onepiece_ficathon | winter 2015-2016 ficathon: take me with you to the sea

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winter 2015-2016 ficathon: take me with you to the sea

take me with you to the sea
A ONE PIECE FICATHON

→what's this?
Ficathons are for putting the readers and writers of a fandom in touch! Here you can leave a request for fic you want to see, which may then be filled by anyone; similarly, you can write fic for any existing request. It's low pressure, so you can leave prompts even if you don't write a fill, and fills can be of any length (so don't hesitate to fill a prompt even if all you've got in mind is a drabble!).

Absolutely anyone can participate. Anonymous commenting is on, so you don't need a dreamwidth account to join in, though you're more than welcome to make one or use an existing one (this is a good idea if you want to receive an e-mail notification if your prompt is filled). If you're also on tumblr/ao3/ff.net, linking to your primary internet presence is encouraged!

→rules
♥ Any/all pairings, characters & genres are welcome!
♥ One prompt per comment. No limit on comments.
♥ Prompts should generally follow the following format:

(trigger, etc) warning(s), if applicable
character/pairing, prompt

♥ Fills should be posted (either as inline text or linking elsewhere) as a comment response to the prompt, not in new threads.
♥ You can write a fill for a prompt even if it's already been filled by someone else.
♥ Warn for common triggers, be nice & have fun!

the (periodically updated) list of links to filled prompts can be found here!

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law/luffy, i thought i'd lost you

is there a timeframe? Like for how long is this? When does it start?

It's started! There's no official end date, but it aims to be ongoing mainly during the winter months. :)

marco/sabo, it's alright, I have a dog too

Corazon & Law family moments.
gen, please nothing romantic or sexual
Cora trying to be a good dad/ person to look up too, maybe trying to teach Law a few things during their travels. There must have been other things to do then visiting hospitals and burning them down. I would love to see small moments like trying to cook together or telling each other stories at the campfire.

sabo/ace (platonic), keep your eyes on me

Ace/Sabo/Luffy(romantic, please), I trust you

Kidlaw pls

Kidlaw high school AU!

(sorry if this isn't quite as sabo/ace as you wanted; i hope you find it enjoyable, anyway!)

Sabo's memories come back in pieces.

It’s as though reading about Ace’s death brought back the pathways but not the landmarks along them. The sense of the things he ought to know but not the individual details; those come in intervals, at random, triggered by the most inconsequential things.

A bowl of soup, a tree branch twisted in a particular way, the smell of the sea after days spent inland, a seagull crying out as it wheels overhead; little things all, they dredge the haze of his past and make him remember, unravel the memories the explosion had tangled up in his brain.

He tries to write them down right away when he can. (He remembers now that he’d always meant to write a book about his travels, when he still believed he’d be a pirate and not a soldier; and it’s a cruel sort of humor, Sabo thinks, that now that he’s sailing the sea just like he’d wanted, now that he’s got the quill in his fingers and the sailor’s callouses on his hands, all he wants to write about is home. The freed bird, singing of its cage instead of the sky.)

There isn’t always a chance to do it, of course. Sometimes the memories wash over him in the middle of a battle or a negotiation or a storm, and those times he can only swallow them, focus on the present and hope the details won’t leave him by the time he can put pen to paper. Mostly they don’t; sometimes they do, and that hurts, because each of them only happens once, resurfacing like air from underwater, no way to pull them back down.

By the time he reaches Dressrosa he’s got two journals filled in his quick, meticulous hand, ink poorly blotted on those pages where the memories hadn’t been kind, sketches of the faces he remembers on the pages in between. And he hopes against hope that taking in Ace’s fire will mean something: because if it was Ace that brought his memories crashing back into him after Marineford, if it was Ace that reached out to him, then surely this part of him ought to bring something, too. Flames to burn away the mind’s darkness.

Get the devil's fruit, get the rest of his memories. Nothing’s so simple, of course.

+

It hits him at the worst possible moment. (Again. Ace never did have very good timing.)

The arena cracks below his fist and there’s the tremendous, thunderous crash as it shatters, water spraying upward from the former moat, steam bursting through the fissures, and he’s got to seize the devil’s fruit and get out of here and get on with it and find Luffy again—

The memory opens in his mind in screaming color, touched off by the spray of water that had been present then as it is now. Ace’s young voice echoes in the space between his ears, his own voice ringing in the background, Keep your eyes on me.

Sabo misses a step. It’s enough to plunge him downward, steam and water and screaming buffeting him from all sides as he falls.

The memory rises up to meet him.

+

He doesn’t know the name of the boy on the log that lies across the ravine.

Never even seen him before, in fact, and that’s strange, because Sabo was sure he’d met all the kids living in the Terminal by now; there’s not much to do when you live in a trash heap, so they all hang out together, roam its reeking footpaths in ragtag gangs. (Sabo used to tag along, too, before he figured out that the way to really make it in the garbage dump was to steal from the big guys passing through; now he mostly keeps to himself and watches for good catches.)

This boy he’s never seen at all, and he’s got a look Sabo thinks he would’ve remembered; freckles all over his face and his arms, a makeshift staff strapped to his back, and an expression fierce as tigers.

That might be because of the situation, though.

Just now the boy on the log is standing atop it, clinging to a protruding branch not quite at the ravine’s middle. There’s a sheer drop and a roaring river below him, the spray of the nearby waterfall reaching them both. If he falls Sabo knows there’s no way he’ll survive; he’s thrown enough stones into the ravine to know exactly how many jagged outcroppings the boy’s going to hit on the way down.

“Hey!” Sabo calls, decided at last. “Hey, do you want me to help you?”

The boy startles—Sabo jolts instinctively forward from where he is behind the log’s roots on the opposite side of the ravine—but doesn’t fall, only glowers at him and yells back, “No! Fuck off!”

Sabo frowns. “You wanna die on there?”

“So what if I do,” spits back the boy on the log, and keeps clinging to the branch for dear life. As Sabo watches he tries to take a step forward, glances down and jerks back, hands not letting go of his safety.

“You can’t get across if you’re gonna look down,” Sabo says. He knows; he’d snuck out on enough rooftops back home to have had it happen to him. The precarious ledge and the fall that made his head spin just to think about, and he hadn’t made it past until he’d leaned against the adjacent wall and closed his eyes to scoot across it—

“Shut up!” says the boy, “Shut up, I’ll make it on my own.”

“If you say so,” says Sabo, and picks up the pipe he uses to rifle the trash heaps and fight off the giant rats that live in the gutters from where he’s leaned it against a nearby tree. “I’m leaving, then!”

“No, wait—!” cries the boy on the log.

Sabo can’t help but grin. “You wanna get off after all?”

“So’s I can punch that stupid smug look off your face,” the boy tells him. “How’re you gonna help me from all the way over there, anyway?”

“You just have to keep your eyes on me and keep going. If you make it far enough I’ll grab your hand,” Sabo tells him.

“Keep my eyes on you,” the boy says dubiously. “Looking at your ugly mug’s s’posed to help?”

And Sabo, struck by genius, sticks out his tongue and says, “Says the uglier mug. Bet you wouldn’t be able to beat me if you got over here, anyway.”

This gets a response. The boy looks furious; and like that alone is enough, like that’s all he needs to get his limbs moving, he lets go of the branch and starts off across the log, arms out to both sides, glowering at Sabo all the while. “I’m gonna kick your ass!” he promises.

“Keep your eyes on me,” repeats Sabo, and climbs forward over to the log’s roots, gets as far onto it as he can while still holding to stick out his hand. “And no way. I’m gonna kick yours.”

It takes three minutes for the boy to make it to the end of the log, glaring straight at him. Sabo grabs his hand, hard, and pulls him forward and onto solid ground; the boy looks down at last and stamps on it repeatedly once he’s there, like he’s trying to reassure himself that he’s made it. “What’s your name?” asks Sabo, “Before you start trying to kill me for saving your life.”

“Ace,” says the boy, and looks up at him one more time, close enough now that Sabo gets to experience the full brunt of his fiery gaze. “My name’s Ace.”

“Hi, Ace,” says Sabo, “I’m Sabo, and I’m not gonna go down easy.”

It’s the first time he ever sees Ace smile.

+

Sabo snaps back to reality mere moments before hitting the ground, comes to his senses and tears straight through from memory to instinct. Just barely manages to land in a way that doesn’t break his spine, twists and only gets shocking hot bruises all along his side for his trouble. Ace, he thinks, Ace—

The memory of the first time they’d met, here and now, when Ace’s devil fruit is almost in his hands; and maybe it means something and maybe it doesn’t, but Sabo has always preferred to believe. He scrambles up from where he’s fallen, jumps and climbs across the rubble; knows that it’s now or never, while the steam and the audience’s screaming have everyone confused, have everyone looking elsewhere.

The monstrous fish with the prize on its back leaps from the water before him, just where he’d predicted it would; and he throws himself forward, manages to grab hold of the chest with the devil fruit in it, slams into it with his torso and bruises his ribs in the process. Gets to prying it open with haki-blackened hands, almost there, almost there, almost there.

Light spills through as soon as the boards of the chest snap open, and there it is, right before him: Ace’s fire, Ace’s heart, the only thing left of him still on this earth. Sabo pulls it out with as much reverence as the moment allows, which is little, and it’s hot in his hand, nearly too hot to hold.

Wherever the rest of Ace is, Sabo hopes that he’s watching.

Keep your eyes on me, he thinks, and sinks his teeth in.

Edited 2015-12-21 04:56 (UTC)

Luffy & Sanji, friendship.

I just want a Luffy & Sanji friendship fic since we don't see a lot of them. Maybe Luffy gets sick for the first time ever and has to deal with nausea that won't let him eat anything, so Sanji has to try to make something he can eat. Doesn't matter when in the series it occurs, I just want some Sanji/Luffy bonding.

Choose any of your fav characters and write something musical about them! I want to see what you all get.

Body horror warning
Kid/Law/Killer, Law touched Kid’s scar that crawled from his arm to chest, feeling the heartbeat underneath, “Did you think of death when this happened?” “Nah. Killer wouldn’t let me.”

Zoro/Luffy, angst and romance

I'm not the one who asked for the prompt BUT DAMN THIS IS REALLY GOOD OH MY GOD AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH LIKE... i need to cry about it how dare to make it so emotional THANK YOU SO MUCH I REALLLY LOVE YOUR WRITING

dragon/sabo, 5 times sabo tried to lie to dragon, the 1 time he willingly told the truth
can be romantic or platonic, I don't mind.

Franky + Sanji; Friendship, Hurt/Comfort.

Franky must find a way to get a badly concussed Sanji back to the Sunny after escaping from a fight with antagonist of your choice. Comforting big bro!Franky and confused/out-of-it!Sanji are HUGE bonuses.

Nami & Sanji

Friendship. Sanji wakes up upset over a nightmare and goes to the galley to make himself some hot tea and have a smoke to calm his nerves. He finds Nami there, still awake and working on something at the table. Cue Nami being perceptive/nosy/comforting.

Just please please please no noodley, lovesick Sanji.

Trafalgar Law/Monkey D Luffy, I'm too far gone, your voice barely reaches me.

Can be either romantic or platonic. :]

i'm not experienced with lawlu at all but i really wanted to try this and it might not be what you were looking for but ohhhhhh god i hope you like it. warning for blood/surgery.

Trafalgar Law doesn’t find himself scared of many things. His intimacy with an insatiable desire for death may lend to that, but giving it any thought means entertaining fear and weakness. Law is not weak. (Not even when he wakes up smothering hoarse screams in his throat, not even when his limbs tremor as he curls into himself to stop pain that isn’t there, not even when he keeps his eyes open yet all he can see is burnt flesh and little bodies and whitewhitewhite—)

With Strawhat Luffy before him, a cavernous hole in his stomach and dried blood on his lips, he is scared.

Strawhat is not important to him. The boy is interesting; compelling, passionate, refreshing, an impossible force of being he can't entirely wrap his head around. But not important. There is a thrum in Law’s chest, however; an off-key beat that pulsates in his ears, that makes his fingertips throb; a full bodied palpitation, one that tries to burst his veins, that screams at him to take action.

(To save Strawhat.)

Law doesn’t know where this compulsion stems from. A chance meeting on Sabaody, a spark of intrigue, a pull in his very marrow – these mean nothing in a pirate’s world. There are those who will benefit him and those who must be eliminated. But Strawhat, with his scraped fists and raw tenacity, his life, he etches himself into every corner of Law’s mind.

(Because life isn’t a concept the Surgeon of Death is familiar with, yet Strawhat teems with a burning desire to live. Inside him is a flame that blankets those who come near and is unleashed wherever he goes. He is an inferno, spreading himself as far as he can reach and setting the sky ablaze with his presence. Strawhat’s conflagration will spit out the passive embers who are not swept up in his fiery pace and they will be left to snuff out slowly on the sidelines of his assail.

Law refuses to be an ember.)

That impression drags him to Marineford in the aftermath of a cataclysmic war (Whitebeard’s death will shake the world to its very core) with a visceral need to make sure that Strawhat does not die. Not after this. Not after he rips his way through the forerunners of their generation and makes it out—makes it out barely alive, covered in blood that is only his, makes it out broken, shattered in a way Law sees in himself on the sparse occasions he forces himself to look in the mirror, but Strawhat—

He makes it out. For this, he must continue living. With magma having speared his stomach, though, there is slim chance of that. (Law pushes the words primum nil nocere out of his mind as he starts his work.)

As he makes more and more incisions, he realizes the bloody body before him is injured far beyond what Akainu has done. Twisted and burnt flesh sits at the base of Strawhat’s breast, but within his Room Law sees that each rubber muscle is tense and hypertrophied, pumped with fatal amounts of vasopressin, cortisol, and catecholamine hormones.

(Doesn’t he know that a body made of rubber is not a shield from the world?)

The damage Strawhat has accumulated is unbelievable. His body almost shuts down multiple times and Law doesn’t know if he will survive because he is mutilated, afflicted with so much inordinate physical trauma that there may be nothing that will resuscitate him. The procedure is demanding, each suture welling consternation in Law’s chest. But there is another emotion beside the fear; it brushes his skin as Strawhat lies beneath him on an operating table, it tells him that he’s the only one who can save the boy.

Six hours of work leave Strawhat connected to a myriad of IV tubes and a ventilator, nigh exsanguinated. The fact that the most Law can do is leave him lying shallow-breathed in bloodied sheets curdles astringency in his throat.

He did not operate on Strawhat Luffy out of obligation, but a reason he doesn’t yet know. Two weeks pass by in anxious waiting and acrid doubt. (What if he doesn’t make it?) Skipped heartbeats, mild seizures, bloody coughs: they’re all hell.

And then, in the way it seems only Strawhat can make happen, the tides shift.

He awakens in a fit of hazy delusion looking for his dead brother and something twisted unfurls in Law’s chest (eats him out from the inside and says, ‘he is broken just like you are’ and hurts so much). Strawhat runs into the forest of Amazon Lily and gambles his life with every step. The aid Law has provided is first rate, but those wounds are more severe than bandages and two weeks of intensive rest can mitigate. They are likely to open up, and he is likely to die.

Strawhat’s screams boom across the island. Law knows that Monkey D. Luffy might shatter into irreparable pieces, might become a person so far away from himself that the name rings hollow, might die both inside and out—

The thought knocks the breath out of him in a way just shy of debilitating.

The Knight of the Sea treads after him and Law waits. That infamous straw hat sits on the ground near his feet and he picks it up. He knows that this hat is significant, anyone who sails the ocean does, but having it in his grasp is another experience entirely. It’s worn. Flimsy between his fingers and bleached by the sun. Stitched up in a few areas. He tries not to think about what he’s done to Strawhat. Tries not to think about the scent of corpses in a dead city far away, clinging to his nose for days (weeks months years) afterward. Tries so hard to block the feeling of shame that comes with knowing that Strawhat will have to live with a ubiquitous void behind him. Will constantly be reminded that he was the one who survived.

Strawhat's screams quiet.

He exits the forest riding on the excommunicated Warlord’s back and Law meets his eyes. They are black like pitch, resonant with a mix of emotion he can’t readily discern, but they are Strawhat Luffy's. Brightly, his resolution and the Will shine. The relief that swims through Law is welcomed as he gives back the straw hat. Their fingers connect for a moment (they're warm) and Strawhat beams.

The radiance of his smile makes Law feel a little less like death.

Edited 2015-12-25 08:55 (UTC)

How could I resist.

Filled on AO3: here yo (http://archiveofourown.org/works/5531405)

OH MAN i am just BLOWN AWAY by this

damn near everyone gets them wrong honestly but you get them really right and this is FANTASTIC, thank you you so much!! what a wonderful thing to find

i love that you touch on law feeling guilty for keeping luffy alive when his brother didn't make it (I FEEL STRONGLY ABOUT THIS) and i love the connections you make between what's happened to them both, as well as how raw your descriptions of law's memories of the white city are. god. and the paragraphs describing luffy's physical state as a result of everything he's put himself through and law's reaction are just stunning, undoubtedly my very favorite part

and "Law refuses to be an ember."! i love

you even used the latin for 'first, do no harm,' my HERO, thank you again for such a great fill :')))

:')) thank you!!

Zoro/Sanji, i didn't know what i had until i (nearly) lost it

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winter 2015-2016 ficathon: take me with you to the sea

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