ADHD Pro Tip: Use Psychological Warfare On Yourself.

ADHD pro tip: Use psychological warfare on yourself.

For example, in order to do long tasks, like folding laundry, I put on the Mario Hat:

The main feature of the Mario hat is that my headset does not fit over it, so when The Bees™ try to put me back in front of the screen, the headset issue forces me to remember why I put the Mario hat on, and back to the task I go

As a bonus, the Mario hat is also a very clear indicator to my housemates that business is getting done, and they have learned not to distract me when I'm wearing the "goofy-ass cosplay hat"

It's not stupid if it works.

Trying out something different for the clouds~

Art by Jasmin Lai

Some monster designs!

"Zoro gets lost because he uses his red string of fate like a compass- and that's why Sanji always finds him" was one of the first things I posted and now it's real! I got three chapters and here's the first part below the cut. Click here to read it on AO3 if you prefer. each part is around 1.5k words

Zoro has always been a simple man; one of actions over words and of tangible things over what he considers trivial. It’s therefore not surprising that, in a world where certain people are bound by fate, each in their own unique way- some rumoured to share markings on their skin, some with changing eye colours, or even some who feel phantom pains from across the sea- in such a spectacular world, Zoro doesn’t really linger on the red piece of thread tied to his pinky finger. 

The red thread hasn’t ever really been a question in his mind, it just was.  

As far back as he could remember, it’s just been there, infinitely stretching Northwards, unmoving and unseen by others. Subconsciously, he taught himself to use it as a compass to navigate his home island, Shimotsuki. He never had to remember to take it with him, and it reliably was always stretching in the same direction, which was perfectly convenient with the function he’d ascribed it. His odd way of getting around easily became second nature, a habit so deeply ingrained that he barely gave a second thought to the bright cord on his hand. 

--- 

He’s about eight years old when things change. 

The first day Zoro gets lost, he thinks he might’ve missed one of the steps he memorised, jaw tight with repressed irritation at being reprimanded for his lateness to practice. 

The second time he gets lost he’s in the forest, thick trees towering over him in all directions, and when the sun starts to lower in the sky, frustration bubbles up in his chest, tight and sour, stinging his eyes, threatening to spill out as he struggles to find his way back to the dojo. They must’ve cut down some trees or something, he scoffs to himself. 

The third time he gets lost, he’s pretty certain that someone must be playing a prank on him and moved the garden shed from its usual spot. There’s no other reasonable explanation -short of the shed growing legs- seeing as he’s such a natural at getting around. 

From then on, Zoro learns to accept that he lives in a world where people mysteriously move landmarks, buildings and roads around all the time. He tries not to take it too personally, being the target of all these pranks, but he does resent the time he wastes when getting around, as its precious time he could’ve been using to be training. Training to finally beat Kuina. 

It takes him weeks to realise that maybe the string on his hand isn’t pointing in the same direction anymore. 

Once he does notice, he notes that it periodically moves around- sometimes a bit, sometimes a lot, always right when he starts getting used to it damnit and no his sense of direction is just fine thank you. After the first couple of students at the dojo get their asses handed to them for teasing him about it, adults and children alike learn not to poke fun at the glaring, directionally challenged green-haired boy, no matter how often nor absurdly he gets turn around.  

The only person that Zoro reveals his little secret to is Kuina.  

He’s eleven, still a head or two shorter than her, and they’re taking a little break from sparring, sharing some homemade onigiri her mom made her. They’re sat in a tree’s shade, a pleasant breeze cooling their overheated skin, and she asks him about his infamously atrocious spatial navigation. He denies it at first, ears heating up in embarrassment, but after a couple more bites he decides if anyone were to know, it would have to be her. His friend. His only best friend. 

The young Zoro reveals that he’s not really sure why he gets lost in the first place- he's always relied on the thread- not landmarks or maps, as he’s now learned others do- to tell up from down, but one day it just moved. His north star moved, and has kept on moving these past three years, and he still doesn’t know why, just that it’s a real bother. 

“Your... thread?” 

“Yeah.” he eagerly stuffs his mouth with more onigiri. 

Her eyebrow raises quizzically. “I don’t know what you mean by that.” 

Zoro gestures to his pinky with a tilt of his chin and a wiggle of his finger. “You know. My red string. On my pinky.” 

“Zoro, I really don’t. I don’t see anything...” She furrows her brow, thoughtful. “But mom did give me ‘the talk’ last week- maybe this has to do with your soulmate!” Sensing a certain disinterest from her junior, she goes on. “Based on the examples I’ve heard about; I’d say it’s likely that the piece of string on your finger leads to your other half.” 

Zoro shrugs lazily. “Sounds like a drag, couldn’t this just be like, my inner compass or somethin’?” 

Her eyes crinkle at that, a grin splitting her face from ear-to-ear. “What inner compass, moron? You always get lost. And aren’t you the least bit interested in the person on the other end?” She pokes him in the chest. 

“Not really, no.” Zoro tries to brush off the taunt, lips pursed and palming his neck in a nervous tick. 

“Ok, think about it this way,” Kuina calls for his attention, “Somewhere out there, on this wide, wide sea- or a faraway island, I guess, there’s someone meant for you. Your person. Your equal. Isn’t that the least bit exciting?” 

The young boy’s scowl shifts into something softer, a pout. “I... guess?” He sighs. “I honestly don’t know- all I care about is becoming the best. Right now, Kuina, you’re my goal, you’re who I’m looking to. I don’t really care about this stranger, or fate, or anything like that. I’m gonna make my own destiny.” 

Her shoulders shake as she laughs. “Why am I not surprised- Zoro, all you think about are swords and fighting. You’re hopeless. I kind of worry for whoever’s stuck with you-” 

“Hey!” his nostrils flare with indignation. “They’re lucky to have me as a soulmate! I’m gonna be so strong- the strongest- and,” he slows down, realising she’d tricked him into caring, just a tiny bit, “a-and they’ll be the happiest soulmate ever ‘cause I’ll protect them.” 

She hums in agreement, amused. “And you’ll cherish them, right?” 

“Y-yeah...whatever.” he stands up abruptly, eager to change the topic and get back to training. “But my priority is to be the greatest swordsman- and don’t you forget it! I’ll beat you tomorrow for sure!” 

- 

After Kuina’s death, thoughts of soulmates and red threads rarely ever cross his mind. 

At her funeral, he briefly wonders what’ll become of her soulmate, if she even had one, but it just brings bile to his throat. They’d never even met her- why did they even matter. They were the ones mourning her, the ones robbed of their beloved friend, daughter, rival- they were the ones left behind with a Kuina shaped hole in their chests. The bitter burn distracts from the heavy emptiness he can’t shake off, the cold wetness of grief seeping into his skin. He wholeheartedly leans into the fury, grateful for a target, a temporarily outlet for the howling tempest of emotions caused by the loss of his best friend. 

Zoro’s world zeroes in on becoming the best. Pushing himself to the limit. Sparring, training. Constant practice and meditation. After Kuina’s death, there’s no student at the dojo for him to look up to, no ever-progressing goalpost he can set as a target. If he stays, he’ll continue being a big fish in a little pond.  

Zoro leaves. 

He sails the East Blue, seeking stronger and stronger opponents, cashing in bounties to get by. The Demon of the East Blue, they start calling him. But he’s still the same boy who gets lost, the ghost of a red thread distracting his steps and getting him turned around as he travels from island to island. His odd navigating system is as familiar and mechanical as the way his muscles move when he uses his swords, so ingrained he rarely registers that he’s eyeing the thin, tightly corded rope in his peripheral vision. 

Arms tied back with a much thicker, tangible rope, body sore, throat parched and delirious from the burning sun, Zoro doesn’t have much to do in Shell Town’s military yard. For the first time in years, he lets himself contemplate the implications of what Kuina had explained to him- the implications of having a person out there meant for him. He wonders if they’ll ever meet- it seems unlikely if he died here. Which he won’t, of course. Because he’s going to be the world’s greatest swordsman, and not even death will keep him away from achieving his dream. Then- only then, will he maybe think of looking for whoever was stuck with him, he decides. It’ll be his decision. 

For now, he’ll just keep following whatever path he feels will lead him to greatness. 

And what an odd path he stumbles into. Zoro joins a pirate crew. He makes friends. They get into heaps of trouble, fighting the marines, a crazy clown, a creepy butler... Zoro is happy to test his mettle, to feel challenged once again, the rush of battle pulsing through his veins like the sweetest nectar, the comforting weight of his blades grasped in his hands and mouth. 

- 

It’s been a couple of days since they left Syrup village now, and from her spot on Merry’s bridge, Nami has been giving him weird looks. 

“Did you hit your head?” 

He huffs, miffed at being bothered during his nap. “No. Why’re you asking?” 

“You haven’t been getting lost as much lately.” she smirks when she adds, “And I’ve seen you get lost on a smaller ship than this, once.” 

His eyes roll. Fucking witch. “Dunno what you mean, my sense of direction is great.” 

“And Luffy’s a great swimmer.” 

They glare at each other for a moment. Sensing she won’t get any more info from the swordsman, Nami turns away first and sighing, returns her full attention to manning the ship’s helm. 

Truth is, the thread had barely moved since they left Usopp’s home island, always pointing in the direction the Merry was sailing- not that Zoro had noticed. This rare situation enabled him to get the hang of the ship’s layout relatively well, and he’d been enjoying how easy it’d become to move around, even though he chalked it up to personal atunement to the Straw hats’ already beloved ship. 

A few hours before they get to the Baratie, he thinks it’s a funny coincidence that the thread is pointing in the direction the Merry is going.