ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ— ONE PIECE ( accepting! )

Dear Iris,

I hope you will not doubt me when I say this, because so many say it and are disingenuous, but I know exactly what you mean.

I think I have spent a long time punishing myself and I still don’t know how to stop. If I could go back, I would change so many things. I would have said no. I wouldn’t have closed my eyes, not even for a second. I would take a stand against my father sooner. I would listen to Nan more often, or at least I’d try. Sometimes she scares me a little too much to even look her in the eye.

But nothing could have stopped me from writing back to you. And now that I have, now that I keep doing it, I think it’s a little bit easier to think about what’s coming next. Will you be there? Will you be with me? Most days that’s all I can think about, @abenzstern. Next, with you.

I hope you’ll keep trying anyway. Even when everything that’s behind you feels like it’s racing to catch back up. One foot forward. Then another. You’ll be ahead in no time.

being the oracle comes with certain... privileges. some people have 401(k)s. others receive dental insurance. rachel, on the other hand, gets fully functioning electronics in her fine camp abode. granted, of course, the small tv she's covered in stickers and painted yellow is connected to a dvd player so old it comes with its own will and testament. and sure, her cave can get a little damp and cold towards the end of summer, but between the mini fireplace the hephaestus kids helped set up for her and her weighted blanket, it's not too bad. not too shabby for a city girl.

❝ scott, nothing's even happening yet, ❞ she chuckles, watching as he pretends not to jump at every minor sound. ❝ blair witch isn't even that scary. it's just a bunch of people getting lost in the woods. ❞ it was also one of the only films apollo dropped off with her dvd player. beggars can't be choosers, right? ❝ if you can't handle this, how are we going to watch evil dead? that's way scarier. ❞

whenever it looks to him zoro is on his way to hurting, just a second more of thinking, POP!!, luffy bursts the bubble.

“ehhhh, i don't know.”

('inconvenient'? so cool. luffy shouldn't be fazed. it's the greatest-swordsman-to-be-duh he's awing at.)

“but i'm not gonna let you bleed out. don't worry.”

what kind of captain would he be if he did?

cool as a cucumber (or as sanji), luffy shoos zoro like a spooked land animal to sit his butt down on the wine rack, bubble gum-lengthening his arms hypnotically. keep calm. zzziiippp times two, one for each grabbing: a glittery point from the east, seaweed from the west.

that's not a mistake. he needs to chompchomp on something to distract the stress. what if this scars? west again!-- now he's got a needle and thread and zoro's sake.

as the reigning queen of bad decisions in this quadrant, christine doesn’t have a leg to stand on when she clicks her tongue disapprovingly. she’s done exactly what oswin said a hundred times. the second a relationship soured, she didn’t stop. didn’t think about what happened, or wallowed the end of something she cared about. not when that could hurt her even more. no, the second the tides shifted, christine put on her shortest dress, highest heels and went out on the prowl so her heart wouldn’t have time to warn her mind that it was time to be sad.

it's a good thing she's also the grand duchess of hypocrisy.

'the red thread' was a performance that, at its core, was about trust. all performances at the circus were, though daphne loathed that word –– circus, like she was some sort of sideshow act. what they did was so much more... beatific than swallowing fire and juggling monkeys, or whatever most people were doing these days. when isaac and her were in the air, they were more than themselves; more than human. and even as she exercised her core and shoulders, she could barely feel the effort it took sometimes, because when her fingers wrapped around isaac's forearm and he spun them both around the stage like she was the string to his kite, daphne's body became his and his became her own. it all faded into white noise that was so, so easy to tune out. her eyes locked onto his and suddenly, they were the only two people in the world.

'the red thread' was also a performance about longing, and there was no shortage of that when they were on stage. and off.

from behind the deck, cc-0 mimicked the melancholic sentiment in a series of frustrated clicks and chirps, hobbling on its tiny legs as it attempted a short and unsuccessful glide. landing in the arms of the young jedi, he could hear her soft footfalls stall behind him, her words careful but with palpable bouts of nerves. while the wide galaxy sat open like a book before him, his eyes trained on the panel and glass for an array of communications coming in and out. the corner of his mouth twitched, which was so far his only indication of amusement. ❛   you're brooding, little witch,   ❜ he said, without scolding. pushing away from the coms, he turned around to face his padawan. ❛   though i would be remiss to not say the same. merrin, you should know i would take you with me if i could.   ❜

it wasn't ordinary, to be severed this way, but the circumstances of war had disturbed the ordinary routine of things far enough that they were expected.

an adaption required quick thinking and leeway, though for young jedi acclimating to the order's business, he supposed he could not hold it against her for the upset. it reminded him, oddly, of himself, when the strict conducts of stoicism seemed lost on him entirely. the coms chimed to life just then, stirring his focus. ❛   well, here's the rendezvous point. i'll be back with feemor soon.   ❜ he tried again to catch her eye, the purring machine in her arm comforted at least. without reluctance, he pressed the tips of his fingers to her cheek, her sullen face a touch brighter under the light of a passing ring nebula. ❛   and cc-0 will stay with you, i won't hear any arguments. there is no one i trust with this ship but you.   ❜

the lares was a strange one, though kenneth infrequently had very many pleasant things to say about their company. by comparison joey was far from the noisy and frantic lot that crowded camp jupiter, some of whom were a stunted bunch mourning their former lives as legionnaires, while others patrolled the barracks and praetorium with a vivid discipline. there was the other circumstance as well: a faint but noticeable birthmark had scarred the underside of his chin, since his return from his mysterious quest. the presence of that mark, it seemed, would send those lares scrambling.

they despised a reminder of death. they feared his presence if it drew too close, for only mors had the power to vacuum them out of camp and back to the underworld, where they ought to belong. it seemed joey either felt none of it, or chose to see it for what it was: the evidence of death's touch, rather than his presence.

❛   what is it now?   ❜ the centurion, mulling over a batch of reports, had refused to take his eyes off the mound of work. still, the lares' insistence was grating, though appraisingly consistent. eventually his attention had been lulled by the ghost's persistence, at which point he turned his scowl on him and watched joey disappear through the wall. ❛   eheu … and he's off.   ❜ setting the papers down, he exited his office; around the corner, joey had led him out to the grounds behind the building of the preatoria. as legionnaires stopped and saluted, he knew it was pointless to ask them where a certain wayward lares had run off to. by guess alone, he found joey pacing — floating, but pacing — across the pavement. ❛   you ghoul, what's gotten into you today?   ❜