#long hair Sanji is another weakness of mine

[hyacinth-04]

I love putting Sanji in puffy sleeve shirts and corsets 🫶

#one piece #sanji #blackleg sanji #need him to show off his tiny waist #Sanji is my muse 💖 #second pic is if Sanji was a Victorian era pirate #long hair Sanji is another weakness of mine #I blame his wano outfit for that #digital art

[kilannad]

As the Stars Burn On Chapter 22

Masterlist. Ao3.

Chapter 22 Anniversary

“Usopp, I'm telling you I usually just fight with it.”

“And I'm telling you that you're an idiot who doesn't know how to take care of your hair.”

Gajeel snapped his teeth at Usopp, but it was more playful than anything. He was in too good of a mood to be honestly grumpy; having an early morning makeout session tended to do that to him. He didn't know why he'd assumed that Laxus would be the type to keep his hands to himself until they got to land--and thus privacy--but he'd been thoroughly disabused of that notion when Laxus had stopped him in the storage room before the rest of the crew had woken up. While they had agreed to wait until after Merry was taken care of to approach Lucy directly, they'd been rather lackadaisical in discussing themselves. Considering how long Laxus had lived with Lucy in Alabasta—and been traveling alone before that--Gajeel guessed he had more than a little pent-up energy.

Not that he was complaining, of course.

Usopp tugged hard on his hair, pulling it out of the metal on his shirt. Gajeel snarled, dragged out of his reminiscing. “Motherfucker!”

He only clucked his tongue. “This is going to be a bigger project than I thought.”

Lucy walked up the steps, pausing when she saw them out on the forecastle.

Usopp, likely having not seen her, ordered, “That's it, take off your shirt.”

“Did I...interrupt something?” Lucy asked. Annoyed, but knowing an opportunity when he saw it, Gajeel only shook his head and pulled off his shirt. For a woman who regularly traveled with guys who went half-naked, Lucy had the ability to go very red, very fast. “Wow, okay. If you two need privacy-”

“I'm helping Gaj with his hair,” Usopp announced.

“I didn't agree to this in any way.”

“It physically pains me to see your hair such a mess.” Usopp kicked a stool under Gajeel's knees and he relunctantly sat down and let Usopp drag his head back and dunk his hair in a huge tub he'd set up. The water was surprisingly warm.

“If you wanted a haircut, I could have Cancer do it. He does all of mine.”

Usopp paused his riffling through a series of bottles, raising a brow. “The crab dude, right? Do you want Luffy to try and eat him again?”

“That was one time,” Lucy defended. “And Luffy doesn't eat his friends. It's the only reason I'm not concerned about cannibalism.”

“Bunny, if that's the only reason, then you should definitely be concerned.”

She huffed, slapping the water so it went splashing over his head.

“Oi!”

“You deserved it.” She paused, sticking her hand back in the water. “It's warm. Tell me you didn't use all of Merry's hot water for this.”

“Of course not,” Usopp said. “There are a few heat dials set up on the inside to warm up the water. Unlike some people, I'm not a heathen.”

Gajeel felt like that last comment was needlessly pointless. “I'm telling you, my hair has never met a brush or comb it didn't destroy. Be glad I haven't accidently strangled myself with it.”

“That's because no one's ever showed you how,” Usopp pointed out. “Give me...hm, four hours.”

“Hours?!”

“Maybe five. You have a lot of hair.”

Gajeel very nearly called it off, generally having trouble sitting still for one hour, nevermind five. Considering his hair, while annoying, had generally worked for him in the past, it really didn't seem worth it. A pity that he'd developed a weakness since leaving Phantom.

“Can I watch?” Lucy--the weakness in question--asked. Gajeel tilted his head to look at her; the angle was a little strange, but he could see her eyeing the various bottles and brushes that Usopp was setting in a neat line. He didn't know why she wanted to watch him suffer through a hair treatment, but if it would distract her from Merry, Gajeel wouldn't take that away.

“Only if you keep me entertained,” Gajeel teased. Red crawled up her cheeks and it earned him another splash, but she settled nearby in a lawnchair Sanji brought up for her. She had a stack of newspapers with her, a single bounty poster on the top. The three of them settled into the comfortable quiet that was so alien to Gajeel yet so common on the crew. Even Usopp found no need to fill the silence with exagerated stories; he hummed a little tune under his breath and worked with the dedicated focus of someone following a ritual they held sacred.

Usopp dunked Gajeel's head back, beginning to work something into it. It smelled like cedar, which he appreciated--though he wasn't sure when Usopp had figured out what soap he prefered. Usopp worked it deep into his scalp, massaging the conditioner in and working it through the heavy strands. Despite himself, Gajeel found himself relaxing into the treatment; when Usopp scratched just along the base of his skull, he practically melted.

The shuffling of pages from Lucy paused and Gajeel cracked his eyes open to look. She was staring at him, an amused smile taking over her face.

“What'd ya staring at, Bunny?”

“You're purring,” she said gleefully.

Gajeel very deliberately started evening out his breathing. “No I'm not.”

“You were.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh Mavis,” she laughed. “I thought I'd heard it from Natsu once or twice but Gray thought I was nuts. So dragons do purr.”

“Who's Natsu?” Usopp asked.

Lucy's smile wavered before it came back just as brightly. “Natsu's a member of my team. He's a fire dragon slayer.”

“He's a lot like Luffy,” Gajeel admitted, though he scowled. “Never tell him I said that.”

Lucy pretended to consider it. “Well, I don't like lying to my teammates...”

Gajeel snorted, leaning forward as Usopp wrapped his hair up, conditioner still in. “Anyone who ever said you were sweet has never met you.”

She batted her lashes at him, eyes unecessarily wide. “Who? Me?”

Gajeel rolled his eyes. “Just tell me what you want, Bunny.”

“Do dragons purr the same way as cats? Like whenever your happy?”

Groaning, he banged his head against the tub. “Trying to ruin all our reputations?”

“Just curious.”

“Fine. We do...purr...but usually when we're content.” He stopped there, unwilling to say the other part; that dragons tended to purr when surrounded by their hoards and they knew they were safe. That was not something anyone needed to know.

Except maybe Laxus. Did he even know he could purr? Gajeel prayed he'd be there when he found out.

Desperate to change the subject at this point, Gajeel jerked his chin at the pile of newspapers. “What ya looking into?”

She bit her lip, poking at the pile. “It's probably nothing.”

“That means it's maybe something.”

Sighing, she held out the bounty poster. It showed a long, narrow faced man with blond hair and three tattoed lines about each eye in place of eyebrows. The bounty was 130,000,000 beries.

“Alright,” Gajeel whistled. “So who's he?”

“Basil Hawkins, captain of the Hawkins pirates. His bounty just jumped from 98 million to 130.”

“This guy is worth more than Luffy?” Usopp screeched. “Talk about scary.”

“Bounties don't only involve the physical strength, Usopp,” Lucy explained. “While that is part of it, bounties also represent how big of a danger the World Government considers them. Eustass Kid is strong, sure, but his stupid high bounty has more to do with the fact that he's a civilian killer and tends to leave the marines sent after him in pieces rather than the fact that he's strong.”

“So what's the jump for?” Gajeel asked.

“Invaded a castle and stole the national jewels from an allied country.”

“And this is maybe interesting because...?”

“Because his epithet is 'Magician'.”

Gajeel blinked, looking closer at the image. It was a closeup of his face, though Gajeel wouldn't be able to tell if he was a mage by a picture anyway. He didn't look like anyone he'd ever seen, but that didn't mean much.

“You're thinking, what, he's one of us?”

“Is that dumb?” Lucy worried her lip, staring at the picture. “There are too many questions about him and I don't like it.”

“Is that even possible?” Usopp asked. “That there are more mages here?”

“The Rune Knights were crawling all over the ruins,” Gajeel pointed out. “And I wouldn't be surprised if they got a magic supressionest to shut the whole thing down.”

“I figured as much. It's just-” She cut herself off with a groan. “Maybe I'm just seeing what I want to see.”

Lucy, Gajeel had long since learned, suffered from some of the worst self-doubt he'd ever seen. It was dumb as shit since she was one of the most competent people he knew, but understandable considering her shit father.

“What do you know about him?” he opted to ask instead of pointing any of this out.

“Only a little which is why it's weird. Suspected to be in his late twenties/early thirties and from the North Blue. That's where all information about his origins stop--he started his crew in Whiteland Kingdom but they deny him as a citizen. His powers include straw manipulation, which is probably from a Devil Fruit, and--this is the important part--card magic.”

Gajeel straightened, suddenly a lot more interested. “Card magic like Cana?”

“I don't know. Everyone is assuming it has to do with his Devil Fruit but that doesn't make any sense. People just say he reads his tarot and does 'card magic'. It's what caused his epithet.” She fiddled with the edge of one paper, refusing to meet his eyes. Usopp had gone very still and quiet, watching the two of them. “Do you think it could be possible?”

Gajeel's gut said no; what were the chances that someone else from Earthland had landed in Terra? Then again, what were the chances that he had landed here? More than anything though, he felt for Lucy. The easier it was for people to fall through here than the easier it should be for them to get home. Yet he couldn't make himself lie to her, no matter how lost she looked.

“I don't know, Luce. I just don't know.”

☉

“So your hair can be tamed,” Laxus noted in wonder. He reached a hand out, tugging at Gajeel's locks. He responded with a half hearted smack, but let Laxus get a feel. It was softer than before, and tamed into a more managable mane instead of a wild nest. Unlike most hair products, Laxus didn't smell any chemicals, just cedar oil. “How the hell did you manage this?”

“Usopp,” Gajeel shrugged. “Apparently he has a lot of the same problems.” He nudged Laxus towards the main deck--they'd entered a warmer climate and Sanji had taken to serving meals outside where they had a little more room. “Did Lucy tell you her theory about Hawkins?”

“Yeah she came and mentioned it. Don't know how much I believe it.”

“I had the same problem,” Gajeel agreed. “If it is true...?”

“Then we deal.” Laxus rubbed a hand through his hair, watching Lucy as she got into a heated debate with Robin; they were both smiling, eyes crinkling even as they argued. He couldn't deny the warmth he felt at the sight--and the concern about what was to come. If there was someone else from Earthland here, than how many others how fallen through?

And had any of them ever found their way back?

☉

Far away in the New World, where the ocean was rutheless and the strong ruled with iron fists, a beloved son returned home.

Marco banked hard into an updraft, the hot wind pushing through his feathers and sending sparks of blue flame spiralling through the air. He'd flown through a hail storm and straight into a heatwave on his way back, but he hadn't stopped. Pops had asked a favor from him; Marco had never said no to him and he wasn't about to start now, even if this mission was the hardest he'd been on in ages.

Below, a white beacon of safety in the wide blue sea, the Moby Dick appeared on the horizon. She was as huge and glorious as the first time he'd seen her at 14, Whitey Bay's hand a warm weight on his shoulder. Marco hadn't been the first person Edward Newgate had called his child but he had been the first to call Whitebeard Pops in turn. In the nearly three decades he'd sailed under Whitebeard, not once had Marco regretted his choice.

A cheer went up on deck as he swept close, bleeding off speed and height in smaller and smaller loops. There'd been an undeniable air of mourning in recent months, the death of one brother and betrayal of another staying heavy over all their heads; yet still, the Whitebeard Pirates kept going, living always for those they'd lost. Now if only Ace would call to let them know he was okay, Marco might rest easy.

Marco landed lightly, gladly taking the welcoming pats from his siblings welcoming him home. Many of the Commanders were off on missions right now, spread through their territory to make sure Teach didn't have any other nasty surprises planted; even with so many gone, though, the ship was full and lively.

“Welcome back, son!” Whitebeard called and one final cheer went up before the crew returned to their duties. Marco launched himself up, settling on his father's shoulder where they could talk quietly while keeping an eye on the ship.

“Good to be back, yoi. How're you doing, Pops?”

Whitebeard hummed, face crinkling into a smile. Only Marco could see the concern etched into his face. “You're home safe, what more could I need?”

Ace back, Thatch alive, Teach's head on a spike. Marco didn't say any of it, but he thought it. He hadn't survived the New World without developing some instincts and everything in him was warning him of shifting tides. Something big was coming, he could feel it in his bones. But what?

“Did you get it?” Whitebeard asked quietly.

With a nod, Marco slipped a long box from his pocket, handing it over. It was comically tiny in Whitebeard's huge hand, but he handled it carefully, using a single finger to flip it open. Even smaller than the box, velvet padding keeping it safe and unmoving, a long key sat. It made Marco's skin crawl, though he didn't know which part he hated more. The fact that it was seastone, the carved constellation of the rooster, or the bird head that stared up accusingly and seemed to have too many teeth for a chicken. If he didn't know better, Marco would think it had a will and Voice of its own--his observation haki was nearly always going off with it near. Something about it tickled his memory, but he couldn't place where he might have seen it before.

“What is it, yoi?” Marco whispered.

With a troubled look, Whitebeard dragged a finger along the length of the key. “Something extremely powerful that shouldn't fall into the wrong hands.”

“But...if you knew about it, why did you let Ochoku keep it for all these years, yoi?”

“He can't do anything with it,” Whitebeard answered dismissively. He scanned Marco a little closer. “You didn't have trouble getting it?”

“Got caught on my way out,” Marco admitted. He was good--great, even--but stealth wasn't his specialty. “Didn't try to fight, just run, yoi.”

“Good,” Whitebeard said. “You couldn't beat Ochoku alone.”

It wasn't an insult, merely a statement of fact. Marco tried not to let it bother him, knowing as he did that Ochoku once sailed as an equal to Whitebeard. That didn't answer any of his questions though.

“If it's useless-”

“Not useless,” Whitebeard corrected. “Ochoku simply can't use it.”

“Pops,” Marco whinned. He didn't need to know all the things Whitebeard had floating around his head, but his curiousity had been peeked. It was rare for his father to avoid answering a question which only made this more interesting.

In fact, there had only ever been one thing Marco had asked that Whitebeard had refused to answer.

“Does this-” Marco paused, lowering his voice even further, suddenly understanding the seriousness of the situation. “Does this have to do with what Roger told you, yoi?”

Silently, eyes never leaving the length of seastone, Whitebeard nodded.

“The seas are changing, son. An old current is picking up, and we need to be ready for it.”

Once, years and years ago, Whitebeard had gone to have a meeting with the Pirate King; only the Commanders knew about it. When he'd come back, Marco had asked what Roger told him.

It was the only time Whitebeard had refused to answer him, which had been answer enough.

Marco didn't know what a strange key had to do with the One Piece, but he figured he better make sure the infirmary was stocked anyway.

☉

“Chief, if Whitebeard isn't going to do anything-”

“Then we wait.” Deep in the New World, the ocean was rougher, bluer. His old captain had once said it even sounded freer. Shanks didn't know about that, but it certainly was his favorite place. Well, second favorite. A certain East Blue village would always hold his heart.

Not far away, on an island he made a point to never look at, someone else kept hold of his soul.

Shanks had more regrets than he wanted and he could only hope this wouldn't become another.

1524. The world just had to hold on until the end of 1524; then the dawn would come.

☉

It was official; Gajeel and Laxus were trying to kill her. Lucy buried her head more firmly in her book, determinely not looking down to the main deck. They'd enetered a spring island climate and it had gotten notably warm; Lucy had switched to skirts and short-sleeves again, which was very reasonable. What was less reasonable was Gajeel and Laxus taking off their shirts for their sparring session. They weren't using magic, just practicing their hand-to-hand, both of them topless and sweatdrenched.

Maybe a little peek wouldn't hurt.

Laxus caught Gajeel's arm, flipping him over his shoulder and onto the ground; Gajeel hooked a leg around, bringing Laxus down with him so that they were pressed together. Gajeel leaned up and said something in Laxus's ear that had him throwing his head back in laughter. He stood, muscles flexing as he hauled Gajeel to his feet.

Lucy cleared her throat, dropping her eyes almost as soon as she registered the scene. Yesterday had been a similar show, after which they'd dragged her in for training and proceeded to tag team her until she was her own sweaty, disgusting mess, cussing them out from lunch till dinner. The day before that they'd settled next to her while she was writing and proceeded to pass out along her legs, their hair a soft tangle in her lap.

She'd been a blushing red mess for days now and while they played innocent Lucy was positive they were doing it on purpose. Thus; attempting to kill her.

A line of hands bloomed from the deck, passing the newspaper down the line until it dropped in her lap. She called out a thanks and received a quiet 'your welcome' from the disembodied mouth on the back of her chair.

No, Lucy's life wasn't weird, why would you ask?

Perfectly happy to ignore the bizarre turn her life had taken, Lucy snapped open the newspaper, scanning headlines for anything interesting. Shanks and Whitebeard had been in the same area of the sea and everyone was predicably screaming about it; another island had gone Revolutionary; and the Big Mom Pirates intercepted a shipment of Heavenly Tribute. All and all, the usual set of nonesense. She nearly turned the page, before something caught her eye.

It was hard to keep track of the days at sea sometimes. Things tended to blend together into one weird mash, dates becoming background noise. Yet Lucy couldn't believe she'd forgotten this.

“Terra to Bunny.” Someone tugged her hair, and Lucy blinked her way out of her thoughts. Gajeel, towel tossed around his neck, was leaning against her, arm on her head. Laxus, similarly topless, had sat at the foot of her beach chair, one hand rubbing her calf.

Laxus frowned at her, eyes scanning closely. “You alright, Princess?” His newest nickname—another cause for her heart palpitations that usually left her a blushing mess—barely registered.

“Yeah,” she murmured. When neither of them looked like they believed her, she added a little lost. “It's the seventh.”

Laxus seemed to understand, closing his eyes as if he were physically pained. Gajeel, still confused, guessed, “Wasn't it your birthday this week?”

“What?” Oh, right. Lucy had honestly forgotten; turning nineteen seemed like such a minor issue these days. “Yeah, on the first. But...”

“It's been a year,” Laxus filled in. He squeezed her leg and she was glad for his strength. “Since we fell through. It's been a year.”

Gajeel's breath caught. For a long second, the three of them sat in perfect silence. Then, with great feeling, Gajeel blew out a breath. “Fuck.”

Lucy laughed, only a little hysterical. “Yeah.” Clearing her throat, she could only find the strength to say again, quiet as the wind, “Yeah.”

There really wasn't anything else they could say. For all that they'd been stuck here a year—or near as, in Gajeel's case—they still didn't know how to get back. They had clues, sure, and we're closer now than when they started, but how long would it take? It took three years of a person missing before they were declared dead in Fiore, and they still had to get all the way around the world. That was if the answer to get home really was on Raftel.

She knew, objectively, that time was passing as they traveled as Straw Hats. That her friends and family back in Earthland would be concerned. Somehow, it still felt too real all of a sudden. Like the fact that a year had passed—how many anniversaries would they celebrate?—put it all into perspective; they were gone, and time kept moving.

“I've been a Fairy Tail mage for two years, as of yesterday,” she murmured.

For a long, long while, the three of them sat together in silence. There was nothing any of them could say.

☉

For all that Lucy wished time would stand still, the world kept on spinning. The ocean continued to try and kill them daily—typhoons, sea kings, underwater volcanoes, Marine patrols, take your pick—and the crew fell into their new normal. Robin laughed more, her warm dereshishi echoing alongside the rest of the crew; Lily and Zoro became sparring partners, getting yelled at daily by Nami and Usopp to watch it, don't hurt Merry, damnit! Usopp started joining Sanji in the kitching, keeping the cook entertained as he worked on his various projects; the whole crew got new cups, specialized for them all. Laxus and Gajeel spent far more time together than Lucy ever expected—when they weren't alone, they were with her, usually pushing all sorts of boundaries that she never quite managed to enforce.

They all trained, her Spirits getting stronger daily, even as Loke and Sanji got into pissing contests. While Shé continued to be unable to address anything from the Void Century, he did continue to work with Crux and Gemini, the three Spirits using his new connection to Marine den-den lines to build a truly terrifying collection of information. Merry didn't appear again, nor did they have any more unexpected leaks spring; yet all of them knew she was in pain, and did their best to be careful for her.

Lucy hadn't given up hope, but each day of Gajeel and Laxus cringing at some unheard sound reinforced what they already knew—she was dying, and it might already be too late.

Finally, nearly a full month after they'd dealt with the nightmare bounty hunter, they saw what Lucy would later realize was the first sign of land—and the trials it would bring.

“Oh!” Luffy called, leaning so far over the railing that Zoro grabbed his shirt. “Look! There's a frog doing the front crawl.”

“Frogs don't do front crawls,” Gajeel countered. He dropped the shells he'd been making for Usopp, joining the rest of the crew as they all huddled around Luffy.

Pantherlily alighted on his shoulder. “Of all the things we've seen since we got here, a frog doing the front crawl is where you draw the line?”

“All the things we've seen usually have explanations,” Gajeel pointed out.

“Who cares?” Luffy interrupted. “Let's eat it!”

With their captain's orders set, the crew got to shifting the Merry's course. There was indeed a huge frog, bigger than Laxus, doing the front crawl determinedly through the waves. Not even Nami storming out of her room, ink on her fingers, could deter Luffy's fixation though, and so off they went, Merry creaking in his ears as they asked for more speed than she was probably willing to give.

They closed the distance quickly, the frog pausing in the middle of the ocean, not far off their port as they slowed. Luffy reared back, already drooling as Sanji listed out possible frog-centered meals.

“Wait!” Laxus screamed, grabbing Gajeel and yanking him towards the rear of the ship. He struggled for a second, until he heard it.

The unmistakable roaring sound of a train whistle. And it was heading right towards them.

#as the stars burn on #one piece fanfic #fairy tail fanfic #lucy heartfilia #laxus dreyar #gajeel redfox #laxus x lucy x gajeel

[nyd-needs-cuddles]

Emperor’s New Clothes

Finders keepers, losers weepers!

When Sanji is wed, the Strawhats are too little, too late.

They come upon bloody bodies stuck on tables and chairs, all looking similar to their beloved Cook sans a large man with the only defining feature of blonde hair. They’re all barely alive, clinging to air for how knows long. Chopper is immediately upon them, panicked but steady, shouting instructions over Pedro and Brook’s direction as Carrot tries not to puke with Nami helping her out.

Luffy stands in front of the altar, quiet but not for long.

“Nami,” he says, without looking away at the place where Sanji had been forcefully thrust upon some random girl. He knows he likes women—loves them, even. But this place is a cage hidden with sweets and food that Luffy would never glance at, and Luffy should know (he nearly lost a brother to a similar, golden cage—). “Where?”

Nami stops from where she’s rubbing circles on the Mink’s back, sees the steel line on Luffy’s—no, her Captain’s shoulders and feels a comforting weight settle on her like a protective blanket, and she understands. She may not have Zoro’s innate understanding, nor Robin’s intelligent observations, or Ussop’s easy camaraderie, but she’s his Navigator. She’s the one who guids his anger and let him loose.

It isn’t raining, and there is no Aqua Laguna to run away from, but a nakama is missing (taken away from their home—) and if she has to set the World Government Flag on fire, she will.

“Follow me,” she answers, and knows it’s true.

(They’d give up their lives for him, but knows it’s harder to come back after turning him away)

—

Sanji is found in a small cottage, asleep and with a girl—his bride, but she looked no older than Shirahoshi—who cries and attempts to kill them with a grin on her face.

Luffy bats her away, then breaks the pistol and knife on her grasp. Face devoid of any joy, he asks, “Are you going to hurt him?”

Speechless, she doesn’t speak. But Luffy’s eyes tell stories when he doesn’t have the patience to, and she tears up as she nods, “For as long as I live.”

Nodding, and deeming her sincere, Luffy walks up to his Cook’s slumbering form and sets his hat on his chest without a word.

Exiting the safe haven amidst a cake-frosted wonderland, Strawhat Luffy leaves for war.

—

Katakuri sees the man in front of him, thin but whipcord strength hidden underneath his fancy clothes, a fedora atop where a strawhat should be.

He sees, then, still only for a moment, but what he has yet to hear staggers him.

“Move, I have no reason to fight you.”

It takes him a few beats before he realizes that Luffy had spoken in the present, and he can’t help the confused, “What?” Even as he already knows his answer, which was more baffling than the first one.

“Pigtails would cry, and she likes Sanji so I won’t make her sad,” was his simple reply. It was dumbfounding. “So move. I don’t wanna fight you.”

“And why should I?” He finds himself asking, and feels the breath knocked out of him when he gets an answer.

“I have business with Big Mom.”

—

Jinbei sets down the red cup, no fear whatsoever, for he knows his Captain will be the Future Pirate King. A mere Emperor should not faze him.

Then he comes, decked in red and black, his signature item gone but Jinbei isn’t worried. Luffy-kun is calm, eerily so, and it reminds him starkly of his desperate run towards his brother.

But this is different. This time, Sanji-kun is somewhere safe with a protector by his side, and Luffy is not alone.

“Oi,” he says, unheeding the others’ murmurs and incredulous stares. “You’re the one who took my Cook, right?” His brows furrow. “And you made Fishman Island your territory. You’re doing a pretty sucky job at it.”

“Oh? Aren’t you that pesky rookie who claimed Fishman Island as your own?” Big Mom sneers, haughty and confident in her powers. Around them, her children stir in unease, but refuse to show weakness. “Come here to prostrate yourself? Hah! As if I’d let you live.”

Then, in a rare occurence of seriousness, Luffy-kun’s face is shadowed as he shoots back, “I should be the one saying that to you.” And then he’s a blur of rage.

Big Mom meets his haki-coated fist with one of her own, the collision an explosion of wills that sends majority of those present flying, and Jinbei watches in awe even as he struggles to stand.

This... is a fight between Conquerors.

He sees one of Big Mom’s children—a little girl, who looked severely displeased—try to hit Luffy-kun woth her weapon, and he sends a stream of caramel towards her. Shifting into his favored stance, Jinbei faces the children of the soon-to-be defeated Emperor and introduces himself, palm up, “I am Jinbei of the Strawhat Pirates, and I shall be your opponent! Let’s not bother them, yes?”

—

They’re still fighting.

Pedro knows what Strawhat is doing is risky, knows that they still need to get to Wano, but Strawhat is still fighting and he’s losing.

“Pedro!” Nami yells, secure with the fact that they’ve gotten a copy of the Red Poneglyph. “We need to go! We’ll just get caught up in the crossfire at this rate!”

“But your captain—“

“Luffy will be fine!” She interrupts, and smiles. It’s not without worry, but filled with faith. Not blind faith of someone who worships gods, but one that has seen happenings people would call miracles when it was merely a kind and brave act of a human soul. “He’s gonna be the nest Pirate King, remember?” She winks, and Pedro...

Pedro remembers watching the Pirate King’s execution, remembers the rain against his fur and his sword slipping out of his paws.

Then he remembers all that they had done—infiltrated Tottoland, stole a copy of a Red Poneglyph, allied with another Worst Generation Rookie, successfully retrieved their crewmate—and lets himself hope that the sun will shine again, and bring about a new dawn.

Perhaps, after this, he’ll see his home bright and happy (truly happy) once this is done.

—

Luffy unlocks Snakeman, but it’s not enough.

He knows he’s not strong yet, knows there’s a reason Torao became his friend before going after Kaido, but Sanji was hurt and his family nearly got killes and Sanji—his kind, sweet Cook with a bleeding heart and kicks as hard as steel—would forever blame himself if he didn’t do anything about it.

Sanji is strong, but not as strong as he is. And Luffy is the Captain, so it’s his turn to help him.

Once more concentrating on his haki, he stores up all the helplessness at Sanji being taken away (yet another failure, what kind of captain is he?), the fury (how dare they steal Sanji’s freedom!?), the sorrow (oh, he’ll be sad. He’’ll cry. Luffy can’t let that happen), the glee (he’s safe he’s here he’s whole he won’t die like Ace—) and glares down at Big Mom, huffing and puffing and the flames on her hair dying. The cloud was taken by Nami, so he won’t have to worry about that. He’s rubber, anyway.

He recalls Katakuri’s resigned admittance, the way he’d said, “I can’t leave my family.”

It sounded like—(“Leave them. If I come back with you, leave them.”)

It doesn’t matter now. He’ll beat up Big Mom, make Crybaby-Hoshi’s home safe, and take back the Mochi-bastard with them to Wano. He’ll like the donuts Sanji’ll make.

Decision made, he jumps and meets Big Mom head-on and, this time, it’ll be the last time.

—

When it happened, nobody knew except those in Tottoland had any idea what was going on (not even those who watched it with their own eyes could dream to describe it).

It starts like a thunderclap, but silent. An abrupt hush all over the world, enveloping everything within, and left all wondering but largely unafraid.

Only one can put it into words, but that was only because he’d lived through it before.

Rayleigh looked up not at the sky, but the sea in the horizon, and mused, “Took you long enough,” as he drank a glass of whiskey.

Roger’s had been more like a roar, a threat and a promise all wrapped in one.

“Let’s turn the world upside-down,” he said. And he did. Oh, how well he did.

But Luffy’s was different. A declaration of war, a simple fact with no room for arguement:

“Mine.”

And Rayleigh can’t help but laugh, for the boy who only wanted freedom and adventure, will be the one who conquered all.

—

He couldn’t believe it. Mama, Mama was—

Dynasty decapitated—

Oven looked at where Mama’s body had flown, sinking into the depths of the sea she loved so. Strawhat Luffy was barely standing, but the sight that he was, that Mama was the one who wasn’t—

“I told you, didn’t I?” He heard, and saw the other Strawhats emerge from where they were hiding on their ship. The busty gingerhead was smiling smugly at a jaw-dropped Pedro, Zeus (coward traitor that he was) cowering behind her shoulder.

—you just might see a ghost tonight.

“Luffy!” The racoon(?) yelled, worry in his features and pale, “You’re injured—heck, you’re worse than any physical dismemberment I’ve seen in my life! And let me tell, you, Doctorine made sure of that!”

“Luffy-san!” The skeleton yohohoho’ed, but the grip he had on his guitar was, well, bone-white. “Come, let us come home! Our nakama is waiting for us!”

Groggily, Strawhat lifts his head up, gaze blurry and almost catatonic. If he moves now, he could—

“Don’t,” Oven gaped at his triplet, and barely has a second to understand what he meant before Strawhta speaks up, voice shaky but with a command that said, Listen.

“You...” he whispers, coarsely. “This place... and Fish...’n Island...”

Oven knew what he was about to say, but nothing prepared for him to be pinned down by a stare heavier than gravity itself,

“They’re mine now.”

Then Katakuri flinches, seeing something with his advanced sight as he chokes out a, What!? And then he realizes Strawhat wasn’t done. Not yet.

Finger pointed solely on his big brother—their Katakuri, Luffy announces, “Him too.”

There’s a stillness, like the whole world was holding in its breath. And then—

“I can’t,” Katakuri answers, and he looks so sad and small that Oven can’t believe he’ve never seen this. Never seen the longing and sheer want that Katakuri’s gaze held as he watched Strawhat fight and breathe like he was God’s Word come to life. “I—“

“I...” he pants, but his eyes are determined—the same determination that brought Mama down with his fists and pure spite. “...are you happy?”

Katakuri doesn’t answer. It was enough.

“Go,” Oven murmurs, and Katakuri looks so shocked that his heart clenched. Had they really been so blind to their brother’s woes? “Join him. Call us sometimes.”

Daifuku claps his shoulder, and Smoothie nods. Amande takes out her cigar, and Annana is too young but smiles supportively nevertheless. Katakuri watches his family wait for him, and feels tears pool his eyes.

Brulee pushes him, only able to move him because he was idle, and she tears up as she says, “Be free, brother.”

You’ve done so much for us, let us return your love.

“It’s not goodbye,” Daifuku says. “It never is.”

Throughout it all, Strawhat is patient, and the rest of his crew don’t move. Though the racoon seemed to be a second away from sprinting on land and dragging Katakuri back himself.

Swallowing, Katakuri approaches Straw—no, his Captain, and kneels. Not in deference, but to meet him eye to eye.

Slowly, he unravels his scarf, and despite the horrified intakes of breaths, all the Charlotte Siblings had eyes on were Luffy.

And he doesn’t disappoint (not like Mama—Big Mom)

“Huh, cool teeth...” he grins, tired but so full of warmth even Oven feels safe looking at it. What more to Katakuri who’s been accepted without a second thought? “Like... Barto’s... you guys should... meet...”

“Of course,” Katakuri says, and it sounds like a vow, like I’ll follow you beyond death.

Oven doesn’t blame him.

“From now henceforth,” Smoothie suddenly breaks the atmosphere. All look, expect for Luffy who is carried by Katakuri as if it was the most natural thing to do in the world. Maybe it was, maybe it is. “The Big Mom Pirates are now underneath the Strawhats’ Flag. Any opposition?”

None, save for Luffy’s dismayed groan of, There is no Strawhat Grand Fleet!

Scattered laughter erupts, and Katakuri looks more relaxed than Oven has ever seen him just by being with Luffy, and feels more glad of his decision.

And so Katakuri carries Luffy back home to their ship, with Jinbei and the Sun Pirates following, and Oven feels content.

—

Sanji can’t face him, doesn’t even dare to look at his—at Luffy, the strawhat a heavy reminder of what he left behind, of what he’d done.

“I can’t be the Pirate King without you!”

“Sanji,” Luffy starts, and Sanji can’t hold back his sobs. How could he, when the floor he’s looking at is the welcome sight of Sunny’s wonderful kitchen, when he’s away from that hellhole (and his blood family was alive, by the gods—), when standing before him was a Messiah that refused to be known as anythinh other than simply Luffy.

But he lifts his head up still, meets unfathomable dark eyes, and as they soften with a knowing look, Sanji—

Sanji breaks.

It’s messy, a loud keen tearing from his abused throat. His wrists are free and he still has his hands, his Captain is kissing them like they’re pure gold itself, and he’s wrapped in an embrace like nothing can touch him and he knows it’s true. Knows that, for him—useless, unwanted failure of Germa 66. Simple East Blue cook with a debt never (could never be) repaid and skirt-chaser. Vinsmoke Sanji. Blackleg Sanji. Strawhat Sanji—Luffy would break heaven and raise unimaginable hell. For anyone he considers as nakama—

For anyone he loves and Sanji can’t—

“I’m sorry,” it’s weak, nothing compared to the feeling of his Captain’s face smashed against his shoe, and he wants to cut his legs off—“I—I wanna go home.” I wanna go home with you.

I wanna go to the sea with you.

I—

“Silly Sanji,” he shishishi’s, and it sounds like forgiveness he doesn’t deserve. Curved crescents and a blinding grin. “You’re already home. We’re in the Sunny, remember?”

Welcome home.

Sanji laughs, hysterical and so full of relief. And then Luffy’s—his Captain, by god—dragging him out to the deck to meet “Mochi-bastard, he loves donuts!”, and it doesn’t matter that Nami had slapped him when she’s hugging him so tearfully like he’d slip through her fingers, doesn’t matter that he lied to Chopper when he’s clinging on his leg with insults spewing out, doesn’t matter that Brook was a skeleton when he shakes and rattles as he holds him close—

Because Sanji... Sanji’s finally home.

I wanna give All Blue to you, my Captain.

—

Torao looks at the way Blackleg-ya had a piece of Mugiwara-ya’s yukata on his hand, like a child that could get lost in a crowd. He looks at the unmistakeable forms of the Former Warlord Jinbei-ya’s “First Son of the Sea”, and Charlotte Katakuri “Dogtooth” having brunch with a three-eyed woman. He looks at Roronoa-ya’s unsurprised and exasperatedly fond look and just. Throws his hands up in the air and walks away.

He’s not paid enough to deal with this shit.

—

Shanks takes one look at the newspaper the News Coo gave him and spits out his drink.

“Capt’n?” Yassop asked, early-riser that he is. “What’s—“ he stops, and Shanks feels his shoulders shake.

There, bold in and huge, were the words printed for the world to know, “Big Mom, Defeated! Strawhat Luffy Is Crowned Emperor of the Seas!” And “Fishman Island and Tottoland, Flies the Strawhats’ Flags!”

Shanks finally guffaws, loud and like his old Captain’s, and he yells to the bastards he called nakama, “See this? Anchor’s an Emperor now! Just like your Captain! DAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“What,” is Benn’s first words in the morning. Yassop is still looking at the newspaper as if it could answer the questions of the universe. “He just brought down Joker, can’t that brat take a rest for us old folk?”

“Nope!” Lucky Roux beams, drumstick at hand. “It’s how we met him, remember?” And Shanks does. He really, truly does. Just like how he ran up on the dock of his West Blue island home and yelled at Roger to take him in.

Feeling for the phantom of a strawhat loved and dear, Shanks faces the sea and hollers, “All hands on deck! Set a course, my fellow bastards!”

“Where to, Captain?” Benn asks, but his grey eyes already know.

Gleefully, he screams an announcement of his own:

I’m taking back the crown! I’m all dressed up and naked!

“Wano! I wanna see Anchor plummet Kaido to the ground!”

I see what’s mine and take it!

“Make way for the King.”

#one shot #one piece one shot #nyd writes #bday gift from me to me #one piece #monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy #au #whole cake island #whole cake island arc #katakuri and pudding joins the strawhats #good charlotte siblings #except for flamoe #fuck her

[forcedapotheosis-blog]

Solstice Ch. III

Alright, I've got a lot to say before this chapter begins, so let's get right to it.

First of all, take warning. This chapter contains graphic depictions of violence (nothing sexual / non-con, though), so if you're not into this kind of stuff, don't read this chapter and probably the rest of the story.

Second, there's again people I have to thank.

My boy Renillion (ffDotnet), who continued to support me through most of the writing of this chapter and supplied me with some nice creative input. I very much enjoy our conversations, man, hope to hear and read more about your original stuff!

Azoroadaywontkeepsanjiaway (on tumblr), who beta-read like 2/3rds or more of this chapter, thank you so much for the time you've put into it and for more that I'll mention a little later.

Onepiecefeatstuff / alaznesweeran (on tumblr and AO3) for giving me a much needed pep-talk and being a genuinely good and supportive person (who also writes fanfictions which you should read).

EastBlue (on ffDotnet), who always leaves reviews that encourage me to continue writing, even when I feel like a waste of skin. Thank you so much!

Year of the Goat for recording 'The Unspeakable', which had been a great source of inspiration for me.

Alright, coming to the third point, the one I was actively dreading. The beta-reading made me realise that this fiction started off wrong. Let me explain: When I said that I wanted to return to my roots as a writer, I meant that I wanted to write (cosmic) horror. I could've easily done that, but instead made it a fanfiction instead of an original work. So, the thing is that people who read fanfictions are rightfully anticipating a story that is driven by more or less fixed characters, no matter if it's AU or an Alternate Timeline. This is were I made my first mistake, because these kinds of stories usually don't revolve around the characters, not even the protagonists. Many mistakes followed but I'm not going to bore you with them.

Well, long story short: I'm putting Solstice on hiatus until I'm able to decide what to do with it. That might be in a week, a month or never. Sorry if you're one of the two people who actually enjoyed reading it.

Chapter III - Arisen

Sanji was quick to realise that the interior of the estate was still congruent with what he remembered. It actually seemed like nothing had changed at all.

At least, someone cleaned up nicely. He was pretty sure that his happened not to the courtesy of his siblings, but thanks to some underpayed worker. Setting foot inside the house again somewhat felt like entering another world, another time. Here and there, there was a new-ish painting to see, obviously made after he abandoned the family, or after the family abandoned him. It portrayed the tall, muscular .. and pretty ugly .. Judge Vinsmoke, towering over his three favoured kids, by the time of the painting around 14 or 15 years old. It was rather well done, to be honest, but it distorted reality in a mocking way. Even though they were the favoured kids of the Vinsmoke patriarch, they were still subject to his harsh, sometimes bordering on tyrannical, rules. I’m still surprised that I was the only one who wanted to win his freedom.

At least, Reiju was nice enough to hand him a towel to dry his hair. “Where’s Nami?”, he asked no one in particular, trying to sound as neutral as possible. “She still has my jacket.”, he added solely for him remembering that especially Yonji had, at least in the past, the rather disturbing nature to utterly destroy whatever he held dear, no matter if it was a toy, a book or even a living thing such as a pet rat. They were adults now, but he didn’t want to take chances. Especially not in that regard. “Probably in the kitchen, with Ichiji. I envy that lucky bastard, she’s a sight to behold, right? And she’s always by his side .. maybe he’s taking her on the table right now.”, and there it was again, the overwhelming wish to kick Yonji’s head in.

“Unlikely, Nami seems to prefer a professional relationship.”, Reiju intervened and Sanji felt a sliver of gratitude towards her. Despite the branding she had given him and the ominous way she talked.

The house was as big and cold and as utterly devoid of any soul as he remembered it. Long floors, laden with portraits of some ancestors he never knew made up a big part of it. These portraits weren't holding any decorative value to them, it seemed as if they hung around here because they no other place in this world would accept them. Other than that, he sure was surprised that the main source of light were actual lamps and not, as someone who might see only the outside of the estate might have thought, candles or torches.

“Hannah, Lily and Nichiji are already in the living room. I’m sure that you’re going to take a liking to them, they’re sweet girls.”, Reiju said, obviously addressing Sanji. Maybe I will, since I’m not related to them.

The living room, as nearly every other separate room in the whole estate, was large and the furniture within it was exactly the same it was twenty-ish years ago. A couch large enough to accompany up to three or four people was placed with its back towards the entrance and the same round, ornate carpet was still lying on the ground in front of it. Another couch, a smaller one, and a chair that looked rather comfortable and even regal complemented the room.

Wasn’t there a table, too, standing on the carpet?, he asked himself, not sure if his memories were accurate in that regard. Again, he contemplated that taking a step into this room came close to taking a look at his own past. Sanji could much too vividly remember Judge sitting in that exact chair, reading some old book or scolding him for being too weak. The rhythmic noises of a large grandfather clock were the only obvious sounds in the whole room. And, as Reiju had said, there were three people inside of it. One of these people he knew, even though his back was turned towards the entrance. The blue hair was a pretty distinguishing characteristic. Has he .. changed? The question didn’t pop into Sanji’s mind out of nowhere. Niji wasn’t alone on the couch. There was another person sitting next to him, crowned by beautiful and silky auburn hair. She wore it lose and it was just long enough to reach a little farther than her shoulders. It surprised him a little that his brother had his arm slung around her and she didn’t seem to mind in the least, even enjoying it as her head softly rested against his shoulder.

The third person, another woman, appeared to be sleeping on the smaller couch, leaning against the armrest of it. Is that Barbie?, was the immediate thought on seeing her. Indeed, she had hair that was even more blonde than his own and he couldn’t help himself but notice that her body had the form of an hourglass. But .. it seems just so .. exaggerated in contrast to Nami’s natural beauty .. it’s like a living caricature of an unrealistic beauty standard. He wanted to scold himself for these thoughts since he didn’t knew anything about that person, but again, he couldn’t help it.

Her sleep was light, though, and she slowly opened her eyes to be the first to greet them. But while  the rest of her body was an oversubscribed caricature of beauty, her big, blue eyes managed to take  it home regardless. Her smile appeared genuine and she was quick on her feet to greet them, her voice a soothing melody and not nearly as high-pitched as he had anticipated.

With more grace than Sanji had expected, she strode towards them, around the other couch, giving Yonji a wink before gracing him with her brightest smile. “Oh, it’s so exciting to finally meet the lost Vinsmoke! I’m Hannah, very pleased to finally make your acquaintance!”, she held out her hand and Sanji wasn’t really sure how to greet her. Probably better to stay neutral for now., he thought, shaking her hand and putting up a more-or-less honest smile. It didn’t really surprise him that her hands were as smooth and soft as they were, perfectly fitting the air of high class she radiated, but there still was something more underneath.

Being a first class cook, some of his senses were refined to a near superhuman level. His senses of taste and smell, needless to say, where already there, but there was another one, so easily forgotten. Not only did his hands develop a dexterity of nigh-legendary reputation, his sense of touch was equally well trained. Platinum, I’m sure about it. The metal was too smooth to be just silver, and nearly as warm as her hand was. The impressions didn't end there, as there was more to be found. Something that he only brushed with the tip of his middle finger. And that’s a diamond. Of course, he couldn’t be sure about it being a diamond and not some other gem that was embedded into the ring, but common sense somewhat dictated it to be the way to go for an engagement ring.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Hannah.”, another second went by and he finally let go of her hand. Despite the way she looked, he had the feeling that Hannah was a genuine and rather nice person. People always said that you weren’t supposed to judge a book by its cover, but that was a difficult task to achieve, to be sure. “I see that you’re going to be my sister, too.”, another smile he had to force, but the thought of welcoming a, for a change, nice and friendly person into the family wasn’t half bad. Her eyes widened a little and she exchanged a glance with Yonji, who was still standing behind him. “Have you told him, my love?”, to that he shook his head, answering with a slight snarl in his voice that felt like he was being apathetic to the fact “Probably saw your ring, hun.”, to which Sanji only nodded.

That was enough noise to finally wake up the last two persons within this room. The auburn-haired girl began to move rather slowly, as most people did after they woke up, and stretched her arms to the sides, letting out a suppressed yawn before turning around and slowly blinking the sleep out of her eyes. The blue-haired person sitting to her left also turned around, albeit slowly. There wasn’t any sign of exhaustion or sleepiness to find when it came to his face. Just the same old condescending look that seemed just so common within the Vinsmoke family that one might fear that it was genetically imprinted on them.

His lips twitched into a smile that lasted for about a second before it disappeared without a trace. “Looks like the most important person of the evening has arrived.”, what was that about? Sure, it was a family reunion, the first one after more than fifteen years for Sanji, but the most important person to arrive?

“Niji.”, there really wasn’t anything more to say, at least from his side. Sanji made the same observation that he made in regards with Yonji, though. Niji had just grown into an adult version of what he was as a child, even his hairstyle hadn’t changed at all, the blue hair still covering most of his right eye. Standing up, Sanji observed that he was less muscular than Yonji and more of a type that he classified as ‘lean and mean’. It took him only a couple of steps to walk around the couch, placing himself next to Hannah.

“Huh, someone changed for the better.”, he opened up, eyeing him from head to toe. “You’ve gotten a lot tougher since we’ve last seen you, brother. Not the sickly child you’ve used to be, right? I’m excited to see that.”, that drove his weirdness-meter through the roof. What kind of an introduction was that?!

“By the way, that’s my girl over there, name’s Lily.”, he just waved his hand in her general direction, not even making the effort of looking at her. She smiled rather shyly and raised her hand, breathing a soft “Hi.”, as she was still trying to rid herself of the sleepiness. “Now that you’re here, we can finally ready the dinner, hope you like .. lamb.”, again, why that pause before the last word?

And why did he exchange a glance with Yonji? Is this some kind of a stupid joke? Unconsciously, his right hand rubbed over his left forearm. The soothing effect of his wet and cold shirt had worn off and the branding actually began to hurt. Not too much, but it was a constant and rather annoying pain. Still, it was just so easily forgotten when the high, clear laughter of a familiar voice caught his attention, followed by fast steps, closing in on the living room. “I can’t believe that you’ve found an original!”, yes, it was Miss Nami’s voice. Even though they had spent not even a whole hour together, he would’ve recognised it everywhere on earth.

There she was again, only slightly changed. And to Sanji’s utter delight, she still had his jacket hanging loosely on her shoulders, but there also was something new.

Nami had her arms crossed in front of her chest, carrying some old book, as it seemed. Only the way she carried it was rather peculiar. It looked heavy enough, a large, old thing, bound in fissured, ancient brown leather, adorned with .. a freaking lock? Is that a diary or why on Earth would somebody walk the extra mile to put a shitty lock on a book?

Maybe it really was that special, judging from the surprisingly gentle way Nami pressed it against her chest, as if she was holding a newborn child. He also noted that she was wearing glasses now, not the big and unhandy kind that the hipsters that visited the restaurant he worked at sometimes wore, but slender ones with a black frame, modelled mostly for functionality. And they were fitting her face like a glove, adding only small accents while not taking away anything from a face that might as well had been sculpted by a literal god on a good day.

Unfortunately though, that was no place to be overly excited, especially not because she was followed closely by another person. The last to be present at this reunion. It would probably redundant to say that he, too, just grew up but did not change. Red hair, though of a darker tone than Nami’s, covered his right eye and he wore a confident smile on his lips.

Ichiji was neither the tallest, that dubious honour would go to Yonji, nor the most muscular of the Vinsmoke quadruplets. Though one might say that he was a perfect mix of Niji’s lankiness and Yonji’s muscular physique. His entire posture spoke volumes about him, too. With it, he radiated an air of confidence, of charisma, of cunning, all supported by his choice of clothing. Needless to say, he looked sharp and as his two brothers before him, he went with a black, custom-tailored jacket with a white shirt underneath, adorned with a tie that matched the colour of his hair.

“You’re looking good, little brother. Healthy and strong. A late-bloomer if I've ever seen one, eh? Took your body long enough to finally embrace its noble heritage.”, well, what did Sanji expect? Genuine, welcoming words? Don’t make me laugh. He had a feeling that, as with his other brothers, nothing had really changed. They were still the persons they had been fifteen years ago, only somewhat more refined in their ways.

“Thank you, I guess ..”, was the only answer that Sanji had, looking at Ichiji no longer than it was necessary and polite, but that moment passed and his gaze moved on towards Nami who was still holding that old book. When their eyes finally met, she greeted him with a warm and happy smile. “What’s that?”, he nodded into the direction of the book. “It’s a treasure, I mean, a real treasure.”, she answered, visibly trying to keep her excitement in check. Sanji raised a questioning brow and she continued.

“It’s the first issue of Friedrich Wilhelm von Junzt’s ‘Von den unaussprechlichen Kulten’! That translates into ‘Of the unspeakable cults’.”, his brow was raised even higher if that was possible. Instead of clearing things up, it confused him even more.

“Pretty sinister name. What’s it about?”, he asked, lightly leaning his head to the side. “Oh, most of it is only some occult stuff, spells and such. Not really important if you want to have my honest opinion. But still, it’s invaluable! All the citations he used, his sources for the spells, they can prove the existence of books that were mostly shrouded in myth! For example, for one spell he cites ‘Cultes des Goules’, a book that many people thought existed only in the realms of legend, but according to von Junzt, he was in possession of a version of it written in Italian. If one could track down even a quarter of these books, it would be a milestone for research! Just look at it this way, the first issue of this book was released in 1839 in Germany and took so many other books into account, how did these reach von Junzt? The researchers can finally ask new questions based on hard facts!”, even though the topic was complicated, just seeing her flaming enthusiasm about it made him smile.

Meanwhile, Hannah had closed the distance between her fiancé and herself, taking Yonji’s hands. “It’s so nice to finally meet your whole family, my love.”, she whispered, her fingers intertwining with his. But instead of returning something, he just smiled at her. Not the usual smile that you saw between lovers, but .. that Vinsmoke smile. Never extending towards the eyes and, no matter what angle you looked at it, coming off as aloof, condescending. As if it was a part of their family to have a superiority complex. “My dear, you and Lily don’t even know in how many ways you’re completing this night. It’s going to be a great Yuletide.”, he whispered.

Sanji startled a little when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and for a second he hoped that it was Nami’s. But she was still standing too far away from him, gently holding that book. “Dear brother, why won’t you sit down? I think it’s time to have dinner.”, that was Reiju’s smoky voice in his ear and, even though he didn’t like it, he allowed her to lead him towards the lonely char that his biological father used to sit in time and time again. It actually turned out that it was rather comfortable, so much that Sanji didn’t need to use all of his willpower to lean back, allowing himself a moment of respite, a moment to relax and collect his thoughts.

He felt Reiju’s hands on his shoulders as if she was trying to massage him and further allowed himself to calm down. Maybe, after all, things wouldn’t go down as hard as he expected. It was then that everything happened simultaneously. All began with Reiju’s soft, whispering voice in his ear.

“I’m sorry ..”, in the same moment, one of her hands left his shoulders and a split second later, he felt that something hard was being pressed against the back of his head, accompanied by a click, and his mind was quick to make the association. He had never been confronted by a gun, but over the years, countless works of fiction used this sound to portray the hammer of a weapon being put into place, only the twitching of a finger away from unloading a deadly dose of lead into a body. His eyes widened at the realisation.

At the same time, Niji, who, after greeting Sanji, had retaken his place next to Lily, leaned forward, took hold of the carpet and pulled it away, going so far as to carelessly throw it aside.  Had the situation not started to feel like a nightmare as soon as he felt the gun pressed against his head, it would have by now.

Someone had drawn something on wooden ground beneath the carpet. At first glance, it just looked like a circle drawn with white chalk, but there was more to it. The circle itself was adorned with countless signs, most of them he had never seen before. Some might have been Greek letters while others had the nature of symbols, but there was no time to stare at it. A terrified cry cut through the relative silence and out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of its source.

Hannah was still standing in front of Yonji, but her posture had changed. Her shoulders were contracting and she was holding her right hand before her face, grabbing it tightly with her left. “Sorry babe, but you’re not going to need this one where you’re going.”, it would have been easier if his brother’s voice was cold and lacked emotion, but that wasn’t the case. There definitely was amusement in it and it was only then that Sanji realised that her hand was drenched in blood. And it was missing her ring finger.

A ring finger that Yonji was now holding with his left hand while his right one was grasping the hilt of a long and terribly ugly knife. He was quick to snatch the ring from her finger and threw it, the finger, into some corner of the room. That was enough to break Sanji’s shock, it didn’t matter that Reiju would shoot him, but he wouldn’t let Yonji harm the woman any more!

“YOU BASTARD!”, he shouted, jumping to his feet, filled with bitter rage. It was stopped in its tracks, courtesy of Ichiji. “Hold your tongue, you disgrace.”, by now, he was also holding a gun, but instead of aiming at him, he just put the barrel to Nami’s temple. “Your decision. Try to make a move and I’ll make her head explode into a rather annoying stain on the wall. When that’s done, you’re next.”, contrary to Yonji’s sadistic pleasure, Ichiji really lacked any kind of emotion. That was what made Sanji believe his threat.

Nami’s eyes were wide open, all colour had left her face and it was obvious that she fought against the reflexes of shivering, screaming and crying.

“I see that we’ve reached an understanding. Yonji, proceed.”, and that was all he needed to hear. The movement of his right hand was so quick that even Sanji had great difficulty following it, but the results arrived within seconds. Hannah’s crying vanished only a moment after his movement had ended and ..

Her throat opened up, blood was gushing out in waves. Within her last conscious thoughts, she might have forgotten her missing finger and tried to press both of her hands against the gaping wound, but it didn’t matter anymore, there was just no way to stop it. Not even three seconds later, both her hands where bathed in her own blood and the light began to fade from her lively blue eyes, both of which were still fixated on Yonji, carrying a mixture of shock and silent indictment. He grabbed her by the shoulders and, with a needless excess of force, nearly threw her body into the circle that was drawn on the ground. There, she was supposed to find her final place of rest.

Even Lily, obviously not sleepy anymore, was crying out in utmost terror when she witnessed all of it, her gaze was nailed on Hannah's bleeding, dying body. Surprisingly enough and in contrast to many people who were part of such a dreadful situation, she wanted to get up and help her.

Somehow, even if it just meant holding her, being next to her when she moved on the the next world. Alas, standing up alone proved to be a task much too difficult for the circumstances. Just take the shaking of her legs into account, the fear and confusion that she might have felt. And then forget all of it, as the main factor that pulled her back onto the couch was the strong and absolutely ruthless  yank that Niji gave her hair, making her cry out again, a high and shrieking tone, this time stemming from pure physical pain.

“Sit down, you worthless waste of skin. Don't be so eager to die, you might not like it as much as you think.”, and even when he smiled that casual, easy Vinsmoke-smile, it was difficult to make out what he really felt. His voice wasn't nearly as sadistically aroused as Yonji's, nor was it as cold as Ichiji's. But before Sanji could think about that any longer, he had to fight down the urge to just walk over towards his brother and choke him to death.

He wouldn't have survived that, and, more importantly, neither would have Nami. She was still as white as a ghost, obviously knowing as little as he did. In that very moment, there were just so many things that he wanted to do.

He wanted to kick Yonji's head into the ground as long as necessary to leave nothing but a bloody pulp. He wanted the choke the life out of Niji. And Ichiji ..

I'm going to kill you, even if it's the last thing I'm ever going to do in my life. And when I'm done with you, everything the demons will throw at you in Hell will be nothing but relief .., his hands balled into fists, so violently that his nails, even in their cut condition, managed to tear deep into his palms. He was only barely able to control his fury and if it would have only been Reiju, aiming at the back of his head, he would've taken the chance. But with a barrel of stainless steel that was gently touching Nami's skin, things were different.

“Go ahead, Nami. Open it up. Page 351. Can't miss it.”, he heard the icy voice of his oldest brother say and Nami, clever girl that she was, complied. Better than having a bullet stuck in your brain, at least for now. She carefully opened the large book, it was already unlocked, taking only a couple of seconds to find the page she was looking for, proof that it had been read a lot.

“Ichiji .. Mr. Vinsmoke .. 'Hohelied der Wiedererweckung'? A chant of resurrection? You've killed poor Hannah for some stupid spell?!”, that woman .. gods, she definitely had some guts. Even when staring down the barrel of a .45, she still had the backbone to call him out on his madness.

Ichiji let out a deep sigh and cocked the gun, not even looking at her. There was no anger in his voice, just a slight hint of annoyance. “Look Nami, I know what these words mean. Though unfortunately, as of yet I’m not able to correctly pronounce all of them, that’d cost me a teensy bit of time to learn. Actually more time than we currently have at our disposal. Now, would that be a huge problem? No, certainly not, but we will then have to wait for another year. If that's what you want, for all I care, go for it. Close the book. But you might want to keep in mind that I'll paint the walls with your blood, throw in a little mash of what will be the pathetic rest of your brain and top it off with some tiny little splinters of bone. After that, I'm going to personally cut your carcass into pieces, feed it to the crows and come back after three days to burn the rest of it. If that's what you want, fine with me. Just close the book and consider it done.”, even the slightest hint of annoyance was gone at the end of his speech, leaving him just as cold and bland as his usual persona was.

Nami's eyes widened again and her rush of anger was extinguished. “I'll be counting to three. It's your call. One. Two.”, Ichiji didn't care for a dramatic pause between the numbers, it seemed like he just wanted to get over with it. Maybe that was the reason that Nami finally cried out. If he was spitting out empty threats, he would have taken his time. Just for the effect of it. In the same moment, Sanji wasn't able to hold back any longer and jumped to his feet, hell-bent on killing Ichiji.

He had run out of luck. Within a split second, he felt Reiju's tight grip on his shoulder, and if that would have been all of it, he might have even been able to power through. That thinking didn't take the gun in her hand into account, though, a fact that he learned to regret only a second later as his sister pistol-whipped the back of his head, easily sending him to his knees. The impact had a nauseating effect on him, indeed strong enough to make him vomit what little he had eaten that day all over the floor.

“Oh Reiju, be careful of not breaking our little brother. He might be a pathetic piece of subhuman waste, but we need him in one piece to finally be of use to the family.”, Niji playfully scolded her. His vision had become blurry, courtesy of the heavy impact against his head and the tears, equal parts the result of helplessness and vomiting, that were forcing their way out of his eyes. There it was again, cold steel pressed against the back of his head. There was no chance to escape.

“I’LL DO IT!”, Nami’s shouting seemed to be distant, just like everything else. The lines of this world were still blurry and it took him a substantial amount of willpower just to cease the puking.

“A wise decision. Go ahead, do it as long as there’s some life left within her body.”, Nami’s hands were visibly shaking when she supported the heavy book on her left forearm, using the fingers of her right hand to follow the written lines.

“Am .. am I supposed to just read it out aloud?”, her tension was perfectly understandable, as was the occasional cracking of her voice, though she handled the pressure of a gun being pointed at her head surprisingly well, let alone having to watch the poor Hannah bleeding out, who continued to mutter incomprehensible words that only exploded in waves of blood, pouring out of her mouth and the gaping wound that had torn the skin of her throat apart.

“Yes, Nami. Just speak the words and remember that you’re calling out to regain the soul of the man once known as Garuda. Now, proceed.”, again, it was Ichiji’s voice that answered her question.

She took another moment to steel herself for the task at hand, forcing her breath to go calmly. When she finally began, Nami proved her mettle once again: Her voice didn’t crack but was strong and steadfast, the shivering of her body had stopped and she had regained a solid composure. Regarding the words she spoke, it was a different beast. Sanji heard them but couldn’t understand a word, since they were German.

It all began with the invocation of the Gate and the Key.

“Erhöre mich, o König des unendlichen Raumes

Erhöre mich, jener, der an allen Orten weilt

Erhöre mich, o Kenner des Tores und des Schlüssels

Erhöre mich, jener, der du selbst Tor und Schlüssel bist

Erhöre mich, o von den Zeiten Unberührter

Erhöre mich, jener, der die Zeiten selbst berührt

O Yog-Sothoth, Herr des Tores und des Schlüssels

O Yog-Sothoth, Stammvater der Zeiten und des Raumes

O Yog-Sothoth, deine Diener rufen dich!“ (author’s note: For an English translation, take a look at the postface)

For a moment that seemed to be dragging on for an eternity, nothing of note was happening. At least it was nothing that Sanji was able to perceive, as that what had been put into play already started working when Nami chanted the invocation’s first line. The perception, even the understanding of a mere person didn’t matter where some powers reigned supreme. By now, all pieces were set into place and the real extravaganza began.

Everyone present, even his emotionally starved siblings, startled when something hammered against one of the windows, a frenzied clackclackclack, followed by the bird’s cawing that, even though the windows were closed, could still be heard inside of the room. It didn’t help, there was nothing it could have done to prevent the following events.

First, the supposedly Greek letters and symbols written onto the circle of chalk experienced a transformation. What had once been white and still and dead changed into something that was neither one nor the other, a plethora of colours began to supersede the plain chalk and tinged it into something that couldn’t be described with mere words alone. It was flowing, just as Hannah’s blood was, moving as if it had a mind of its own, touching the circle and becoming one with it. As strange as it sounds, the symbols appeared to be dancing around the innermost circle, possibilities were thrown out as if they were worthless, reality bent under the supreme rule of the powers invoked. It didn’t stop there. Sanji was looking around, more confused than ever before, and experienced it first hand.

The room itself was changing to make it more accommodating for who- or whatever had been called. Angles bent in impossible directions, the ground beneath his hands, seconds ago solid and cold wood, was heating up, developing a pulse of its own. His head started to hurt, as did his eyes. Not from the aftermath of the whipping he had received, but because of the sensory overload that followed all these things that shouldn’t, couldn’t be.

The living, colourful symbols were still engaged in a feverish, forced and mindless dance around the innermost circle, the once solid wood seemed to be living, breathing, having emotions that none of its kind should have. Somehow, he was able to identify these emotions. As long as the skin of the palms of his hands was touching the ground, all he felt was uncontrollable, frantic hatred, radiating from the very ground billions of people used to walk on, to live on, to die on.

He wanted to close his eyes, lest he wanted to preserve his sanity. But Hannah’s coughing and Nami’s terrified cry forced him to keep them open for just a few more seconds. His sight was blurred, but still, his eyes tried to focus on the poor girl that might have only had a few seconds left to live, the grip of her hands pressing against the gaping wound had grown weak by now and her spilled blood became the birthing ground for what seemed to be .. bubbles. One might have thought that it was boiling, but that would have only been half the truth.

The bubbles were not only inflating, bursting. No, they were giving birth. Birth to a thousand little arms and cramped hands, crippled, flayed and burnt. Reaching to the sky, to every living thing on this plane of existence, hoping for mercy, for help or just the swift gift of death that should never come. The first part of the ritual was completed, the might of Gate and Key, apparently going by the name of ‘Yog-Sothoth’, was completely invoked.

Poor Hannah already was too far gone to have any word on that matter, maybe her heart was still beating, maybe it wasn’t. Thousands of arms, stretching out towards her, using her blood as a gateway, didn’t make the distinction. The body was still warm, the flame of life not fully extinguished. It was enough for their primitive cravings.

Whilst the very laws of nature were aching and bending under the pressure of the forces summoned, it was a laughter, entirely devoid of emotion, that finally caught Sanji’s attention. It was Ichiji. The only person in the entire room, at least as it seemed, to remain unshaken and perfectly comfortable with these changes.

“Good, Nami, very good. The troupe is ready and the stage is set for the grand finale.”, but even though he was still pointing the gun at her head, his eyes were captivated by the ever-changing symbols on and within the circle.

“O Yog-Sothoth, erhöre das Flehen deiner Getreuen

O Yog-Sothoth, gestatte diesen Tausch

O Yog-Sothoth, gewähre uns deinen Dienern jene unendliche Gnade

O Yog-Sothoth, nimm hin Saft und Seele dieser Frau

O Yog-Sothoth, und gestatte jenem, der den Namen Garuda trägt, die Rückkehr auf diese Ebene des Seins!”

One might say that it had been increasingly hard to focus once the chanting had begun, but it amounted to nothing when compared with all that shouldn’t happen and still manifested itself in these realms. Another wave of nausea crushed over Sanji’s head, and only a part of it might still have belonged to the aftermath of the pistol-whipping. Things occurred that should not, should never be, but little did they care about the laws that humanity used to trust.

A large pool of blood gathered in front of Hannah, still spewing out bursting bubbles that gave way for the countless flayed and crippled hands that reached towards what, only a few minutes ago, had been the room’s ceiling. After witnessing everything that had transpired, it shouldn’t have surprised him that the ceiling had resonated with the powers invoked as well, bending in headache-inducing ways, not only towards the sky, towards the ground but within itself, beating like a heart, growing and shrinking again, feasting on its own parts while simultaneously giving birth to more. Sanji succeeded in forcing himself to look away, as his head felt like it was going to explode from witnessing these impossible things.

It was only by sheer luck (or rather, calamity), that he caught a glimpse of what was happening within the circle. Hannah’s blood was boiling, but not laden with bursting bubbles anymore. That didn’t change the fact that it seemed to have developed a mind of its own, forming a perfect circle on the ground in an environment that so dramatically had abandoned every geometric form that a human might perceive as ‘perfect’, or even normal.

A portal between this world and the realms of the dead had finally been established and it didn’t take long for the call to reach who, or what, it was looking for within these unspeakable depths.

It was a maimed hand that marked the beginning of the ascension, manifesting itself within her blood. Flayed, crippled and with only a few chunks of flesh still clinging onto charred bone, it was larger than everything that had sprouted from the bubbles, roughly the size of a human’s hand. In an astounding show of force, it tore reality apart and subdued the laws of physics, ripping the veil that separated the afterlife from our realm to pieces.

The initially steady pace was beginning to accelerate, and soon the hand was followed by an arm with equally charred bones, adorned with massive chunks of maggot-ridden flesh. Another arm followed and finally, when Sanji caught a glimpse of who it was that those arms belonged too, he had to bow his head again, giving way to the rising bile within his throat, spitting it all over his hands.

Name them what you will: Lunatics, maniacs, occultists, madmen, sorcerers.

It didn’t matter. The soul of a person who had consumed so much forbidden knowledge within his life might have been considered fragile within the terms of psychiatrically sophisticated minds, but these exact minds were still bound to human perception and interpretation. None of it mattered here. Contrasting all the poor, sodding souls that had tried to escape the realm from beyond the veil, with their little arms bursting out of bubbles of blood, this particular one was roughly the size of a tall human being, the wide shoulders being a testament to that. With maggot-ridden chunks of flesh and muscle, according to all the laws of this world, it shouldn’t have been able to move, specifically not with the strength it was showing whilst tearing apart the portal to accommodate its size. His size.

It wasn’t so much the barely recognisable face that forced Sanji to vomit again, even though for every other person, it might as well have been. Only one of its eyes was still being held in the socket, meanwhile his other one had become a nest of some sort for things that might have been centipedes. Centipedes that seemed familiar enough with their home that one of them left the socket, only to make its way into the nose of this horrifically disfigured abomination, just to reappear right out of his  his mouth. The sheer sight of something so otherworldly, while still being familiar, took a toll on Sanji’s sanity, in the worst way imaginable.

Within seconds, he was vividly reliving the worst of memories. This man, or whatever it was, was responsible for turning his childhood into a nightmare. Sanji had felt nothing when the authorities had informed him that he passed away.

He was back again, even though in a nigh-unrecognisable form. More dead than alive, fuelled by hatred, insanity and the knowledge of forbidden lore. The one thing that stood out in this form was the animalistic mane that had been his hair for all his life. It was unchanged, the same colour as Sanji’s, dancing to the impossible tune of an unseen current.

Finally, this wretched spectre, this misbegotten wraith of decades past began to make its move. Malformed hands reached out towards the dying Hannah, aimed at the hands that covered the gashing wound at her throat. The spectre didn’t try to remove her hands, the ethereal form didn’t even as much as touch her skin. Instead, his hands went right through her, giving away that the seemingly solid form was nothing but an illusion, the pitiful remains of a man who had sold his soul to unspeakable and innumerable devils and demons time and time again. Yet, he had risen to power, or was at least able to keep the remnants of his spirit mostly together, even within the realm of suffering. A shining beacon that lesser spirits clung to in hope of deliverance.

All they received was more pain, like parasites they clung to his foul flesh, still unable to leave their torment behind. Many lost their grip on the soul of his father, screaming out in anguish as they fell back into the endless abyss, others burned away as the wings of Icarus did, clinging too heavily to the sorceror’s soul that must have seemed like the sun itself within the lands of the lost.

Sanji wanted to force himself to look away, unconsciously sure that his mind would be torn to pieces of he continued to watch, yet he was unable to take control. Sickness and bile arose again when the wretched spectre’s arms followed his hands, sinking into Hannah’s cut throat. As impossible as it did seem, it still happened. The rest of his father’s ethereal body was following, taking residency within the small frame of the dying woman.

Endless seconds later, the work was done. The bleeding had subsided, as did the sobbing and her silent crying. No silent indictment remained within her face, no despair.

Actually, nothing of Hannah remained within what had been her face, he recognised when she turned it towards Sanji, staring at him with eyes that weren’t hers. Nothing of the blue remained, not the liveliness, the warmth that her face emitted.

Because these eyes did no longer belong to her.

These were the eyes of a dead man. Or, at least, of a man who should have been dead. They belonged to none other than Judge Vinsmoke.

Garuda.

“Welcome back, father.”, was the last thing he heard before he fainted. The first time since he arrived, there was a trace of emotion within Ichiji’s voice. It was pride.

#Sannami #Sanami #SanjixNami #NamixSanji #Sanji x Nami #Nami x Sanji #One Piece #Alternate Universe #AU #Fanfiction #Fanfic #FF #One Piece Fanfiction #OP Fanfic #SaNa #OTP #Horror