And a stranger, long ago. (Not you, honey! You, I know.)

why are you on the cross. you should be at the club

co-created with @kinemon

Trafalgar Long, everyone.

Or Tallfalgar Long

You don't like New Yawk? 🗽? Bada Bing?

no 🛩️

anotha one🛩️

name three movies that absolutely define some part of you as a person.

i need to train in a temple for 50 years bye

nvm they wanted to teach me discipline & patience instead of Hundred-Man Slaying Fist Technique so i dont care anymore

Oh damn the Catholics have joined in on the war against AI "art".

Artist's Sketch of a Swallow, Thebes, Egypt, ca. 1479-1458 B.C.

Taking the kids trick or treating in the fun neighborhood this year!

i hate people who know highways. “i’m heading south on I-65” okay man. i’m moving my rook to c2

YOU ALL ARE

Façonner Zoro/Sanji, G (a lil suggestive though) One warm and lazy afternoon soon after Thriller Bark, Sanji cuts Zoro's hair. "Sanji reaches the back of Zoro’s head, and swaps the scissors for the razor.

Obediently Zoro tilts his head forward. Sanji wonders at this. Is he usually so malleable? Is it the heat?

He begins to shave, trimming away the stray hairs that have spread in the last month or so down the back of Zoro’s neck. The muscles there shift ever so slightly under the blade – an involuntary kind of thing, like goosebumps, or a yawn. Of course Zoro has his body under control again; he’d let it slip for just a moment, and really Sanji shouldn’t be made so curious by that. Anyone would freak out a little at having their shoulders brushed by a warm hand in the heat of a ship’s kitchen, in the haze of an autumn island’s evening rocked by the swell of the open ocean."

Woah! I wrote a sequel!!

Jusqu'à la prochaine fois ('til next time) Zoro/Sanji, G During the two-year separation, Zoro grows out his hair.

Kuraigana Castle truly is very cold. Though Mihawk’s made a fair job of repairs, many of the windows and doorframes let the outside chill in easily, and Zoro’s watched dead leaves borne by drafts of wind blow down a hall or two. When he’s not training, eating, or sleeping, he spends his time wandering those halls; weaving in and out of ornately decorated sitting rooms, dusty pantries filled with bottles of wine and jars of jam and pickle, disused bedrooms draped by old white sheets, and countless libraries filled floor to ceiling with musty books, many of them crumbling. He’s begun to wonder if Mihawk has hoarding tendencies – the way Nami does with money, only for old boring things.

Yet he’s found riches here too. He’s unsure how Mihawk manages it, but there’s always a steady stream of booze and good food at the island, and those bedrooms that do see use are so comfortable that it’s a wonder he’s able to get up in the morning.

He can’t remember the last time he slept so well on land.

At night, Zoro sits in the window nook in his assigned room on the second floor, watching the island shudder and move in the wind. Sometimes he’ll see flashes of light in the forest – sparks, emanating from the crossing blades of fighting baboons.

And in the morning, dressing for the day’s training, he stares at himself in the mirror, wondering if he’ll ever recognise himself again.

His left eye damaged beyond repair, his hair curling around his ears and down the nape of his neck. It’s been a year – how long will it have grown when he sees him – them – again?