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There's something romantic in the thought that Jabber keeps coming back to fight him, the mediocre Zanka.
Of course, when Zanka thinks about it, he doesn't think of the word 'romantic'. But there's something real, something warm. Perhaps a little wild too, because Zanka ends up really, really wanting to hurt Jabber.
Weirdly enough, Zanka likes it. It terrifies him. It magnetizes him, as Jabber keeps asking for it, for more. And one day, the thought feels horrendously intimate and obscene. One day, it doesn't feel like fighting, but the tearing of flesh and bones to reveal the most secret part of Zanka -- because, obviously, Jabber never tried to hide what is wrong with him. Zanka, on the other hand, does.
He can't hide, though.
And, perhaps there's something romantic in the way Jabber never goes for the kill. There's something bitterly motivating in Jabber's loud disappointment -- because. Zanka doesn't understand why the raider is convinced there's more to him. There isn't. But Jabber keeps coming back, and doesn't abandon and hell it's more than everyone ever did in Zanka's life (the cleaner's aside).
So, there's something romantic in those disgusting compliments Jabber throws at his face. There's something romantic in the instant folding every time they clash weapons. There's something romantic in the crave for pain.
*Since when Zanka started to think there is something romantic between he and Jabber?*
Oh well. He would only know after successfully beating Jabber, right?
Two bros chilling in a prison cell five feet apart cause theyโre not gay and being held captive in an underground facility by science freaks who want to study givers.
Go read Mirrors, itโs hella fun: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71186291
Edit: tumblr is eating the quality so here are closeups
suddenly viscerally remembered when I was in first grade and decided that โI got a boo booโ was too childish of a way to communicate to my mom that Iโd gotten hurt.
I was a bookish kid though, so instead I switched to โmommy, Iโve been woundedโ which in retrospect mustโve been a little odd to hear from a six-year-old.
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Okay , I keep re-reading the most recent chapters and a what if/au keeps rattling around.
What would it look like if Law and Lami were separated and didn't find each other until Dressrosa? Lami forced to stay under Doflomingo?
Spicy, I like it.
AU / What if Lami were forced to stay under Dolfamingo when the siblings separated?
Law doesn't recognize the woman before him.
There are similarities, of course-- his mother's hair, their father's eyes. The cocky, arrogant stance of someone with the bone-deep assurance that nothing could make them hurt in any way worthwhile. It's almost comforting, in the most ironic of ways, to see that this has not changed. There is a burning at the back of his eyes, an emotion that he has not allowed himself to feel in years.
Looking at his sister had always been akin to staring into a void; intangible and speaking in foreign tongues.
But, no, Law does not recognize this person.
She stares at him with bland, sallow eyes. Irises as black as they've ever been; the bottomless pit of the world-known conundrum that was his sister. But there is no recognition to her features. No joy or anger.
Law closes his eyes. Grief roots itself into his chest.
He knows, without a doubt, that he is simply a stranger to her now.
-
"No!" She shouts, scrambling over the snow in a frantic. She has to hurry, she has to hurry, she has to hurry-- She skids in front of Corazon's prone form, feeling her knees scrape and tear. Her fingers are red from the chill and her hands shake as she raises them in front of her.
Doflamingo stands before her, gun outstretched and now pointing at her chest.
"Dove," he says, voice bland, "move aside."
She breathes in and out, calling upon the lightning that lives in her veins as she says, "I can't. I won't."
For a long moment, she is convinced that he is going to shoot her. The cold that she feels in his voice is far more chilling than the North Blue could ever hope to achieve--but she stands strong, jaw set, as she stares him down.
"Lami--" behind her, Corazon chokes out her name. There is anguish in his tone--it rattles her heart to its core.
"You know what we do with traitors, don't you?" Doflamingo says, an eyebrow quirking up.
"He's your brother," she insists, as though a man as cold-hearted as this would ever bother to care for such a fact, "he deserves a second chance."
Doflamingo pauses. His head tilts gradually to the side.
"Please." It does not hurt her pride to beg, in this moment. It is simply a pragmatic necessity. "Please, give him another chance."
-
Law is gone. Law is safe.
She repeats this to herself over and over.
This is all that matters, now.
-
Lami stands at Corazon's side as she stitches him back together. It is gruesome work, but a few bullet wounds won't hurt a man like this. Her hope, her saviour--Corazon has wept nonstop since they got back on the ship.
Even when Doflamingo arrives, the younger brother continues to weep with an arm thrown over his face.
Failure, she supposes, runs deep.
Doflamingo hands her an apple--it takes her by surprise. She sets aside the gauze and her gloves and accepts the gift.
"How cruel of you to make him stay, despite knowing how much he suffers. Fufufu~ It would have been kinder to let him die." Doflamingo murmurs, soft in a way that might convince those who didn't know any better. "And here I had thought he had grown out of his tears. Pity. I suppose it was all just an act, too, in the end."
His voice gradually seeps into a slow, quiet laugh as he stretches out a hand over Corazon's chest.
"Don't worry, Dove. I'll ensure that there won't be a second time for betrayal."
Strings curl out from his fingers and crawl into his brother's skin. Lami can only watch in quiet horror as Corazon's body arches and as his mouth parts in a silent scream.
Anger quickly takes over as she whips to hiss, "What are you-"
"Be a good girl," Doflamingo says, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "or I'll crush his heart."
His fingers twitch and the apple in her hand splits into seventeen pieces.
She stares at the juice that starts to drip from her fingers, static finding its way to her ears as Doflamingo continues to laugh.
-
The skies of Dressrosa are bright and clear.
It takes time for Lami to get accustomed. Her skin is hardened for the chill of the North Blue's eternal winter, but the sun here is searing. It beats down on her, sizzling, in the same way a red-hot end of an iron poker makes her skin bubble and peel. She lives with the discomfort.
Lami holds no ill-will towards it and simply accepts the heat in sufferance.
She understands that this is the very fabric of the island battling against them, nature revolting against the poison that has been infected in its ecosystem. After everything, the blistering heat is the bare minimum of what the Donquixote deserve for what they have done to the people of Dressrosa.
With his strings and broken promises, Doflamingo makes the land bend and break. Soon enough they have kneeled, its citizens segregated and melded to the desire of their new leader.
Lami watches with bland eyes. She wishes she could forget, too.
-
She is twenty and a party is thrown at the top of the castle.
Scantily clad men and women lounge across the pool patio as food and drink are passed around. The Elite Officers sit upon their dedicated seats, watching their respective prey with the lax of a fattened cat. Fast-beat music starts to play as the final rays of sun start to dwindle; a woman drags Diamante up to dance and suddenly the entire patio has turned into a rave.
Baby 5 and Buffalo sit at a table with five other people playing blackjack--or, at least, she's pretty sure it's black jack. She's also pretty sure that Buffalo keeps taking Baby 5's winnings.
Lami crosses her arms over her chest as she watches them from the roof, a fruity drink with an umbrella in hand.
( Three hours ago she had sawed a man apart.
She can still smell the blood and bone marrow. Lami's not entirely convinced that she had cleaned it all out from the cracks in her fingernails.
I must live in a different world than these people, she thinks. How carefree they must be, to dance and drink and fuck, while others are getting their limbs taken off piece by piece for the consumption of others. )
A flash of pink catches her attention. Lami observes as Doflamingo wades into the crowd of dancers--closer and closer to the dancing princess, who drags him into the center of the throng of people. It doesn't take long before they are near melded together, swaying to the beat of the music.
Lami's stomach twists with revulsion at the sight. She knows what's going to happen, later.
Violet is only a few years older than her.
Tossing her glass into the sea of dancers, Lami slides off the roof and slips through a window before the chaos of the shattering glass ensues.
-
Lami is twenty-three the first time she sees Law since they were children.
It's only a picture--his bounty poster splayed across the world as part of the "Worst Generation". The doctor of Death, they say. She stares at the figure in the photo; features similar but different.
Grief finds itself worming inside her chest:
isn't it awful that, at this moment, she barely feels a thing?
She has lived longer without him than with him. Lami is glad that he has continued his story; that he is alive and well and making the world suffer the consequences of their actions--
These three scenes from the recent episodes on Wano struck me as similar at first because of the way Marco, Corazon and Yamato say the word "Free". But as always with One Piece, there are other common threads woven in here - of Fathers, Fate, Loss, and Inherited Will.
Yamato has no freedom because he is the son of Kaido. Marco and Law, on the other hand, were both put on the path to freedom by their adoptive fathers.
Marco, the first son of Whitebeard, is no longer bound by his father's voice, or his will. He is free to do as he chooses. Yamato, who felt bound to remain on Onigashima by his father's will, is finally able to express his true desire with the help of Whitebeard's other son, Ace.
Ace helps Yamato break free โ metaphorically โ from the shackles of Kaido, and realize his desire to follow in the footsteps of Oden; the same way that Ace himself sought to break free from the shackles of Roger, and would go on to follow Whitebeard, picking up the mantle previously held by Oden.
Law's situation is a bit more nuanced; Corazon's words still have a hold over him, but not in a way that takes away his free will. Sengoku ensures that Rosinante's will, for Law to be free, is carried forward โ by telling him that Corazon's love for him, that the act of saving him, is not tied to Law's status as a bearer of the Will of D. Where Law might have felt compelled to seek the true history in repayment of Corazon's sacrifice, he now chooses to do so of his own volition. This freedom is a recent development โ for all that Corazon willed him to be free, Law never truly escaped the shackles of Doflamingo until the man was defeated โ by Ace's little brother, Luffy.
Yamato rejects the hand dealt to him by fate in order to start on his path to freedom, whereas Law, upon finally gaining his freedom, sets out to find the meaning behind his fate. Their actions on Onigashima are driven by the will they inherited from another โ Law by Corazon's will, and Yamato by Oden's โ just as Marco's very presence on Onigashima is driven by the will he inherited from Ace.
Law lost the father that nudged him towards freedom, Yamato lost Ace, and Marco... Marco lost them both. Yet of the three it is Marco โ who carries in him a bit of Whitebeard, a bit of Ace, and a bit of Oden โ that experiences freedom in the truest sense.
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