the-stars-in-between

Latest Posts by the-stars-in-between

hecate

Im gonna be so real can yall actually talk about ways we can support trans women in the UK instead of giving all the attention to fucking JKR. I already know that Harry Poter sucks, I wanna know how to actually HELP people. Something something you have to love the oppressed more than you hate the oppressor

Long time no see, my love🥀

I only have three modes during my finals: a raccoon that crawled out of a trash can and just learned to read, crying on public benches and the bravest girl in the world.

@bartylily-microfics | april 2 | rainstorm | 828 words | warnings: none

After the Rain

Thunder rumbled in the distance the moment Lily stepped outside the library, dark clouds stretching across the summer sky. She quickened her pace, hoping to reach the bus stop before the rain started. The ozone in the air tingled her nose in the best way possible, sky and earth intermingling in her lungs. She loved that feeling just before the storm—before the world fractured in a burst of lightning. It was like standing on the edge of a building, never leaning too far to one side or the other.

Lily had lived her whole life like this, on the verge of explosion. But she had everything perfectly under control.

Flood poured from the sky. Raindrops hit her skin as she ran to the nearest awning, pulling her jacket over her head. It was just her luck that she chose to take a tote bag today, her computer and books were going to get wet. Lily leaned against the wall of a closed cafe, watching the rainstorm unravel before her eyes.

The streets were deserted, as always in August in their town, everyone having gone on vacation. Except for—

“Fancy seeing you here, Evans.” Barty's voice was dripping with sarcasm, a smirk tugging at his lips. He ran his hand through his wet hair, strands of green-dyed hair escaping through his fingers.

Lily kinda wanted to kick him. 

“What are you doing here, Crouch? I thought you would be on the French Riviera this time of year,” Lily retorted, more out of habit than anything else.

She and Barty weren't exactly friends, rather their friends were friends (and some of them were dating depending on the week) and they had known each other since elementary school. They had some sort of unofficial academic competition and Lily hated his guts most of the time.

Lily had accompanied him to throw eggs at his father's company at the beginning of the year. Barty had brought her food every night during exam periods.

“I bailed,” Barty shrugged as he sat down next to her, pressing his shoulder against hers. “There's no place I'd rather be than here.” 

Lily's laugh caught in her throat, shivering as her wet denim jacket clung to her skin, drops of water running down the back of her neck. Her half-undone braid fell pathetically over her shoulder, and she'd caught a glimpse of her smudged eyeliner in the window earlier. 

She looked as tired as she felt, and school didn't start for another week.

“So, Lils,” Barty drawled, “what are you doing here? It's pretty dead this time of year.”

“I just wanted to be ready for the start of the year. I really need this full scholarship to go to college.” Lily replied. Two years ago, she would have rather died than admit this to Barty Crouch Jr, but if anyone could understand the crushing weight of expectations, it was him.

There was no pity, compassion, or disapproval in his eyes as he smiled at her, just understanding and amused fondness. “Looks like we'll be continuing our little date nights this year too.”

“Looks like it,” Lily said, realizing with a flutter how close Barty's face was to hers. He had a new piercing above his eyebrow. 

“I missed you this summer,” Barty said, his eyes lingering on her lips. 

Lifting her head, Lily straightened up to kiss Barty on the cheek before resting her head on his shoulder. She stared straight ahead, watching puddles form on the road, the occasional car driving through them and sending drops flying into the air, as she whispered. “Me too.”

The rain beat against the roof reassuringly and comfortingly as Barty put an arm around her shoulders. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and sticking one between his lips. His lighter flickered before lighting, the end of his cigarette igniting and Barty inhaled, throwing his head back. The tattoo on his throat stretched over his Adam's apple, disappearing beneath his white t-shirt.

“How’s your sister?” Barty asked, smoke escaping from his lips. 

“How's your father?” Lily retorted, playing with the rings on Barty's fingers.

The laughter they shared was bitter. Barty offered her his cigarette and Lily blew the smoke in his face playfully. Barty pinched her ribs and Lily doubled over, a laugh ripping out of her. 

“You should laugh more often,” Barty breathed into her ear, his lips grazing her skin.

Lily sighed contentedly, leaning into Barty's chest, a blissful smile illuminating her face. She stole the cigarette from Barty's hand again, letting it burn between her lips.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Crouch,” Lily said light-heartedly. 

"I wouldn't dare," Barty grinned lazily, tucking a strand of Lily's hair behind her ear. He flicked her dangling earring with his fingertip. “New earrings?” 

Lily shook her head affectionately, stealing another cigarette from Barty's pocket. Together they watched the rain fall and the sun rise behind the clouds, a rainbow forming above the buildings. 

But once he is gone who will I have?

tiktok / icarly / unknown / @/mothman / An Oresteia: Agamemnon, Aiskhylos / Bumble Ardy, Maurice Sendak / icarly / A Little Life, Hanya Yaragihara / The Fall Of The House Of Usher, Steven Berkoff / A living Chattel, Anton Chekhov

I've Fallen For You

“Evans, did you come to wish me luck?” James teased good-naturedly. There was only good-natured humor and genuine friendship in his voice. Mary wanted to hex him anyway. 

"Sorry, Potter," Lily retorted, breezing past him and straight to Mary. "My heart's already taken." 

And Mary had no doubt that Lily really meant it, just not in the same way Mary did. Not when Mary wanted to warm Lily's frozen skin with kisses, to lose herself in Lily's lavender shampoo for hours.

"I can't compete with that," James replied with a wink, ushering the rest of his team outside. "Try not to make my star chaser late, Lils."

"I thought I was your star chaser!" Marlene protested, not before sending Mary an amused and very pointed look. Mary should never have said anything to her, fucking best friend and fucking Sirius Black with his fancy firewhiskey.

Mary didn't bother to listen to James's answer, because Lily approached her with a small smile. A smile Lily reserved only for Mary, as if Mary were the most precious thing in the world.

“Hi,” Lily whispered into the silence of the locker room. If Mary thought she'd shut out the outside world before, she was sorely mistaken. There was only Lily left — Lily and the star-shaped scar behind her ear, Lily and the ring on her index finger she shared with Mary, Lily and the warmth of her breath against Mary’s lips. Lily, Lily, Lily. “How are you feeling?”

Mary felt as if there was no more air in the room, but she managed to answer in a low voice, like a secret between them. “Perfect now that you're here.”

There's nothing more devastating than watching a sad moment on a show and seeing how ugly you look when you cry in the middle of the night as your computer screen fades to black.

Snippet Saturday !!

This is just an excuse to show you this new paragraph in my WIP that I'm so proud of. And if all goes well, you'll be able to see the full fic tomorrow ;)

"Three swords pierced his heart as he clung to Marco like a rock in the middle of the raging ocean, the grief he had been running from for nearly two years pouring over him like oil on a fire. He cried and cried, the cracks in his facade widening with each sob, pieces of him falling to the ground like a broken vase. He would have shattered if it weren’t for Marco’s arms around him to keep him whole — to keep him afloat."

First they came for the Communists And I did not speak out Because I was not a Communist Then they came for the Socialists And I did not speak out Because I was not a Socialist Then they came for the trade unionists And I did not speak out Because I was not a trade unionist Then they came for the Jews And I did not speak out Because I was not a Jew Then they came for me And there was no one left To speak out for me

— Pastor Martin Niemöller

In regards of the Trump government scraping all trans inclusion in its queer information portion of its websites I have made this thing. Spread the word. Don't let them pretend we never existed.

P.S: Don't like! Reblog! <3

You'll Need It More Than Me (She'll Need You More Than Me)

A little something inspired by the fifth headcanon because I couldn't help myself. Love me some tragic sibling relationships.

The sense of déjà vu tasted like ash and ozone in her mouth as Athena watched Hephaestus get banished from Olympus like she had been before him. Everything was the same as last time, down to the last word spoken by the God-King. Except for the tears silently streaming down Hera's cheeks.

This time, the Queen of the Gods was devastated to see her true child leave — flesh of her flesh, blood of her blood. Athena knew that if she could, Hera would offer her own life for Hephaestus’. But goddesses could not die, Hera could not move from her place beside Zeus' throne and this was perhaps the cruelest of punishments.

(Athena would do it too, take Hephaestus' place so he could stay by Hera's side. As a family. It wasn't like there was a place for her anymore.)

Ares' rage beside her seeping into the white marble like poison made her lose her mind, made her want to take that step forward and save Hephaestus from his fate. Or maybe it wasn't Ares, maybe it was all her.

A look from Hera, full of sorrow and anger, made Athena stop in her tracks. Obviously Hera did not want her help, did not need her. Athena's eyes sharpened beneath her helmet and she placed a hand on Ares' arm to stop him from doing something even more foolishly reckless than her.

Hephaestus looked so small in Zeus' shadow, scared and fragile. Almost human. Has she ever looked this small? Not in daylight anyway.

(She had never had the opportunity to be an infant.)

(But it wasn't about her. It was never about her.)

Zeus tore Hephaestus from Hera's arms and for a moment Athena's blood froze in her veins as she thought Zeus was going to yeet him from the mountain. She took an instinctive step forward.

“I’ll do it,” All eyes turned to Athena — Zeus's savage satisfaction, Hera's cutting disappointment, and Ares's corrosive disdain — but she composed herself, keeping her head high.  “I shall take him to the mortals.”

If there had been hope between Hera and her before, it was over. Not when Athena was the hand that snatched her true child away. 

Zeus smiled. “Great idea, child-of-my-mind. Come dispose of him.”

Athena stepped forward toward Zeus and he dropped the infant into his arms without warning. She made her forearm guards disappear before he could collide with the rough metal, cradling Hephaestus as gently as possible. She felt more awkward than a newborn fawn, all sharp elbows and violent hands. 

Without a backward glance, Athena left the throne room, her wings spreading behind her as she took flight.

.

.

.

Finding a mortal family she trusted to care for Hera's son, her brother, was surprisingly not the hardest part. Parting with him was. It felt like she was tearing her chest open and ripping out her own lung. As a goddess, she didn't need to, but it hurt to breathe all the same. 

She landed in a forest, away from men and gods, and carefully brushed Hephaestus' cheek. Hephaestus grabbed her finger and babbled, so happy that Athena's heart could burst with joy.

“I'm sorry you won't know your mother,” Athena apologized softly. “She… she’s wonderful. And you deserved to know her. I'm so sorry, Heph.”

Tears fell down Hephaestus' cheek and he looked up at her with big, round eyes, full of innocence, empty of judgment. It wasn't fair that Hephaestus had to grow up without his mother. Not when Athena knew how incredible it could be.

But maybe he didn't have to. 

Hera had once promised her that she would be loved forever, perhaps Athena could pass on that promise even if it no longer applied to her. Summoning to her the necklace Hera had given her centuries ago — hidden in a pocket dimension, never on her person, never too far away — she placed it around Hephaestus' neck.

She smiled in spite of herself when she saw the iridescent colors of the little metallic peacock. She had truly trusted Hera and her promise at that time, and the necklace had continued to bring her comfort long after the rift between them had widened. 

“I hope you have a happy life,” Athena whispered as she kissed the infant's forehead. "Remember that you are so, so loved. More than you will ever know.”

When Athena left, Hephaestus clutched in his hand a peacock necklace and an owl feather.

Some Slipping through my Fingers headcanons (is it a hc if it's my story? Wouldn't lore be more accurate? Does it matter?):

Athena's first crafting-related hobby was embroidery from when Hera gave her an old project to occupy her with way back. She always kept that hobby, but she's switched to weaving more since she has her official domain to distance herself from her childhood.

Athena and Ares spent a pretty long period living in a palace with their parents before Hephaestus built their own palaces. Little Ares had a proper "Do you want to build a snowman?" phase with his older sister. Athena may or may not have soundproved her door for a while against his knocking (Mean, mean owl. XD Also peak sibling behavior)

Athena refused to settle down in Lake Tritonis for the longest time. She held onto hope that she'd be taken back to Olympus soon. She started training hard to be good enough to be allowed back, and feels extra guilty because Pallas' death gave her exactly that, though only once she didn't want it anymore.

Athena is actually not Zeus' eldest daughter, she's just the oldest he claimed. Persephone was born very very soon after the Titanomachy. (teen pregnancy go brr) and neither he nor Demeter like to talk about it.

Hephaestus has a necklace with a peacock pendant that Athena left with him when she brought him to mortal family to raise. It was the same pendant Hera gave her when she was younger to remind her she was always loved.

Aphrodite was washed up on the shore near Olympus in a shell a lá Birth of Venus. Nobody knows exactly how she ended up in the sea, not even herself.

Ares likes the smell of  olives but not the taste. (Yes he gives them to Athena)

Hera's animal form is a white peafowl (wedding dress birb fr), not a "common" female peacock. She does keep the peacock color scheme for herself tho cos it's pretty.

Post-Triton Athena only very rarely goes completely armorless outside of sleeping. That doesn't mean she always wears a full set, but she does mostly wear something on her torso at least. Something non-metal like leather would already be considered casual. 

Athena called Metis "Mama", so she would never consciously call anyone else that, even when she was younger. She got to calling Hera "Mom" tho (Hera cried a little. All her kids, bio or adopted, call her Mom btw), post-Triton, Athena calls Hera by her name. She addresses Zeus by "father", but refers to him as Zeus when speaking about him. When she feels extra like hurting herself, she'll refer to Hera as "your mother" around her siblings.

Chat, what do we think? :)

I Will Carry You On My Shoulders To The End Of The Road — Part IV: DELIGHT

Benn stumbled as the ground gave way beneath his feet.

He bounced and bounced and bounced—

The ground rippled with each jump Luffy made with a powerful and regular hum, as if the heart of the planet itself was vibrating with Benn. The trees stretched infinitely to the sky as Luffy pulled on them and tied them in a knot. Luffy took Shanks' hand and jumped high into the night followed by Shanks' laughter, picking up a star and offering it to Benn with a proud smile.

(Luffy had the same smile as a kid when he offered flowers or seashells to Makino, when he showed Shanks his new drawing.)

Benn could barely keep up with Luffy. He was laughing in his ear one second and running on the surface of the water the next. Elusive and free. Benn had never been happier.

shanks playing guitar at night, luffy asleep on his lap. the sun on his skin as the crew napped on deck. a heart beating steadily like a drum.

Dum-dum. Dum-dum. Dum-dum.

“So? What do you think?” Luffy asked, dissolving into a burst of laughter.

Luffy slowed down for a minute, grabbing Shanks and Benn's hand and jumping. Benn jumped with him, as if on the surface of a trampoline. A childish game. Shanks' eyes were filled with mirth, making them almost seem like gold in the dim light.

With a deep sigh, Shanks let himself fall backwards, his fall cushioned by the elasticity of the ground. Luffy followed him, falling in a pile on top of him. With an amused smile, Benn lay down next to them, his gaze directed towards the stars. In his hand, Luffy's "star" cooled, turning back into a pebble eternally polished by the waves.

There were tears of joy at the corners of his eyes, a sort of blissful drowsiness taking hold of him. As if he had laughed for a decade and more.

“We're proud of you, Anchor,” Shanks said softly, his hand passing over Luffy's shoulders to pull him back against him. “You’re all grown up.”

Reblog if you stand against order, civilization, and goodness itself

“I have something for you, beautiful,” Pandora said and Lily could hear the smile in her voice.

Lily straightened up and Pandora placed a flower crown on her head with a small, proud smile. Pandora's hands and Lily's flowers, the product of both their creations. Beautiful and fragile. It was Lily who had taught her how to do them when they were still friends, or pretending there wasn't something more between them.

“Pour la plus belle des fleurs,” Pandora complimented. Or at least Lily thought she did. She had no idea what Pandora had said but she loved it when she spoke French.

Grabbing the small mirror she had "borrowed" from Marlene from her jacket pocket, Lily observed the flowers in her hair. Pandora had chosen flowers that complimented the color of her hair — hyacinths, agapanthus, fuchsias and lilac. 

Lily liked what she saw in her reflection, her long red hair that framed her face, her long flowing blue skirt, the flowers that made her green eyes stand out. She looked feminine, she looked like… herself . She couldn't contain her smile of euphoria.

“I love it,” Lily said softly, touching an agapanthus with her fingertips. “Thanks Panda.”

She leaned down to kiss Pandora, her hand burying itself in Pandora's hair. She could have drowned in the softness of her skin forever. Lily smiled against Pandora's lips, an idea crossing her mind. 

“You need a crown too.”

Prince of the Pirates

An ember of anger burned fiercely in Silena's eyes and for a moment, Clarisse remembered that Aphrodite, too, was a goddess of war. Silena kissed her, almost violently, all sharp teeth and demanding lips. She ran her hand through Clarisse's short hair and pulled , dragging her against her. Possessively.

“You’re beautiful,” Silena repeated with conviction, slightly out of breath. “The most beautiful person I know.”

Hesitantly, Clarisse placed her hands on Silena's hips, stroking the fabric of her shorts with her thumb. Silena smiled. Clarisse fell in love with her a little more.

“I love you,” Clarisse said, promising , resting her forehead against Silena's and inhaling deeply, the fresh scent of the hundreds of flowers surrounding them filling her lungs.

“ Se agapó, polemistí tis kardiás mou,” Silena echoed, kissing Clarisse on the nose. 

There was not a sound in the room.

And Mikasa couldn’t sleep. Not without Sasha.

Mikasa hesitated for a second in front of Sasha's bed, her fingers brushing the covers with her fingertips — like a sinner before the doors of a cathedral. Mikasa bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, tears silently flowing down her cheeks.

(Mikasa was silent. Sasha was loud. They understood each other in the silences and in the laughter. They understood each other everywhere.)

She snuggled into the bed, curled up in the fetal position, pulling the sheets over her head until she was completely covered. (Sasha's body had been wrapped in a similar white shroud.)

Mikasa inhaled deeply, trying to control her breathing, the scent of fresh lavender hitting her hard. If she closed her eyes, she could almost convince herself that Sasha was with her, wrapping her arms around her.

I Will Carry You On My Shoulders To The End Of The Road — PART III: DREAMS

"Beckman?" Luffy asked weakly, his voice stuck in his throat.

"I'm here, kid," Beckman replied, relief relaxing his entire body. "I'm here."

Luffy clutched at Beckman’s shirt, his shaking hand clenched into a fist around the fabric and refusing to let go. Tears pricked Luffy’s eyes and his lips trembled. “I didn’t cry, I promise.”

“I saw that,” Beckman smiled, closing his arm around Luffy, enveloping him in an embrace. “But you can cry if you want to, especially if it hurts.”

“Good,” Luffy said shakily, tears streaming down his cheeks freely, “because it really hurts.”

“I know, you were very brave. How about we go back to Makino now?” Beckman asked, gently running his hand over Luffy’s back. “She’s very worried about you.”

Luffy nodded wordlessly and Beckman helped him onto his back, his head immediately coming to rest on his shoulder. Beckman set off, his stride long and steady, as Luffy wrapped his hands around his neck to keep from falling. The breeze blew gently, turning the large blades of the windmills along the path to the village.

In the distance, the sun disappeared behind the ocean horizon in a green flash, the moon already rising to take its place. For a moment, only the sound of Beckman's footsteps and Luffy's occasional sniffles broke the natural stillness of the night, a comfortable silence stretching between them. Luffy was not a silent child by any means but to those who knew how to listen, his silence spoke as much as his words.

Luffy leaned against Beckman, exhaustion seeping heavily into his bones and Beckman let him. The rock the waves came to rest on.

“Shanks is stupid,” Luffy finally said, his voice muffled by Beckman’s shirt.

Beckman chuckled, the vibrations of his laughter making Luffy laugh as well, albeit faintly. Well, it was a start. 

“Nothing new here. But you know he cares a lot about you, right?”

Beckman felt Luffy nod, and even without seeing him, he could imagine Luffy puffing his cheeks in protest.

“It’s a lot of work being the captain,” Beckman continued. “So if you can, you should forgive Shanks for being stupid sometimes.”

“Why doesn’t he want me to come with you guys?” Luffy protested in a whiny voice. “I know I can’t swim, but I’ve been learning how to fight.”

Beckman hesitated for a moment, weighing his words in his head. Luffy, through his kid’s eyes, only saw the childish stubbornness that Shanks projected. And he was right in a way, but Beckman was the one who had found Shanks after Loguetown. He knew his captain.

But Beckman had been Shanks' protector for almost a decade, and that included his secrets. It was up to Shanks to decide what he shared with whom he wanted.

"Captain has his reasons," Beckman said instead. "And maybe he'll explain them to you one day, but for now, try to tell yourself that he wants the best for you."

"It's not easy when he spends his time making fun of me," Luffy retorted petulantly, before repeating. "Shanks is stupid."

"You'll just have to show him what he's missing by becoming a better captain than him when you grow up," Beckman replied amused.

They finally reached the first houses on the edge of the village and Beckman saw Makino in the distance, sitting on the steps of the bar, waiting for them to return. Shanks was with her, his arm around her shoulders, and looked up as he felt them coming.

"I'm going to!" Luffy declared loudly, straightening up and almost falling. "I'm going to become the Pirate King!"

"That's the spirit," Beckman complimented him.

“I'm on Team Winchester now,” Meg explained, filling two shot glasses with vodka. “Or at least Team Kick-Crowley’s-ass-and-give-Sam-his-soul-back.”

“I don't buy it,” Jo retorted acidly. “You've whored yourself to Azazel and Lucifer. Why not Crowley too?”

There was a flicker of surprise in Meg's eyes, her memory of Jo probably no longer matching the woman before her. But Jo had died and been reborn, all sharp edges and broken angles. Full of anger and grief.

“Because I have morals, even for a demon,” Meg replied, brushing her fingernail across Jo's cheek. “Also, he tried to kill me. Multiple times. Call me difficult, but I don't find that very attractive in a leader. In a lover, on the other hand—”

“ You’ve tried to kill me,” Jo interrupted her, grabbing her hand in hers and twisting her wrist to keep it away from her face.

“And I'm very glad I didn't succeed,” Meg replied with a smirk, her eyes roaming over Jo’s body.

There are days when someone comments on every chapter of your WIP and it's the only thing you can think about for a week.

And of course I love writing for myself, but when you give so much time and energy (and a little tears too), seeing someone take the time to leave not just one, but sometimes several comments, on each of my chapters, it gives me the boost to write that I sometimes lack.

So thank you to everyone who has already left a comment on each of my fanfics, whether it's a long comment with each of your favorite parts, a linear analysis that would have made my high school French teacher proud, a keyboard smash, a comment in all caps because lowercase letters can't convey the message properly, or a series of emojis.

I cherish every comment I've ever received and I smile like an idiot when I get an email from ao3. Thank you for sharing a little piece of what's going on in my head with me for a moment and loving it as much as I do. I kiss you all on the forehead with love and gratitude and I hope your pillow is cold on both sides tonight..

a little comic for one of my favorite songs from the op soundtrack. and also because the ocean is so endlessly cruel in the most loving of ways, for everything she takes she gives tenfold.

conclusion: aside from the antlers, i'm really fucking close to my fantasy version, and i want to dye my hair again.

Picrew Timeeee

Irl vs Fantasy you

Open tags!

buying him time

I'm in my Parent Benn Beckman Feels Era right now, so expect a fic in the next few days with lots of fluff and also lots of angst because I'm apparently incapable of writing anything else.

Luffy nodded, looking determined, and walked towards the sea, his bare feet leaving footprints in the sand behind him. Makino straightened up, clasping her hands under her chin and watching him go with a smile on her face. She looked immeasurably proud of him, a sort of parental pride reflected on his own face. Which was odd considering he had only known the kid for a few months.

But Luffy stopped a few meters from the sea, the waves lapping at his ankles making him take a step back. Beckman's eyebrows furrowed in incomprehension and even Shanks lost his stupid smile.

"What's going on, Anchor?" Shanks called, his hands cupped around his mouth to make his voice carry. "Are you afraid of the water?"

"No!" Luffy replied, his voice quivering.

Makino stepped forward but Beckman stopped her with a hand on her arm. He joined Luffy in a few strides, tossing his weapon to Shanks and leaving his shoes behind him in the sand before crouching down next to Luffy.

Beckman had never seen Luffy cry, or maybe he had never heard him cry.

Tears silently ran down Luffy's cheeks and Beckman's heart broke like it had never done before. Luffy was a happy, loud, radiant, sunny child—almost painfully so at times.

"Hey Luffy, what's wrong?" Beckman asked softly, running his hand down Luffy's back.

Beckman wasn't soft, he was a pirate and a criminal for even longer before he set sail. He had the blood of dozens of people on his hands—sinners and saints alike. And he didn't even like kids!

And yet, he was the one who had bought the t-shirt Luffy was wearing today, navy blue and white with an anchor on the back. He had spent entire afternoons coloring with Luffy in Makino's kitchen, building huts and pirate ships with him.

Beckman didn't like kids but somehow, Luffy became his kid. And that changed everything.

Waiting for you

As a writer, receiving long comments with quotes and rambles is the best feeling in the world. There's nothing wrong with hearts, keyboard smashes or even silent readers, but the energy boost to keep writing that some of the comments I've had have given me is incomparable.

And as a reader, I often read my favourite fanfics on my laptop with two tabs open to comment my thoughts on real time. It works great for me !

BTW i see these posts all the time like "ohhh i dont know what to comment on fics.." and every response is "keysmashes! or hearts!! anything works :3" and thats GREAT!! thats helpful!!

but: consider. if u genuinely like analyzing writing.. do u know ur just allowed to go through and quote your favorite parts and ramble abt what they mean to u and the author will LOSE IT WITH HYPE?

genuinely. i felt SO WEIRD the first time i did it.. but like. holy shit authors love it. its crack for authors. the first time i did it, it was on a fic that hadnt updated in half a year, give or take, and the author made 3 updates that month BECAUSE OF MY COMMENT.

LIKE. as an author every comment is INCREDIBLE!!! but also, dont feel like your comment has to be short or otherwise ur invasive or smth!! authors ADORE long comments more than ANYTHING.

What is love you say ?

Love is my mom downloading the new Pokemon game to collect cards and trade them with my siblings as soon as the app made it possible. Love is the open invitation to my grand aunt's house with cats and chickens everywhere. Love is the lit candle and blooming flowers on my grandma's grave in the dead of the winter.

Love is a new comment on one of my stories or an update of one of my favorite fanfics. Love is rediscovering a song I listened to in middle school and still knowing every words. Love is sending each other reels saying "that reminded me of you".

Love is my sister calling me every time she sees a sunset so I can see it too. Love is eating ice cream with my brother while he complains about his teachers. Love is my mom listening to me talk about the latest book I read when it's late and we should really be sleeping. Love is my dad texting me every day during my exams to see if I'm okay or if I want to go home.

Love is taking pictures of my cousin who takes pictures of the rest of the family. Love is the picture of me and my childhood best friend that we both keep in our room even though we don't talk to each other as much anymore. Love is looking in the mirror and liking what you see for the first time in months.

Love is my friend who gives me the slice of pizza with the least amount of sand on it when we eat on the beach.

Love is my parents sharing a lemon tart every Sunday afternoon.

Love is my baby cousin sending us a letter with "i love you" written in every languages she knows.

What is love you say ? Love is waking up everyday and smiling to strangers in the street.

Love is to keep living even when it's hard because it's so worth it in the end.

“My name is Ace, nice to meet you,” Ace introduced himself, practically shouting in Buggy's ear and bowing his head slightly.

The crew bowed in turn, returning Ace's salute, who seemed pleased by their action. Buggy exchanged a look with Mom over Ace's head, where had Ace learned such manners?

Despite his angelic exterior, Buggy knew from his own experience during the first two years of Ace's life and from Mom's letters during the next two that Ace was more akin to a mud-dwelling demon.

My amazingly talented little sister made me an illustration for the new chapter of my fanfic. I wanted it to feel like the imagination bubbles that Luffy or Robin often have and she nailed the vibe perfectly.

Little Gremlin

Snippet Sunday !!

What do you mean I'm finally writing for Children of the Sea again? To celebrate, here is a little snippet from the next chapter, without the names obviously so as not to spoil anything.

Publication date is tentatively set for December 25th. A little Christmas present.

"The ties that bound them together were forged in the heat of battle, sharp and broken metal melding to create the most powerful weapon of all. A crew, a family. Through blood, sweat, and tears. To the ends of the ocean."

I love this concept so much, and the potential for angst is scrumptious. And since I was already in a writing frenzy (2000 words in 2 hours after several weeks of not writing), I decided to give it a go. So without further ado, here is my humble contribution.

Lightning streaked the night sky in thousands and the echo of thunder made the earth tremble to the very foundations of Olympus, the divine wrath of Kataibates Zeus raining down mercilessly on all beneath him. Flashes of light sporadically illuminated the crumbling white marble columns and the cracks developing deep into the hearth.

Electricity crackled viciously through the air, piercing mortal and divine alike.

The hairs on the child's forearm stood on end as she tightened her wings around herself to shield herself from the destruction of her home around her at the hand of her creator. All her most animal and ancient instincts were screaming at her to fight, to rise into the air and face her fate, her tormentor.

But she stood there frozen, her sobs wracking her body, inaudible and invisible in the chaos.

For even though she was born in an already developed form, covered with armor and a spear in her hand, ready to fight under her father's hand, she was but a child. Immortal and divine, existing outside the passage of time itself.

All-powerful and all-knowing.

A fledgling fallen from the nest.

Thrown into the light after a distorted and unknown amount of time in the darkness, both an eternity and only a few days.

Not enough time with her mother anyway.

She, who had lived many lives and none at once. She, who could be of use but was not yet. She, who was neither a child nor an adult.

She, who had no place at all.

Glaukopis Athena.

An unexpected hand had reached out to her, not the wrong hand but a different one. That of a goddess. That of a mother. A woman abused by her creator, eaten alive at birth, who had lived as long in the darkness of Kronos' womb as in the light of her own divinity. Someone who understood.

Tucked under her vibrant and colorful wing, the child had grown. Cared for and loved, oh so loved by the goddess who didn’t dare call herself her mother. The only person the child could trust.

“Athena?”

The goddess's voice cut through the lightning, thunder, and pouring rain, through the darkness that had engulfed the child. The child raised her head, her tears of fear and anguish mingling with the deluge coming from the sky.

“Athena!”

The relief in the goddess's voice was palpable, so solid and true that the rain stopped around her. The goddess knelt before the child, her knees sinking into the mud and soiling her immaculate dress.

“Oh baby, I couldn't find you anywhere.” The goddess's voice was soft and full of love, a voice that only the child heard.

Tears welled up in the child's bright eyes again, tears of joy this time, as she bit her trembling lip painfully. The one she didn't dare call her mother had come. She was not alone in the darkness.

“Little owl, can I hug you?” The goddess asked, opening her arms as an invitation to the child.

The child rushed into the arms of the goddess, hugging her waist with all the strength of her little arms and her divine nature. The goddess's arms closed around the child, protective and loving. The child melted into the embrace, the hand around her throat slowly loosening as the goddess gently ran her hand through the child's soaking wet hair, through every sensitive feather.

“I don't like being alone in the dark, Hera,” the child whispered. A secret in a place where they did not exist. A weakness confessed in a place where they were mortal.

“I know, I'm sorry,” answered the goddess, tenderly wiping the tears from the child's cheeks.

The child's eyes glowed with memories of the past, eyes gray as the storm raging around them. The eyes of her mother.

“Sometimes I'm afraid that it's all just a dream and that you're not really here. That I'm really alone in the dark,” the child revealed. The most courageous act she had committed to that date. “Or worse, that you'll leave, that you'll leave me alone.”

“Oh my child, I will never leave you,” the goddess promised. “I will always stay by your side.”

“Really?” the child asked innocently, her voice almost inaudible.

The goddess presented her little finger and intertwined it with the child's. “Promise.”

This time it was the child who hugged the goddess, wrapping her wings as best she could around the goddess. Her head buried in her protective cocoon of feathers and love, she whispered the most dangerous secret.

“I love you, Mom.”

The word burned her lips, the feeling that she was betraying the memory of her first mother still uncomfortable and heavy in her stomach.

“I love you too, Athena.”

.

.

.

Lightning streaked the night sky in thousands and the echo of thunder made the earth tremble to the deepest depths of the ocean. The sea raged with the sky, the waves titanic and destructive.

Athena curled her wings around herself, immune to the cold but still shaking. A bird unable to fly. Her cheeks were dry with tears, a notion that had been useless for decades.

The hand around her throat tightened with each clap of thunder.

The night and darkness around her had no end in sight, infinite and infinite torment, and she flinched at every flash of lightning, her body so out of her control.

She was alone.

Again.

“Liar,” she whispered to the stars so far from her.

To the mother so far from her.

I, too, sometimes dabble in the dark arts of AU making.

So here's an idea. What if Hera actually represented her domain with Athena. There's this young goddess, and let's be real, she's already traumatized by having been EATEN (Hera can relate) and Zeus is like eh. He's better with small children, and Athena's pretty grown up at least physically. She's also still pretty weak from being inside him so she can't be useful yet. Hera doesn't even know why she feels protective of her husband's child. She's always wanted kids of her own, never considered adopting or whatever, but here's a kid that doesn't have a mother anymore, that's scared and new to the world and doesn't trust anyone. And for some reason, Hera wants to be the person that she can trust.

Basically, Athena's a total momma's girl in this. She doesn't care for Zeus, why would she. He's only ever hurt her and now she's out of him, he barely acknowledges her.

Unfortunately, Poseidon is a bitch and just had to jibe Zeus about Hera and Athena being so close. So Zeus, being the paranoid ass he is, decides to send his daughter to train elsewhere... maybe far away on Earth. And ofc, nobody is allowed to disturb her training. yk, so she gets better. Athena doesn't know Hera is not allowed to visit. All she hears when she sits on the shores at night, waiting in vain, is her stepmother's words that now ring so hollow: "I will never leave you."

So yeah. That's the premise (don't be afraid to use it as a prompt, just tag me if you do, I'd love to see). I don't have a name yet, but I have some more ideas. Feel free to ask or make suggestions about this :D Edit: I have since decided to call it "Slipping through my fingers" after the Abba song)