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  1. Public Bookmark 49

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    Intentions are impossible to fully evaluate, or to ever trust. Everyone lies. What really counts is their actions. Either you do good or you don’t. Why doesn’t Meliodas understand that?

    Aka King is useless without a weapon

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    07 Aug 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    In Liones, the Seven Deadly Sins are infamous. No one would dare to mess with them if they value their lives. But it’s a big world, and sometimes people get hurt. Sometimes, being a good person just isn’t enough.

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    07 Aug 2026

  3. Public Bookmark 40

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    Standing over the body of your childhood idol is a strange thing, even if you've hated him for years now. The fact that the body belongs to your eldest brother doesn't help at all, either.

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    01 Aug 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Zoro’s hands are big, thick and knuckly and covered in calluses from his swords. He has a strong grip, too, and strong muscles because he trains them to be strong.

    None of it explains the way Luffy’s body lights up when Zoro clasps the back of his neck, like every nerve is alight and trained on the palm cupping the baby hairs at the back of his skull. His stomach knots over itself and he wants to eat everything in Sanji’s kitchen. Zoro’s skin is a little rough and sweaty from fighting and warm.

    Zoro is close, his forehead nearly butting Luffy’s and Luffy couldn’t move if he wanted to, trapped there by the closeness and the touch that makes him aware of Zoro’s skin against his in a way he’s never been before. Zoro’s eyes bore into his, digging deep into Luffy and dragging out—something, buried in the base of his spine. He feels like the earth is tilting, and freefall seems like it might be fun.

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    26 Jun 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    He keeps moving forward at a steady pace, resisting the urge to run because how fucking embarrassing would that be, running because he missed them, and as he breaks through the treeline he shouts, “Oi, oi—what took you guys so long? It's been—”

    And then he freezes, because yes, actually—something is very, very wrong.

    The Sunny is anchored just off shore, close enough to see the deck but far enough away that the crew has had to take the Mini Merry to make land. Scattered across the beach in various stages of chaos—rolling around, yelling, fighting—are his crew but not his crew, so similar and yet so, so different. They look younger, fresher, and whatthefuck there, on the deck of the Sunny just peering over the railing, he catches a flash of green—his own green hair

    “Ah, fuck,” he grunts, and then immediately turns back around because no, actually, he does not want to deal with this.

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    24 Jun 2026