This year has been tough with my health and the passing of family members and now someone who I thought was my friend has served me a 30 day eviction notice.
At 10.30pm today [April 15th 2026], without conversation or reason my housemate served me a 30 day eviction notice. This person knows I have no friends I can move in with. I can't work because I am disabled and I have no savings due to cost of living and debt from a family emergency years ago that has still affected me to this day.
The last member of my family died a week ago and her house belongs to the bank. I have nowhere to go and no one to help. I have emotional support animals that I can't be parted with and many rental places that are low enough to take me wont allow pets.
The local council has been contacted but the wait times in my town are very high due to how poor the people here are. Not many places will rent to me because I am in debt and disabled and do not work.
I'm Franky and I'm a disabled transgender man who is on his last legs and probably won't survive this. I need help and I am begging for anyone's love and support so I can at least find a place that can take my pets and me and having some money for food when forced to move.
The housemate has said they will take legal action if we have not moved in 30 days.
We've been trying very hard to find somewhere, but our disabilities, debts and my immigration status are making it very hard. Not to mention we have ESA. Many doors are being shut in our face immediately for just ONE of these things.
As each day passes more doors close & our deadline looms closer.
This year has been tough with my health and the passing of family members and now someone who I thought was my friend has served me a 30 day eviction notice.
At 10.30pm today [April 15th 2026], without conversation or reason my housemate served me a 30 day eviction notice. This person knows I have no friends I can move in with. I can't work because I am disabled and I have no savings due to cost of living and debt from a family emergency years ago that has still affected me to this day.
The last member of my family died a week ago and her house belongs to the bank. I have nowhere to go and no one to help. I have emotional support animals that I can't be parted with and many rental places that are low enough to take me wont allow pets.
The local council has been contacted but the wait times in my town are very high due to how poor the people here are. Not many places will rent to me because I am in debt and disabled and do not work.
I'm Franky and I'm a disabled transgender man who is on his last legs and probably won't survive this. I need help and I am begging for anyone's love and support so I can at least find a place that can take my pets and me and having some money for food when forced to move.
The housemate has said they will take legal action if we have not moved in 30 days.
We've been trying very hard to find somewhere, but our disabilities, debts and my immigration status are making it very hard. Not to mention we have ESA. Many doors are being shut in our face immediately for just ONE of these things.
As each day passes more doors close & our deadline looms closer.
This year has been tough with my health and the passing of family members and now someone who I thought was my friend has served me a 30 day eviction notice.
At 10.30pm today [April 15th 2026], without conversation or reason my housemate served me a 30 day eviction notice. This person knows I have no friends I can move in with. I can't work because I am disabled and I have no savings due to cost of living and debt from a family emergency years ago that has still affected me to this day.
The last member of my family died a week ago and her house belongs to the bank. I have nowhere to go and no one to help. I have emotional support animals that I can't be parted with and many rental places that are low enough to take me wont allow pets.
The local council has been contacted but the wait times in my town are very high due to how poor the people here are. Not many places will rent to me because I am in debt and disabled and do not work.
I'm Franky and I'm a disabled transgender man who is on his last legs and probably won't survive this. I need help and I am begging for anyone's love and support so I can at least find a place that can take my pets and me and having some money for food when forced to move.
The housemate has said they will take legal action if we have not moved in 30 days.
I think it's been awhile since I posted anything here, oops.
My piece for the Thatch zine!! Thatch zine was my first time being on a zine project and my first time as a headmod and seeing it all come together was amazing. If you guys wanna download the entire thing [FOR FREE] please visit here!
Thank you so much to @dee-de-winter for proofing for me and helping and slapping my hand when I use too many italics [I have learned] and just making me feel happier with my piece. This project and fic have been a learning experience <3
@the-thatch-zine
Thatch x Marco
SFW
Modern AU
Word Count: 2,666
Lights Out
Balancing the cardboard cup holder with two large coffees in one arm and battling with hunting the keys in his pocket, Marco regretted not grabbing his keys back in the car when his hands had been blissfully free. The rattling echoed in the narrow hallway, taunting him as each brush of fingertips against metal was a failed attempt in retrieving them. Marco tsked when the keys jingled around, still eluding him and he sighed, about to mutter a curse or two in frustration.
While he muttered to himself as the balancing act continued, the door in front of him opened. He ignored his struggle for a moment at the sight of Thatch’s grin, bright and beaming. Marco passed Thatch his drink, relieved from the burden of full hands.
“Careful, pineapple,” he chuckled and held the door open for Marco to step into their apartment.
“Maybe I need to stop being so thoughtful and not bring you a coffee after work again, huh? I’d have more hands to open the door with.” Marco smiled and calm washed over him; just being around Thatch made him feel lighter.
“Alright, point taken. Thanks, by the way,” Thatch said and set the coffee on the table, pulling his cup from the holder and taking a sip.
For as long as he could remember, Marco would bring coffee for Thatch. Though sometimes he’d forget the conflict in their schedules that would cause the coffee to end up sitting on the counter, cold and forgotten.
Marco pulled up a chair and flopped down, fitting his long legs under the table as he let out a sigh before grabbing his own drink and taking a swig. His eyes felt heavy as he stretched out, and he blinked before focusing on Thatch.
“Tough day?” Thatch asked, sitting across from him.
“Always, but glad to be home.”
Thatch opened his mouth to speak when his phone lit up on the table, drawing his attention, and he reached out for the little whale keychain to pull it closer. A trinket their group of friends had all gotten on a trip they took together and he watched the charm dangle for a second before unlocking the screen.
“Izou?” Marco asked, taking the opportunity to pull his phone out of his pocket and check his own notifications that had popped up.
Marco watched as Thatch slowly pulled his attention away from his own phone long enough to glance up at him. He was grinning, seemingly amused by the text on his screen.
—
Thatch saw the sly smile on Marco’s face, having probably already guessed who was sending him messages. He watched as Marco slouched in his seat, his attention drawn back to another ping on his phone.
“Sure is,” Thatch said and chuckled, finally tapping on the new notification that popped up.
Izou: Enjoying your coffee?Thatch: How did you knowIzou: Marco just finished and he always gets you a coffee, because he “loves you"’
Thatch rolled his eyes at the message, but couldn't ignore the way his heart skipped a beat at the implication that Marco—his best friend—could possibly see him in that light. They were close, sure, but one could say that about the others too, right? Maybe not as close as he and Marco, but still.
He looked up from his phone and saw how lost in typing Marco was, oblivious to the fact that he was being watched. The smile on his face, the way his eyes crinkled in amusement while he chuckled as he tapped at the screen were all too mesmerizing.
Just another little something Thatch found himself paying attention to as time went on, something he enjoyed occupying himself with. He tried not to dwell on how much of his thoughts were focused on Marco recently.
—-
Marco was deeply involved with his phone, watching the messages pop up as he leaned on his elbow on the table, too lost in his own conversation to notice his surroundings or the eyes on him.
Marco: Are you jealous?Flamin Cheetos: I wouldn’t want to come between you and Thatch, you guys are basically married, Marco.Marco: I see you fixed your predictive text Ace.Flamin Cheetos: Oh sure, change the subject to my text literally why don’t youFlamin Cheetos: illteracy* fuck off. Don’t change the subject
Marco laughed at the slew of messages filled with Ace’s usual teasing about his feelings—the ones Ace assumed he had—but did his best to change the subject. Marco was grinning as he looked up and saw Thatch smiling at him softly.
“Ace?” Thatch inquired when their eyes met.
“Yeah, being his usual self, saying me and you are basically married,” Marco replied with a snort.
“Izou’s the same,” Thatch said and stretched his legs out as he leaned back in his seat.
There was silence as the implication hung in the air, a tension slowly building between them. Was there a reason their friends teased and poked at their closeness? Was there real weight to the jokes Ace and Izou threw at them constantly?
—
They did spend a lot of time in one another's company, even aside from the whole being roommates thing and the more Thatch thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t mind the teasing accusations. Marco was compassionate, he was good-looking, and they never failed to make one another laugh or smile.
Wasn’t that already the basis of a good relationship?
Thatch would argue sometimes that it just meant they were good friends, but the more he poked and prodded at the idea of how other people interpreted his and Marco’s connection…
He was starting to think that perhaps something actually was there.
What really tugged at Thatch was the thought that he and Marco could work. He sighed inwardly, hoping his inner turmoil wasn’t showing as he drummed his fingers on the table, drawing Marco’s attention.
“Everything okay? Is there something you need to talk about?” Marco offered. His voice held enough concern to make Thatch laugh nervously as he shook his head and slapped his palms flat on the tabletop, using them to push up from his seat to avoid giving anything away.
“Just wondering what I should cook for dinner,” he lied.
Marco was still looking at him with a doubtful head tilt. If Marco wasn’t buying his reply, he didn’t show it, and didn’t ask any follow-up questions, he just seemed to drop it with a shrug as Thatch moved to the kitchen area.
Thatch couldn’t stop where his mind was wandering to, thoughts that otherwise would have sat small and shy and hidden away in the dark.
But now that seemed to be all he could think about.
He opened the fridge and stared at the rows of ingredients, trying to formulate a dinner plan and scolding himself for such ridiculous musings. He began pulling at the loose thread, unraveling it, considering the prospect of him and Marco more and more.
Trapped in deep contemplation, Thatch had unwittingly entered a staring contest with the expired milk Marco had forgotten to throw out again and nothing was really sinking in. Everything remained a low drone in the background as thoughts began emerging from their cocoons, fluttering in his head and heart the more he pried into how he actually felt about Marco.
He was about to call out to Marco to ask for some sort of hint to what he wanted for dinner, but the words never formed as the lights went out and successfully cut him off. Darkness greeted him from within the fridge and all around.
“I don’t think it’s just us, the building across is all blacked out too,” Marco answered the question Thatch hadn’t had a chance to ask yet as he entered the kitchen using the flashlight on the back of his phone.
“I admit, for a moment I did think you forgot to pay the electric bill.” He laughed and watched as Marco started to dig around in the cupboards and junk drawer trying to locate their supply of candles.
“When do I ever forget things?” Marco mumbled in response, crouching and using one hand to push things out of the way inside the cupboard.
“The milk?”
“Th—oh, you got me there,” Marco said, grabbing the box of tapered candles left over from a dinner party they’d hosted a few months ago.
Thatch pulled out a few tubs of leftovers from the last time he cooked before shutting the fridge; he guessed there was nothing they could do if there was a blackout all over, except hope the power would return soon.
But for now, leftovers it was.
Thatch had always been too proud to order takeout, preferring even cold leftovers to a greasy mess that would leave him dissatisfied.
He watched as Marco got the candles and the fancy-looking candlesticks that currently did little more than collect dust. He set them on the table and turned away to look for matches hopelessly.
Thatch rolled his eyes as he watched Marco fumble around in the junk drawer—that thing really needed a spring clean—before he pulled the lighter from his pocket to end the misery.
“Hey, here,” he called out before he dropped the lighter into Marco’s waiting hand.
Thatch went back to his task of pulling off the foil from the leftovers, all the while squinting stubbornly and using what light the moon provided through the window. He’d managed to rustle up a small feast of cold pasta and meatballs.
He retrieved plates and started to dish up the food, letting Marco work around him and setting out the candlesticks. Every flame was a meager attempt at brightening up the room, with little effect each on their own, but together they provided enough light for him to see Marco.
“Ya’know, our phones are brighter than the candles, I feel this is counterproductive?” Thatch said, grabbing cutlery and setting the table up.
“We don't have chargers we can use, you never know when we might need our phones and the flash will just drain them,” Marco replied. Even in the dim candlelight, Thatch could see the smirk on his face, showing he just knew he was right.
“Smartass.”
–
Marco laughed but said nothing as he sat down at the table where food was served. Dinner by candlelight. Oh, how romantic, Marco thought to himself which just reminded him of Ace’s teasing words as he rolled the fork between his fingers, focusing on the light reflecting off polished silver.
He clicked his tongue at such a ridiculous thought. Why was he even entertaining the notion of him and Thatch getting together based on the teasing jabs of two idiots who were very much single?
Except, he didn’t think it was just because of that. It wasn't the first time he’d considered the prospect of dating Thatch. He weighed out the pros and cons and spent too long watching Thatch move around the house, listening to him singing loudly from the bathroom every morning, and enjoying their conversations over morning coffee.
It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, maybe it would actually be the best. His thoughts had been derailed when a pop sounded from the kitchen so he glanced over his shoulder, curious before the source of the sound became obvious when Thatch joined him at the table with two glasses of wine.
“This is very quaint and intimate, isn’t it?” Marco commented as he used his fork to chase a meatball around the plate, his gaze fixed on his food and distinctly away from Thach while his feelings continued to churn away inside.
“Nothing wrong with that, right?” Thatch asked, fork poking at his own food.
It was strange, with the tense air around them when it was usually effortlessly comfortable sharing their living space. An unusual energy crackled between them, and Marco assumed it had been spurred on by too many texts and remarks from their friends. Marco shifted in his seat, Thatch’s question heavier than it was probably meant to be with something there weighing on those words.
Marco stopped staring at his meal like it had the answers to everything and looked over at Thatch, their eyes finally meeting. He hoped his smile didn’t give away his nerves as he tried to come up with an answer and no matter how much he wished his cold leftovers could provide him with one, they didn’t.
“No, I like it. I like it a lot actually.”
Even in the dim light of the candles, Marco could see Thatch’s smile growing wide, making the crow's feet around his eyes more pronounced. Marco adored them and was feeling perfectly content in the answer he’d given, enjoying the reaction he’d received in reply.
“We should have dinner like this again.” Was this pushing it? Was Marco about to ruin a friendship that had spanned years in the blink of an eye?
“If you're trying to ask me out, Marco, please tell me you mean somewhere nice and not my cooking from two nights ago,” Thatch joked.
Anticipation coursed through Marco as he considered the pros and cons again, but decided that none of the cons mattered much to him: he was willing to go for it, he was willing to push out this confession and see if Thatch would grasp it, accept it and most of all, reciprocate it.
“I don’t know, nowhere makes food as good as yours.” Marco laughed when a balled-up napkin was hurled across the table, narrowly missing him, which only added to his amusement.
–
There it was, Marco had asked him out and he couldn’t help the excited feeling that bubbled up. The confession he’d never known he’d wanted to hear. Thatch couldn’t help but feel they’d always been on the cusp of dating anyway.
“You’re such a sweet talker, aren’t you?” Thatch wanted to roll his eyes and play it off as more banter between them, but he realized with a start it had never been banter at all; it was always flirting.
“Always. Is that a yes?” Marco waited.
The grip on his fork tightened despite the relaxed expression, his posture stayed a picture of nonchalance, but the growing grasp on the cutlery was a dead giveaway. Thach realized that Marco meant it, Marco was asking him out.
“Yeah. Yeah it is. I’m off tomorrow night if that’s good for you?” he offered and Marco retrieved his phone from his pocket, looking at his work schedule.
“That works,” Marco nodded. “So who’s going to tell Ace and Izou?” he added, his smirk growing more teasing.
“Do we have to tell them? They’ll be insufferable as soon as they find out, can we just wait till after we’re married?” Thatch asked.
“I’m only asking you out to dinner, Thatch. Are you already picking out china patterns and thinking about the cake?” Marco teased.
“When do I ever take things slow?” he joked back and saw Marco nod in agreement.
He felt their feet bump under the table and he didn’t move away, instead gently rubbing his foot against Marco’s, testing the water of the newly founded relationship. Thatch was delighted when Marco didn’t even flinch, gently rubbing back with a smile on his face as the game of footsie continued.
–
The candles flickered as the two talked well into the evening while eating their cold food and drinking more wine than expected. A humble start to a relationship that both had been telling themselves wasn’t an option. The lights came on with a start and a low hum, and a wave of relief washed over the pair.
Thatch poured them another glass of wine each as they sat on the sofa together, less space between them than ever before. It felt natural how they’d slipped from friendship into something more. The only thing that surprised either of them was how this hadn’t happened sooner.
They just needed two meddling friends and a blackout.
I like the idea that logia and zoan users just don't move right sometimes. They don't move or behave or even smell like the average person.
And it makes sense because they aren't quite human anymore but it's just incredibly unsettling to most people.
Like the CGI stuff where it's really life like but something about it is just off and it's creepy.
They aren't normal and it sets off that little lizard part of the brain that senses danger.
Marco always smells like warm feathers and cedar when he walks by. He's got sharp, quick eyes that see everything. He rolls his shoulders like he's ruffling his feathers and digs his talons into the enemy and pulls like dragging a mouse of out the ground. The blood on his skin is bright red but it's dull compared to the glow of his eyes when he's falling on his prey from the sky.
Smoker smells like old smoke blown in from a distance and the wind on summer days. He's completely silent when he wants to be, shoes not even leaving the hint of a boot print in the dirt. Standing behind him feels like looking through a ghost, hazy and grey like someone is remembering him instead of actually seeing him. All the white/grey of him blends together and it's not clear how much of him would actually be there if someone reached out and touched him.
Ace smells like a bonfire, like warm pavement and humid summer nights. His body flares sometimes, along the edges like a photo burning and curling up. He moves like flames flickering, here and there like time blinked. There's almost always embers on him, usually tangled in his hair like small beads or along his skin like sand. He's beautiful at night under the stars, gold and red smouldering on his skin like personal, small constellations.
Blackbeard is unwelcoming and consuming. Standing next to him feels like sinking in the dark, deep parts of the ocean. He brings the scent of dead leaves and rotten wood with him everywhere. There's no light in his eyes, just shadows that creep out to catch what they want.
Rob Lucci is like running from the monster under the bed but your locked in the room with it. Feeling hot breath against the back of your neck even though there's nothing there and movements so smooth his clothes don't even rustle. He smells like warm fur and iron. He leaves the impression of spilt blood even though the brush of claws against skin was just paranoia.
Crocodile moves like an hour glass, every step like flipping the glass over. He doesn't so much move as he does pour into everything he does. He smells like earth and dust when he lingers. His skin just isn't right when he is still, it shifts with each movement like the ocean pressing into the shore during a storm. Sometimes it looks like part of him is sliding off but it never stops or reaches an end, and he remains whole.
