Welcome! This is my One Piece writing blog! Here you will find my fics, headcanons, imagines, scenarios - you name it! Please be sure to read my rules before interacting.
This blog is SFW, but there may be potentially triggering subjects and/or explicit fics posted. These will be tagged accordingly. I ask that anyone under the age of 18 not interact with those specific posts and block the tag (lemons) from tumblr.
As a special treat, I’m opening the ask box right now! I’ll close it after 5 asks. Right now I’m accepting headcanons, AUs, and scenarios!
My commissions are also open if you’d like to request a full fic from me. Thank you for reading! Please, reblog if you can and get my blog out there! I’d love to interact with you all!
I initially planned on making this when I reached 100 followers. I hit that quota long ago, but just now decided to do something for it! Remember: these are not headcanons. They are drabbles - 300+ word stories, be they oc/canon, reader/canon, or canon/canon - even platonic, or no ships at all! I will try to do as many as I can! ( ﾉ ﾟｰﾟ)ﾉ
rules.
1. Please be kind when sending in your request! Remember that I have the right to refuse any of them; if I don’t end up doing yours, please don’t feel bad.
2. If requesting an OC drabble, please make sure you can give a link or point me in the direction of an OC biography!
3. I write for any gender, sexuality, pairing (so long as it’s not between a minor (under 18) and an adult (over 18), nsfw or sfw.
4. If you would like me to write something a little darker, let me know. Or if you’d like a more fluff-centric fic, also let me know. I’m cool with either extreme.
If you’ve read the rules, then thank you! You’re good to go with those requests! One more thing; if you like my writing, it would be really kind of you to drop a donation on my ko-fi - it means a lot!
I initially planned on making this when I reached 100 followers. I hit that quota long ago, but just now decided to do something for it! Remember: these are not headcanons. They are drabbles - 300+ word stories, be they oc/canon, reader/canon, or canon/canon - even platonic, or no ships at all! I will try to do as many as I can! ( ﾉ ﾟｰﾟ)ﾉ
rules.
1. Please be kind when sending in your request! Remember that I have the right to refuse any of them; if I don’t end up doing yours, please don’t feel bad.
2. If requesting an OC drabble, please make sure you can give a link or point me in the direction of an OC biography!
3. I write for any gender, sexuality, pairing (so long as it’s not between a minor (under 18) and an adult (over 18), nsfw or sfw.
4. If you would like me to write something a little darker, let me know. Or if you’d like a more fluff-centric fic, also let me know. I’m cool with either extreme.
If you’ve read the rules, then thank you! You’re good to go with those requests! One more thing; if you like my writing, it would be really kind of you to drop a donation on my ko-fi - it means a lot!
did anyone ask for a self-indulgent Imu x Reader piece? No? Well, too bad, ‘cause that’s what I’m providing today.
scenario: you’re the newest servant at Mariejoa, and, just a few weeks ago, shortly into your new job, you come across a mysterious figure in the garden. Now they give you an offer.
requests are CLOSED, but I am still taking asks! Come talk to me about anything you’d like!
They promise you the world. It’s a bit too grand for your tastes, and promises have, you’ve regrettably come to find out, little meaning in the eternity of the skies - but you won’t say no. You can’t say no.
Their hand, so delicate and slender, untouched by the world, is inviting you in. Take it, your descendants say. Run away, says your ancestors.
Kiss it, says the God. For that it is what they are. Once, they may have been a man, but now they are beyond such trivial terms. King, Queen, God, Goddess - they are simply the ocean itself.
You listen to God, for it is all you know now. Their hand smells of lavender, tastes of peppermint. It takes all your effort not to taste their lips at that moment, to dare defy the ocean and sun and all that comes in-between, but they smile at you and you feel your heart catch in your throat.
“It is the future that is promised to us,” they whisper. It echoes in the garden. The plants sing their words back to you, a butterfly lands on their shoulder. “It is the past we must eradicate.”
Every part of you is screaming run away. And your body is right - you should run away. Forget you ever came here, forget what you saw, apply for another job outside Mariejoa. The honour of working in Pangea as a servant was nothing, nothing compared to the fear of this being.
So why do you love them so much?
You let out a shaking breath. “I’m sorry, my liege. I cannot hold a crown, no matter how insignificant.”
Their eyes widen for a moment, before narrowing down to slits. You flinch, wondering if you’ve said the wrong thing. You absolutely have, but their words are dangerous, and you are not destined to be a ruler. It was a miracle in itself that you were able to come here at all.
It was fate, miracle and karma that led you to this very garden, before this very being, all those weeks ago.
You feel their fingertips brush over your lips, reaching past your cheeks before hovering down to your collarbone. It takes all of your energy not to shudder, and even more not to shiver in excitement.
“Don’t,” they begin, their voice octaves lower than it usually is, “be so arrogant,’ they bend down, grasping your face in their hands, "to think that you are worthy of being a monarch.”
Your body is pulled towards them, from your head, and you’re too frightened to even make a sound.
“I promised you the world. I said nothing of the crown, little rabbit.”
The crown. The accursed thing that weighed so heavily on their head. Your gaze flickers to it, and don’t think they don’t notice that. Their lips curl into a sneer. How could one so beautiful make a face so ugly - but yet their ethereal qualities remain, despite their expression, and you’re reminded of marble statues. The ones that are carved in honour of deities and Gods and the heroes of the past. You wonder if they were a hero, once.
It wouldn’t surprise you if theirs was a tragedy.
“Do you understand?” they ask.
You nod, for what else can you do?
A hint of a smile graces their lips, and they let you go. You lose your balance, for a brief moment, but they’re there to catch you before you fall. Such a gentle soul, one that holds your hand and body so warmly (despite the fact that they were as cold as ice) that you forget what had just transpired for a brief moment. Just a moment.
“But I am not a monster,” they say. “I will give you a choice: stay with me, and be privy to the wonders of heaven, or go, and see the skies from the ground you mortals call home. Look upon my clouds, in a world where the people live in harmony, or be my cloud.”
My cloud. They’ve already decided they own the clouds. And now they’re giving you an ultimatum: belong to them, or look at Mariejoa from afar. You know what to say, of course.
“I’ll stay here.”
The words fall from your lips, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. As if you hadn’t meant to say it. But you did - you decided on that answer. You did not think of your home, nor your friends waiting for you in the oceans. But you did think of them, how exhilarating their touch was when their fingertips brushed over your skin, how every heartbeat you heard pound against your own rib cage was a soft melody to them.
You take on a more defiant look - because, damn it, you are not a docile little servant - and stare at them.
“But the instant you treat me as anything less than fantastic, I’m leaving you,” you say. There. You’ve got enough self-respect to say that, at least.
One of their brows rises up. “I wasn’t going to give you a throne. I said nothing about not treating you as such.”
You tilt your head. “Does that mean you’ll treat me right?”
“Oh, my rabbit,” they laugh, and it sounds like they haven’t done so in decades, “when have I ever treated my possessions wrong?”
You think to the wars and slavery and revolutions and corruption and hell that is happening to the world below.
You think it wise not to comment.
“When did I ever say I was your possession?” you bite back. This being in front of you may be a king, may be a God, but you have enough autonomy left to know what you are. If they weren’t going to make you a damn Goddess, then you’d expect at least some decency from them. “If you want me, if you love me like you claim you do, then you will treat me as an equal.”
Their hand twitches at the word love - they’d never said the word before, not to you, and certainly not to themselves. A moment passes, and you wonder if you’ve committed blasphemy. Then another moment passes, and another, and they kneel down on one knee. They bring your hand closer to their lips and, mirroring what you had done earlier, plants a kiss on the back of it.
You widen your eyes.
“Little rabbit,” they murmur, red eyes piercing through your body, “if you want to be worshipped, you have to earn it. If you want my respect, you must learn how to keep yourself from drowning.”
They told you, when you first met, when you first asked them for their name, that they were the Ocean. You think they might be as ancient.
“Have you ever worshipped anyone before?” you ask.
A pause. Something crosses over their eyes - grief. “Once.”
“Do you think you could worship again?”
Their gaze trails up your arm and to your own. They tug on your hand, lightly, gently, but enough for you to know that they want you to kneel before them, as they kneel before you. You do so, curious. They lean forward to your ear, so close you can feel their breath - cold as ice - on your skin. Goosebumps pop up on your arms, and the hairs in the back of your neck stand up.
“No one has earned that respect from me,” they whisper. “I’ve had many who’ve tried.”
“And what could one do to earn your respect?”
They think on the question for a long while, their expression stern. Finally they look up, and, with conviction, say, “nothing.”
did anyone ask for a self-indulgent Imu x Reader piece? No? Well, too bad, ‘cause that’s what I’m providing today.
scenario: you’re the newest servant at Mariejoa, and, just a few weeks ago, shortly into your new job, you come across a mysterious figure in the garden. Now they give you an offer.
requests are CLOSED, but I am still taking asks! Come talk to me about anything you’d like!
They promise you the world. It's a bit too grand for your tastes, and promises have, you've regrettably come to find out, little meaning in the eternity of the skies - but you won't say no. You can't say no.
Their hand, so delicate and slender, untouched by the world, is inviting you in. Take it, your descendants say. Run away, says your ancestors.
Kiss it, says the God. For that it is what they are. Once, they may have been a man, but now they are beyond such trivial terms. King, Queen, God, Goddess - they are simply the ocean itself.
You listen to God, for it is all you know now. Their hand smells of lavender, tastes of peppermint. It takes all your effort not to taste their lips at that moment, to dare defy the ocean and sun and all that comes in-between, but they smile at you and you feel your heart catch in your throat.
"It is the future that is promised to us," they whisper. It echoes in the garden. The plants sing their words back to you, a butterfly lands on their shoulder. "It is the past we must eradicate."
Every part of you is screaming run away. And your body is right - you should run away. Forget you ever came here, forget what you saw, apply for another job outside Mariejoa. The honour of working in Pangea as a servant was nothing, nothing compared to the fear of this being.
So why do you love them so much?
You let out a shaking breath. "I'm sorry, my liege. I cannot hold a crown, no matter how insignificant."
Their eyes widen for a moment, before narrowing down to slits. You flinch, wondering if you've said the wrong thing. You absolutely have, but their words are dangerous, and you are not destined to be a ruler. It was a miracle in itself that you were able to come here at all.
It was fate, miracle and karma that led you to this very garden, before this very being, all those weeks ago.
You feel their fingertips brush over your lips, reaching past your cheeks before hovering down to your collarbone. It takes all of your energy not to shudder, and even more not to shiver in excitement.
"Don't," they begin, their voice octaves lower than it usually is, "be so arrogant,' they bend down, grasping your face in their hands, "to think that you are worthy of being a monarch."
Your body is pulled towards them, from your head, and you're too frightened to even make a sound.
"I promised you the world. I said nothing of the crown, little rabbit."
The crown. The accursed thing that weighed so heavily on their head. Your gaze flickers to it, and don't think they don't notice that. Their lips curl into a sneer. How could one so beautiful make a face so ugly - but yet their ethereal qualities remain, despite their expression, and you're reminded of marble statues. The ones that are carved in honour of deities and Gods and the heroes of the past. You wonder if they were a hero, once.
It wouldn't surprise you if theirs was a tragedy.
"Do you understand?" they ask.
You nod, for what else can you do?
A hint of a smile graces their lips, and they let you go. You lose your balance, for a brief moment, but they're there to catch you before you fall. Such a gentle soul, one that holds your hand and body so warmly (despite the fact that they were as cold as ice) that you forget what had just transpired for a brief moment. Just a moment.
"But I am not a monster," they say. "I will give you a choice: stay with me, and be privy to the wonders of heaven, or go, and see the skies from the ground you mortals call home. Look upon my clouds, in a world where the people live in harmony, or be my cloud."
My cloud. They've already decided they own the clouds. And now they're giving you an ultimatum: belong to them, or look at Mariejoa from afar. You know what to say, of course.
"I'll stay here."
The words fall from your lips, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. As if you hadn't meant to say it. But you did - you decided on that answer. You did not think of your home, nor your friends waiting for you in the oceans. But you did think of them, how exhilarating their touch was when their fingertips brushed over your skin, how every heartbeat you heard pound against your own rib cage was a soft melody to them.
You take on a more defiant look - because, damn it, you are not a docile little servant - and stare at them.
"But the instant you treat me as anything less than fantastic, I'm leaving you," you say. There. You've got enough self-respect to say that, at least.
One of their brows rises up. "I wasn't going to give you a throne. I said nothing about not treating you as such."
You tilt your head. "Does that mean you'll treat me right?"
"Oh, my rabbit," they laugh, and it sounds like they haven't done so in decades, "when have I ever treated my possessions wrong?"
You think to the wars and slavery and revolutions and corruption and hell that is happening to the world below.
You think it wise not to comment.
“When did I ever say I was your possession?” you bite back. This being in front of you may be a king, may be a God, but you have enough autonomy left to know what you are. If they weren’t going to make you a damn Goddess, then you’d expect at least some decency from them. “If you want me, if you love me like you claim you do, then you will treat me as an equal.”
Their hand twitches at the word love - they’d never said the word before, not to you, and certainly not to themselves. A moment passes, and you wonder if you’ve committed blasphemy. Then another moment passes, and another, and they kneel down on one knee. They bring your hand closer to their lips and, mirroring what you had done earlier, plants a kiss on the back of it.
You widen your eyes.
“Little rabbit,” they murmur, red eyes piercing through your body, “if you want to be worshipped, you have to earn it. If you want my respect, you must learn how to keep yourself from drowning.”
They told you, when you first met, when you first asked them for their name, that they were the Ocean. You think they might be as ancient.
“Have you ever worshipped anyone before?” you ask.
A pause. Something crosses over their eyes - grief. “Once.”
“Do you think you could worship again?”
Their gaze trails up your arm and to your own. They tug on your hand, lightly, gently, but enough for you to know that they want you to kneel before them, as they kneel before you. You do so, curious. They lean forward to your ear, so close you can feel their breath - cold as ice - on your skin. Goosebumps pop up on your arms, and the hairs in the back of your neck stand up.
“No one has earned that respect from me,” they whisper. “I’ve had many who’ve tried.”
“And what could one do to earn your respect?”
They think on the question for a long while, their expression stern. Finally they look up, and, with conviction, say, “nothing.”
I identify as bisexual, but I am attracted to people regardless of their gender identity. I just find that I'm more comfortable with the bi label than any other label (plus, bisexual lighting is such a good trope oml).
My type in fictional characters and my type in real people are vastly different 😂 I think my type in real people is someone I can easily talk to for hours and not feel exhausted afterwards. Who I can share my interests with and who understands when I need my space and is willing to listen to me infodump about my hyperfixations. In terms of looks, I'm not really that fussed, but bonus points if they're big spoons.
18. what do you daydream about?
Writing, writing, zines, writing, One Piece, OCs - all the time! And then I don't write. I'm a professional, as you can see.
21. your biggest heartbreak?
lmao sue-e-cide/sh mention under the cut & also really personal
November 2018, had been dating this boy for about 7 months? Just finished my first year of uni, was under a lot of stress because of it and my computer breaking when I had a massive 20k word assignment left and 1 week to finish it. Got into a massive depressive spell, downward spiral, etc. Started hurting myself to get a sense of control over my life. Felt uncomfortable around certain topics/things, including a character from JJBA.
I confided in my boyfriend all of this. Told him that I was feeling like shit, that I keep thinking how I should k word myself, telling him how hard it was to just live day by day, and also could he please stop posting about these topics because they're making me uncomfortable.
December 2018, we broke up, and although I hit my lowest point then it was kinda ok for a bit afterwards? I should also mention the fact that I was really fucking in love with him, like, I was going to go to fucking America for him.
Anyway, in 2019, November - on my fucking birthday, no less - he had told the admin of the discord server we were on about what happened last year, when I had dmed him to vent (and had ASKED HIM IF HE WAS OKAY WITH THE VENTING) and got me banned from discord and cut off from like, 90% of my closest friends at the time. He essentially villainized me and painted me as the bad guy in the situation - and yeah, I could've handled some shit better, but the fact that he turned a good chunk of people against me? That he continued to post one of my triggers and made fun of it?
lmao, fuck that dude.
plus he's one of those people that was really well-liked, even to this day, so some of my current friends are like "omg [that dude]! oh his roleplaying was so good!" and I just. a) really? can u not in front of me when u KNOW the shit he pulled and b) he really wasn't that great.
I know, I know I *just* did a raffle but I had a lot of fun with it! I figured New Years’ would be a fun enough occasion to try again. <3 I will also be changing up the way I draw the winner to hopefully mix it up a bit more.
This time I will be open to SFW or NSFW for your request! Whatever your preference is. I’ll be doing an xReader with a character from One Piece!
Rules:
1. If wanting a NSFW please be 18+
2. Have DMs open
3. Must be following me (I will be checking!)
4. A Like = one entry and a Reblog = one entry, thus each person can get up to two entries
5. I reserve the right to ask you for another request if I’m uncomfortable for whatever reason
6. If you don’t respond within 24 hours of the message, I will reroll.
I will keep this open until January 1st 2022! Then raffle will close, I’ll draw a winner, and send them a DM! I hope this’ll be a fun way to start the New Year.
May you all have a happy holiday season, whatever you do! As always, my DMs/askbox is always open if you have any questions!
this work is dedicated to @marineduo for their @op-secret-santa-2021
you may also find this fic on AO3
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Okay, so maybe taking on a task so gastronomically enormous like this was lower on his list of ingenious plans, but damn it Helmeppo refused to give up. Especially not after the roast Coby had cooked for them the week before.
Yet the kitchen was on fire, the stench of burnt milk - he didn’t even know milk could burn! - wafting through the air, and chocolate powder smeared over his apron.
How the hell did Coby make it look so easy?
Helmeppo screamed in a fit of rage and slammed the tea-towel he was holding over the flames. Another hit, and another, and another, and the fire still wouldn’t go out. Alright, this was beginning to be a problem now. If Garp found out he’d set the kitchen on fire he’d react in one of two ways: either laugh until he couldn’t breath, or hit him with a fist of love. Or both.
Well he certainly wasn’t looking forward to that . Just as he began to plan his daring escape route - really, if he tried hard enough, he could probably live in the jungle - he heard a rush of footsteps and, before he could even turn around to see who would lay their eyes upon his woeful fate, a bucket of cold water was splashed onto him. And onto the fire - now doused and gone.
Helmeppo lifted his drenched hair from his face, squinting his eyes at the newcomer who had saved him.
“Oh. Hey, Tashigi,” he greeted.
Tashigi huffed, placing her hands on her hips. “Is that any way to greet the person who saved your life?”
“It was just a small thing!”
“Your eyebrows are singed.”
He looked at himself in the reflection of her glasses. “They are!”
The pair paused. Silence filled the room, until finally - a snigger. From Helmeppo. One that quickly turned to sobs as he sat down on a kitchen stool, dejected. He vaguely heard Tashigi approach him before he felt her callous hand on his back. The hand of a swordsman, he mused, one that had seen many hardships already. One would expect her hands, being so small, to be delicate, like a pianists'. But no, Tashigi was a marine, and a damn good one at that.
He looked at his own hands - once, they were delicate. Delicate and untouched, not by a father and certainly not by friends. Now they were rough, toughened by training with Coby and Garp. Toughened like he was by what he had faced. He curled his hand into a fist and uncurled it.
"Don't worry, they grow back," Tashigi said, offering up a small smile. Like she'd been in a similar situation before. Knowing how clumsy she was at times, she might've.
"'s not the eyebrows I'm worried about," Helmeppo mumbled. He gestured at the blackened stove and the burnt chocolate that covered it. "I wanted to make something nice for you guys. But I'm useless at cooking."
Tashigi left his side, approaching the stove with caution. A small pout appeared on her lips. " Oh, Helms."
"I never did this back in the East - even when I was reduced to mopping up floors, I got to eat at the cafeteria!" He ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe I should just gi-"
"Is that any way a marine should talk?" Tashigi snapped. She looked very, very crossed with him. But not in a way that made him think she was angry. It was more like - like she was concerned. "Give up? I better never hear those words from your mouth, got that?"
He felt very small under her scolding gaze. "Y-yes ma'am."
Tashigi appeared cross for another moment, before her face broke into a grin. "Glad we straightened that out. And I hope you never call me ma'am again. It makes me feel like an old woman."
“Sorry, ma - ashigi,” Helmepoo stuttered. “I just - I don’t know how to make hot cocoa.” He blushed furiously as the confession dropped out of his mouth. “I wanted to make some for us while we wrapped the presents, but… you saw what happened.”
Tashigi sighed, not out of disappointment or relief, or even pity, but in understanding. “You could’ve told me that earlier.”
“Well, I didn’t want you to do it for me, okay!” Helmeppo snapped. “I just - I’m sick of not knowing how to do the basic stuff!”
He shouldn’t have shouted at her like that. He knew that, and regretted the words the instant they escaped him. But he was tired and like a wounded animal - the wound uglying his pride. This was what he got for trying to be humble. Helmeppo bit back a sob.
“...Helms.”
Tashigi’s voice was quiet.
“Helms!”
She barked his name, and he jumped up. Glancing at her with a guilty look, he found he couldn’t avert his gaze from her.
“I’m going to teach you how to make a cocoa. No mess, no fuss.”
“But -”
“And that’s an order.” She crossed her arms, cocking a brow as if daring him to try to argue back. “We are going to make two cups and we are going to like it.”
He dropped his arms, feeling his shoulders relax. There was no point in talking back; Tashigi had made up her mind.
At least he could learn while he was at it. And - although part of him felt his snobbish pride shrivel up - he quite enjoyed that.
A trip to another kitchen in the base later, successfully hiding from a snooping Garp trying to sniff out his presents, and a narrow incident involving a mop bucket and Tashigi’s glasses, the pair were sipping on their hot chocolates, giggling at each other at the milky moustaches above their lips, savouring the marshmallow taste and the froth - and, of course, the chocolate itself.
He’d had the best experience learning under Tashigi - who knew to be stern with him. That it was best for him to learn through hard work, yet could make him crack a smile with a joke here and there. It was nothing like training under Garp, but then again, these were two completely different things he had to learn. Domestics was never his kind of thing.
When his cup was half-empty, he motioned to the presents they had for the winter solstice. “Any idea what we should start with first?”
“Garp’s,” Tashigi said instantly. “Vice Admiral Smoker would be mad if he found out we prioritised him over Garp.”
Helmeppo didn’t bother commenting that Smoker probably didn’t care.
They picked Garp’s present - a pair of boxing gloves and a belt, along with a jar of homemade honey from a sky island - and wrapped it up in paper adorned with trees and snowflakes. Tashigi, who was worried Helmeppo might not be able to tie a bow properly, tied the bow. She didn’t do a very good job.
Next was Smoker, naturally. Tashigi had gotten him a set of cigars imported from the South Blue, while Helmeppo had no idea what Smoker even liked got him a mango-flavoured cigar. If he ended up on Smoker’s shit list, somehow, he’d blame Coby.
Then came time for Coby himself.
Tashigi peered down at the present, brows raised.
Helmeppo shrugged.
“He told me he likes gardening,” he said, wrapping up the soil and flower seeds. It smelt bad , but who was Helmeppo to judge Coby’s tastes. His friend - a word that still felt foreign to him - could like whatever the hell he wanted to. Helmeppo tied the bow on this box, with curls and all. It looked… nice, surprisingly. That he could make something beautiful and neat with his hands.
They both looked at the final present that they had yet to wrap - a bicycle bell. Small, yet simple. But…
No one had seen Kuzan for weeks. Not since the incident at Punk Hazard. And they certainly weren’t about to give the bell to Borsalino or Sakazuki.
“Mind if I take it?” Helmeppo asked.
Tashigi nodded, her expression melancholic.
He shoved it in his pocket.
The pair sipped their hot cocoa some more, unable to think of what to say.
“So -”
“I was thinking -”
Helmeppo stiffened. “You go first!”
“...I was wondering if you’d like to come to a cooking class with me?” Tashigi asked. “As friends. You know. I just think we should, you know, hang out together more.” She offered him up a smile. “I think you’re fun when you’re not being a snobbish jerk.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled, though his body was soaring metaphorically through the skies. “You’re a teacher, then?”
“Oh, gosh no,” Tashigi said, shaking her head. “I’m awful at cooking. I’m learning how to.”
“But your cocoa -”
“The only thing I know how to make.” Her smile broke into a grin, and she laughed. “I’m a clumsy mess in the kitchen. I don’t measure ingredients properly and - well, my eyes.”
He swallowed, fidgeting with his fingers. “I suppose I could make time for it…”
“Gotcha.” She flicked his nose. “Knew I could get a present for you.”
Blood rose to his cheeks. “Huh?”
“Merry Christmas, Helms.”
The two mugs sat finished on the table - smelling a little burnt, but finished nonetheless.
Welcome, one and all! This is an upcoming event for the fic writers and artists of the One Piece fandom, celebrating all our original characters! In this event, two persons will partner up and create one or more pieces of art/writing featuring BOTH of their OCs.
More information and rules will come soon! For now, our ask box is open and we’re happy to take questions now. Happy sailing!
Welcome, one and all! This is an upcoming event for the fic writers and artists of the One Piece fandom, celebrating all our original characters! In this event, two persons will partner up and create one or more pieces of art/writing featuring BOTH of their OCs.
More information and rules will come soon! For now, our ask box is open and we’re happy to take questions now. Happy sailing!
Oh my gosh, it’s been so long y’all! I forgot my password and email 😭 can you imagine?
Anyways, next few months are really hectic for me - I’m in quite a few zines! But I would absolutely love to come back and write for you all. And I will - once some of these zines are done and dusted. In the meantime, if you guys wanna send me a one line prompt and a character or ship, I’ll try to write a 500 word drabble for you!
Consider this an apology for being away for so long orz
And of course, my drafts have been sitting in my inbox all this time XD
By the way, I’ve changed my online persona name - it’s now Oswin.
