𝔦'𝔪 𝔨𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔩𝔞𝔡𝔢, 𝔪𝔶 𝔩𝔦𝔭𝔰 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲
➳ ꜱᴀɪɴᴛ | 31 ➳ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ➳ 18+ | ᴍᴅɴɪ

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@allsaiint
𝔦'𝔪 𝔨𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔩𝔞𝔡𝔢, 𝔪𝔶 𝔩𝔦𝔭𝔰 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲
➳ ꜱᴀɪɴᴛ | 31 ➳ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ➳ 18+ | ᴍᴅɴɪ

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modern!au benn beckman wears a flannel and paint splattered boots i don’t make the rules. he’s always worn them, but he’s never been more glad for it than the first time you run up and fit yourself under it, nosing at his side with your arms around him.
it quickly becomes a habit, so much so that he recognizes the specific look you get when you’re about to do it, and has the timing down perfectly to lift his arm and drape it around you. it’s always with a quiet chuckle and a sigh, and he obviously has to tease you about it, but he’d never tell you to stop.
the ability to say "i dont have a tiktok" in social situations makes me feel so powerful. like the general reaction is "shock, confusion, then this weird 'thats probably a good thing' response" its so fun
Sexualizing that old man is a full time job
more modern!au—
mihawk’s pet name for you comes out of nowhere— he’s really not the type to use them, but it slips in a moment of vulnerability. he freezes because that type of comfort has always been out of his reach, if he ever tried to grasp it in the first place.
he expects it to slip through his fingers now and though you’ve done nothing special, somehow you’ve cracked open the armor he wears and slipped inside to make a home for yourself without having to carve and hollow out pieces of him. he’s never had anyone fit to him instead of trying to make him into something that benefitted them.
it’s why it feels so fitting. that single word softens at the edges when it slips out against your skin under the cover of darkness; you smell like him, feel like home in his arms. he rarely sleeps and when he does, it’s poorly. it was an aggravation before he had you to occupy him, and where he used to always get up to paint because it was the only way to purge the ire or whatever dream had woken him up, now he only does sometimes.
only when he’s certain you’re deeply enough asleep that you won’t come looking for a little while. he hates making you get out of bed to search, though there’s always a bit of selfish warmth when you do inevitably knock. sometimes you lure him back to bed, and sometimes you sit in his studio with him. sometimes he has to carry you back to bed even though you insist otherwise.
those moments, where he does for you in such small ways, are how he best expresses himself. it’s why he carries you, why every painting he produces now has your faint traces of influence— why he lets you climb all over him like a godforsaken tree and lets you love on him like he an angry cat. you had said that yourself enough times.
it’s also why angel feels so natural when it finally comes out on one of his especially sleepless nights. your soft sound when he tried to escape had folded him instantly, your gentle pull around his neck coaxing him back down and into your embrace.
the brush of his lips over the shell of your ear elicited a shiver that made him do it again before he murmured, “go back to sleep, angel.”
you had stilled, as had he. it had come out with so little provocation that he almost wanted to take it back— until you lifted her hand to your lips. against his knuckles, like you knew he needed it, you just said, “i can’t sleep without you. you know that.”
as you settled again, he shifted up to kiss your temple and said, “i suppose i’ll stay then, if it means so much to you. now go to sleep.”
you did after what he suspected was a snicker, but he did, in fact, not get up at all that night.

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about to make out with you and your new theme so fast spencer omg !!! it’s so sexy just like YOU
that meme is the worst thing i’ve been subjected to you since that one pennywise thing you sent into adb
modern!au where dracule mihawk runs a quiet little out of the way used bookstore that hardly seems open half the time but it’s still fairly popular. he does book restorations with hand crafted covers if someone is willing to dole out the money for it.
everyone can tell that the store is just a hobby because how else is this recluse of a man able to afford the high end luxury car he drives? he claims good investments and yes, that’s partially true.
only a select handful of people know that mihawk a renowned artist known for his dark and melancholy pieces, always presented under an alias he keeps under tight, tight wraps to avoid the nuisance of publicity. it’s a good, cathartic way to express himself without having to bare himself to a therapist and he supposes if it brings in enough money to live comfortably then it’s a bonus. it’s not the major reason he does it though.
he’s content with his life and solitude. he has people he can call up and chat if he so desires— it’s laughably rare that he does though— but for the most part he spends his days quietly doing what he loves.
then you wander into the store with paint smudges on your fingers, dressed in soft pastels with a shy smile as you present mihawk with two rare first edition books that you want to gift to people. they’re in awful condition— some dimwit shoved them onto a shelf and left them to rot— and you ask him if they can even be salvaged.
he agrees, but it’s going to take time and care and if you want a new cover it’s going to cost—
— nothing, because you lay two covers you painted yourself beside the other two and ask if he would be willing to use them. it’s only that this friend is very special to you and to give them someone else’s work feels wrong and mihawk finds himself agreeing because you sound so hopeful and when is the last time anyone put that much work into something for him?
it fractures something, and he shakes himself free of the sudden, unwanted thought even as he tells you he’ll call if and when he’s finished. he won’t charge if he can’t complete the work, but you don’t even bat an eye before you tell him you don’t expect perfection, just for him to do his best.
that thought flickers through his mind a second time, and it sinks its hooks in before he can rid himself of it like a pesky fly.
OU MY GOD WHERE DID YOU COME FROM ITS BEEN A DECADE LMAO
"I want molly" "I want percs" well you're getting leeches
Hope this is ok to ask, if not feel free to ignore. Do you know what happened to seita? Are they still around?
i totally forgot to answer this but they jumped to writing for cod awhile ago, and aren’t really writing rn. i think their most recent blog was @/rowarn but they haven’t posted in ages. kind of like me lol

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↠ ʟᴜꜰꜰʏ/ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ ↠ word count: 4,880 ↠ warnings: smut, angst, death mentions ↠ a/n: luffy is very much outside my wheelhouse, so i hope this reads well enough. in spite of the oc, i wasn't paid for this, but the details do help make it easier to make it longer. i will take more requests, even if it doesn't say anywhere.
— /// —
When it was announced the ship had arrived at Sabaody, Anneliese took a moment before going topside to study herself in the mirror. It had been a long trip from Dawn Island, months upon months of rough seas with the occasional, brief reprieve of resupplying. It showed in the paleness of her face and the dullness in her eyes, borne of sleepless nights and seasickness even just days before their arrival at the archipelago. Upon the announcement of Ace’s death, it had been agreed that someone should go to see Luffy, if only to let him know everyone still cared enough to try. Anneliese had both offered and been elected in equal parts, as the only one left from their childhood friend group.
She had been in contact with a woman named Shakky since the decision had been made, and she had in her possession directions to a bar with a rather foreboding name located in Grove Thirteen. The Archipelago, if it had tried, could never have been more different from her home island, with its bubble bikes and the large crowds swarming the dirt streets in search of something to spend their money on. The closest Anneliese had ever seen to it was in the town center, with its cobble streets and brick front shops. The massive trees that made up each section of the archipelago were the most jarring; the entire layout of the island seemed to have been built between the trees, rather than clearing the trees to make room for the buildings.
After a run-in involving a herd of ill-mannered children not paying attention on their bubble bikes, Anneliese made it to Grove Thirteen— relatively unscathed. She had lost the limp from having her foot run over, at least.
The bar, which announced its intentions to rip its patrons off very clearly with a large sign over the door, was empty so early in the day, save an elderly man on one side of the counter and an older woman on the other.
“Well well,” the woman drawled around a curl of cigarette smoke, “a customer so early. Why do you look so scared?”
A glance up at the sign over the woman’s shoulder was answer enough; both the man and the woman laughed before she said, “That’s my special price for troublemakers, but you don’t look much like one. What can we do for you?”
“I’m looking for Shakky,” Anneliese answered, letting the door fall closed behind herself. “Is it safe to assume that’s you?”
“If it’s safe to assume you’re Luffy’s friend. Anneliese, right?”
She nodded and at last took what felt like her first proper breath since she had learned of Ace’s death. “Is he here or—?”
“Well, he’s somewhere,” the man offered, followed by, “I’m Rayleigh, by the way. Ray.”
It clicked then, why his face was so familiar. Both he and Shakky laughed at the way her jaw dropped, but Shakky only said, “He should be back here shortly. We told him someone was supposed to be arriving. You can wait here—
“Or you might be able to follow the sounds of destruction to him,” Rayleigh finished. He raised a brow as a familiar, obnoxious whoop came from outside. “Maybe not. You should know we didn’t tell him—“
what are ur rules?
i haven’t bothered making a list bc i’m not really swimming w reqs. if there’s a specific reason you want to know, you can just ask.
i also haven’t forgotten yours, i’ve just been working at it as i have time. writer’s block is a bitch, and even harder to work around bc luffy is kind of outside my wheelhouse. i have it like, half written lol.
hello! i already left a comment on ao3 but i just wanted to say that i really enjoyed "a test of faith" :) your work is amazing, so that you for sharing it
thank you so much ! it still surprises me how much people liked this story tbh lol
Are u accepting one piece request?
character dependent. i hate to be vague but i don’t want to list everything out for no real reason. mostly obnoxious characters like bartolomeo, sanji, and paulie are a no go. doflamingo is a hard pass too.
just send it and i’ll let you know !
I know it’s late as hell but your Doom fic tickles such a good part of my brain. Whether or not it’s ever finished, I’m glad I got to read it c:
contrary to the timestamp on the last chapter, i do have intentions to finish it. that is if one piece ever lets me crawl out of its cold, dead hands.
anyway, i do very much appreciate you saying this. i really did have fun writing the half-demon idea, so i’m glad other people also enjoy it <3

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hate when people are like "trust your gut! listen to your intuition!" like okay well my gut is telling me every person i lay eyes on is hunting me for sport and my intuition is saying i should find a secluded cave and live there forever so what do you suggest i do with that information
My beef with the premise behind "The Purge" is that it's not laws stopping people from killing each other in the streets - it's kinda just the default human experience to not want to hurt anyone. We succeeded as a species because we're generally decent at getting along with each other. The average, well-adjusted human has no desire to inflict undeserved harm.
We do, however, hate rules, so we'd probably still get a little wild in less harmful ways.
so all "crime" is legal for 24 hours. what are you ACTUALLY gonna do? (if multiple, pick your favorite)
enjoy and/or distribute a controlled substance
piracy or shoplifting (steal something small)
heist (steal something big)
play us the song of your people (big loud block party)
explore forbidden area (trespassing)
whip it out (public nudity baybee)
bet on the results of this poll (or other illicit gambling)
decorate or perhaps just break stuff (graffiti/vandalism)
unspeakable acts (visit mattress store and rip off all the "do not remove" tags)
⚔️ (open carry a sword or a dildo or another cool weapon)
No "none," you're a hardened criminal now. Please feel free to share more details of your heinous (victimless) acts in comments or tags 😎