#heartmourne

[mgiwaraz]

                                    an   introduction   for   @heartmourne

never   once   had   luffy   ever    actually    listened   to   law    ⸻    and   today   was   not   going   to   be   any   different.     “   we'll   only   be   gone   for   five   minuuuuuuutes.   ”       a   petulant   whine   and   a   huff,   coupled   with   an   extra   annoyed    stomp    of   a   sandaled   foot   on   the   beachy   shores.     “   what   if   we   find   meat?!   ”       was   law    really    going   to   deny   luffy   anything?

[belovedcorvid]

‘ you need to be more careful.’ / he's fussing.

❣︎ | Memes :: From Here | RP Prompts : Expressions of Love

Just as Law was known by some for his less-than-stellar bedside manner, Donquixote Rocinante was known amongst his crewmates for being a particularly uncooperative patient when injured.

Ever quick to downplay or conceal an injury with a smile ( a specialty of his ), the former marine was not above using every trick in his arsenal to duck a yearly check-in or give his crewmates the slip following a scuffle with an enemy. He moved more stealthily and blended into a busy environment better than anybody his size had a right to, and when that didn't work, gently rerouting their concern to another injured party usually gave him the opening he needed to escape, to look after himself while they were busy. It wasn't that he didn't trust them - far from it - it was moreso in times like these, it was easy to feel more like a liability than an asset to those around you. Strength aside he was slower than most of them, much less maneuverable with his permanent limp: sometimes he couldn't help but wonder why someone as clumsy and accident-prone as him was being kept at all.

The only person these strategies tended not to work on was Law: Rocinante attributed this to many years of familiarity, learning to read right through one another. So when his joints protested and his movements got slow and stiff enough to warrant cheerfully excusing himself from a meal to go lie down and rest, he really should have expected to be followed. Historically he'd relied on his height and reach, being too tall for the kid to effectively suture or bandage without cooperation, but the seriousness and only partially masked anxiety in the other's tone made Rocinante pause this time despite the discomfort of having this weakness be seen. " Hey, " he quipped back, wincing not from pain but from how soft his voice sounded to his own ear as he struggled with the laces on his boots. Was it a good idea to try to untie these while standing ? Probably not. " Careful is my middle name, I'll have you know. "

[ikkaku-of-heart]

@heartmourne asked: the trouble with utilizing a submarine as their seafaring vessel, was that if something went wrong… well, the consequences were often a bit more dire than for those who sailed the seas on a ship, especially for a man like Law, who wielded a devil fruit and would sink faster than any anchor they could decide to drop. It was why he ran such a tight ship, choosing less to name a first mate and more to keep his fingers in every single pot of the Polar Tang’s day to day… from each engine check to his crew’s daily nutrition intake via meals. Some might call him micro-managey. Shachi and Penguin would declare him to have control issues. They were both right. Law was a smart man. He knew how to perform complex heart procedures by the tender age of thirteen. But that didn’t mean he knew everything - the ins and outs of his own ship’s submarine structure included. That was where Ikkaku came in, and not for the first time - the sleepless captain approached her in the wee hours of the morning, looking more like a ghoul than a man. “Ikkaku,” somber and serious as always, captain clutches Kikoku like a comfort, as if any social exertion demanded his cursed swords energy to muddle through ( he was far from a morning person ). “The stairwell next to the Captain’s quarters is making that horrible banging noise again.” It’s said as monotone as possible - not an order, certainly not a plea. Maybe closer to a question. It would explain why he looked extra exhausted though. “I checked, and I believe the hinge on the one metal doo-hickey is loose on that one thing.” At least he tried. Unprompted (Always Accepting!)

As far as Ikkaku was concerned, submarines were superior vessels when compared to most ships. Sure, they had their dangers and problems, but they circumvented many issues plaguing traditional ships. If there was a storm, the Polar Tang could sink beneath the waves into the calmer waters of the depths. They could hide from enemy ships and attack from below, keeping themselves safe and catching their opponents unawares.

Still, a submarine did have its dangers if not looked after carefully, which was why as the head engineer, Ikkaku took her job seriously. If anyone mentioned an odd sound or something not working as it should, she was on it instantly, checking thoroughly and making sure everything was working perfectly. Her crew wouldn't be harmed on her watch.

So while she was still a bit groggy herself, morning coffee having not quite hit her brain yet when Law approached, she immediately snapped to attention when her captain brought up his concerns. No, his language was far from technical, but she didn't expect him to know the name of every type of gear and piston any more than he'd expect her to name every bone in the body. And despite that, his description was helpful. Especially pointing out that it was a hinge that was loose. That narrowed things down significantly, so her diagnosis of the problem would go more quickly.

"Banging in the stairwell again, Captain? That can't be helping your sleep much," she said sympathetically. Rubbing her chin in thought, she considered what the issue could be. "Good news is that generally a loose hinge isn't something critical, so I don't think we'll need to surface. Still, I'll have a better idea once I've taken a look." Downing the rest of her coffee like a shot, she nodded. "Take me to the patient, Boss. I'll get that fixed up right away!"

[sirensofthefiveseas]

no one wishes to hear what you think you know about me. " / for tashigi... asked by @heartmourne

Tashigi paused for a moment, mouth halfway opened to continue her sentence before Law interrupted her. Turning slightly she stared at him for a long pause, blinking slowly. "You....." She couldn't think of what to say, no one had said anything like that to her before.

Puffing out her cheeks for a moment she decided to ignore what he said. "Back to what we were discussing. I truly doubt this island is any sort of vacation even for a warlord. So why don't you tell me what you're really doing here?"

[lovehungered]

clearly your mind is elsewhere. / from law

@crucifor ♡

ㅤㅤThere’s a noncommittal hum from Sanji in a feigned attempt to convey a simulacra of maintained focus on the conversation, words washing over him in ebbing throes as glaucous gaze lingers past the Surgeon of Death, the untrained eye of a bystander potentially perceiving that the cook had an inordinate degree of interest in the other man’s ear—  “ …wait, what? ”  Fair lashes flutter to snap back to attention, line of vision sharply darting to Law, the confrontation of a vaguely judgmental mien firmly reflected taking him aback. The pair had been discussing… uh, plans of some sort  (  un rendez-vous romantique? ou peut-être une enquête sur quelqu’un qui a l’air sournois?  ),  a number of topics coalescing that the blond had seemingly gotten lost along the way. The Straw Hat tempts fate to afford a quick glance past the other once more, a seat which had been occupied at a table on the opposing side of the tavern now empty, a nearby door swinging shut with an insurmountable sensation of  deflation overcoming him.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ Sorry. I… ”  There’s a shake of a fair head as a hand raises to curl at the back of his own nape, a ripple of unwanted heat burgeoning about his visage the longer he comes under scrutiny, Sanji’s need to explain bubbling up much like the suds of the fresh drink slid his way by the nearby barkeep.  “ …thought I saw someone I used to know. ”  The pretty brunette resembled a former customer at Baratie, an elegant woman very much his senior possessing the air of someone who should have noble blood  (  mais elle lui manquait les signes révélateurs de l’arrogance  ),  a subtle demeanour of friendly flirtation and sheer grace driving a young teen to go out of his way to offer her preferential treatment—  “ Must’ve been mistaken. ”  The blond tries to shake it off, drifting glance peering about the establishment, its raucous crowd and dank setting providing enough of an inward conclusion that there wasn’t an ice cube’s chance in hell that she would be caught dead somewhere like this  (  …mais et si?  ).

ㅤㅤ“ Doesn’t matter. ”  There’s a light cluck of the man’s tongue, the notion of assuaging the captain seeing the younger’s frame edging closer ever so slightly, fingertips ghosting along the delicate red material wrapped around Kikoku’s scabbard, a faint means of pressure exerted for digits to intertwine and give a playful tug  (  il trouverait un moyen de se rattraper auprès de l’autre  ).  Sanji flashes Law a cunning smile, the gesture drawing him in.  “ I’m right here. ”

[lovehungered]

[ lips ] in the midst of an intimate exchange, sender smooths their thumb back and forth over receiver's lips / Law!

@crucifor ♡

ㅤㅤThere are times where it feels like those aureate eyes are searching for something  (  ou quelqu’un  )  when they peer at the cook, a look that makes Sanji unintentionally feel a little on display whenever they have a quiet moment alone, an awareness only heightening as a splay of fair hair ripples across the back of his nape. This  (  quelle que soit l’étiquette inimaginable qui lui est assignée  )  is very new, so much so that mere conversations are increasingly imbued with an elevating tension, its ladened weight in the air bringing about two potential responses - to either leave the space entirely to come up for air, or lean completely into it. The blond had opted for the former option on more than one occasion, making excuses to step away to serve drinks or to fetch an unnecessary item left elsewhere on the ship, a reaction that came from being ultimately unsure of where things were headed, a flustered confusion that didn’t sit too well with him.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤAnd yet it appears that the Straw Hat’s finally been coaxed into the latter choice today, the contentious urge to retreat quelled as the man inwardly and figuratively stands his ground with Law’s approach, a pen tucked into the spiral ringed spine of a notebook with the pages closing shut. Seated by the large armrest of a couch, he makes no effort to move as the area besides him is promptly occupied, a heat emanating from the other’s bearing which almost crowds him in the narrowed space. The signs are loud and clear, fingertips consequently tracing a gentle path over shadows cast on the other’s shirt from the pair’s newfound proximity, biding the desire to do a little more  (  un désir qui est toujours sous la surface  ) - the contact remains fleetingly noncommittal for the time-being, testing the waters while fighting the underlying urge to adhere to the heated flush that increasingly burgeons across fair features.

ㅤㅤThe allies haven’t actively… done anything about this yet, not even a kiss, but the way their bodies are amorously locked in place against each other, one would think this is an habitual scenario, the blond nigh holding his breath in anticipation as a strong hand raises and—  Lashes flutter in surprise as the thumb brushes over Sanji’s lips, an unexpected tenderness within the gesture that draws a warm breath with the heave of his chest, the tension about his jaw instantly dissipating. A tremble wracks Sanji’s hand, so much so that it stops dead in its shifting trajectory, the splay of fingertips widening to bring the palm to rest against the doctor’s chest, a gesture that’s partially an invitation and a means to steady fraying nerves. There’s a brief parting of the blond’s lips, Sanji’s watchful eyes maintained on Law while pouting in turn against the curve of the thumb, motion that’s slow in its unabashed reverence.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤThere’s a slight and considered quirk of the the blond’s chin, inching down to gingerly brush over the outline of the digit until reaching the spot adjacent to a lower knuckle, tentatively pausing with a spark of courage fighting its way forth.  “ Tu peux m’embrasser. ”  The words are barely a whisper, a feat of discretion interwoven with hesitation, the latter threatening to take hold for being too presumptuous.  “ Je veux dire, si tu veux… ”