I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
One Nice Bug Per Day
EXPECTATIONS
ojovivo
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TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Fai_Ryy
NASA
d e v o n
Keni
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
we're not kids anymore.
#extradirty
shark vs the universe
bliss lane
Xuebing Du
oozey mess
KIROKAZE
Stranger Things
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@reunion
⠀⠀⠀₊⊹ reunion! ˎˊ˗ ━━━━ a super deluxe writing multimuse... as brought to you by angie! (24yo, she/her) ✶ featuring guests from: haikyuu!!, honkai: star rail, one piece, & zenless zone zero. © january of 2026, slow activity. 𑣲𖹭 ¹ˑ pinterest. ²ˑ prompts.
guidelines & roster below. ⤵︎
kita thinks atsumu is funny.
he’s grumbling whenever kita scolds him to go home, sick with fever, only to stutter after kita leaves a small get well package for him in the locker room. when kita runs into him at the grocery market on an early sunday morning, already haloed with a garden hat and sunkissed just the slightest pink on his nose and sweaty cheekbones, atsumu can barely keep his gaze— or close his gaping mouth for that matter, its o shape five seconds too long to recover as anything other than star-bright shock, or maybe fluster. he throws out an awkward greeting as if, outside of high school corridors or volleyball gymnasiums, kita’s existence in other equally mundane corners is somehow so unfathomable that it becomes perplexing.
still— kita smiles, anyways, because he knows atsumu doesn’t know kindness outside of osamu’s strategic bickering, or coach kurosu’s post-match analysis where his plays are dissected and sterilized and whetted for better. sometimes, shin-chan, kita’s grandmother once said, when he was a five year old boy standing alone by the perennial bush, butterflies fly away before realizing the danger was not danger at all, but only gentleness. don’t be too upset if they mistake you.
kita isn’t upset, isn’t offended at all, but he’d like it if atsumu could keep from flinching away sooner, to unhinge whatever skepticism weighing his shoulders and see that kita would like to keep his wings, his company. not only as captain, but as kita.
(do you think about them, too?)
who.... who goes there....?
for a fleeting moment, the repetition of her fingers is the only source of motion in the room. atsumu has softened against her touch. aylen holds back any reaction to prolong the stillness, for a chance to see it just one second longer.
she's sure no one would believe her if she told them about this; about how quiet he could be. past the bluster and his shameless mouth, in the spaces where few people ever took the time to look, it was there. that secret part of his heart he kept hidden away. and beneath the ribs holding her own, aylen feels warm at the privilege he had granted her with / as warm as the laughter he always managed to bring.
the soothing pets of her hand come to a gradual stop when atsumu finally breaks their brief pact of peace and turns to her with yet another dramatic plea. this time, aylen hums in response. it's a thoughtful sound. not much time passes before she speaks again.
" of course i like you, " she says pleasantly. polite, even — and suspiciously evasive towards the second half of his query.
but before atsumu can question it, aylen leans in with a quick peck to the tip of his nose. and then, just as quickly, she follows up with a question of her own. " if you want to work on a farm, should we call kita for some advice ? he could probably help you get started. "
“ … ” of course i like you, she says. atsumu had asked a silly question and, in turn, received a terrifyingly direct answer. that should be the beginning, middle, and end of it— it's as simple as that, and yet despite it… “ …oh. oh yeah. ” his reaction is staggered and unlike the theatrical groaning he was doing just a moment ago. the look in his eyes, now a fraction wider, still stare right at her. it isn't a look of realization (they are dating, after all. liking each other is just part of the territory…) but one of… some kind of awe. or something. it sounds stupid; he doesn't really have a name for what's going on with him right now!
how is it, even after all this time, she can still knock him off his footing? “ yeah, i guess ya do… huh? ” because underneath all those easy grins and the things he says that he thinks are cool and funny, her words strike a deep, deep, deep spot within him. something tender and entirely real.
“ …aylen, yer killin' me here. ” his brows are furrowing now, but it's not an expression of anger or confusion, not with that newfound pink on his cheeks. (his face has always been the tell on his emotions. thanks a lot, showin' everyone that this man in his twenties can still blush like a kid!) “ actually, i think y'been killin' me since high school. can ya stop killin' me for a few minutes? ” but just saying that isn't enough. there's a sudden urge he feels crawling its way out of his throat: “ y'know, i… i really like ya too…! …but, uh… you do know that already, dont'cha? considerin' the whole… dating thing. yeah. ” smooth. real smooth.
he has got to break this nervous tension. atsumu shoots up from the couch, taking the momentum to turn away from them and face the door he moped in through. “ — and we definitely don't gotta bother kita-san about this! feels like an easy way to get a hundred years of bad luck, nooo thank you. ” because of course he still thinks his old captain is mystical and otherworldly like that. “ and i don't even care what some people on the internet are sayin' 'bout me, honest. just a joke, heh… i think i'm gonna go treat myself to somethin' yummy, maybe one'a them fancy smoothies. ...yer comin' with me, right? you ain't busy today? ”
they shouldn't laugh at how shocked the merchant looks, fish-mouthed and bug-eyed and so terribly taken aback by the skillful rebuttal phainon has issued, and by all accounts aylen feels as though they have done a fairly good job of keeping a straight face. it would take a much closer inspection to identify the cracks of amusement crinkling her eye; surely a much more discreet veneer as compared to that sad counterfeit medallion.
" i think you scared him, " she notes, watching the seller slink away in dejection as they meander towards another stand. phainon's mirthful hints are answered with a smile no less roguish on her part. " so you admit to showing off ? "
aylen grows quiet as they follow him, rapt and singularly focused on taking in the myriad of glazed vases and ceramic goods that sprawl along the many, many tables dragged out for auction. briefly, she wonders if pompom would want a decorative centerpiece for the foyer of the express before phainon beckons her closer once more.
" you really do know a lot about ... " she starts and then trails off as he holds up something glittering to the sun's light. sea-green with amber flecks. it looks to be some kind of jewelry. a gloved hand comes to rest upon her chin in thoughtful repose. she's thinking. debating. and yet, the next question she utters is less than confident in its delivery. " um ... is this one fake too ? "
the matter of his intent pulls a small laugh out of the deliverer, and his hand raises to rub at the back of his neck in the ever-so-slight sheepishness he feels. “ well… is this you admitting to being impressed, then? ” his words hold a gentle and teasing tone to them, his head tilting towards the traveler by his side as he weaves them through the crowded marketplace. “ i can't really think of anything worse than a good effort going to waste. let me know if i should try harder, or if subtlety is a better look. ”
though, at the heart of it, showing off his keen eye wasn't his only motive here. when he had first arrived in the holy city ages ago, a fresh-faced migrant from aedes elysiae who had absolutely no experience in dealing with the clever vendors here, he had learned… many lessons. expensive lessons. lessons that ended up being nothing more than cheap glasses and tarnished bronzes sold as something special to a naive boy who had a genuine interest in the stories relics held.
…and with those lessons learned, he had no intention of letting anyone get the better of his friends. not while he's there to stop it.
the next item catches his attention amidst everything else on display. resting on a velvet pillow — a merchant offering two bracelets. made with small gold links interwoven and braided, the main attraction lay in the centerpiece of each one: the sea-green stone pendant set in a delicate gold housing. one bore the shape of a crescent moon, and the other, of the sun. lifting one in the light only accentuates the small amber flakes within it like trapped gold. he assessed it quietly and rather quickly: it was genuine, and more than that, there were two of them. a matching pair.
satisfied and smiling, phainon turns towards them. he holds out his hand and presents the golden pair of jewelry. “ no, they're real. i don't think you'll find anything more beautiful and authentic in this market. the moon and sun are important figures to us, woven deep in our history. if you like them, then i say you should get them. i was thinking… one for you, and perhaps one for me... so neither of us will forget the time we spent today. what do you say? ”
im bokutos biggest fan ong
The sun beyond Dressrosa rarely has the privilege of settling upon Doflamingo's golden head. WHEN IT DOES, it is most often beneath the skies of Mary Geoise, where the Holy Land gleams with a brilliance he knows all too well.
His footsteps fall into an effortless rhythm as he makes his way to the chamber where he and the other Warlords have been summoned, each click of his heels swallowed by polished stone and white halls. Bitterness settles across his tongue, sharp enough to season the smile that curls at the corners of his mouth into something more venomous than mirthful. Doflamingo remembers these halls not as a government-sanctioned pirate answering a summons, but as a child who once belonged here by birthright— an untouchable aristocrat that walked these halls without question, whose shadow alone commanded reverence.
The distinction is not lost on him. Feeding the quiet resentment tucked neatly into his grin, it lingers with every step. They cast him out, stripped him of his name; and yet, in the end, they still found themselves opening their gates to him. Tucked behind a smile that's long since become second nature to him, he sharpens his bitterness instead into arrogance as he enters the assembly room.
The room is characterized by towering marble columns that stretched toward a vaulted ceiling lost in pale light in the assembly room, with tall windows inviting shafts of sunlight to spill across the floors. At the room's heart rests an enormous oval table of polished jade, its glossy surface reflecting the light overhead like still water. High-backed chairs encircled it, some waiting for one of the Government's chosen corsairs while others are filled by members of the marines. Not including him, three of the seven were already there.
Moria, A WASHED-UP PIRATE HIDING BEHIND SHADOWS. Kuma, THE GOVERNMENT'S FAVORITE HOUND. And…
MIHAWK: “ THE DEVIL IS HERE IN THIS VERY ROOM. ” [ * ]
@reunion, PERHAPS THE ONLY MAN IN THE ROOM WHO NEEDED THE TITLE OF WARLORD EVEN LESS THAN HIMSELF.
“ Mm? Planning to brood through the whole meeting, Hawk-Eyes? ” Drawling, the grin stretching across Doflamingo face is all teeth as he decides that the swordsman will bear the weight of his foul humor. Friendly banter, as he would call it. Content to poke at the one man least likely to indulge him, his footfalls never break their leisurely rhythm as he closes the distance between them. Circling the oval table, he makes for Mihawk's left side rather than his right.
It seems to be an action done without much thought put into it, until it's realized that the chair to Mihawk's left is currently occupied by a marine. The marine isn't spared so much as a glance until Doflamingo's standing over him. “ Move. ” It's a pleasantly delivered command, light and conversational, almost like he was asking him to scoot his chair in rather than surrender it outright.
With the marine on his feet before the silence has time to settle, Doflamingo eases himself into the chair without so much as an acknowledgment, lounging back as if it had belonged to him from the start. Behind rose-tinted lenses, his grin widens another fraction. “ Should I leave you to it? ” He makes no move to do any such thing.
mihawk's peace of mind is a precious thing to him. his presence at these meetings was never about loyalty to the government, but purely to fulfill a duty to convenience. the status of warlord was a barrier that kept the pests of the sea from bothering him much, and the revocation of it would mean a return to the life he had grown too comfortable to return to. while his strength as the world's strongest swordsman has never relied on any government title as a crutch, he'd be a liar and a fool to deny the peace of mind it grants him— two things the man isn't.
naturally, of course, he had conditions for his attendance.
first and foremost, a bottle of wine and a glass. second, whether he comes in 'too late' or 'too early', the fact is that he still answered the summons, and no marine with an issue with this can scold him for it. third, the matter of seating. if he's going to forgo his comfort for however many hours they leech from his day, he'd rather not sit next to anyone who thinks he's here to mingle. two of the quietest, most unremarkable marines in the room will do just fine then. men who knew to stay quiet and in their places beside the former marine hunter himself.
disturbing his peace was a dangerous game to play that only ended in one winner. the marines knew that. pirates far and wide know that as well, for the most part, and the ones that didn't would always share the same fate as... well, he never bothered to learn the fool's name. one of many unremarkable faces, in the end.
what is the cost for a peaceful life then? the answer boils down to this: for a time, the endurance of something annoying. or rather, someone. sometimes it's both.
...as he said before, the devil is now in this room.
the heavenly demon's presence is the very antithesis for what mihawk preferred: he was all noise, manipulation, and flamboyant theatrics. he still had his eyes closed even after the man arrived to the meeting room. there was no need to open them just yet, he knew it was doflamingo by the disturbance in the air and the nervous shift within the cadets. with eyes still shut, he can tell the moment the marine's heart sunk in his chest and the panic that rose to obey the order to leave the seat. then, he hears the rustling of a feather coat. lastly, the smell of a particular cologne strengthens right next to him.
“ ... ” mihawk hadn't moved well after he claimed the seat beside him. still sitting back, still with his ankles crossed where his feet rested on the table's edge, still with his hat tilted low and shadowing the top half of his face. a slight tilt back and those red pearls for eyes were revealed to be focused on the man closest to him, all without turning his head. “ in a better world, ” his voice comes out flat and steady. he's never one to be riled up by mere provocations. “ ...you would. but we don't live in a world of such mercies. sit down properly, donquixote, before you knock over my glass of wine. i shouldn't have to babysit you. ”
CREDIBILITY IN THE NAME &. CUSTOMER SATISFACTION IS THE GAME.
an indie, private &. selective multimuse written by eggy, feat. aalto from wuthering waves. graphics by @/floragfx
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝟎𝟎𝟏. ㅤ musesㅤ 𝟎𝟎𝟐. ㅤ rules
✉️ ᯽ @conquerorshaki: sabo offers(?) luffy a bite from his spoon.
“ haha! slow down, luffy, you're gonna choke like that! ” it's been far too long since sabo last shared a meal with his little brother like this! ...well, he's doing more watching than he is eating, actually, caught in the amusement that comes when witnessing firsthand how some things really just don't change. despite all the years they've been apart, luffy's still just as he remembers him. still scarfing down everything and anything he can get his hands on, as if the action of reaching around to different plates and platters is less conscious and much more instinctual. it must look like a miracle then, that sabo's own plate remains untouched, but it's only because every darting hand of luffy's gets instantly blocked and redirected by his own. the practiced ease of someone who's done this during every meal with his brothers... some things really just don't change!
“ you're still insatiable as ever, i see, ” he speaks around his own mouthful of food here. (he never claimed to be a model citizen of manners!) “ but eating with your hands is only fine when you're a kid, you know? ” —here comes another attempt at luffy's rushing hand, and here comes another denial as sabo's forearm raises just in time. it doesn't even break his attention. “ i'm pretty sure you're a little past that age now, luffy. haven't your friends ever tried to teach you that? any of them? here. ” his hand guides his spoon to pick up another scoop of rice, and for a moment, it looks like he might really give him an impromptu crash course on manners...
...but he just ends up shoving the spoon into luffy's mouth instead! “ at least try it! ”
✉️ ᯽ @yukako: yukako finds atsumu upset.
...arguments like these are the ones that linger the longest. the whole day has been ruined for atsumu in a way that mindlessly bumping a volleyball can't help. the sour attitude on him is like bright red paint, glaringly obvious to anyone with two working eyes, able to look at the perfect example of a pissed off expression only a fight with a brother can evoke. the highs of having a twin, and the lows: the closest confidant and the one who can trigger him like nobody else can. the ones who know of the miya dynamic can already surmise the reason for it, if only by seeing the matching expression on osamu's own face. wherever it is that he stormed off to, that is... as if atsumu cares. which he doesn't. he's got his own stormin' off to do, dammit.
when volleyball can't comfort him, and osamu's definitely outta the equation, atsumu recluses. his hands are shoved in his jacket's pockets, his feet are moving with purpose, and his presence is marching down the hall and demanding you move or be moved. the gymnasium is occupied anyway, he's sure of it, and dealing with anyone murmuring about what's wrong with him is the last thing he wants to go through right now.
around the corner, the number of summer camp attendees and staff finally begin to die out. being near the storage rooms where no one has the interest to linger by is a perfect reprieve to vent. he stops in his place then, his hands coming out in closed fists by his waist, and... goes on to take a deep breath. it's an almost admirable method of self-soothing— that is, until he tightens his jaw and suddenly kicks at the wall. “ gh...! ” the action done in impulsivity pays him back instantly and cruelly, a pain shooting up from the toes in his shoes to the shin. “ ack! dammit, 'samuuuu!!! ” recoiling and cursing osamu's name (somewhat hoping he'll sneeze himself to death from it!!!) is all he can do as he hops on one foot and rubs at the nerves on fire.
...tap, tap, squeak. it's a small thing, but he knows that sound. it's the sound... of gym sneakers coming to a stop on laminated floor. he grits his teeth at the intrusion and lets his foot back down to stand on it, still aching, and whips around towards the unwelcome visitor.
“ ... ” it's... yukako. well, that just doesn't relieve him at all, but it could be someone worse. “ ...what do you want? i ain't settin' for ya now, so go find some other guy to creep on. don't those miyagi folk teach y'all what givin' someone privacy means? ”
bokuto in season 4 ♡
Yukako, bless her heart, is quick to abandon the accusation about Takiyo's supposed booger-eating (although in hindsight, maybe she shouldn't have done that. ...She might ask her to wash her hands after this). Instead, she instinctively positions herself between Takiyo and her older brother, acting as a shield against his clearly unamused attention. Try as she might to stand firm, Niiyama's ambidextrous player is still a bit of a giggling mess: Rintaro may have some success in simply moving her to the side with her moderately weak constitution if he so wanted to.
People often insist that influence flows in one direction, that teenagers hold a kind of effortless sway over younger kids, who look up to them as symbols of freedom and maturity, as well as everything just out of reach. Elementary schoolers in particular tend to idolize high schoolers for exactly that reason. But here, it can be implied that Takiyo is the influential one! When she laughs all bright and unrestrained—- after having practically thrown Rintaro out to the wolves—- Yukako can't help but echo it, drawn in by connection rather than status or age.
The age gap between Rintaro and Takiyo is only a few years; with the added difference in gender, Yukako knows that their experiences aren't perfectly parallel. Still, she can't help but assume that Rintaro's walked through at least some of the same uncertainties she must be facing now, whether he talks about them or not. There's some comfort in that for Takiyo, right? Someone close by, having already traveled someways through the stretch of the path? Life must feel a little less daunting knowing there are footprints ahead of her, left by someone who's already stumbled, learned, and kept going.
Willing to bet neither of them had ever found themselves in a situation quite like this before, there was something surreal about how nice and wise Yukako's thoughts were versus the silliness of the current moment it that only made her dissolve further into laughter, the kind that bubbles up uncontrollably when something is just too absurd and too perfect at the same time.
“ Nonono, it's a good kind of funny, I swear! ” She insisted, trying (and failing) to steady herself. The effortless betrayal of exposing your older brother's softer, more romantic inclinations purely for the sake of teasing: Takiyo had done such a classic sibling maneuver without even realizing it. Yukako did find it… flattering, in its own way, that he paid her enough attention to draw and study her features, she couldn't ignore how amusing the whole 'snitching' spectacle was.
How does she make all of this seem funny to Rintaro, though? Though harmless, he was the one being exposed here. “ All she said was that you... sometimes... drew me. That's it. I-I swear, she didn't show me anything, @reunion! I don't even know how she figured out where your sketchbook was, but I stopped her before she could open it, okay? I wasn't going to let her snoop through your stuff. I promise! ”
when has being vulnerable ever come easy to someone? the question applies to rintarō in an ill-fitting way, like all things do when you haven't grown into them yet: he's just a teenage boy, isn't that all a little bit dramatic? but the pink heat that creeps up on his face is a very real reaction regardless, just as real as the furrowing muscles between his brows. a feeling of humiliation is starting to swirl in his stomach, like the ebbs of nausea and annoyance. not towards her, but to… everything else. to how he has to rush his sister out of his space, the damage already done, to how something he's kept hidden has just been flayed open, to how it all stems from the stern voice of an older man who's drilled into him the wastefulness of his time and interests during every dinner.
the protests of his sister finally disconnect from his world once the door shuts. he takes a deep breath, as deep as his lungs'll allow, his palms staying on the door. but he knows that's only half the battle. the other half is still behind him, sitting on his bed. “ …a 'good kind' of funny. okay, that's good to hear. i was worried it'd be some other kind of funny, ” he murmurs with the dry and sarcastic humor he's known for, turning away from the door to face her at last. his weight settles against it, his arms crossed. a posture of casualness, or one of guardedness?
…his cheeks are still red. the answer is more obvious than he'd like. “ it's just some dumb drawings. the kinda stuff you do when you're bored in class. i'm not some obsessed pervert stalker, i swear, ” he grins a bit at that, the frustrated scowl melting away. it was never her fault, and thankfully(?…) he's in control of his emotions enough to bury them away beneath a veneer of detachment when he puts his mind to it. it's fine. everything's fine. it's whatever.
rintarō peels away from the door with another heavy exhale, lumbering over back to the bed to flop down onto it. laying where her legs are, staring up at the ceiling and the whirl of the fan keeping the room pleasantly cool. he runs his fingers through his hair idly, but mostly just to pull at the roots a bit. “ …you wanna look in it, don't you? ” he cuts to the heart of it. it'll be on his mind all day if he doesn't, and his girlfriend finding out that she's his secret muse is a horrifying baggage on his conscious already. “ ahhh, go ahead then. just don't get mad at me when you see i made your ears too big or your eyes too lopsided, or something… and just toss it back far, far under the bed when you're done, please and thanks. she must've crawled under there like a roach and found it. ”
from Autopsy by Donte Collins
i’m so curious. who’s ur least fav hq chara 🤔🤔🤔
sitting coach washijo and garp from one piece at a table called Old men i need destroyed
Even after 13 years of silence, and after ruining his toys on Punk Hazard, he still cares about the words of his subordinates. ...But it's true. As it stands, The famed Heart Seat is an empty chair, preserved as one would for a sacred relic. Law's absence left a wound in the structure of the Family that he, the King of Dressrosa, never fully sealed over: a truth he would've preferred to unveil on his own terms, now dragged out into the open. The situation sours him for a mere second before the ugliness behind his grin vanishes, and it returns to its wholly ecstatic glory. “ So, those idiots told you that? ” He drawls. “ I suppose they never stopped missing you. ”
People who need love will always choose their hearts over reason in the end. “ It's true. Nobody else was worthy of that seat. ”
Doflamingo's voice drips with amused contempt even as his gaze hones further in on @reunion like hooked wire, his orange lenses glinting in the light. “ Secrets? You think Baby 5 and Buffalo betrayed me? ” Despite the accusation hanging in the air, or perhaps because of it, he is utterly at ease. “ They were sentimental. That's all. ”
Most things people say to Doflamingo turn into a game of dominance on his end: he enjoys verbal sparring, enjoys even more the upper hand he keeps during them, the psychological control and the way people crack under his dexterous fingers. But Rosinante... he's different. That's different. Law doesn't utter a single name; yet, the sudden change in the Devil Fruit user's mood, triggered by the memory of his brother— HE WHO CHOSE THE SIDE OF THE WEAK, JUST TO SPITE HIM— makes the very air crackles with volatile energy. For a split second, genuine fury threatens to peek through the performance.
The idea of slowing down long enough to honestly engage with what he represented, to confront the fact that someone he knew and loved still chose to stand against him... He refused. But as it seems, Law doesn't quite care what he wants. Law, who embodied Rosinante's final choice. Rosinante, who reached Law more deeply than he did.
Low and ugly, he smothers it all beneath laughter, as he always does. His defense is nastiness and he uses it well. “ Fuffuffuffu... still clinging to a dead man after all this time? ” Doflamingo sneers, though there's strain many miles below the ridicule now. “ Even now, YOU'RE STILL HIS PUPPET. He filled your head with fantasies before he died, and you've been rotting inside them ever since. ”
doflamingo's laugh is a venomous and aggravating sound on his ears. against the effort of maintaining his composure, a muscle jumps in law's cheek from his jaw tightening. bringing up the heart of his precious resolve is a double-edged sword, and now he has to listen as the king of dressrosa drags it through the dirt. the man standing before him could never cough up the respect corazon was due, not in this lifetime or the next thereafter, and hearing the mocking of what he had stood for only makes law want to lunge forward and shut him up. the instinct to defend the honor of a dead man who had long since left this world. ...the tightening of his grip on kikoku's handle and the grit of his teeth is all he can manage to reign himself in.
because he knows this is doflamingo's sport. he's a master at slipping beneath his opponent's skin, he knows this. rushing into the spider's web out of impulse is exactly how this entire operation crumbles into nothing: how law's story ends, how cora-san's dream dies right here and now. he knows this, he knows this better than anyone, and yet—
somewhere amidst the hidden war for his restraint, law's head had bowed an inch lower. the cover of shadow his hat gives him is a comforting hiding spot, just as it had always been. “ a puppet...? ” law's echo is a monotonous murmur, so steady against the sound of the man's loud, joyful-sounding tone. “ you really just don't get it, do you? ...but to a man who handles everyone like they've got strings, i guess that's the only way you can understand. dividing the world into 'who can be controlled?' and 'who's the one doing the controlling?' ” the sheer audacity of it makes law's chest ache with those heavy memories. were those six months spent being taken to hospital after hospital just the craft of a puppeteer? was feeling worthy enough to be saved when the rest of the world rejected him... nothing more than a 'fantasy'?
...no. he just doesn't get it. doflamingo will never, ever understand what that half a year meant to him— what the sacrifice had done to him. “ ...when i hated the world... and everything around me... that man, he told me... ” law's frown etches even deeper into his face, the weight of unspoken emotion threatening to crack open to the surface.
...suddenly then, the muscles in his sword wielding arm tense.
the fingers of his left hand flex wide, cradling a ring of air that manifests beneath his open hand. it's a split-second preparation: he didn't work so hard just to make it here and exchange words. “ ...ROOM! ” the translucent, pale blue dome expands and envelops the both of them in the boundaries of his domain. law doesn't let a single breath or motion be wasted here, his fingers flick forward, his entire form disappearing just as the “ shambles! ” leaves his lips. in the following fraction of a second, he vanishes entirely from where he had stood, a stray chunk of stone debris appearing in his place before crashing to the ground. having swapped places with it, law manifests behind doflamingo quicker than a blink. using the momentum of the abrupt switch of places, and with both hands gripping his sword's hilt tight, the black blade drives forward with the intent to puncture straight through his left flank.
ash.
@reunion
“It's an ancient technique known as... lying." ashveil to ophelia 🫣
LAUGHTER RESTS BETWEEN HER TEETH LIKE CRUSHED SEEDS, the flavour of elation sitting on the performer's tongue as she attempts to stifle it - endlessly amused by the dramatic pause. like all residents of planarcadia, she was fond of any breed of sarcasm, humour, or dramatics. being serious was so boring, life was far too short to not find some fun in any circumstance.
ophelia smiles, lifting up her shades, propped onto the crown of her head, verdant gaze burning bright with that inner fire. ❝ thanks, smartass, nice to know that there're still some gentlemen around this side of the galaxy. ❞ she purrs, batting her eyes prettily at ashveil, whose reputation spoke volumes. (not that the stuntwoman needed any help with escaping the synwish syndicate, but it was nice to have someone step in.)
her game has begun &. unfortunately, this detective was the target of it. she leans in, fingertips ghosting over his chest before she stiffens - countenance sharpening like a blade, eyes narrowed past the other.
the path of her hand diverges, wrapping around ashveil's wrist &. tugging him into the nearest alleyway, squeezing the both of them in. ophelia presses a finger to her lips in a shushing motion, other hand braced over the detective's chest - waiting as a few henchmen rush past their hiding spot loudly, cussing fiercely about a thief &. finding the red-haired bitch &. the man who walked with the cane who dared to steal from the syndicate.
her lips press together to barricade the snort that threatened to leap through as, eventually, she emerges from the tight alleyway with a luxurious stretch.
❝ it's not stealing if i was debating on giving it back, ❞ she muses, rocking back to her heels. her expression shows no remorse, cavalier in demeanour, as she faces ashveil, offering a pretty, pretty smile. ❝ thanks for the lie, pretty boy, it gave me enough time to grab a little something-something from the syndicate. buuut it does mean you're on their radar~ ❞ ophelia winks, ❝ try not to die, it'd be such a shame to have someone as handsome as you get killed. ❞
RANDOM BOOK QUOTES ╱ accepting!
well... that's one way to complicate an investigation. here's how i became an accomplice to the crime of thievery— definitely not what he had in mind to report to his assistant tonight... the situation with the synwish syndicate was a case he had come to crack open himself, completely unaware of just how different his evening was going to turn out. all thanks, in whole, to a single woman. whether their wires irreversibly crossing is a good or bad thing, ashveil still isn't sure. so, he'll file it under... interesting. and interesting people always keep the eyes of the wolf on them.
the detective's first assessment is this: she's a cat burglar. the second one: ...the hand on his chest and the way she's holding back giggles. okay, an eccentric cat burglar. just what he needed on top of everything else he's got going on.
he lets out a sigh, the chest beneath her palm inflating then deflating with weariness. “ god, no one in this place has an off-switch. why is it that nobody just... sits and relaxes anymore? do a crossword puzzle in the newspaper? ” he's grumbling quietly here, his head turned away and eyes still shut in a defeat only he could feel. [a moment then, for the venting of a man stuck in the older generations...] “ is bird watching out of style these days too? whatever happened to that? —it's the media's fault, i can tell you that much. now everybody's too loud and too energetic, like a bunch of kids on energy drinks... ”
...meanwhile, the syndicate members rush past the alleyway they're in. none the wiser to what hides in the shadows: two strangers smushed together against a dark, damp wall. it's as if they've been working together this whole time, thick as thieves! except, of course, his reputation still matters to him. (he's not a thief here, but a detective! a detective!!) but his conscience matters more to him, has always mattered more. seeing a young lady involving herself in things that could get her hurt... it's a no-brainer as to why he helped her out back there. the thought of what could've happened sobers him up quickly though, turning him a little more sharper and serious as he fixes to look at her now. “ ...you're playing a dangerous game messing with things like this, kid. you know that? ”
with the passing of their pursuers though, she steps out into the streetlight and ashveil can take her in as he sees her now: a carefree woman. he emerges after her, one hand on his cane and the other smoothing away the wrinkles from the front of his jacket. “ hold it, ” he cuts in smoothly and unhurriedly. what she's saying sounds like parting words, like a person who's about to scatter off into the night after getting what they came for. the slippery types are always the hardest to wrangle, he knows this. he has no intention of letting her go so easily. “ my services aren't free, ya know. and since peace of mind doesn't exactly have a price tag... ” with a final click of his cane against the sidewalk, he stands there in front of her in his finality. his hand raises, and with each 'price', a finger lifts: “ who you are, what exactly you stole, and why you did it. ...let's call this price fair. ”
Sabo returns to Baltigo after the Dressrosa incident and the revs are all "oh he seems totally normal thank goodness, we were worried" then Sabo turns to everyone like "omg I've been so excited to introduce everyone, meet my brother, Ace!" And he like makes a lil flame on his hand and everyone just "ohhhhh that can't be good".
