved onto the deck. Walking into the rain made him feel shitty in seconds, you probably felt worse.

Kid stormed up to you, wrapped you in his coat and picked you up off the deck, carrying you over his shoulder. You didn’t protest or even say anything back to him, just hung off his shoulder like a sack of grain as water fell off you in rivulets. Killer was watching from the doorway as Kid brought you inside the ship.

“Needs a warm bath, she got too cold,” Killer supplied. Kid growled and gnashed his teeth but stomped his way over to his quarters. There was hot water in the shared bathroom but someone was already in there and you needed the bath now. Easier and faster to just get it done in his own room. He set you down on the floor, his coat now just as wet as you were. Another fucking annoyance he’d have to deal with later. After turning on the spigots in his bathroom, Kid faced you. You weren’t magnetized or anything but you weren’t moving either.

“Strip,” Kid commanded, already reaching to remove his coat from your body.

“Hh- nn-no?” you answered, your tone making it seem more like a question. You were really out of it, Kid thought. He didn’t bother asking again, just started ripping off your clothes. Normally clothes shredded without him even trying but these had a little more strength to them. Holding up one of your socks, he realized it was made of steel so fine it looked like gossamer.

“The fuck…is this chainmail?” Kid grumbled as he tore the steel. He set your clothes aside, he wanted to smelt them down later. Maybe you were worth the trouble, this was good shit.

“ ‘S not chainmail, just mesh,” you mumbled, kicking off your pants. Kid was secretly pleased you weren’t protesting him taking off your clothes. He wasn’t shy about being naked and preferred when others weren’t either. His crew had seen each other naked so many times it was almost surprising when all of them were clothed. Between the two of you, you were naked in a matter of seconds. Kid picked you up around the middle with his flesh hand, noting how light you were when you weren’t being a brat and turning yourself to metal. Kid did try to not stare at your naked body but it was challenging. Your tits were just the right size and he wanted to sink his teeth into your thighs. Kid dumped you into the bath and you hissed at the sensation, recoiling from the water. Kid rolled his eyes but didn’t remark on your pain.

“Get warm then come out,” Kid grunted, leaving his towel on top of the counter for you. Your teeth were still chattering and your body was wracked with chills as he turned to leave the bathroom. You started to lean over towards the side of the tub and Kid had to move quickly to right you again. Water overload maybe - you’d been in the rain and now the bath. Too much water wouldn’t kill you but it wouldn’t feel great either. Killer would be mad if Kid left you in the bath alone since it was maybe Kid’s fault you were in this position to begin with.

“Fuckin’ brat,” Kid huffed as he used his hands to pour the tepid water over your back and head. You still weren’t talking and your eyes kept sliding shut. After a few moments, your head dropped down to your chest as you nodded out. 

“Alright, s’enough of that,” Kid said, picking you up. Getting you warm from the bath didn’t seem to be helping, you were ragdolling as he wrapped you in his oversized towel and carried you to the bed.

“You really couldn’t be more fuckin’ irritating,” Kid said while setting you on the bed. He dried you off roughly, ignoring the way the moving towel had your tits jiggling under his hand. Drying you off quickly, he grabbed one of his shirts off the floor. It was clean enough, it wasn’t like you had open wounds or anything and would mind the oil. 

“Put this on Squirt,” Kid ordered, throwing it at you. You blinked but caught it with a hand, starting to dress yourself robotically. Kid frowned, what the fuck was wrong with you? He’d given you a bath and dried you off, weren’t you better now?

“Can make my clothes,” you muttered, lifting up your hand. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare. Do that shit tomorrow. Put my shirt on pipsqueak,” Kid yelled at you. You looked up at him like you were surprised he was still there.

“You still cold?” Kid asked, hanging up his soaking jacket on the coat rack.

“Yeah,” you said, hugging your knees with a yawn. “When the rain goes away I’ll go back outside,” you mumbled into your legs. A soft knock at the door told Kid Killer had stopped by. Opening the door, Kid saw Killer with a steaming mug of tea and a warm plate of food left over from dinner. 

“For Squirt,” Killer said pointedly. Kid rolled his eyes. He ate Mosh’s food once like a year ago and Killer never let him forget it. 

“Gave ‘er a bath. She’s being weird,” Kid huffed to Killer.

“Hypothermia, dummy. ‘S makin’ me tired and groggy and can’t kick your ass right now,” Kid heard you grouse from the bed. 

“Looks like she’s doing better,” Killer said, nodding along with your assessment. “She’s gonna crash soon. Needs a warm place and lotsa blankets to sleep under. Want me to take her to the ladies?” Killer offered, handing the food and mug over to Kid. When the ship was first built, the whole crew lived together in the bunks below deck but Emma and Quincy quickly demanded their own space. They said the men were gross, smelly, and snored too loud which wasn’t far from the truth. So Kid repurposed a stock room into the women’s quarters and they’d made the place much nicer than the men’s. Looking over, he saw you’d curled up in his bed and were already asleep under his heavy blanket. 

“Lemme know,” Killer offered before he sauntered away like the instigator he was. Kid huffed and set the food down on his nightstand. 

“Drink the tea, brat,” Kid said, shaking you with his metal arm. You groaned and rolled over, wrapping yourself up further in his blankets. You looked kind of…pathetic. Kid was sure that come the morning your sass would be back and you’d be spewing all kinds of nonsense but even he wasn’t completely heartless. Shoving you over to the side of his bed, Kid kicked off his boots and laid down next to you on the bed.

“Don’t get used to it Squirt. Tomorrow you’re back in the dog house,” Kid groused at your sleeping form. You exhaled sharply through your nose, annoyed with him even in your sleep. The feeling was mutual, Kid thought as he detached his metal arm and set it on the floor by his bed. He could sleep with it on but it wasn’t very comfortable and his stump appreciated the relief. 

He yanked some covers away from you but not that much. Kid ran warm all the time and even though it was freezing outside, tonight was no exception. He leaned back against his pillows, shoving his hand behind his head. He was pondering what the fuck he was going to do with you when he felt you roll into his side. 

“Oi, Squirt. What’re you up to?” Kid said quietly, not wanting to disrupt your sleep. Even though you were annoying as fuck, he didn’t like seeing you so out of it. He wanted you to be back to your bratty, sassy, irritating self so if you needed sleep, he’d let you have it. 

“Warm,” was all you said as you buried your cold nose into his side and frozen feet on his legs.

“Oi! Warn me before you do that again, what’re you made of ice?” 

“Not gonna happen yawn again. Just tonight. You tried to kill me s’os it’s ok,” you said into his side. You were wrapping yourself around him and it didn’t escape Kid’s notice that your unbound tits were pressed against him. He reacted as anyone else would - he got hard. 

“Didn’t try to kill you,” Kid muttered. 

“Did,” you replied, your arms wrapping around him. Kid was about to retort again but you sighed in contentment as you heated your body with his own. Whatever. Having a sexy (but pesky) woman cuddling up to him wasn’t the worst way he’d gone to bed, he thought as he fell asleep, willing his cock to do the same.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff

Satoru has never gotten into your bed gently; has never sunk into the mattress without a bounce, without jostling the plush surface with an audible oof and pulling you from the depths of sleep. Never. Not once.

And tonight is no different.

It’s an impossible task for him, it seems. Like trying to breathe underwater or pick something to watch on TV. And the worst part of it all is that you know he’s doing it on purpose. No matter how hard you may try to will yourself to sleep through it or how much you may complain when he finally settles beside you, the man is unrelenting. A pain in the ass, even at one in the morning. It’d be impressive if it wasn’t so damn annoying.

“Satoru,” you warn, though it’s not as threatening as you hope it would be. You blink over at him with heavy lids, tone dripping with exhaustion. “Must you do that every time you get into bed late?”

He has the audacity to think about it. “Mm, well I suppose I don’t have to,” he coos, voice low like he’s trying to lull you back to sleep. “But what kind of man would I be if I didn’t wake up my little sweetheart to give them a goodnight kiss when I got home?”

“A better one?”

Your eyes slip closed as if shutting them will make him disappear (or shut up). It doesn’t. Instead, it only serves to spur the sorcerer on. Now, Satoru crowds your space, wrapping you into a tight bundle and pulling you so close your nose squishes against his cheek.

He’s entirely scandalized by your rebuttal, gasping in your ear as if you’ve just told him the most offensive insult imaginable. “I can’t believe you’d say that about your dashing boyfriend.” As if to prove his point, Satoru pulls you away only to drag you back in to plant multiple exaggerated pecks against your cheek, a sappy muah sound accompanying each one.

They leave wet lip prints in their wake that you’re too tired to rub away. Eyes still closed, you furrow your brows, accepting your fate as you cuddle into the curve of his throat – right beneath his chin.

“My dashing boyfriend who can’t do anything quietly to save his life.”

“Hey,” he whines into your hair. “I can be quiet!”

“Oh yeah? Then let’s play the quiet game.”

You can feel him hum somewhere deep in his chest as he thinks it over. “What do I get if I win?”

Your limbs feel heavy as you rest your arm across his stomach, curling your hand around the hem of his shirt. You can only muster enough energy to mumble, “Winner gets breakfast in bed tomorrow.”

“Ooo, okay,” Satoru presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Be prepared to make me a huge stack of pancakes tomorrow, baby.”

“Mhm, fine. 

“With extra chocolate chips.”

“’kay.”

“And,” A hand ruffles your hair. “A lil extra love, maybe?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Without opening your eyes, you can tell there’s a retort brewing in Satoru’s, and you stop it before it has the chance to fill the air. “Quiet game starts now.”

The room immediately falls into silence, only broken by the soft sound of your combined breathing. Satoru’s warmth and the steady movement of his chest as he breathes — up, down, up, down — bring you right back to sleep’s door, as if Satoru hadn’t woken you up at all. Maybe the quiet game had been the answer this whole time. You kick yourself for not thinking of it sooner.

You nuzzle closer, nose brushing against his collar bone as you feel yourself drift off, but right before you completely fall into the clutches of exhaustion, you hear a tiny voice mumble, “Love you.”

It’s punctuated with another kiss to the crown of your head and a warm palm gliding up and down your back, and you can only bring yourself to tighten your hold on his shirt before you fall asleep.

The next morning, you awake to an empty bed and the sweet smell of pancakes and freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air.

I think that more fanfiction should be written with the aim to tackle the original meaning of hanahaki. Because when the concept of hanahaki disease was originally created, it was intended to be a metaphor for suppressing one’s feelings.

Your feelings are this beautiful garden of flora inside of your chest. When you express how you feel honestly, you allow for it to grow freely. But when you hide how you feel out of fear of rejection, and try to make it smaller and smaller, the flowers become cramped inside of you, until you choke on your own feelings. Every flower you cough up is something you’ve felt, but refused to say.

The whole “dying” thing is intended to be more symbolic especially. You’re killing off bits and pieces of yourself and how you feel, because you’re afraid to express yourself.

It’s not really supposed to be, “The one I love doesn’t love me back, and I’m dying from it.” Rather, it’s more along the lines of, “Repressing your emotions is bad for you, and it’s better and healthier to express them freely, even when it’s scary.”

Which is to say that, one, the cure for the disease should be telling the person that you are in love with how you feel. How the other person feels about the person afflicted should have nothing to do with it, as the trope is meant to be about feeling your emotions unapologetically.

And that, two, it’s not an inherently romantic trope. Obviously, it has romantic applications, but it can be written for any situation where a character is hiding how they truly feel. This can include a refusal to address a specific trauma, a desire to indulge in something that they’re ashamed of, and even really practical things, like wanting to ask one’s boss for a higher position.

Although (as an aromantic person myself) I don’t agree with this conclusion about the trope, this application would also avoid people calling it arophobic. When the thing killing the character is a refusal to be honest with themselves, rather than an unrequited love, it’s on nobody’s hands but their own to save their life.

There are a ton of ways that this interpretation of the hanahaki disease could be applied in new and interesting ways in fanfiction, and I’d love to read what things people could come up with!

Sygna parade!

Alt version!

Ok first, I need to scream:

I LOVE THE SYGNA SUITS

THE FRILLS!! THE FASHION!! THE NOD TO OLD FASHIONED TRAIN CONDUCTOR SUITS FROM 1800’S!!THE ELECTRIC LANTERNS ARE SO CLEVER!!

POKEMAS EMBRACED THE YELLOW AND PURPLE WE LOVE TO ASSOCIATE THEM WITH AND IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY!!

THE BOOTS! THE FLOWER SLEEVES! THE BLACK COLLAR SHIRT ON EMMET! THE STRIPED TIGHTS!

*ahem*

The designs fast drew my mind into marching bands so I went for this idea first ahah! At some point I watched a ton of marching band videos, they cheered me up with the exciting and very complex perfomances and the players enthusiam was so catchy!! Also watching the 1st person POVs of i.e. the trumpet and drum players are super fun ahaha! Combined with the striking costumes all this directly reminded me of submas, and now it’s a thing!!!

Tyrant of the Laundry Room

Part of the Heart Pirates X reader series: Sanctity of Sacred Space

Laundry duty was your favorite. Though your nakama couldn’t agree.

To say you quite liked laundry duty was an understatement.

Always the first to sign up, taking the worst shifts or the day with the heaviest load, never a complaint coming from you except for the crew to take care of their clothes more.

As often as you could, you’d swap laundry duty with anyone willing on the crew. It had gotten bad enough at a certain point until Law had banned anybody from swapping laundry duty with you for a month until the redness on your hands died down. After that, he had imposed a strict limitation of how many times a certain chore could be done until the rota refreshed.

The rest of the crew never quite understood your fervor for this particular chore, as to many, this was down at the bottom of the list on how much they wanted to do it, alongside dish duty. Shachi had—the third time you asked to swap with him—grabbed you by the shoulders and peered deep into your eyes through his shades to ask if you were okay. He couldn’t believe that you simply just wanted to.

But the reason was simple.

Your passion as a tailor did not just simply end at making and fixing clothes. It extended into their care and upkeep. You knew the best way to cut linen, the specific direction it needed to reduce shrinkage in the long run. You knew how to remove all manner of stains, and you meant it. Not even the discolorations on Shachi’s hat stood a chance when you got your hands on it. 

It was the first thing you chose to learn after he died, the world opening up at your fingertips without the pressure of what you had to do. Your experience with a gun meant blood often found itself at home on your things and he didn’t care enough about appearances to bother keeping things stain-free. So as an act of rebellion, the first thing you did was to learn about clothes. The seamstresses and launderers at your old village were thrilled to have a fresh face so interested in their trade, and wasted no time in teaching you everything they knew. What that man forced you to be, and what those ladies taught you, were the only relic you had of your childhood.

And laundry duty was the one chance where you got to stretch out this knowledge and allow yourself a chance to shine.

Though, that passion tended to be a bit overbearing for those who worked with you. 

“Shachi, you don’t crank the heat all the way up for those!”

Crossing the space, you shoved yourself into the redhead’s space as you fiddled with the controls on the machines.

“You’re lucky that I caught this in time, you idiot!”

“But doesn’t turning it up make them dry faster??”

“NOT LIKE THIS!” Your screech echoed through the room. “We have fragile polyester-based stuff in there! You’re going to melt them!”

“It can’t be that bad, right?!?”

“HOW ABOUT I MELT YOUR SHADES FOR YOU TO FIND OUT?!?”

The screaming echoed through even the halls, those lucky enough to escape laundry duty with you chuckling at Shachi’s misfortune. You ran laundry day with a militant fist, hunting down those who forgot their clothes with a dogged focus. It was terrifying to get in your way, and even more terrifying to be stuck working the shift with you. No matter how much you begged, Law refused to let you shoulder the burden of washing everything by yourself. It was a well-known fact by now that your standards were hellish to meet, and you did not go gentle on those who failed (save Bepo and Law).

But at the end of the day, when the Heart Pirates received their laundry back, delightfully warm and cleaner than they’ve ever been before you arrived, they were glad that their beloved tailor cared so much.

no one asked but restaurant reader has celiacs and bakugo goes WAY out of his way to make sure she has something to eat

Just finished dungeon meshi’s manga and it’s so so good ugh like i’m so sick over the themes it’s all I can think about

submissive in the way a livestock guardian dog is submissive to the sheep it kills wolves for

Sailor Moon Skylines