#exaltededge

@exaltededge asked: "Hey there little one." after burning Message me with “Hey there little one” to interact with my muse as a child

   The boy trudges through near deserted streets. He hunches deep into his too big hoodie, the hood pulled up to help hide his features. His fluffy hat still sits on his head, covered by that same hood. Hands are shoved into the pocket of the hoodie, Trafalgar Law doing his best to hide any and all bits of skin. The white patches that show off his condition are growing and with them the pain coursing through his body. He finds himself more exhausted than usual, but he must push on. Has to keep moving. Otherwise, he gives up. Sure, he will accept the day he dies but for now he’ll live a bit longer, for those who never got that chance.

   Somewhere in this town Cora is speaking to a doctor. Trying to get Law a consultation and perhaps a cure. He has no hope for it, not here. The place looks like a dump. Besides, Law expects the same fear and bigotry he gets everywhere. These people will get one look at him and freak out. It’s inevitable.

   He turns around a corner, entering a town square with almost no people in and those he does see appear to be moving away really fast. The boy stops, frowning as he surveys the place. He feels a palpable sense of fear in the air, a tension that reminds him of the day before the soldiers attacked Flevance. He tenses, frantic gaze darting about as he looks for the threat. In the cloth of his hoodie Law’s fingers grip the hilt of a dagger, a weapon he’d stolen from someone in the dive bar Law and Cora are staying in. Cora doesn’t like him having a weapon but Law hates being defenseless. Well, even more defenseless than he already feels most of the time.

   A voice speaks right near him, smooth and calm. It addresses him and Law turns his gaze towards the man looming over him. A man with a massive black sword on his back. Golden eyes dart to that blade and then to the man’s piercing eyes. Yep, Law knows who this is. Doflamingo wanted to make sure Law knew every potential threat, including other pirates like Dracule Mihawk.

or

[ DEFEND ] : sender physically intervenes between receiver and a source of unwanted attention.

@exaltededge

for buggy : sexual tension ( not accepting ) // @exaltededge

buggy had been quiet that day - the absence of his maniacal screeching or laughter quite obvious. he hadn't approached crocodile nor mihawk in a few days, choosing to lie low. even he wasn't sure why he was doing it, but he knew he hadn't been feeling himself lately. he knew he could no longer go around calling himself the most dazzling star clown of the grand line. he knew he was nothing but an imposter at this point and perhaps that was truly getting to him, especially with two powerful ex - warlords being his supposed partners.

he paced, and paced, and paced, feet carrying him through lines of tents that made up the little camp that the cross guild set up. not only had he been quiet, but even his make up had gone minimal - there was something truly wrong with this clown.

clown.

he nearly jumped out of his skin upon hearing that cold voice call out to him, the clown whipping around to meet the sharp gaze of mihawk. he felt his throat run dry, his jaw clenching. he suddenly realized why he had been avoiding both of the men, especially this one before him.

mihawk seemed intent on walking past him, not once acknowledging him ... but buggy was wrong. he felt that hand press against his back, goosebumps erupting at the touch. for some stupid reason, buggy kept losing his nerve around mihawk, much worse than anyone else. what makes it even more difficult, is that he isn't sure if he was fearful or not. something had changed in him.

if mihawk glanced back at him, he might see the flush on his cheeks.

[ prompts / @exaltededge ]

The man in front of him was deadly. Dracule Mihawk, the Marine Hunter. They'd run into each other two times before this and each duel grew more vicious than the last.

He always seemed out for blood and Shanks knew that a wrong move could potentially end his life.

It made his heart pound with the excitement of it all.

Shanks kept his hand on the hilt of his blade.

“And if I don't?”

He grinned. Mihawk didn't seem one for banter. Or fun in the way that Shanks defined it, but maybe that's what these matches meant to him. Adrenaline. The thrill of a good match.

“You gonna stand there lookin' at me?”

“No, I think you'd grow bored of me.” Dracule has thought about this more than he's ready to admit. As nice as Shanks' consistent attention is (another fact he'd never admit) the man simply isn't built for the slow life Dracule seeks. Eyes linger on the glass he takes a deep sip from before glancing at his would be sutor. “I doubt you'd last very long on Kuraigana Island. It's quiet. And I still have no interest in joining you.” A subtle smirk, Crocodile somehow convincing him to join the circus; The Red Force no doubt similar in atmosphere. “I suppose the excuse of your crew being too lively won't cut it now hm?” Hand not holding his drink aloft gestures around at the big top they currently occupy.

Sigh parts his lips, already gloomy features darkening somehow. “I don't want you to grow bored of me.” A very rare confession, a flash of soft underbelly. Shanks is far from monogamous and for the longest time Dracule didn't think he was either but it affords a certain stability he's not used to.

[ umprompted / @exaltededge ]

“Bored of you-?”

His smile faded slowly. And Shanks watched. In search of some reason for the man's sudden boldness. If one could call it that.

In all the years they'd known each, all the times Shanks had made suggestions-or just plain asked-for Mihawk to join hm, he'd never responded quite like this. They played an odd game odd game of cat and mouse. But it had always been casually brushed off until now.

Shanks had problems with making assumptions. He'd been wrong to assume that if an opportunity arose, that if Mihawk ever chose to join someone, it would be him. He'd been proven wrong.

After all the time they'd known each other, Shanks couldn't remember a time he'd seen Mihawk like this.

So soft. So honest.

Part of him worried that Mihawk was right. Kuraigana was quiet. Mihawk enjoyed that life. Something simpler and slower.

Shanks wasn't sure he could last in a place like that.

The thought had occurred a few separate times over his life. A village somewhere, with a special someone, but there were things in the world bigger than him, bigger than any one person, that pulled him away.

from exaltededge

[ prompts / @exaltededge ] 38. a kiss while one party is being carried

He ached everywhere.

Duels had become recurring for the pair and, perhaps more than usual, this one had left Shanks sore and exhausted to his core. His breathing eased as it returned to normal, but he dared not move from the ground where he sat.

In the back of his mind he wondered, if this had been a few years ago if Mihawk would have taken the opportunity to continue and finish the job. But, as Shanks glanced towards the other man, he felt Mihawk was hardly in any better shape than he.

The other man's movements were stiff as he sheathed Yoru to his back, as though the stretch caused him pain.

Weakly, Shanks reached out and took hold of one of Mihawk's pant legs. The move earned him a side eye, but he let out a weary “Help-” and, somehow, managed to get the stoic man to agree.

More surprising was how Shanks found himself in the arms of his rival, one arm thrown around the man's back as he walked towards the dock where their ships awaited them. He found it comforting, even as he regained sensation in his legs, and leaned closer, head falling to rest against Mihawk's shoulder.

Perhaps their quiet walk gave proof for just how deep Shanks' exhaustion ran.

On the otherhand-

One hand runs tenderly along Mihawk's neck and the other one captures the side of his face. Mihawk stops in his tracks when Shanks pulls him in for a kiss.

They stay like that a while, Shanks in Mihawk's arms, and Mihawk's face trapped between his two hands. When they part, Shanks licks at his lips and gives the other a sleepy smile.

“You should carry me more often. Didn't know you had such a tender side.”

@exaltededge sent: [ SHAVE ]: sender sits in the receiver's lap so they can carefully shave the last of the receiver's stubble from their face.

SITTING IN SOMEONE’S LAP PROMPTS.

Crocodile was relaxed as Mihawk sat in his lap, the razor held expertly in his hands. The man knew that if the swordsman wanted him dead it would not be done with a straight razor, and it was nice to avoid the struggle of making sure that he had a close shave with just one hand. There were few that he would trust to be near him with a blade, and after years of Warlord meetings with him, Mihawk was one of -if not the only- people that he did not feel the need to watch with his right hand at the ready. "Might I ask what prompted this, Hawkeyes?"

from exaltededge

[ something in my meme tag / @exaltededge ]

Immediate fail, he's making direct eye contact with Mihawk's tits.

Send ’Tell me’ and my muse will tell you 2 truths and a lie