Sorry if you’ve already been asked this, but when did you know you wanted to tell Efnisien’s story through FFS? What motivated you to show his redemption journey?
Hi hi anon!
Honestly I started thinking about it during the chapter where Efnisien gives the USB to Augus, and Gwyn tries to kill him, and he's just laughing-crying, while knowing that he's going to be murdered in cold-blood by Crielle as a result.
And then I just...spent about 8 months trying not to think about it, because I was certain everyone would hate the story. And then one day I started making a playlist, and then started thinking about it a bit more seriously, and decided 'fuck it' because the idea of Efnisien living a barren, empty life in Hillview, dependent on Gwyn, after his sacrifice, just didn't sit well with me.
I funnily enough did not start out planning on writing a redemption narrative. I knew none of his victims would forgive him for his actions, and that his therapist would never be like 'there there it's okay' about it. For a while I even wondered if Falling Falling Stars would have a bleak, semi-hopeful ending. Just like, 'well it's better than it was but it's still terrible.'
But Dr Gary's a really good therapist so, we ended up on a different track. :D
But yeah no, I wasn't motivated to write a redemption journey, honestly. I was just motivated to write Efnisien's story after Spoils, and then it became what it became. But initially, in those early chapters, it could have become a lot of different things, because I had no real conception of it except that I didn't want to write a redepemption narrative, heh.
Now I don't care that this is what it kind of became, but I do like that it's complex enough that if anyone said 'no way I'm not reading that, he's an abusive asshole' even Efnisien would calmly agree with them and respect their right to feel that way.
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@wolfstarmicrofic March 28 – prompt 28: Langlock – word count 549
Langlock - Causes the target’s tongue to stick to the roof of his mouth
It was well past midnight in the dorm, and it was the fourth time Sirius had tried to sneak into Remus’s bed. Peter knew that, of course. He had known since the first times Remus had kept reading the same page of a book over and over again because he kept looking at Sirius. He had known since Sirius had started looking back, blush and babble some nonsense. He had known since that Gryffindor party when he had turned around and seen them way too close and with their cheeks way too red for a chat between two friends. He had known since the number of times he had found the door to the dorm locked or had heard Sirius’s feet quietly paddle to Remus’s bed in the middle of the night. He knew, and it was fine. They would tell them officially when they were ready. James, on the other hand, didn’t know and didn’t seem to notice anything. What James did know now was just that Sirius wasn’t asleep and he had taken that as an opportunity to talk to him across the dorm.
Sirius’s feet shuffled once again across the floor.
“Pads?” James’s voice came from behind the curtains around his bed.
Sirius’s feet quickly shuffled back to his own bed.
“Yes, Prongs?”
“Do you think I should get Lily flowers for Valentine’s?”
“Didn’t you try and get her flowers for her birthday and didn’t she smack them in your face?”
“Oh. Right. Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
There was a moment of silence before Sirius’s feet padded across the room.
“Pads?”
Sirius’s feet padded immediately back.
“Yes, Prongs?”
“Do you think I should move on from her? Find someone else?”
“I mean, it could do you good.”
“But I love her.”
“That might make it hard to move on, mate.”
“Right. Thank you Pads.”
“You’re welcome.”
Another moment of silence, longer this time. Then Peter heard Sirius’s feet across the floor once more.
“Pads?”
Sirius’s feet made a hasty retreat.
“Yes, Prongs?”
“I love Lily, but it doesn’t mean I can’t find other people attractive.”
“No, I suppose it doesn’t.”
“Your brother is ridiculously attractive, Pads.”
“Merlin’s beard Prongs, if I had known kissing you as a dare would end up with you being attracted to Regulus I would never have done it!”
“Shut up, you loved it.”
“Go to sleep, Prongs.”
Another silence, and Sirius’s feet now gliding across the floor. Peter shook his head and took his wand from his bedside table, being careful to be quiet. He didn’t want Sirius to glide back to his own bed because of him. A slight shuffle from the other bed indicated that James was about to speak again.
“Langlock,” Peter whispered, pointing his wand at his friend’s shape through the curtains.
No one spoke, and Sirius’s feet finally glided across to Remus’s bed, where the curtains opened and closed in record time. Peter waited a couple of seconds then cast a sleeping spell on James. He didn’t want him to jump out of bed, panicked because he couldn’t speak, and interrupt Remus and Sirius once again. With a yawn, Peter put his wand down and settled back under the covers. One day he would tell his friends this story. Probably as part of a speech at their wedding.
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i had thoughts of a canon-adjacent Zoro (nonbeliever ambitious swordsman) and Death-God!Sanji who keep meeting because of how close to dying Zoro always gets during his fights and oops now it's a messy drabble written in between breaks at work and here ya go.
-
In all his years as the god of Death, Sanji has never seen such a stubborn, strong willed human- he’s honestly half amused every time he's brought to a wounded, bleeding Zoro. He doesn't expect him to survive that giant slash attack from the warlord, nor the myriad of injuries he collects after that- and if he feels a bit of pride every time he escapes him Death, well, no one will know.
It takes him a while to realise that, in those fleeting moments, when he's loitering and waiting around as Zoro approaches the point of no return, Zoro can see him as well. Sanji's a bit mortified at first. All this time, he's just been voicing his thoughts out loud like he always does, who knows what the reckless man overheard! It's pure force of habit, since it’s not like there’s ever someone to hear to him- his family chose this domain for him on purpose after all; they took all the great, bright, good, worshiped domains of life, war, medicine...and left him this one to punish him, break him with eons of witnessing and bearing human grief in solitude.
It's barely morning and Zoro is dripping with blood, resolutely standing against all odds in a beautiful display of absolute devotion and conviction, and Sanji feels like maybe today will be the day he takes him- that this is the end for the stubborn swordsman. He comes closer than he ever has to the man, walks right up to him, readying himself for the weight of another soul's voyage, when Zoro's lidded eyes snap up and meet his own. His fiery gaze doesn’t go straight through him, but actually settles on him. Sees him.
It's unnerving. Sanji shivers at this feeling of being perceived.
Humans usually only see him once they fully passed on, when he’s guiding them, cold hands gripping onto him, begging, crying, frightened or even sometimes full of wrath and fighting to stay by their loved ones.
“It’s you again.” His voice is weak, raspy.
Sanji doesn’t answer.
“Why're you always here for my big battles?” A pause. “You like me or somethin'?”
Confusion. Shock. Embarrassment. “You think I stalk you and show up for you battles!?”
“Sure seems like it.”
Sanji scoffs.
He can’t believe this! He wants to chew the bastard out- who the hell does he think he is? but he bites down on his words, certain that these are the man's final moments. There's no way anyone could survive such wounds- it's a miracle he's even conscious or standing.
He doesn’t want to add insult to injury.
“I’m the god of Death, you idiot.”
Oops.
“I don’t believe in gods.”
The absurdity of that statement when literally in conversation with one doesn’t escape Sanji, but he's not really there to argue.
The green-haired man continues. “So, what, you’re into me or something? Just ask me out like a normal person.”
This cocky asshole...Sanji's heated reply is cut off by Zoro’s nakama arriving on the scene in a panic. Sanji trails after them, hovering, ready for the now unconscious body's heart to stop beating at any moment- but the moment doesn't come.
Under the attention of their talented doctor, Zoro escapes him once again.
Sanji's definitely not relieved.
It's out of curiosity that he stays around a little longer. He returns from time to time to check in on the mysterious man and his recovery, still a bit unbelieving that he managed to survive such grievous, traumatic injuries and intense blood loss. By all means he should've died the instant he made contact with the red, concentrated bubble of pain and stress that Kuma expelled from his captain's body.
His friends weep and berate him when he wakes. The ginger woman who found him screams at him to “stop flirting with death” and Sanji chuckles- she doesn’t know how technically accurate that statement is.
Later, Sanji guiltily looks forward to feeling that tug from Zoro once more, that pull on his power he feels when someone is nearing his domain. He's admittedly curious to learn more about him, this idiot swordsman who can see him, hear him, and yet isn’t at all scared of him. It's so rare for humans to accept him without a hint of fear.
He doesn’t let himself dwell on that tinge of nervousness at the back of his mind- what if the next time is the time he steals him away- from his friends, his dream, his captain? What if this time he doesn’t get back up?
But he does.
And when he lingers in the cold, empty room of Kuragaina castle where the bandaged swordsman is laid to rest, content to stare at his mossy head of hair, Sanji notices something weird. From his bedside seat, he can feel the ghost of body warmth.
He tentatively leans closer, his fingers reach out, expecting to go right through Zoro's arm. They recoil, as if burned by fire, when instead they meet soft flesh.
Huh.
Zoro's eyes blearily crack open, immediately finding his hovering form.
"You're... back."
And Sanji knows something changed, that day, on Thriller Bark. He's been on this earth for a long, long time, and he knows Zoro should be dead. Unequivocally so. And yet he isn't. Whether by the sheer strength of his willpower or his fervent defiance of the gods and the laws of this universe, Zoro is still...present. Alive enough to have warm, red blood flowing through his veins and air filling his lungs. Dead enough to perceive him, touch him, feel him.
__
War brews and Sanji has a lot of work on his hands. After the carnage, he wearily returns to Kuragaina, and Zoro, sullen, heavy with guilt, asks him if it's true. Asks him if the eye of this particular storm, the man known as Ace, is truly dead.
Death has long worn away at Sanji, a constant wave beating at the his endless empathy his father called a weakness, wearing him down with each soul he takes from this world. But he's never become numb to it. He openly, lovingly feels the sorrow with every loss, with each reaping, with every last breath rasped from trembling lips. He embraces it, cherishes it for all of its bittersweet taste.
So he tells Zoro of Marineford. Of the epic battle that occurred there between Whitebeard and the marines. With each somber word he feels just a little lighter- an unfamiliar, happy feeling blooming in his chest at getting to talk to someone after what feels like a forever of solitude.
Time passes, and Sanji visits him more and more, grateful for the rare company. It'd been so long since he last was able to have a decent conversation with someone. Joke around. Banter. Flirt? They grow closer, never really voicing the...whatever it is that passes between them. Zoro eventually returns to his crew, and Sanji avoids approaching him unless he's alone. Wouldn't want people to think he's seeing things.
--
It becomes a dance. A well oiled machine. Zoro cutting down the enemies before him, Sanji right behind him and guiding his fallen foes into the afterlife. Cut after cut, his blades sing in the air, accompanied by the groans and cries of the people Sanji welcomes into his waiting arms.
After a big battle Zoro is laying in the rubble, chest heaving from the effort. Sanji sits with him, solemn. Accepting. Enjoying his company, the only company he can keep.
Zoro still hasn't admitted that gods are real, even when he sees Sanji trail after the path his bloodied swords carve out, hard at work. Even when he sees Sanji's dark, draped silhouette raise into the skies, untethered - that’s just skywalk, he says.
--
Sanji grows fearful. Shaken by the feelings, the attachment he feels for the swordsman, like a tether to this world. It makes him feel more alive than he ever has, yes. But nothing good can ever come of it, and he knows the universe isn't kind enough to give him such happiness without the promise of a subsequent fall, a return to reality soured and made worse by what came before it.
It's a dark, rainy day when Zoro corners him on the Sunny. Sanji hasn't visited him in a couple of days- not much death without opponents around.
They're at the back of the ship, obscured by the mikan trees, and Zoro's hands are bracing him against the wall, locking him in. Sanji knows he could go through the wall, but Zoro's eye has him pinned, frozen where he stands. His arms lay lifelessly by his sides.
The swordsman leans in, cups his chin, and Sanji doesn't think- his eyes flutter shut, he's open and wanting as warm, chapped lips press delicately against his. They don't need words. They know. Can feel it with every tender touch as their bodies work together to deepen the kiss. Sanji loops an arm around Zoro's neck, hand digging into his hair, while the other bunches up the fabric of his kimono to bring him ever closer. He's pressed so tightly against him that he can almost pretend the beating feeling near his chest is his own heart, can almost feel the rushing sound in his ears, the warmth seeping into his skin, up his chest, his neck, cheeks, ears.
Zoro breaks apart for air, and Sanji hears himself mirroring his pants, so enamoured with the swordsman he feels like his breath was stolen away.
"Curls." Zoro's looking at him odd, nearly awestruck, eyes flitting across his face, his body, his hands reach out to take his hands in his, lightly massaging his flesh.
A stern feminine voice rings behind them, snapping their heads to attention.
"Zoro, who the hell is this man you're kissing behind my mikan trees?!"
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