IN the vast majority of his fights, rarely did an opponent decide to make a comment on his outfit, bringing a sardonic grin of amusement to Garou’s lips. This guy had no clue what he was in for. If he knew the truth as to what had happened to his shirt, just raggedy shreds and remnants left from how many days of intense battles against others? then he wouldn’t have said a single thing. It was a poor excuse of a cheap shot, one that might’ve worked on a lesser man, but the fighter didn’t take the bait. He had better ways to use his time than trying to defend being shirtless.
“ No hero, huh? I’d say otherwise! ” Roundhouse connected squarely with the guy’s arm, noting he had thrown up a block quickly – good reflexes. But already Garou could tell he’d be able to keep this man on his toes, wondering if he might win with speed or strength. Maybe both. “ You’re the one who decided to step up just for the sake of some poor bastard! If that’s not a hero, then you’re just plain stupid. ” The launched uppercut was easily dodged, the following opening taken advantage of as he launched a jab that connected squarely to the man’s jaw. A familiar sensation, bone and flesh against knuckle. It only made him stronger, those micro-cracks in his own bone strengthened later by replenished calcium, callouses formed by the skin over time.
ALREADY did he begin to piece things together – the poor aforementioned bastard’s words and now this asshole’s. Something about territory uttered from both. It seemed to be some gang bullshit.
“ Frankly, you should be thanking me! ” Garou next swung a lead uppercut meant for the man’s stomach. “ It seems I chased a rival off your turf…! ”
The more Ace is standing in front of that strange man, and the more he understands that he made a mistake. Perhaps putting his nose in someone else’s business is never a brilliant idea in the first place, but he has to defend his Pops’ frontiers, and the appearances of his supposedly regular business. Ace sighs, while he decides that he has no choice but to fight, since he’s a part of that business, and he can’t afford being trapped in jail. Decisions have been made, and Ace wouldn’t back down… Until the stranger begins to fight, and he witnesses the whole gap growing between the two of them. Massive… and completely swallowing Ace’s attempts to win.
He blocks the first salvo, but soon enough, he senses that he’s only defending himself, rather than being able to attack. The strength of the other man is beyond anything human in the first place, the swiftness of his movement, and the power of his hits each time creating more bruises on Ace’s freckled skin. “Shit…” He wipes the corner of his mouth, while his uppercut doesn’t hit anything but the void above his fist. Now, he’s at the fighter’s mercy, and the other one, of course, doesn’t give him one second to think or position himself back. “I hate… heroes!” Ace snaps, but his voice is soon to disappear in the loudest huff, his bones cracking so hard, the micro spears of pain traveling through his entire body unbearable. What the fuck is this man?
He bends down at the uppercut in his stomach, Ace trying his best to raise his fist to slam it in the man’s jawline, but he doubts he can make it. He’s literally vomiting blood at this point, his vision entirely blank, and his body trembling while his knees hit the ground. “I don’t need a guard dog here, fucking prick…” Ace whispers, still wrathful despite the pain. He raises his stare up, his tenebrous irises watching the grey-haired man with defiance. “You really got anger issues, man.” He growls, as he stands back up, and raises his closed fists. He’ll stop fighting once he’d be dead; this man is too dangerous for the sake of his family.
“Come at me.” Ace provokes, close to collapse on the ground.
heyo! it’s me again sorry
This blog will be ready in a couple of days, and in the meantime I’m preparing a bit everything here and there! I won’t be writing since I’m reshaping all my icons, and honestly… I didn’t think it would be so overwhelming to redo everything 😆 don’t mind my silence it’s quite a lot of work and I’m glad to have some holidays!
I have moved my current threads from Ace and Enel here, and draft them on this blog but I will kindly ask you to bare with me because I have 25 drafts to answer... 🙃
Don’t hesitate to tag this blog when you answer on one of our threads, I’m trying to keep tracks! Oh, also, I dropped a few very old threads here and there, especially with Enel and Mika!
Azure depths, gentle and calm, watched the reaction to the wanted poster as a small smile automatically spread over fair lips due to Ace’s outburst, which was, if he had to be honest, quite amusing. It awoke a warm feeling within the phoenix due to it making him happy to see the freckled male so bright. Sometimes, he caught glimpses of Ace being down and it didn’t settle well with the elder, but this was one of those things that, Marco knew would always make Ace cheer up.
Slender digits with ease let go, just in time as Ace took the wanted poster while he calmly leaned back against the wooden wall behind him.
“ That you did-yoi.. ”
“ I indeed did, just this morning. You got one interesting brother. “
It was a very nice bounty for someone looking so young and was undoubtedly as young as he looked.
Ace has a hard time controlling his excitement, the very fact that at least his brother is sailing on the seas, the best news he heard for a little while now. With all the events, all of his own adventure, he put aside all his prior emotions regarding Goa island and the promise he made with Luffy and Sabo. It’s a sweet sensation to see that his favorite little dumbass of a brother is already throwing a tantrum, his carefree face exposed. Ace talked about it so much… He’s chirping, his smile unable to disappear as he almost snaps the poster off the phoenix’s hands, admiring the bounty.
“Look at him, he looks so dumb! Devilish monkey with his big smile.” Ace mocks, but his eyes are betraying the pride he’s experiencing at this moment. That little minx… Would he succeed and achieve his dreams? He’s deeply stubborn after all.
“I hope you’ll meet him!” He looks back at Marco, and unconsciously presses the poster against his chest. “If I was a troublemaker for Pops, this one is far worse than me.” His smile widens, happy memories blooming in his mind. “But I’m sure I still can beat his ass.”
“That’s just assholes with their ridiculous prejudices. Nothing you should care about when it comes to what you want on your body,” Law points out, golden eyes moving between the picture of the flower and his sketch. “Most of my tattoos are heart themed, a concept that has some effeminate connotations to it. Not that I cared. I knew what I wanted and what they meant to me. That was what mattered.”
He does pause, pencil rising from the page and lowering enough for Ace to get a glimpse of a rather accurate rough sketch of an open hibiscus flower. A smirk touches the Hearts Captain’s face, Law remembering something amusing. When he got his shoulder tattoos he was on an island he’d never been to before. The first artist he found there made an insulting comment about the heart motifs he wanted on his skin. Law proceeded to give him a very personal and intimate anatomy lesson on how powerful he human heart is.
“Didn’t stop me from mutilating a man for insulting them though,” he adds, gaze going back to the drawing and a sense of self-satisfied pride settling over him.
Law listens intently to what Ace wants, even the reasoning he gives. He wasn’t searching for that information, not needing it to create the design, but he takes it all in anyway. It tells him this is important to him, that the flower represents someone in his life. Whoever this woman was she did something life changing for him, something he values. Law understands that. Almost all his own tattoos are to commemorate someone just as important to him.
“And the chains?” he asks, writing a capital R inside the sketch of the hibiscus. He thickens some of the lines of the flower, making the border darker but keeping the realistic imagery. “Are they trapping the flower or is the flower breaking free of them?”
Law is right, of course. Ace is aware there’s no need to be actually unhappy with feminine attributes or drawings for a tattoo, and he made mostly a joke about the flowers, quite aware that he wishes to wear them no matter the remarks. He’s strong enough to make them all swallow their teeth if they ever get under his nerves. Tenebrous eyes attentive, he offers a smile to the story depicted by Law. “You and I pretty much know that there are always assholes on the seas to spoil the fun.” He approves, and hums. “However, I never thought that someone would mock your hearts. I don’t know your story, but I do believe there’s something behind the symbol you picked, and not only because you’re a surgeon.”
It’s true that Ace thought about it multiple times. Even if he seems a bit dumb sometimes, he’s perfectly able to recognize some pirates’ banner, operating as the second commander of Whitebeard. Law’s jolly roger is familiar and yet different from what he saw in the past, since Whitebeard has been using his connections all over the world to find his medicine. He wonders if, at any point, Law is not openly mocking Doflamingo’s brand, yet Ace senses that it’s not his place to question the captain about it. Not everyone wishes to talk about their grieves nor their affiliation, and he’s definitely the first one to understand that someone shall live with his secrets. After all, Law didn’t try to understand why he picked the hibiscus flower in the first place.
“Ah, I was almost disappointed the story didn’t end in something bloody!” He huffs and laughs, the pride smile over Law’s lips quite noticeable. His attention drifts back onto the drawing, and Ace can’t help but bend over the notebook, amazed. “Shit, you really can draw, Law.” He compliments with a whistling, ignoring the wrench those flowers provoke inside of his guts. Though, he’s quick to pause while Law is requesting how the chains would treat the flowers in the drawing, or if the plants would have their own effects upon the metal. Again, there’s a glimpse of his real emotions gleaming in the back of his irises.
“The flowers are breaking the chains.” He nods, and eventually peeks again at the drawing, quite content with the upcoming results. He almost flinches to the R written on the canvas, but he’s soon to remember that he specified to Law he wanted the flower to be red. His eyes drift up on Law’s face before a sly smirk appears at the corner of his mouth. “I hope you won’t charge me for the drawing like you charged those who mocked your own tattoos… I just remember I got nothing to pay you.”
THIS BLOG WILL NOW BE USED AS MY MULTI BLOG FOR ALL OF MY MUSES. I WILL CHANGE THE URL AND MAKE AN ANNOUNCEMENT A BIT EVERYWHERE BEFORE MOVING ALL MY MUSES AND THREADS HERE
I’m going to add my characters from:
ENEL : @godlivesonthemoon
ACE : @akaishinju
and another OC I’m working on! This blog will be under construction in the next few days! ❤️
would them just agreeing to pretend to have never seen one another be enough for this terrible situation to end? out of everyone for this accomplished pirate to run into on the base, it seemed truly unfair that it had to be himself, the universe throwing ridiculous challenges during one of the largest cons he had ever attempted. not that ace needed to know – junpei was just desperate to keep his cover as intact as his safety. careful green eyes watched the other peer out the door before facing him once more, urging him to relax, wearing a wide smile even though he could sense the other’s nervousness at being stuck here not wanting to be caught. to be fair, the conman was nervous too.
surprised caused watering eyes to open wide as he felt warm hands upon his face, thumbs wiping at his cheeks as the pirate continued to urge him to calm down, wanting him to stop crying. he felt… perhaps a little too scared and uncertain with this new variable to do so, sniffling as he shut his eyes once more to clear them of tears. he would do his best to ground himself, relieved that it seemed the man wasn’t at least openly judging him.
“ i-i’m just a secretary for a vice admiral… ” junpei seemed to lament, accepting the distraction of easy questions for conversation. he supposed ace made a valid point that he wouldn’t win a fight attempting to escape the base. exhaling a shaky breath, it seemed finally the tears were beginning to stop, the soothing voice the other adopted helping his sensitive nature. but truly did the secretary feel no obligation or true duty to the marines – he nodded at the question if he could follow orders and obtain a uniform for the other to sneak out. a reward wouldn’t hurt. the pat on the head was a gentle touch that seemed to help him relax further, enough for him to clear his throat gently, reaching over for a handshake, though his own grip wasn’t particularly strong or proud, other hand wiping the last of the water from his face.
“ … junpei. my name is junpei. ” he liked how warm the other was, both physically and in demeanor, more willing to help by the minute.
he always preferred pirates over marines anyways.“ i can’t help you leave the base but i’ll go find a uniform for you. ”
If Ace has some business to deal with the Navy, and if he doesn’t mind sneaking inside their bastion and stealing items, he doesn’t like to hurt or scare people who seem innocent. He feels quite unhappy to make someone cry because of his presence, his jokes and his goofy attitude misinterpreted as something dangerous, and he has to find a solution. He can’t deal with that man like he would deal with his brother, a hit over his skull far from being a good solution and adding even more problems to his already messy situation. No, he needs to be smart and gain an ally. Perhaps if he sneaks out this time without stealing anything, and comes back with a backup inside, he would be more successful, so that crying baby of man could be an asset in the future? He seems too scared to snitch on him anyway.
“Sssh, please calm down, you’re okay.” He continues to wipe those gross tears, the pad of his thumbs warm and comforting. He usually uses it for ladies in distress, but he doesn’t mind using a bit of his charm for a man who’s about to collapse under the weight of helping a pirate escaping the navy. He’s lucky at least to meet the secretary of a vice-admiral, and not a trainee in civilian clothes. It’s easier to corrupt him, as he didn’t make any vow to fulfill his duty toward the marine, no matter the situation. “A secretary?” He smiles and abandons his cheeks, sliding his hands off while brushing his jaw right until he breaks the contact. “Perhaps a bit of spice in your day could be enjoyable, and I promise, really, I won’t hurt you in any way.”
Junpei is his name. Now he has a good opportunity to bond with the man, answering the numb handshake with a more energized one. He’s feeling quite better to know that he’s going to get out of here, but he can’t tell Junpei right away that he would be back in a couple of days and would require his services on his stealing mission. “Don’t make me make a pinky promise with you, alright?” He tousles his raven hair one more time and grins politely. “I’m waiting for you here, and I trust you! Go snatch a uniform and meet me here, Junpei!”
Nobody knew them there as anything other than students. Law was aware of that, and maybe that was why he did one too many bombs of Mandy, and they all hit him at once. He felt like floating in the most wonderful of ways, feeling all those pleasant waves of emotion crashing against his very core. One after the other, washing over him. He saw Ace there, standing talking to other people and his heart did beat faster, his pupils widened. He knew it was the drug, exacerbating tenfold whatever liking he had taken to the raven, and he was so gleeful about it that he truly did not mind to act on that. Law got closer, literally pulling Ace out of the conversation. Before he could protest he planted a kiss on those soft lips of his, watching him with amused eyes, a lazy smile spreading across his lips. Before anything was said, Law kissed him again. A slow, burning kiss. Once it broke his inked fingers lazily traced along his jawline, his bewitching golden eyes contemplating his hand’s trajectory before they fell on him again. “…why are you wearing a shirt today, from all days, huh?” His hands have found purchase on his waist, gently, but firmly. He wanted it off to feel that skin against his hands.
After a long week of stressful work, Ace somehow surrendered to the siren call of multiple of his friends, using his youth and his usual cute face to crash another of these student parties, where he doesn’t belong. People are often mistaking him from “that dude” from the campus, because it’s not the first time he’s entering a party without being invited in the first place, enjoying the cheap booze and the compliments, and somehow forgetting about his affiliation with the mafia mob. He adores his life, but he sometimes needs the thrill to be someone else, collecting some information here and there regarding potential new clients.
Tonight, though, he’s not really working, his mind troubled by both his drink, but also the presence of a certain student. He tries his best to remain focused on the conversation he’s sharing with one of the guests, but the more the party goes wild, the more he senses that Law is highly different than usual. His surprise is noticeable when the raven-haired decides to interrupt his dull debate, forcing Ace to lock his eyes on his pretty face and endure his twisted intentions. Before he could ask if the man is out of his mind, his behavior far from his usual self, Law kisses him. Eyes wide open, Ace doesn’t know how to answer, his body completely frozen and yet literally melting at the same time.
Usually, Law ignores him, or hurts him by hinting on someone else because it’s always about who is able to destroy the other one’s mood… Their moments together are the most gentle caresses, but as soon as they are done, they cruelly harm the other one and Ace is deeply wary and bitter because of it. However, tonight, it seems that Law wants something more; he’s different. The second kiss is the end of Ace. Slowly, he surrenders to that sudden softness and passion, his entity burning from the inside, while he rolls his fingers behind Law’s nape, and pulls him closer, answering the kiss by moving his lips, tongue strongly dancing with his.
“Why?” Ace asks when they part, his voice shivering under the waves of desire washing over him, Law’s tattoos fingers invading not only his body but his heart and soul at the same time. God dammit… He’s so different… That smirk on his face, his golden eyes gleaming with a tenderness he has never seen before. Ace hums, while he lands his fingers over Law’s shirt, creasing the fabric, trying to control himself. “Because you didn’t take it off, not yet.” He teases, and looks back at him, unable to hide the massive effects Law is magically operating upon him. “What’s the matter with you tonight?”
Bratty competitive bastards in public vs softest boyfriends in private
is my new jam :D Also I realized I don´t have to clean upp?? my messy scetches?? I know it seems obvious, like DUH, of course you can, but I somehow always felt the need for my uploaded stuff to be…finished?
zoro and sake formed an almost inseparable combination, but despite this fact, he could have gently given his bottle to the captain’s brother … except it wouldn’t have been as much fun as having a little challenge. the sea was rather quiet and everyone else seemed to be having a good time, so why not? the little smile at the corner of his lips only increased when he saw his opponent mimic his behavior, causing the swordsman to place the bottle on the table , away from where the awaited battle would happen so the prize would be visible ( and to serve as motivation ) . the swordsman couldn’t control his laughter at the teasing , causing him to flex his muscles harder to make it even more obvious , leaning over the table .
“ well … it’s not like i was hiding anything ” oh , he was having so much fun already!! the preparations began : his left hand rested on his knee and his legs spread to give more stability , to keep his body steady. he makes the first move and holds ace’s hand, eyes fixed on his. “ you can still give up ” .
He senses it… the familiar sensation of a thrilling challenge, his grin widening and his confidence peaking at the same time. Zoro is a thorough trained opponent, he’s far more muscular than Ace, but the second commander doesn’t look like a stick next to him either. He wrestled in the past with Luffy, and each time, he beat his ass, no matter how hard the young man was trying. He eyes the bottle with far more interest now that Zoro exposed it as a treat, the reward for this battle definitely something he desires. Perhaps not as much as to kick his challenger’s ass, but still… he’s thirsty for victory. Tenebrous eyes fall on the bumping bicep, his own arm flexed to hopefully match his monstrous body.
“Yeah, you seem to be the kind of man to show off. I don’t mind that… I like to parade myself.” Ace teases again, and strongly grips the other one’s hand. He squeezes his fingers, just slightly, appreciating the warmness of his palm. To play a bit unfairly, he slightly increases the temperature of his body, the room gradually becoming hotter than before. “Am I really looking like a guy who gives up?” He provokes again, and anchors his elbow on the table. Soon, he begins to add pressure, genuinely testing Zoro’s limits before he would get to the main course. For now, they are just starting the foreplays it seems.
I came to the decision that a multi will be needed for me and all of muses! 😂
I’m just terrified losing people’s interest in my muses… Such a scaredy cat
Golden eyes locate the scabbard under the remains of a table he had to smash the demon’s face into a moment ago. He kicks over a few pieces of wood and steps on the end, making the long scabbard flip upwards so he doesn’t have to bend down to pick it up. He catches it, turning about to eye the hunter now pocking around in his kill. This guy just keeps getting ruder. Sassing his combat style and now thinking he can collect on Law’s spoils? This dude is an asshole.
“You call that a compliment? Gotta work on your positive reinforcement game, dude,” he says, stepping closer with the intent of using his demonic sword to ward this guy off before he takes any part of the monster he actually needs.
Then the other hunter rises, clearly disinterested in the demon’s remains. A frown, eyes watching with care. Law sheaths Kikoku, hands moving to her red cord to begin unwinding it into a strap he can hang over his shoulder. Then the weirdo hunter makes this even worse. Law straightens, glaring at the back of his head. There isn’t supposed to be a horde of demons around here, not this close to the cathedral. And that tap to the ear, something is very wrong here. Mouth opens to question, the priest not liking this at all. Then he feels the vibration on his chest.
Gaze drops to his cross, eyes widening at the burning red light bursting through the engravings in the metal. Hands quickly tie the last knot in the cord and he throws Kikoku haphazardly over his shoulder. If he’s dealing with a group this big he is going to need far more than just the sword, regardless of how powerful she is. Hands plunge into the folds of his robes, fingers trailing over a couple hidden clips. Two spare. One pistol fully loaded and the other down a bullet. Odds aren’t looking good.
“A horde shouldn’t be getting this close,” he mutters, both guns getting cocked with a click. “The fuck is going on.” He strides past the other hunter, moving towards the window to get a look outside. And then he smells blood. Head whips around, a sharp breath getting pulled into his lungs when he sees his new companion cutting open his palm. “Christ! The hell are you doing!? If your blood really does attract them you’re gonna draw them right to us you fuckin’ idiot!”
What kind of temper does this one have? Ace is aware that a lot of demon hunters are solitary wolves, wary and bitchy, but this one seems to have anger issues. He doesn’t really care about his demeanors, but he senses his energy drained by the everlasting bitter sensation floating around him. Ace knows that it’s not his place to inspect the ashes in the first place, but what he does with the demon bones’ powder is usually unorthodox and forbidden. Unless that prick is also looking to commit a dark mass himself in the future? It’s the best way for Ace to summon a maximum number of demons in one place and corrupt the pandemonium print on the ground with his blood. Radical and gory.
“Sorry, never heard of manners before, and wouldn’t start today.” He offers a sly smile to his cold ass encounter. He has never been someone utterly polite, using a fake one to soothe the tensions within the coven, but otherwise, he doesn’t really give a damn if someone perceives him as an asshole. He is one by definition, but he’s inclined to help people, so he’s often forgiven. At least, that’s what he believes.
He feels slightly sorry for the other hunter, but it’s often the deal when Ace is around. The Cathedral’s energy might help protect them, his style far more efficient than on an open-field, but he knows it can be slightly overwhelming. “Don’t worry, you’re just going to sweat a little bit more than usual.” Ace smiles and picks a small crystal gem from his pocket. He plasters droplets of his blood on it, and begins to recite Latin verses, the crystal turning entirely black. It glows within his hand, a soft symphony emanating from the jewel. Ace passes by the hunter and slams it against his chest.
“Have you heard about Gol Roger?” He asks, while he hopes the man wouldn’t drop the precious item on the ground. “Cursed and blessed blood all at once. It exorcises demons, but it also protects the hunters once someone of his legacy would enchant a gem like this. They’re going to think that you smell like sort of rotten meat, but it won’t protect your back.” He explains, before he swings his dagger, and clenches his palm to create a circle around them, the blood abrasive even for the floor, columns of smoke surrounding them. “I know you might prefer an open-field, but I can’t fight anywhere else but here, closed areas are the best for me to overuse this curse.” He sighs and throws a stare over his shoulder. “I’ll make it up to you, but for now, let’s go back-to-back, deal with these fuckers.”
“ You’re takin’ too damn long… ” Garou grumbled – but he had obliged, holding still as Ace applied disinfectant and bandages. Not that it meant anything, some of the blood the fighter’s own, most of it that of recently-defeated enemies. The other’s concern was a little perplexing, especially after everything. Maybe he was still expecting this to be a bit of some complicated trap, but Ace had some weird power to at least make him listen for a few minutes. Yellow eyes scanned the abandoned warehouse lazily, not unlike a wolf relaxing following a hunt despite his injuries. “ Besides, I’ve been in worse shape. A measly little fever won’t kill me. ”
An exasperated sigh leaves his throat while he’s trying to tighten the bandage around Garou’s waist, his large body and outlined muscles making the whole process quite long. He doesn’t really know why he’s helping him in the first place, but a phone call and a location dropped have been enough for Ace to turn into a temporary nurse. “I’m taking the necessary amount of time to treat your miserable ass!” He barks back, rolling his eyes, adding more disinfectant over the injuries. He wonders if Garou could really get better with these simple treatments, while his whole body seems broken in many places. “I don’t give a shit if you had worse in the past, you’re the one bleeding on my bed right now, so stop whining and let me help you! I’m not doing it for you…” Ace pushes the first kit aid aside, and sits beside Garou, slowly cupping his cheeks to inspect his face, more especially his eyes, which are filled with blood. They’ll have to clean it at some point.
“Why here?” He asks after a moment, his voice still severe, but softer than before. It’s odd to be here with him, when their first encounter has been so bloody and violent. Garou didn’t hesitate and beat him so hard that he woke up at the hospital. Ace was certain they would never get along, so he’s wondering… Why Garou came here? “Don’t tell me I’m the only person stupid enough to help you?”
Drowning in dark, with no chance of coming back to the surface. Law felt nothing, saw nothing, until someone roughly pulled him up to the surface again. It couldn’t feel anything, his body completely numb, but his eyes managed to open a sliver to see the familiar freckled face, fuzzy and blurry as if he was behind a curtain of water, but he knew it was Ace nonetheless. He would have known him anywhere.
The screaming, the force with which Ace tried to hold him afloat were enough to make him resurface a bit, but the amount of drugs he had taken kept plunging him to the deep end. He exhales Ace’s name, his eyes going white again until he feels the echo of a slap to his face. Or a punch, he wouldn’t have been able to tell. Golden eyes open again, two thin glassy slits. “…drawer.” he manages to say, his logical mind realizing, even in this state, that he was overdosing. There wasn’t any epinephrine in there, he had used the last with a friend a week ago, but there was a substantial amount of cocaine. That’d wake him up.
It takes him a lot of effort to sniff what he was given, his breath so shallow and erratic that it might not even be strong enough of an inhale to reach his bloodstream in time- but somewhat it does, because a moment later his eyes are opening a bit more, to see Ace’s angry and worried face in there. Law still feels numb because of the ketamine, his body mainly unresponding, yet his heart drops to his stomach. He reaches for some more and this second line does wake him up further, but the rest of his body remains dazed, anesthetized.
Golden hues fall on Ace’s dark ones, and he feels angry and relieved, and embarassed that Ace had had to witness that. His jaw would have clenched but the ket had taken all of his strength. An awake mind in an utterly asleep body. His eyes vaguely realize the broken door, thoughts popping in his mind of how had Ace found him, how many people had he asked to get there? Because all rumors got to Doffy in the end.
Anger sets in his eyes, at the sheer stupidity of it. Ace didn’t know, but that didn’t make it any less dangerous.
“You shouldn’t be here.” he says, drawling a breath. Every word took a toll on him, and he realized that yes, Ace had saved him from overdosing, but now he was the one at risk. How long until the Family found out? Panic sets in him, but the ketamine doesn’t allow it to go nowhere. Law exhales, closing his eyes and uttering a barely audible. “it’s not safe.”
Ace really didn’t think twice before he broke that door, using all of his strength and his long hours of fighting with his brothers of arms to get rid of this obstacle. He’s certain that Law must be hiding behind that frame, agonizing for a few minutes now. Ace has never been in the medical field, so he’s not fully aware of what he’s doing, even more if the man he will find would be dying from an overdose. He barely consumes drugs himself, a joint and whatnot from time to time, but nothing serious… Nothing deadly. The perspective of being useless feels like a veil around his shoulders.
Entering the apartment, he’s soon to discover the numb body of Law laid on the ground, his drooling face and waxy complexion betraying his state of unconsciousness. Ace doesn’t hesitate and hits him until he resurfaces again, completely dizzy it seems, but at least alive. The commander of Whitebeard doesn’t have much time to think either, he’s panicking in front of that kind of show, and doesn’t hesitate to reach for whatever item the doctor is demanding, not even considering that it could be another kind of poison for his body. Looking through the drawer, he soon finds a pristine powder waiting in a wrapped transparent bag, and before he could picture that he’s offering more toxicant for Law, that asshole is already sniffing the whole thing.
Ace watches him abashed, abruptly sitting on his butt, his own heart racing, even if his mind is clear. He senses these familiar waves of anger blooming back, tenebrous eyes focused on the features of the doctor, until he raises his hand and eventually gives him the strongest slap on his life. “You fucking idiot!” He insults him, shocked, his hands trembling. He can hear his own voice through his voice, the device still connected with Law’s. “You wouldn’t be alive if I wasn’t here, so you could at least thank me! I don’t care if it’s safe or not right now, for fuck’s sake!”
He clicks his tongue and straightens himself back up, scraping his pants to get rid of any trace of cocaine. If Pops ever busts him with that kind of powder on him, it would be rehab without any other form of trial. While the situation seems under control, he takes a moment to inspect the rather fancy and luxurious place Law is living in. Fuck, is he really a student? There’s something off for someone who pretends to be far from wealthy. He sighs and turns around, squatting down in front of Law. He clicks his fingers to catch his attention, wrathful irises staring at him. “I’m not going to leave, so either I stay, either you go to my place.”
Ace’s eyes focus on him, Law’s touch somehow dragging him back to reality. The doctor can still see the panic and confusion in his gaze, his patient barely holding on. Voice croaking and dry says his name, a hand rising to grab his wrist as if this will help keep him anchored. Law doesn’t pull away, allowing this because he knows its what his patient needs after a coma that’s lasted six months. Then Ace settles back, asking for clarification even as he gives into Law’s orders. A wave of relief crashes over him, the doctor moving to help ease Ace back onto his pillow.
Law sits on the bed, keeping himself in view as he inspects Ace’s features. One hand rises from the patient’s shoulder, the other relaxing shifting off Ace’s face to settle onto the bed beside his head. Law leans over him, still not breaking that grip on his wrist. Uni flits close, dropping a small hand torch into Law’s open palm. He clicks on, waving the light over Ace’s eyes to gauge the motion of his pupils.
“No signs of brain damage,” he mutters, turning the light off and once again handing it back to his nurse.
Law then straightens, hand moving to peel Ace’s grip from his wrist. He twists in his seat, gaze gliding over his patient’s torso and the bandages wrapped around them. The blanket now pools at Ace’s waist, making it a little easier for Law to take in the bound injuries. Stitches have long since been removed but the area is still very tender and Law is worried this motion could have torn the skin grafts. Would prefer he didn’t have to reconstruct most of Ace’s torso again. It was hard enough the first time.
“No blood so you didn’t tear anything. Good, ‘cause then I’d be really pissed off,” last sentence said as eyes dart back to Ace’s face. Hand settles on Ace’s chest, a Room getting summoned and surrounding them. Law’s palm glows blue, the doctor performing his scan as his hand passes over Ace’s chest. “Looks like everything has settled properly. ‘Bout time, too. Thought your new liver wouldn’t take. Almost had to get you a third one.”
A low chuckle, mirthless. It really was touch and go for a moment there. There was so much damage, so many replaced organs, that Law was sure Ace’s body would reject everything. Even organs of the right blood type aren’t instantly accepted. It’s honestly a blessing Ace woke up at all after the trauma his body has faced. Now the question is how does he tell him? Blue light fades, Room vanishing. A sigh and he turns to face Ace, arms crossing over his chest.
“So … you know the saying ace in the hole?” Law asks. There is a groan behind him. It seems Law has been thinking about this line for a while and his crew don’t find it quite as funny as he does. “Welp, there was a hole in the Ace and I filled it back up. Lucky for you I’m a fucking surgical genius.”
He’s still unable to make a difference between being in a dream, or experiencing the bitter reality. Nothing is making sense, nothing is reassuring in the end. Despite Law’s touch upon his body, he feels nothing but waves of blurry memories, as if his own brain is protecting him from finding the truth. He abandons the idea to use his voice, the soreness of his throat a good indication regarding how many weeks, or months, he has been laid here. His muscles are not utterly responsive either, and while he manages to lay back into the pillows, he feels how draining it was to sit in the first place. Law is a doctor… Ace doesn’t understand everything yet, but he doesn’t complain when he begins to examine him.
He looks aside to watch the people gathered in the cold room. They seem as shocked and surprised as Ace might be. It only increases the sensation that something utterly serious happened, and he’s a miracle survivor. He sniffs and ignores that ball of stress growing within his guts, while he pushes his cheek against the pillow for a second. He doesn’t notice that he’s still gripping Law’s wrist, not until the surgeon removes his own digits, leaving a curious empty sensation over Ace’s fingers. At some point, he understands that Law is inspecting his chest.
Oddly, Ace doesn’t really wish to look down, but out of curiosity, he gives a glimpse at his torso. He feels guilty for his prior tantrum, his eyes shifting up on Law’s annoyed features, but Ace raises an eyebrow, the continuation of his statement quite… crazy to listen to. He tilts his head slightly, his cimmerian irises back on the bandages covering his chest. “What… What the fuck are you saying? Why would you be pissed off, I just woke up!” Ace snarls before he coughs hard, once again harassed by many frightening emotions, and his weak body unable to keep up with him. “What you mean a third one? Why did you replace the first one?”
What that prick is laughing at his face and seems so content with his work? Ace was wrong after all? He never trusted Law, just slightly, yet he didn’t expect the surgeon to be that sadistic… Maybe he’s working for the world government? He widens his eyes, until he hears a groan coming from the audience behind Law’s back. Ace in the hole… A hole in the Ace… What’s that dubious pun? Ace jaws drop, before he sees flashes in front of his eyes. His limbs and flesh are reacting to a sensation he experienced, burning, burning so hard that his forehead is covered in sweat.
“A hole…” He repeats, slowly raising his hand to press his palm onto the bandages of his chest. There are bitter tears at the corners of his eyes, his vision all blurry. He was protecting someone… He was standing between… He gasps and looks up, resisting the urge to jump on Law and shakes him by the shirt, in quest of answers. “Luffy!” He calls, irises expressing nothing but the deepest panic, and his monitor showing how the curve of his heart is getting erratic. “Is he alive? Where’s Luffy?! Where is h- Argh…” His chest… Such a powerful pain, Ace tightens his fist over it, closing his eyes.
18 MONTHS OF HELL ARE FINALLY OVER!!
My shitty contract with my job finally came to an end at noon today and I’m legit walking like that meme of Nicole Kidman leaving her attorney’s office after she divorced Tom Cruise:
FOR all of the emotions Ace had experienced in his own youth, ones perhaps easily glimpsed within Vital to those perceptive enough, such sensations would truly never leave the smaller man. He had only learned over time to seek solace in those negative feelings, letting them carve his worldview. Sensations of abandonment formed his need for solitude, betrayal of trust shaped his angry demeanor, and feelings of loneliness built up defensive walls. After all, it was easier to lose things or individuals if you never cared for them in the first place.
SO of course Ace’s proposition for him to join his crew was absolute nonsense, the very concept going against everything Vital believed in and stood by. Hell, it went against the very foundations he had managed to cobble his personality around. Not that he hadn’t thought that the life of a pirate must be adventurous and chaotic indeed, but he often wondered if a pirate might make a name without a crew. Despite the dark look he gave the other, he absolutely ignored the reassuring smile.
“ … no, it didn’t! ” he hissed, soon enough back to fighting to get out of the awkward grip, knowing his head was making solid contact against Ace’s chest. But it wasn’t enough, and it certainly wasn’t enough for his anger to settle. “ Sounds like bullshit! ” Hands that still rested upon his torso then became coated with haki as well – fingertips coming into points like claws as he then began to scratch, and unkindly at that.
“ Let me go! I have my own job, you know! I don’t need to be a pirate, idiot! ”
Like he usually did for his entire crew, surrendering to a violent and deep second nature, Ace feels the kind of emotion blooming inside of him while his Cimmerian eyes are gazing at Vital’s abashed features. He had that urge in the past for Deuce, for Skull, and all the members of his squad. It’s a melody he can’t ignore, his blood and bones reacting to the male’s presence, forgetting all the moral codes regarding the situation. He wants him in his crew. He would fight for it, harass the man for it, but he’s far from backing off or changing his mind. His devilish grin is nothing human anymore, his intentions clearly written in the back of his mind.
“You did! I’m sure you did!” Ace pushes again, despite the sudden pain emanating from his torso, scratches and other scars added to an invisible collection; his power is amazing to heal his skin. Vital is like a feral cat, cornered and pissed off, but there’s no reason in this world that he would remain on his own now that Ace put his eyes on him. He understands his fury, he experienced the same on many levels, yet he found a way to soothe his damaged soul, and put a balm over his old injuries through the guidance of his crew. This world doesn’t have any sense when you’re bending over the weight of your own loneliness, and it’s something he understood and mastered when he took the sea.
“But oï, I mean it!” Ace argues, while he desperately attempts to catch Vital’s arms, in quest to stop his tantrum, his nails caving canyons on his pale freckled skin. “A job?!” He gasps and mockingly laughs, his voice echoing so loudly right now. “You’re telling me that you want to live your life chained to one place? That’s the real bullshit here!” The pirates moves again, and does his best to catch Vital’s waist and throws him over his shoulder.
“I don’t care, you come with me!”
me switching over all my blogs is tiring… I’m really considering doing a multi… 🧐
He had thought that would have been that conversation terminated. Finito, done with, but it wasn’t the case. He watches, with clouded eyes as the three dots begin to move. Law bitterly waits for excuses, for lies of Ace not spending the light with someone else. He waits and waits, but nothing is sent his way: and in a weird way Law thinks its for the better that the final word is his, because right now he wouldn’t be able to deal with anything else.
In that anxiousness of the waiting game, in that foreign sensation crushing his chest he reached for some more ketamine and did two thick lines of it before the phone began to buzz for a different reason. Ace was calling him, the phone vibrating on the table next to his lines, almost waltzing off the black marble kitchen counter. The picture of the raven that had taken over his screen alone enraged him to no end. Him and that stupid cowboy hat of his and that big, goofy but genuine smile.
Law knows he shouldn’t answer this call. That he is not able, or he will soon be in such catatonic state that he’d be entirely unable to speak, but fear of losing Ace gets the best of him and he slides his finger over the screen, answering the call and somehow putting it in loud-speaker.
It takes all of his might to speak, grasping the end of the kitchen counter, holding on for dear life. His jaw is set, his eyes shut harshly as he tries to focus enough so he can talk to him, so he can defeat momentarily the grogginess that was taking over every fiber of his being.
“…promise me I’ll see you Wednesday.” he manages to say, slurring the words slightly, knuckles white holding him to the marble in the kitchen counter. “…promise.. me, asshole.” the last few words take an enormous amount of effort but he still manages to say them. His legs are giving up on him, inked fingers, like claws unable to hold him anymore, and the drug finally kicks in and he falls. Loudly onto the tiled kitchen floor, completely unconscious.
Seated there on the floor, Ace hears the phone ringing, dialing for the other person to answer. He notices that he’s playing with his hair, brushing his strands while he keeps waiting for Law to pick up the phone. He doesn’t really know why he’s calling in the first place, it feels to be an act out of panic or urge, but deeply unplanned and purely instinctive. Now that he’s finally alone, he realizes the deepness of this longing emotion, the very fact that Law seems vulnerable tonight is quite new. He closes his eyes, and hums, bringing the bottle of water at his lips, before he gaps, as he hears the familiar sound of someone picking up.
“Law!” He calls, as he can perfectly hear the other one breathing through the handset. Yet, as soon as he hears his voice, he senses that there’s something off. The tone seems different than usual, his coldness and anger replaced by something quite unusual. He perceives the way his voice is breaking, his breathing heavy and irregular. Did he… fucking take more drugs? Ace tenses while he listens to the other one’s request. Wednesday… Like always. Ace pinches his lips together, scratching his nape. “Fucking hell, you leave me no choice here… You know I’d be there…”
What was that sound? Ace looks back at his phone, as he just heard something weird, inspecting the digital screen to see if he accidentally hung up or something. He glues the phone back to his ears, concerned. “Law?” He calls, but it results in a long silence. “Law! Answer me!” He tries again, but there’s nothing to answer back. Ace knows something just happened, and the sudden realization that Law never shared his building location is quite upsetting. He suddenly stands back up, electrified by the rush of fear he’s experiencing.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck! You’re a fucking moron, I swear!” He curses as he grabs his phone, and shouts. “Law! Wake up! Law!” He’s walking in circles in his apartment, desperate, unable to know what he can do. At some point, he decides to quickly dress up and leave his flat, jumping on his motorcycle to reach the potential neighborhood Law might be living in, the rare times when he mentioned a place to crash.
A Chinese pot restaurant, two strip clubs with one for transgender people… He might have a chance, that town is not that big. As soon as he arrives, he begins to harass people, the phone still connected to Law’s. At some point, he manages to find what seems to be the correct flat, apparently Law weirdly known down here. Ace doesn’t hesitate… There’s no name on the door, but he would break it without any hesitation.
The sound of sirens and traffic echoed into the night, lights dazzling and in a way, serene. People walked below, some in a rush, some without a care in the world, each and every one of them wrapped in their own little bubble, in their own little world. A random stranger different from the rest may lift their head up in search of the stars, but for the most part, everyone’s eyes faced forward into that, which was to them, known. Some walked in groups and were loud enough to hear, some were quiet and kept whispering secrets allowed only to selected few.
Those flawed creations were nothing but pathetic. Wings stretched and he took flight, in need of something different, something better. Something better didn’t come in form of something different, but it came in sense of negative emotions, and a young man sitting on top of the rooftop. He came closer, quiet and stealthy, and those beautiful black wings were gone. He observed the man from behind, and he could SEE the negativity that surrounded him, HATE that was so delicious to play with and use. Doflamingo licked his lips, he figured he didn’t have fun in a while, not of this kind.
Just as quietly he approached, his body now in view of the young man, and he sat next to him, uncaring if he wanted him around or not. He wasn’t the one to DECIDE if he WANTED Doflamingo around or not. That decision was purely the fallen angel’s.
His voice was low, comforting, seductive, even if there was no specific intention behind it. He, as the seducer, knew better than anyone else that seduction was never purely sexual, that every word, as long as it soothed any inner desire, was more than fulfilling that purpose. He would refer to the tone as sensual, at best. ❝ Thinking about leaving? ❞ It was a guess, but usually humans came to sit above others when contemplating life and future choices. ❝ Your purpose? Duties? Where’s freedom in all that? ❞
Such a busy night… He’s looking at the city in front of his eyes, tentacular, its aggressive lights forbidding the stars to ever shine. It’s crowded as usual, the everlasting hubbub quite despicable to listen to, like a broken record playing the same tune, over and over again, endlessly, trapping all the citizens of this town in the same lethargic blindness. They see but they don’t bother truly looking anymore, they hear but they don’t listen… Their egocentric existence is what leads them to their endless circle of self-centered interests, their emotions clouded by their common wish of being different and unique, and yet, they are just a copy of another copy, the ink fading with time. Ace knows it perfectly, deep in the caved holes of his heart, that being different is not what they would wish if they knew the consequences.
His whole life, he has been cursed by the blood of his father, holy for some, unique and desired, but never for his own son. He doesn’t recall if he has been the one chasing demons or if he was their target since his first breathing, his existence like a mark upon the world, the very one so many of these creatures tried to devour, slash or kill. A lonely journey of violence and profound hatred, so sore that it took everything from him. He might have found a way to escape his fate and leave the coven, he’s still a prisoner of his own sheath, cursed to live a life he never desired in the first place.
Deeply trapped in the waves of his negativity, Ace doesn’t really notice the presence behind his back, not until his dark irises are suddenly appealed by a large shadow by his side. His muscles tense, his slender fingers moving from his thighs to his dagger, as he grips the handle with a firm gesture, his lips sealed in a thin line. If that person is a creature of the darkness, he didn’t see it, didn’t smell it… Actually, he doesn’t perceive many things now that he’s analyzing his silhouette, his aura suffocating, despite the tone of his voice, utterly sensual for a man he doesn’t know. Ace feels frozen in time for a second, until his chest aches and he notices that he has been holding his breath for a few seconds.
“Not exactly.” He answers, his voice slightly husky. Does he really want to share a conversation with that blond? He wonders… His mouth formulated his words before his mind made a proper decision. “Where’s freedom at all?” Ace eventually snarls, already despising the prying tone of the stranger. “I’d rather think freedom is a myth we’re seeking for, rather than something real. We are all bound to do something.” He peeks aside, frowning. His curiosity is blooming like a poisoning rose once again, a flow of questions invading his mind. “Who are you?”
sure – corazón had been in worse condition before, but that never made circumstances easier. he had scouted out himself a relatively quiet and private place in an empty construction site he was sure that no one else would wander to encounter him. here he could rest and attempt to bandage himself up as best he could, having achieved his goal of destroying a warehouse for his mission, though it had been unlucky for him to be shot somewhere through the shoulder before taking one hell of a tumble after slipping from a ledge.
though the man intended to light a cigarette to keep himself awake it seemed that exhaustion caught up to him. he had fallen asleep, opening cognac eyes a few hours later to some young man sporting a hat and freckles, armed with bandages of his own. not everyone was jumping to help a bleeding stranger as himself but it seemed that glimpsing circumstances as this wasn’t new to the guy.
wordlessly, he cautiously watched the man before agreeing with a nod to accept the help, understanding he wasn’t in a state to really fight back. this guy didn’t seem to openly carry any weapons on himself but gave the impression of a confidence that only came with strength. corazón would be at a disadvantage then if it came down to a fight, though perceptive mind noted that this guy wasn’t rushing to call an ambulance – because with that, came police and questions.
“ don’t know why you wanna help a guy like me, but thanks… ” shrugging off the feathered coat and undoing his shirt, it seemed the bullet had only torn through muscle rather than bone and ligament – a shred of luck, though the lack of care for a few hours made the pink patterned fabric stick. “ you know what you’re doing? ” after all, the variety of scars displayed this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo. if he knew anything, it was that this helpful guy wanted to avoid trouble of even a corpse in the area it seemed.
“ … what group are you running with? ”
He doesn’t often patrol in empty buildings himself, but before a big delivery, he needs to be sure that the entire area is clean, with no issue to report. It’s a part of the deal he made with Whitebeard, especially since he was promoted to a new commanding position, owning the second division, and its important import and export matters. He can’t let anyone disturb the smooth business in the east part of the town, and while he usually has nothing to worry about, or report, today seems to be a very different day.
Laid on the floor, covered in blood, apparently injured, there’s a large man sleeping in the middle of the empty warehouse. If Ace at first thought that the man was dead, he was quick to notice the unfold bandages on the ground, and the first aid kit open by his side. The stranger didn’t have time to properly patch up his wound, it seems, his lighter still locked in his hand, and his cigarette miserably torn onto his feathered coat. His heavy breathing was the last clue to reassure the raven-haired commander regarding his state, and while he doesn’t wish to bother anyone with a cleaning service as the delivery is long awaited for tonight, he understands that he has no choice but to help the man.
Struggling with the bandages, he freezes for a few seconds while the man comes back to the reality. He doesn’t want to hurt him, but he hopes he won’t throw a tantrum to face a stranger in such a poorly recommendable place. “Welcome back.” Ace greets, as he begins to apply a bit of alcohol over the first wounds. “I’m not helping out of kindness, if it reassures you. I just figured you weren’t the type of man to call for an ambulance, and I can’t afford dealing with your dead body.”
He looks up, and inspects the man’s features. “Yeah, the basics.” He replies to the last remark regarding his medical skills. Ace keeps going with his silent inspection. Not that old… but older than him. Marked by life it seems. And what’s the deal with this curious outfit ? Ace sighs, his attention back on the bullet wound. This one would be a pain in the ass to heal, but he has a knife, and he hopes the stranger doesn’t mind a new scar on his pale skin. They are both aware they come from rival families, or at least, the same kind of nasty area.
“Whitebeard’s.” Ace states, as he comes closer and spreads more alcohol onto the bullet wound. “What about you?” He asks, his tenebrous eyes sometimes looking up to analyze the man’s face. “Whoever you follow, you’re far from home, pal.”
He had told himself he wouldn’t mind it. He got home that day with that in his head, being repeated over and over: as a mantra. He said it as he prepared the cocktail that he was hoping would make him numb, the one that would make him not care about anything anymore.
But Trafalgar Law was wrong.
He fucked up and sent a message to Ace, as the drugs took their hold. Shortly after, as the answer came like a slap in the face he believed those very drugs would soothe his nerves, but he was, yet again: wrong.
His lips curled in anger instead of relaxing: the moment of seeing Ace before with that other bloke relived and sour in his mouth. Law grabbed his phone and began to type furiously, telling Ace what the real bullshit was: Of having to get other people involved when it was so clear it wasn’t needed. Of how none of the others made him feel half as much as when they were together. Of how everything would be different if it wasn’t for…
If it wasn’t for…
Law’s face of anger dropped, and cold washed over him as if someone had thrown a bucket of freezing water at him.
A pause, and ragged breath, and he deleted the whole paragraph.
CONTACT: ACE THE COWBOY🤠
; Never fucking mind.
; I’ll see you on Wednesday.
He’s staring at his phone, still numb and unsure about what Law’s text meant. He feels… pissed off, truly pissed off. He thought he would be able to escape his bitter emotions tonight, but he was cruelly wrong. He looks aside, gripping the blanket to cover his bare crotch, someone growling in his bed, but he seriously doesn’t give a fuck right now. His emotions, attention, heart, everything is focus on the text he received a few minutes ago. He answered out of anger and frustration himself, wishing that the person laid in the bed wouldn’t be a random stranger, but that imbecile who’s pushing on his buttons.
“Yeah, you are just drunk as fuck, aren’t you?” Ace talks to his phone, watching the three dots coming and going. It only shows that either Law is texting him a wall to read, or he’s just looking for his words, which seems so odd in the end. Ace sighs again, staring at his messages, until he sees the new texts appearing.
“Tsk… Coward.” He stands back up, and walks to the kitchen island, hoping to find some water in the middle of this mess. The person laid on his bed straighten themselves back up, staring at Ace with concerned eyes. “You should go.” Ace states, while he grips the bottle of water and shakily opens it, enraged. “I’d rather be alone, please.”
In less than five minutes, he’s alone again, and Ace begins to type his answer. He starts with various insults… He types that he can go fuck himself, he won’t be there on Wednesday… And then he erases everything, and sits on the floor, back against the kitchen island.
There’s an incoming call for Law… He wants to hear his voice.