k0iy0

[k0iy0]

writing this and realizing i have to delete it bc its not historically accurate

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You cannot tell me these pants aren't Law coded....

[k0iy0]

For he is my canvas

[k0iy0]

This Diva...

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LAW LEAVE HIM ALONNE

[k0iy0]

GUYS QUICK

WHICH ONE

(Also does it look like him??)

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I think there's something to be said here

[k0iy0]

I bought a headband for my cat

I don't think she really liked it, so I found someone who did enjoy it.

Literally made for him. Look at his stupid smile

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When you're so mentally ill you find Law in anything

[k0iy0]

I ordered a Shamrock shake what the fuck is this

[k0iy0]

Made some Pikmin decor for my garland

Most satisfied with the flying pikmin one. The blue tastes like blue raspberry.

[k0iy0]

The Anatomy of Passing Out: When, Why, and How to Write It

Passing out, or syncope, is a loss of consciousness that can play a pivotal role in storytelling, adding drama, suspense, or emotional weight to a scene. Whether it’s due to injury, fear, or exhaustion, the act of fainting can instantly shift the stakes in your story.

But how do you write it convincingly? How do you ensure it’s not overly dramatic or medically inaccurate? In this guide, I’ll walk you through the causes, stages, and aftermath of passing out. By the end, you’ll be able to craft a vivid, realistic fainting scene that enhances your narrative without feeling clichéd or contrived.

2. Common Causes of Passing Out

Characters faint for a variety of reasons, and understanding the common causes can help you decide when and why your character might lose consciousness. Below are the major categories that can lead to fainting, each with their own narrative implications.

Physical Causes

Blood Loss: A sudden drop in blood volume from a wound can cause fainting as the body struggles to maintain circulation and oxygen delivery to the brain.

Dehydration: When the body doesn’t have enough fluids, blood pressure can plummet, leading to dizziness and fainting.

Low Blood Pressure (Hypotension): Characters with chronic low blood pressure may faint after standing up too quickly, due to insufficient blood reaching the brain.

Intense Pain: The body can shut down in response to severe pain, leading to fainting as a protective mechanism.

Heatstroke: Extreme heat can cause the body to overheat, resulting in dehydration and loss of consciousness.

Psychological Causes

Emotional Trauma or Shock: Intense fear, grief, or surprise can trigger a fainting episode, as the brain becomes overwhelmed.

Panic Attacks: The hyperventilation and increased heart rate associated with anxiety attacks can deprive the brain of oxygen, causing a character to faint.

Fear-Induced Fainting (Vasovagal Syncope): This occurs when a character is so afraid that their body’s fight-or-flight response leads to fainting.

Environmental Causes

Lack of Oxygen: Situations like suffocation, high altitudes, or enclosed spaces with poor ventilation can deprive the brain of oxygen and cause fainting.

Poisoning or Toxins: Certain chemicals or gasses (e.g., carbon monoxide) can interfere with the body’s ability to transport oxygen, leading to unconsciousness.

3. The Stages of Passing Out

To write a realistic fainting scene, it’s important to understand the stages of syncope. Fainting is usually a process, and characters will likely experience several key warning signs before they fully lose consciousness.

Pre-Syncope (The Warning Signs)

Before losing consciousness, a character will typically go through a pre-syncope phase. This period can last anywhere from a few seconds to a couple of minutes, and it’s full of physical indicators that something is wrong.

Light-Headedness and Dizziness: A feeling that the world is spinning, which can be exacerbated by movement.

Blurred or Tunnel Vision: The character may notice their vision narrowing or going dark at the edges.

Ringing in the Ears: Often accompanied by a feeling of pressure or muffled hearing.

Weakness in Limbs: The character may feel unsteady, like their legs can’t support them.

Sweating and Nausea: A sudden onset of cold sweats, clamminess, and nausea is common.

Rapid Heartbeat (Tachycardia): The heart races as it tries to maintain blood flow to the brain.

Syncope (The Loss of Consciousness)

When the character faints, the actual loss of consciousness happens quickly, often within seconds of the pre-syncope signs.

The Body Going Limp: The character will crumple to the ground, usually without the ability to break their fall.

Breathing: Breathing continues, but it may be shallow and rapid.

Pulse: While fainting, the heart rate can either slow down dramatically or remain rapid, depending on the cause.

Duration: Most fainting episodes last from a few seconds to a minute or two. Prolonged unconsciousness may indicate a more serious issue.

Post-Syncope (The Recovery)

After a character regains consciousness, they’ll typically feel groggy and disoriented. This phase can last several minutes.

Disorientation: The character may not immediately remember where they are or what happened.

Lingering Dizziness: Standing up too quickly after fainting can trigger another fainting spell.

Nausea and Headache: After waking up, the character might feel sick or develop a headache.

Weakness: Even after regaining consciousness, the body might feel weak or shaky for several hours.

4. The Physical Effects of Fainting

Fainting isn’t just about losing consciousness—there are physical consequences too. Depending on the circumstances, your character may suffer additional injuries from falling, especially if they hit something on the way down.

Impact on the Body

Falling Injuries: When someone faints, they usually drop straight to the ground, often hitting their head or body in the process. Characters may suffer cuts, bruises, or even broken bones.

Head Injuries: Falling and hitting their head on the floor or a nearby object can lead to concussions or more severe trauma.

Scrapes and Bruises: If your character faints on a rough surface or near furniture, they may sustain scrapes, bruises, or other minor injuries.

Physical Vulnerability

Uncontrolled Fall: The character’s body crumples or falls in a heap. Without the ability to brace themselves, they are at risk for further injuries.

Exposed While Unconscious: While fainted, the character is vulnerable to their surroundings. This could lead to danger in the form of attackers, environmental hazards, or secondary injuries from their immediate environment.

Signs to Look For While Unconscious

Shallow Breathing: The character's breathing will typically become shallow or irregular while they’re unconscious.

Pale or Flushed Skin: Depending on the cause of fainting, a character’s skin may become very pale or flushed.

Twitching or Muscle Spasms: In some cases, fainting can be accompanied by brief muscle spasms or jerking movements.

5. Writing Different Types of Fainting

There are different types of fainting, and each can serve a distinct narrative purpose. The way a character faints can help enhance the scene's tension or emotion.

Sudden Collapse

In this case, the character blacks out without any warning. This type of fainting is often caused by sudden physical trauma or exhaustion.

No Warning: The character simply drops, startling both themselves and those around them.

Used in High-Tension Scenes: For example, a character fighting in a battle may suddenly collapse from blood loss, raising the stakes instantly.

Slow and Gradual Fainting

This happens when a character feels themselves fading, usually due to emotional stress or exhaustion.

Internal Monologue: The character might have time to realize something is wrong and reflect on what’s happening before they lose consciousness.

Adds Suspense: The reader is aware that the character is fading but may not know when they’ll drop.

Dramatic Fainting

Some stories call for a more theatrical faint, especially in genres like historical fiction or period dramas.

Exaggerated Swooning: A character might faint from shock or fear, clutching their chest or forehead before collapsing.

Evokes a Specific Tone: This type of fainting works well for dramatic, soap-opera-like scenes where the fainting is part of the tension.

6. Aftermath: How Characters Feel After Waking Up

When your character wakes up from fainting, they’re not going to bounce back immediately. There are often lingering effects that last for minutes—or even hours.

Physical Recovery

Dizziness and Nausea: Characters might feel off-balance or sick to their stomach when they first come around.

Headaches: A headache is a common symptom post-fainting, especially if the character hits their head.

Body Aches: Muscle weakness or stiffness may persist, especially if the character fainted for a long period or in an awkward position.

Emotional and Mental Impact

Confusion: The character may not remember why they fainted or what happened leading up to the event.

Embarrassment: Depending on the situation, fainting can be humiliating, especially if it happened in front of others.

Fear: Characters who faint from emotional shock might be afraid of fainting again or of the situation that caused it.

7. Writing Tips: Making It Believable

Writing a fainting scene can be tricky. If not handled properly, it can come across as melodramatic or unrealistic. Here are some key tips to ensure your fainting scenes are both believable and impactful.

Understand the Cause

First and foremost, ensure that the cause of fainting makes sense in the context of your story. Characters shouldn’t pass out randomly—there should always be a logical reason for it.

Foreshadow the Fainting: If your character is losing blood, suffering from dehydration, or undergoing extreme emotional stress, give subtle clues that they might pass out. Show their discomfort building before they collapse.

Avoid Overuse: Fainting should be reserved for moments of high stakes or significant plot shifts. Using it too often diminishes its impact.

Balance Realism with Drama

While you want your fainting scene to be dramatic, don’t overdo it. Excessively long or theatrical collapses can feel unrealistic.

Keep It Short: Fainting typically happens fast. Avoid dragging the loss of consciousness out for too long, as it can slow down the pacing of your story.

Don’t Always Save the Character in Time: In some cases, let the character hit the ground. This adds realism, especially if they’re fainting due to an injury or traumatic event.

Consider the Aftermath

Make sure to give attention to what happens after the character faints. This part is often overlooked, but it’s important for maintaining realism and continuity.

Lingering Effects: Mention the character’s disorientation, dizziness, or confusion upon waking up. It’s rare for someone to bounce back immediately after fainting.

Reactions of Others: If other characters are present, how do they react? Are they alarmed? Do they rush to help, or are they unsure how to respond?

Avoid Overly Romanticized Fainting

In some genres, fainting is used as a dramatic or romantic plot device, but this can feel outdated and unrealistic. Try to focus on the genuine physical or emotional toll fainting takes on a character.

Stay Away from Clichés: Avoid having your character faint simply to be saved by a love interest. If there’s a romantic element, make sure it’s woven naturally into the plot rather than feeling forced.

8. Common Misconceptions About Fainting

Fainting is often misrepresented in fiction, with exaggerated symptoms or unrealistic recoveries. Here are some common myths about fainting, and the truth behind them.

Myth 1: Fainting Always Comes Without Warning

While some fainting episodes are sudden, most people experience warning signs (lightheadedness, blurred vision) before passing out. This gives the character a chance to notice something is wrong before losing consciousness.

Myth 2: Fainting Is Dramatic and Slow

In reality, fainting happens quickly—usually within a few seconds of the first warning signs. Characters won’t have time for long speeches or dramatic gestures before collapsing.

Myth 3: Characters Instantly Bounce Back

Many stories show characters waking up and being perfectly fine after fainting, but this is rarely the case. Fainting usually leaves people disoriented, weak, or even nauseous for several minutes afterward.

Myth 4: Fainting Is Harmless

In some cases, fainting can indicate a serious medical issue, like heart problems or severe dehydration. If your character is fainting frequently, it should be addressed in the story as a sign of something more severe.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Quillology with Haya Sameer; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors! While you’re at it, don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey! 

[k0iy0]

“you’re a writer, right?”

me, staring at the one sentence i’ve managed to add in the last hour and the 12 open tabs on the specifics of shoes in 1845 Ireland: In theory.

[k0iy0]

From Dusk Till Dawn Chapter One - Dusk 0

Skeleton/undead Luffy and reader (platonic)

Slight Trafalgar x reader (maybe)

3,821 words

Modern au where Law and reader are childhood friends and Robin is your older sister. I actually wrote this before my other Law fic but I was too lazy to post it earlier. My first fic in about 10 years.

Reader has female pronouns and is a bit of a scaredy cat. Some swearing. You hyperventilate. Living characters are pre-time skip design-wise. Might be OOC. Uhhh Rosinante and Law's family are alive though they don't appear(in ch 1 at least). Not edited.

WARNING: you won't catch me updating this much, my bad

Cross posted on Ao3:

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Summary:

Original prompt: "Your archaeologist father has recently passed and his will makes you the sole owner of the skeleton of a cursed warrior king. All seems well till the king wakes up at sunset and demands his crown. Describe the adventure with you and the skeleton king on a hilarious road trip quest to finally put him to rest."

In which you find yourself in possession of a skeleton due to your recently deceased father. Having that thing in your house already gave you the creeps and your sister telling you it was cursed certainly wasn't helping.

Coming to terms with the skeleton, you find yourself sleeping peacefully in your room.

At least, until the sound of something rummaging through your fridge at 3 AM awakens you.

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The reality that your father was deceased didn’t really hit you until you find yourself staring at the ridiculously large casket in front of you. Not… Not your father’s casket - well, technically yes, it was your father’s but not the one he was currently and already buried in. No, no, you see, your dear old dad was an archaeologist who, before he passed, for some reason, had the foresight to write you as the next sole owner of - of some dead guy?? Okay, to be fair, yes, you had some(you say veery loosely because wow that’s a lotta zeros) financial inheritance amongst other things but you’d think he would give all… the ‘weird’ things to your older sister, who is also an archaeologist. To which he did, like the mummified hand of a so-called Celestial Dragon, or the Devil Fruit that once belonged to a tyrannical king long passed. Well, you supposed what you got was better than the contained Dyna Stone that you’re pretty sure is illegal to be in possession of but whatever. 

You had thought about giving the corpse + coffin bundle to your sister, who would undoubtedly find a better use for it than you but had decided against it. She was already swamped with organizing your father’s assets, dealing with his investors, and just ensuring his research could continue without many setbacks. Not to mention she had organized the entirety of his funeral on her own within a day, and that’s on top of her own projects and hobbies she had to focus on. It… made you feel a little useless if you were honest. You had offered, multiple times to help, whether it was going through paperwork or physically moving but every time your sister simply waved you off with her signature smile and told you to not worry. Not because she thought you were useless or in the way, but because she wanted you to relax after your father’s passing. That and you’re pretty sure she enjoys the work, keeping herself busy. 

Regardless, you find yourself in possession of some dead guy’s bones and his ivory packaging. You understand that your father had hoped you carried at least some sort of interest in archaeology, like your mother and your sister but no, it seemed the gods skipped over you when bestowing that particular interest into your family. You tried, really. You went to their excavations and research facilities when you were old enough and while something piqued your interest every so often, it just never clicked with you. 

Despite this, your parents and sister never loved you any less. They would often send letters during their travels and called whenever they could get a signal as they often found themselves in rural areas. Your parents never left you wanting either; their successful after-successful excavations left them with an abundance of grants and funding - much of their earnings they sent to you and your sister, ensuring you both were well-fed and clothed. At least, until your sister graduated college and went off with your parents. She mostly sends you letters of things she’s discovered along with a trinket and a brief history lesson about said item. Most of the time they’re mildly interesting, though sometimes she’ll send things that run a shiver down your spine. Part of you thinks she does that on purpose; she had a morbid side to her sometimes, saying or doing things to freak you out. 

You’re shaken out of your thoughts as you hear a familiar ringtone emitting from your phone. You blink, taking a second to process the chime ringing in your ears and the buzzing in your back pocket. Retrieving your phone, you don’t even have to look at the contact to know who it is, the custom ringtone belonging to only your older sister. You do check the time, however. You wonder briefly what your sister had to say when it was already eleven p.m. Shrugging, you tap the screen. 

“Hello?” You greet, pressing the receiver to your ear. 

“Apologies for the late call,” She starts. “I heard the Pirate King’s remains had been delivered and I wanted to make sure everything was going alright.” Your sister explains, and you wonder if now was the only time she could spare to call you considering it had been delivered a couple of days ago. It made you feel a bit guilty - using her downtime to worry about you. You weren’t a kid but you appreciated the thought. It was only your sister and you now, with your mother passing a few years back and your father’s funeral mere days ago. She just wanted to make sure you were okay.

You stare at the thing in question; you had the movers place it in the middle of your living room - it being the only place it could fit in your humble abode. It wasn’t as if you couldn’t afford a bigger place, but you lived alone and you didn’t feel the need to have anything extravagant. Though you suppose you could relocate to a bigger place, the housing market was kinda fucked and you should probably strike while the iron was hot. Or something like that. You also weren’t sure if your landlord would allow… human remains such as this to… well… remain here(heh heh). 

“Um, yeah it’s going okay I guess,” You tilt your head in contemplation. “It’s a bit hard to uh, integrate it with my current home decor though.” You joke. She’s silent for a brief moment and you can just imagine her nodding in understanding. 

“I see. That’s understandable. Let me know if there are any issues, I will see to it if so.” She stops as if mulling something over. “However, if you find yourself needing assistance with decorating your house, do not hesitate to ask. Though, I do not recommend placing the Pirate King’s remains within close proximity of the Leopard’s Paw.” She warns. 

“The what now? Why?” You’re almost afraid to ask, trying to remember why it sounded so familiar.

“The Leopard’s Paw,” She repeats, and you can almost hear the wicked smile gracing her lips as she resumes speaking, her tone even and calm with a hint of mischief. “I sent it to you a while back after coming across it during one of my excavations. While it’s entirely harmless on its own, it’s still a cursed artifact.” You freeze at her words, now remembering what she was talking about. 

“As I wrote in my letter,” She reminds, much to your dismay. “the owner of that paw was once known as the “Massacre Weapon,” and records indicated that he was regarded as a formidable man with incredible strength. Sadly, there isn’t much information on him aside from those tidbits. Although from what we’ve gathered thus far, we can conclude he was an agent who worked for the Old World Government; considering all records of him are from classified documentation within the OWG.” Your sister rambles, and while it was mildly interesting, you were way more concerned about the possible negative implications of the combination of the two artifacts. 

“Right. And uh, why would it be unwise to place it with the skeleton..?” You stare down the King’s Retirement Box, mentally glad you had stuffed that stupid paw in the back of your bedroom closet. Gently, of course. It was silly but after your sister told you it was cursed you were slightly afraid of angering whatever was probably possessing it. Slightly. Your sister simply laughs, and to anyone else, it would sound normal, cute even. But not you. No, no, you know better. That was the laugh she makes when she’s about to tell you something she knows will freak you out.

“Robin,” You plead, taking a step back from the coffin. “Please, it’s almost midnight.” Yeah, okay, you were twenty-three and afraid of the spooky and occult, of what goes bump in the night, so what? It certainly didn’t help when your sister often told sinister tales to you during your youth, when your parents were off around the world. Okay, maybe she didn’t do it that often, but still! Not to mention how she used to use her Devil Fruit to spook you throughout the week. You take a seat on the couch, turning away from your father’s parting gift.

“It’s nothing really. Just some newly discovered records show that as opposing sides, the late Pirate King and the Massacre Weapon were often at odds with each other. The cursed energy within the Leopard’s Paw may awaken if in close contact with its owner’s sworn enemy. Not to mention the skeletal remains of the Pirate King are also said to be cursed.” Robin’s explanation causes a single, metaphorical tear to run down your cheek. She continues in your stupor. “You’ll be sure to tell me if anything occurs, yes?” She asks, almost sounding hopeful at the thought of some long-forgotten grudge reviving within your very home.

You reply meekly, slouching in your seat. The conversation shifts to a more normal casual topic as you both talk about how the past week has gone. You begin to feel more at ease as you chat, you always found her voice to be calming when she wasn’t messing with you. The chat comes to an end when Robin tells you she has to go, as she has an early flight to catch and that she might not be able to contact you for a few days. You wish each other a good night(and a peaceful flight to her) before hanging up. 

Setting your phone down on the couch next to you, you stand up to stretch, a yawn escaping you. Stepping around your temporary coffee table, you make your way to the kitchen. The time on the microwave tells you it is currently a quarter to twelve, and your conversation with Robin was a bit longer than you had thought. Not that it mattered, you tended to stay up late into the night on your days off. 

Humming a tune to yourself, you open the fridge, intent on whipping something up for yourself. You mull over what to cook, eyeing the fridge and pantry as you rummage through your mental cookbook. You decide on something simple - eggs on toast. Placing the sliced bread in the toaster, you get started on the eggs: heating the pan, melting the butter, and cracking two eggs into the pan. You briefly debate overeasy verus sunny side before just flipping the eggs. Overeasy it is. You take out the maple butter you made the other day and spread a bit of it over the finished toast. Reaching for your spice rack, you season the eggs just the way you like it; which happens to be the way your mother made them, though yours could never come close to her cooking. Sliding the eggs onto the toast, you make your way to the counter next to the sink, content to just stand and eat. You could feel your stomach rumble as you pick up a slice of toast. 

Before eggs on toast could meet your lips, you hear a loud growling sound. You pause, slowly lowering the toast, frowning. It... almost sounded as if the noise came from in front of you in the living room but there was nothing?? You scan the open area from behind the counter, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Your eyes linger on the box containing the Pirate King’s remains. Not wanting to entertain the thought of Robin’s warning, you tear your eyes away from the stone casket. It was probably your own stomach growling, right? Or just the typical old building noises. That’s what you tell yourself as you continue eating. You finish relatively fast, placing the plate in the sink. You wash your hands, drying them on a nearby towel. You glance at the pan sitting on the stove. You’ll wash it in the morning. 

You give the area one last look, just to reassure yourself. You didn’t hear any growling, and again, you don’t see anything. Letting out a sigh of relief, you turn to head to bed, shutting the lights off on the way. Entering your room, you make sure to close your door before changing into something more comfortable. Some shorts and an old T-shirt from high school. You make your way under your covers, the cool touch of the sheets feeling nice against your skin. Shifting around to get comfortable, you realize you left your phone out in the living room. The sigh that leaves your lips embodies the feeling of laziness that took over you. You’ll grab it tomorrow, you don’t feel like getting up right now. 

Your head hits the pillow, and you stare at the alarm clock sitting on your nightstand as the food in your belly lulls you to sleep. Eyelids feeling heavy, the last thing your brain registers is the bright red numbers on the screen.

12:05 A.M.

Your eyes close shut as sleep embraces you.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

You shift, the noise slightly stirring you. Your eyes open briefly, eyebrows furrowing as your brain tries to decide if you were still sleeping or if you were hearing things. Eyes blurry, you stare at the ceiling. A few moments of silence has your mind drifting back to sleep as your eyes slowly close.

BANG

You jolt awake, mind going haywire as you stare wide-eyed. It sounded like something heavy collapsing. You hear an odd clacking sound, like a rattling of… something from beyond your bedroom door. The noise stops before a steady thumping takes its place. The rhythm makes you realize it was the sound of footsteps. Breathing heavy, you don’t dare move an inch, afraid of alerting whatever was out there. The footsteps stop, and you strain your ears to hear anything else. You don’t hear anything over the loud beating of your heart. You glance at the nightstand.

3:02 A.M.

Steadying your breathing, you try to muster up the courage to get up. You slowly peel the sheets off you, sliding your legs over the edge of the bed, and rise to a slouched stand. You tiptoe your way to the door, grabbing your spare umbrella that was propped up nearby. Clutching the umbrella in one hand, you reach for the door handle with the other; with a shaking hand, you twist the knob, slowly pulling the door open.

The door opening slightly, you poke your head out. Peering down the hallway, you are greeted by darkness. The once familiar hallway warps in the dark, twisting itself into something sinister. 

‘It’s all in my mind,’ You think to yourself, taking a step out. ‘It was actually nothing and I was just dreaming. I am simply going to double-check.’ You hold back a sniffle, both hands grasping the umbrella so tight your knuckles turn white. Careful to not make a sound, you silently make your way through the darkened hall. You’re almost successful in convincing yourself until the sound of the refrigerator door opening makes you jump. You tense up, unmoving as the goosebumps on your arms rise. Gulping, you resume walking towards the kitchen, the light of the fridge illuminating the sink and the living room behind it. There’s a shadow within the cast light, shifting about as they rummage through the fridge. It… it sounds like they’re eating?? What the fuck?? Between the sound of things being tossed around and torn open, you hear the clacking of teeth and the dedicated… munching akin to some voracious animal. 

You’re close enough that the entire kitchen comes into view. You see a figure hunched over as they dig through the fridge, their frame blocked by door. You hold the umbrella over your shoulder, preparing yourself to swing if necessary. 

You take a step forward.

…And your breath hitches as the floorboard beneath you creaks. 

You hold back a whimper as the figure stops, slowly rising from their position, standing tall. Their head turns towards you slowly, the light reflecting their features. 

A skull. 

You scream.

The thief(skeleton?? Was it even a person?) takes a step back from the sudden reaction, raising its hands almost defensively. 

“Woah! You-” It starts, and you watch its jaw move animatedly as it speaks. Your eyes follow the slice of cheese sliding down its teeth, it falls, landing on that thing’s very, very bony foot. “-startled me! What’s with the screaming anyways?” Your gaze flickers back up at the skeleton’s face, or lack thereof. It puts its skinless, meatless, bloodless-whatever else it has less of!- hands on its hips, tilting its head. You could imagine that if it had a face it would be staring at you like you were the weird one.

You blink. Again. And again. 

And then you scream. Again.

“Hey!” It moves to cover its ears- that it doesn’t have -and oh so very stupidly, you throw your only weapon of defense at the thing. The umbrella hits it square in the face and bounces back, hitting the refrigerator door before clattering to the ground. The undead monstrosity yelps in pain as it gets knocked off its feet. Quickly you turn, deciding to just leave. You dash through the living room to the front door but trip over something before crossing said room. 

You gasp, stubbing your toes rather painfully on whatever you tripped on. You fall to the ground, holding your arms out to brace yourself. Grunting, you turn to look at what you tripped on. You just cleaned the other day, so nothing should-you freeze, your blood turning cold. 

It was the coffin. Or, well, the lid of the coffin. It was laying on the ground as if tossed aside casually. The extremely heavy stone lid that you weren’t able to even budge? The very same lid that took several curious movers to just slide it a smidge? You don’t even know how they got it in the fucking house!

…

You slowly look down at the lid and crane your neck up at the skeleton who was hunched over, a skeletal hand on its forehead, as if trying to reorient itself. It stands back up and you remember Robin’s words from earlier. The stupid cursed Leopard’s Paw and its equally stupid supposed sworn enemy, the Pirate King and his stupid stupid cursed skeleton. 

The thing looks over to your fallen form(why aren’t you getting up, get uP ) from over the counter. It slowly begins walking, presumably making its way over to you. Your breathing quickens and time seems to slow down, your vision becoming blurry as hot tears stream down your cheeks.

Oh god, you were going to die. You were stupid and threw away your weapon, and like some stupid cliché, you tripped and found yourself unable to move; only able to pathetically weep as some fucking cursed monster bestowed by your father made its way to eat you after ravishing your fridge.  Powerless to do anything but cry, you could barely hear the sound of its feet clacking against the tile(and eventually the hardwood floor) over the sound of your sobbing. 

Then, you hear a ding.

The thing stops and looks over at the couch. You follow it’s gaze and see your phone. Judging by the sound of the notification, it was probably your weather app. However, the sound snapped you out of your trance, and with some newfound strength, you reached for your phone. You pay no mind to the creature, furiously swiping at the screen, blindly tapping at your contacts as you rise, dashing towards your room. You duck, pushing past the Pirate King, knocking it to the ground(again) with unprecedented strength. Ignoring the sharp pain of your arms hitting bone, you stumble through the hall as you dial someone. Anyone. 

You hear the faint ringing as the call tries to go through to whoever you called. Inside your room, you slam the door shut, locking it. You huff, eyes scanning the room wildly for a place to hide. You settle on the closet and practically leap inside, closing the door once in. Confined to the small space, you collapse to the floor; backing up and trying to hide. Your breathing quick and heavy, you hold the phone to your ear as you hear the person pick up. 

“Oi, what the hell?” A familiar voice slurs, sleep in their tone. You hear them groan as they try to keep awake. “Do you know what time it is?” 

“Law!” You sniffle, glad that he answered. You hear the rustling of bedsheets through the receiver as you ramble unintelligible words between sobs. “Oh god, why didn’t I call the police? Why didn’t I just leave? I was at the fucking door!” You shut your eyes, feeling yourself starting to hyperventilate. 

“Hey. Hey .” Law calls your name through the phone. “Listen to my voice. You need to breathe, okay? Breathe.” He orders and you follow, taking a deep breath. 

“Yeah just like that. Deep breaths.” He continues, his smooth voice grounding you. “Okay, can you-can you tell me what’s wrong? What’s happening?” You sniff back a sob, sighing out a shaky exhale. 

“Law, I-I-” You choke out, momentarily losing your voice. “-I don’t know. I just woke up and the fucking, the fucking skeleton wakes up and it was in the fridge and I threw my umbrella at it andandandnow it’s gonna eat me andI’mgonnafuckingdie!” You weep, sobs now racking your entire body. Under the sobbing, you hear Law moving through the phone as he tries to calm you down.

“I’m coming over right now. Just-just stay on the phone and don’t, don’t hang up. Keep talking for me okay?” You simply nod, unable to speak. You could hear the worry in Law’s voice, along with the lingering groggyness from barely waking up. 

Your call with Law distracted you from hearing the approaching footsteps of the lurking skeleton. It banged loudly on the door, muffled words coming through. 

“What was that?” Law calls your name when you only sob back in reply. “Is someone there with you? Fuck, what’s happening?!” You listen as the door only bangs louder before ultimately breaking under the sheer force of your soon-to-be killer. It enters your room, silent as you hear bone scratching on bone. Holding your phone in a vice-like grip against your ear, you shut your teary eyes as you cover your mouth with your other hand, attempting to quiet your breathing.

 The closet door swings open, revealing the Pirate King staring down at you with empty sockets. You hear Law calling out to you but you don’t answer, staring up at the thing in fear. 

You look between teary eyes as the Pirate King’s jaw lowers, as if to say something.

And then you pass out.

[k0iy0]

How I Animate

The Technique:

I draw the frames and then I use the liquify tool to push the lines into the next frame and redraw them where I need to. This allows me to keep the lines consistent, but gives me the control of frame by frame animation bc I am still making each frame manually! I also use 3d models as reference to help me with the angles! Super important to use reference while you animate (and with art in general), if youre no good handling 3d models then act it out and record yourself!

The Theory:

i think most people are at least loosely familiar with the 12 principles of animation (if youre not, heres a 2.5 minute video showcasing them!), but may not necessarily know how to employ them. the main 3 i tend to focus on when I animate is rhythm, telegraphing, and inertia so ill cover those there 👍

1. Timing & Rhythm

Timing is how you space out your frames both in how long an individual frame is held for, and also when you drawn an inbetween of two frames you can favour one frame slightly more than the other instead of drawing the exact average of the cels, giving the favoured cel more timing weight.

Left line has the cels evenly spaced out on the timeline, right holds the first cel for longer and the second cel slightly favours the last frame. It creates a more interesting rhythm to the animation! Rhythm is how I think of animation timing. Theres a beat like a song to every animation I make, and creating an interesting beat is what makes an animation fun to watch (for me, anyway):

2. Anticipation / Telegraphing

Before I animate a big change in movement, I like to telegraph that its coming. Usually this is doing a little counter movement in the opposite direction, but thats not the only way to telegraph a motion, e.g. eye movement can telegraph a head turn!

3. Follow-through / Overshoot / Inertia

Unless the movement is mechanical, it wont come to a hard stop and will have some level of bounce or easing out to it. How much "bounce" you add will have a big impact on how the animation feels, but a very subtle bounce will add a natural feeling to the end of a motion.

Secondary animations will use a lot of this, note that the head and the hand have a small amount of continuous motion (primary animation), and then the hair has a lot of bounce and inertia (secondary animation which reacts to the primary animation). Note the different amounts applied to the braid vs the sideburn vs the bangs

anyway! I hope this was insightful ❤️ if you like my art you can commission me by the by :)

[k0iy0]

Don't Leave(You Always Do)

Trafalgar Law x Reader

4,181 words

Fair warning this is pure angst/no comfort and highly self-indulgent.

Some swearing, spoilers, a brief panic attack, and grief/mourning. Reader is a Heart Pirate, has passed away and has female pronouns.

Cross posted on Ao3:

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Summary:

Law hates you. He hates the way you smile, hates the way your laugh sounds. The way your eyes twinkle in amusement, how observant you can be. He hates it when you make him the butt of your jokes, something the rest of the crew wouldn’t dare, and he hates how easily he lets you get away with it. How easily you’ve crept into his heart, chipping at his walls and settling in, with no intention of leaving. You’re pirates, and yet, the way you gaze at him with that knowing look, as if Law was some open book, always being considerate of his space but somehow just knowing when he needs someone-needs you. Law doesn’t deserve it. He hates it, really. The vulnerability, your kindness, the truth.

The truth is that Law loves you, that he will always love you even when you’re dead and gone and Law hates that once again, the person he loves had died without ever hearing those words from him. 

Law hates that he never realized until it was too late.

-----------

This is a dream. Law knows this, he’s been through these so many times he can’t even count. But he doesn’t care. Not if it means he can see you again. Law stands there, just watching you, as if afraid moving an inch will make the dream fade. You’re as short as he remembers, something he’d poke fun at just to start your usual playful banter. He observes your features, letting you approach him instead. He doesn’t know when he’ll get to see you again, the dreams of you are fleeting and only return in what seems like once a year. In typical dreamlike fashion, the fine details are fuzzy, but he can still make out the things he remembers, like the curve of your nose, the kind look in your eyes, and the curl of your lips that he’s come to love oh-so-much. A smile you’d show only to him.

At first, the dreams were frequent, almost nightmarish in a way. Your death a fresh wound in his now empty heart, Law often woke in sweats every night. Sometimes he dreamt that you were alive, an apparition only Law could see and everyone thought he was crazy. You never spoke in those dreams. Other times brought him back to your death, how he missed being able to save you, missed hearing your last words. Your last breath. The worst ones were when he’d find himself back on that damned snowy island, body small and weak and cold-and so so utterly useless as he watches you lay in the bloodied snow surrounded by black feathers, eyes closed with a content expression.

At the time, he thought those were the worst. Time moved on, as did he, physically, at least. The days turned to weeks and weeks to months and Law found his dreams of you dwindling from every night to every couple of nights to a couple of weeks until it seemed that he only saw you in his dreams once in a few months. It was for the best, really. He had a crew to lead, pirates to take down, and a goal to accomplish. Things he’ll have to do without you from now on.

Law had thought it was over, no more dreams of you to keep him up at night, no distractions. 

And like everything that Law experiences, he was wrong. 

-----------

It was different, the dream. He hadn’t realized it was a dream at first, though there were signs he should’ve noticed. The unnaturally lit room, the washed yet bright colors, and the way the room’s layout and furniture never stayed consistent. Those were easy to ignore when he saw you, sitting so calm and at ease, chatting with the crew like you had never left. 

Law stumbles into the room, staring at you with wide eyes. You looked as young as he remembered when he first met you. You were even wearing the outfit before they got you your boilersuit. Law doesn’t approach, he can’t . He thought you were…? Were what? He doesn’t remember. Someone pops up from behind him.

“Captain!” Law looks at Penguin from the corner of his eyes. 

“Look at this,” Penguin shuffles to stand before Law, holding something in his hands. “It’s her new bounty!” Penguin announces, showing the piece of paper excitedly. Law blinks. Did you get a new bounty? Golden eyes scan the writing, an approving smirk on his lips. Your picture was the same, though Law's attention was on your new bounty. It wasn’t much, but it was certainly more than the previous.

“Or, at least, it could have been.” The smirk falls. What? Suddenly, both Penguin and the bounty disappear, though Law doesn't question it. Law glances at you, still chatting with Ikkaku(was Hakugan always sitting with them?), and you’ve yet to notice him. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off you. Something’s wrong and he doesn’t know what but he feels like if he lets you out of his sight then you’ll disappear forever, which would be silly because you’re sitting right in front of him -

“Captain, guess what I’ve got!” Shachi exclaims, blocking you from sight. Law is miffed that his view of you is obstructed but peers down at what Shachi is trying to show him. Law blinks. It was a bounty poster. Your bounty poster.

“Penguin already showed me this.” Law says unamused, looking at Shachi who only shakes his head in response.

“No, no, that was an old one.” Shachi corrects, straightening the poster and Law takes another glance. Wasn’t the other one fairly new? Why would you have another one already?

Law freezes, his brows furrowing at the poster. His eyes flicker from your new picture to your new bounty. Never mind the much, much higher bounty(two hundred million berries??), it was your picture that confused Law. You looked older, more mature. Your hair had grown a lot longer, and you had that piercing you said you’ve always wanted. Your cheeks were slimmer, eyes sparkling with a sense of maturity and wisdom, and if the picture wasn't wearing your signature mischievous expression that Law knew so well, he wouldn't have known it was you. You didn’t look like the young girl he had picked up from that island way back when. 

“Shachi,” Law starts, not taking his eyes off the poster. “What is this?” 

“Well, had she lived, this is what could’ve happened.” Law’s gaze snaps to Shachi, who, like Penguin, vanished into nothingness along with the bounty poster.

Law frowns. Something was definitely wrong. ‘Had she lived?’ But she was right there -

Law’s eyes snap back to where you were sitting, and he lets out a sigh of relief. You were talking to Bepo now(weren’t you sitting on the other side earlier?) and Law chides himself for listening to Penguin and Shachi’s weird talk. He makes to approach, but when he blinks he finds himself in bed.

Law lays there, heart thumping in anticipation as his mind races at the thought of you. He needs to congratulate you on your new bounty. He sits up, a hint of a smile on his face as he thinks about seeing you again, and wow he was so weird for thinking that something had happened to you-and then reality hits him as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

Oh.

It was a dream.

He stares at your bounty poster, your real bounty poster, that he had on his wall. It’s old by a couple of years but it’s not like you’ll get an updated one. They probably don’t even print your bounty anymore. There’s no need to, anyway.

It hurt to look at, a reminder of what he had lost. How he failed you. But despite that, Law can't bring himself to get rid of it. Not when it's one of the only things he has left of you.

Not when it's the only way to remember how you looked, your features would be lost to time otherwise.

Bare feet meet cold flooring as Law swallows the bitter disappointment and anguish, standing to his feet. 

That… was new. And it felt so real. Law sighs, running a hand through his messy hair. He rubs his face, his groans muffled by his hands. He thought he was done with these dreams of you, and now he’s dreaming that you’re still alive and well as if nothing happened and it’s making him so goddamn hopeful and-

It’s a cruel joke, that’s what it is.

A cruel, fucking joke.

Law resumes his day as if nothing happened, and it isn’t another few months when the dream and hurt have faded that it repeats all over again.

-----------

Like Cora-san, you crept into his heart, easily breaking down the walls he had meticulously built over the years, revealing the traumatized little boy who never truly escaped the horrors of Flevance. Of Minion Island. Made him feel loved, even if he didn’t realize it right away.

And just like Cora-san, you’re taken from him far too early.

-----------

Law wakes up in his bed, staring at his familiar ceiling. Nothing unusual. He blinks and Law finds himself in his office, already dressed for the day. It’s fine, he tells himself. The days blur together sometimes. He takes a seat, there’s paperwork to be done and he’s been putting it off in favor of the alliance. A tattooed hand reaches for his pen but stops midway, brows furrowing. That… doesn’t make sense. Before he can ponder any longer about the oddity of the situation, someone bursts into his office.

“Didn’t I tell you idiots to knock beforehand?” Law scowls, hating the interruption. Golden eyes flicker to the door, glaring at the offender before faltering at their alarmed demeanor. 

“Captain!” Bepo cries out dramatically, winded from running to Law’s office. A furry paw grasps the door frame as the polar bear mink attempts to catch his breath. Law stiffens when Bepo utters your name. “She-She’s here! On the deck!” 

Law stands, and he doesn’t question how he’s somehow immediately on the deck, the bright sun shining down on him, yet he felt no warmth. He ignores it in favor of seeing you after so long. Law doesn’t actually believe it, because, well, you’re dead. He saw your lifeless self with his own two eyes, held you with his own hands, Law knows you're gone. Had he been a second faster, had he been stronger, maybe he could’ve done something and you’d still be with him today.

Maybe he could have said goodbye.

And so, while Law does not believe that you have risen from the afterlife in some way, he can’t take any chances. Not when he could finally hear your voice utter his name once more. Or watch the way your eyes light up when you see him. Law will take looking like a fool if it means having you back.

He huffs like he ran a mile to get to the deck, breath hitching when he sees you. You’re leaning against the railing, looking out into the sea, like you always do when the Polar Tang surfaces. And then you notice him, posture straightening as you make your way to him, eyes beaming at the sight of him, lips upturned into that beautiful and breathtaking grin of yours. Law’s chest tightens, feeling heavy and all of a sudden he can’t breathe , and everything hurts . His eyes shut, mouth agape as he gasps for breath. A hand shoots to clutch at his chest, as if it would will the air into his lungs and hedoesn’tknowwhattodonothingismakingsense-

“You okay?” Law looks up, realizing he was hunched over. He takes a moment, his breathing returning to normal. His hand drops to his side as he stands upright, refusing to take his eyes off you. He was fine. He always is when you’re with him. Law gazes down at you(did you always look this young?), not quite believing his eyes. Years have passed and you don’t look like you’ve aged a single day. You’re staring at him with that observant look, like he was the one who needed to be taken care of. Comforted. Law swallows the lump in his throat. There are so many things he wants to say. To ask.

“You’re dead.” Is what he ends up blurting out. That’s… not any of the things that he wanted to say. But you’re not offended, you never are. You simply blink at him, laughing that little laugh of yours(and it’s music to his ears if he’s honest) before responding.

“Well, I’m right here, aren’t I?” And you’re right, as always. But Law doesn’t realize your lips don’t quite match up with your words. “I’ve been here the whole time.” 

“Where?” He asks, because there’s no way he’s spent these past years thinking you were dead when you were right here the whole time . You tilt your head at his question, deciding on an answer. 

“I stayed at a previous island,” And Law frowns. It’s not an acceptable answer, you can’t just leave (or, well, stay behind) and not say anything . “I needed some time to myself.” 

“Why… why did you make everyone believe you were dead? It’s been years.” Law was confused. Everything you were saying made no sense. It wasn’t like you to do any of these things. 

You shrug.

“It wasn’t my intention but… it just happened.” He doesn’t care anymore. What matters is that you’re back. And for good. Law reaches to touch your face.

“Don’t do it again, alright? I-”

Law shakes awake. It’s dark, but he could see bits of the rising sun shining through the ship’s porthole. Law’s breathing is heavy. Right. You were back. Somewhere. Law should… he should go find you. Reprimand you for abandoning your crew. For abandoning him. He sighs, pushing the covers off of himself. Law freezes. This was not his bed. The faint sound of snoring makes Law’s gaze snap up. His blood runs cold.

Law was losing it. He dashes out of the room, not particularly caring if he woke any of them. He finds refuge in the bathroom-the only place of privacy on this goddamn ship. Shaking hands grip the edge of the sink as Law attempts to steel himself, staring at his reflection. He was pale, sweating and panting like he’d seen a ghost-a thought he scoffs at. He needs to focus. Doflamingo is right there , and he cannot afford any distractions right now. Trafalgar Law does not have such luxuries.

“Fuck this…” Law rubs his face, hands gripping his dark hair and the urge to scream, to just laugh at his own naivety and stupidity is strong. Yet he holds himself back. It was his fault, after all. Believing in an idiotic dream such as that -that you just… let everyone think you were dead for years while you lived some boring, mundane life on some remote island. 

It was stupid. This was stupid. 

He was stupid. 

…

You’re never coming back.

-----------

It’s hard. 

It’s hard knowing you’ll never get to experience what he has, to see what he has seen, to meet the people who helped him like you had wanted to all those years ago. And you did, whether you knew it or not-he regrets never telling you, never giving you his thanks. 

Sometimes, when it’s late into the night and Law has no work, no strategizing, no idiotic Straw Hat to distract annoy him, Law’s thoughts drift to you. To Cora-san. And he’s grateful to the both of you, really. Would the both of you be proud? Honestly, Law doesn’t know what either of you saw in him, to love him so deeply to the point of laying your lives for him, and he doesn’t know if he ever will. 

“Don’t ever attach a reason to the love you’ve received!!!”

Law smiles at that, maybe he doesn’t need to know the reason, if there ever was one. 

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And now Law knows better, that it’s just a dream when he sees you. He wonders if he’s used to it by now, or if his mind is simply tired of the meltdowns he has every time he wakes up. It was like losing you all over again. And again. And again . 

Knowing better, Law doesn’t dare move. The moment he moves, Law wakes up and he’s forced back into the reality where you don’t exist. He wants this to last. There are things he wants to tell you, even if it’s not really you. So much has happened since you left( since you last visited his dreams ) and with every fiber in his being Law wishes you had been there to see it. See how far he’s come, how much he’s grown, how much he loves you . 

And so, he stands there, gazing at you with a longing that only intensifies as time passes. And you stare back, studying him like you always did-a supporting smile, and kind, understanding eyes. You were so young back then, all of them were, young and reckless rookies from the North Blue. 

At one point, Law had entertained the idea, only briefly, if he had said no. Left you on your home island, heading to the Grand Line without you. Maybe you’d still be alive. Coming home from work to your family. Would you have gotten married? Have children? Grow old? Perhaps you’d have joined a different pirate crew, you always gravitated towards adventure after all. But such thoughts were useless, so he paid them no mind, tucking them somewhere deep inside. 

Law calls out your name, voice soft and tender and so uncharacteristic of him but you don’t notice, or maybe you’re used to it, maybe he’s always spoken that way with you. You tilt your head, a sign you were listening. There’s a void of white surrounding the two of you, but the background doesn’t matter, not when you’re the most important thing here. 

“I missed you,” He murmurs, resisting the urge to just reach out and touch you. You never get too close in these dreams. Never say his name, not even his title, always referring to him as ‘you.’ 

“It’s been so long.” Too long , he thinks. So much time has passed. He’s sure you’d make fun of the way he ended up growing out his goatee and sideburns, or how he’s no longer that stupid teenager with voice cracks. You’d gawk at how much taller he’s gotten, how many tattoos he’s marked himself with, and in return, he wonders what kind of woman you’d have grown to be. 

Would you have grown your hair out? Cut it shorter? Law had always scoffed at the fact you could never decide. Piercing? Sure. Another one? Maybe not. Actually, maybe yes. Did you really want a tattoo or was it because you walked by the shop? Ah, that was a cute hairclip but you already have so many… With a dejected look, you depart from it(Law bought it for you as soon as you left the shop).

“Has it?” You reply, as if unaware of the future snatched away from you.

And the conversation continues, Law tells you of his journey, keeping out the grotesque parts of course. You listen like you’ve always done, and he rambles on, watching your reaction. You smile and nod your head at his words but you don’t react quite like he expects you to. Like how you would, if it was really you. And Law’s jaw clenches. Because you’re just a memory at this point. His memory. 

You can lie and lie and lie about how you’re still alive, still breathing, that you’ll be back soon, and that you’re simply away on some island or on some fetch quest of his but what you can’t do is tell him the truth-that you’re dead and gone, buried six feet under( with his own hands ), and that you’ll never, ever come back. 

Not like how he wants.

Your lies are the truth he wants but the truth he gets is nothing but his empty heart, your empty corpse, and an empty future without you by his side.

His memory of you can’t possibly comprehend the future you’ll never experience. Nor can it tell him the things that the real you never said. Not truthfully, anyway. 

Law stops talking, too caught up in his thoughts-too distraught at the fact that he’s in a dream chasing a memory of you like some goddamn addict and it’s so fucking pathetic because why can’t he just move on and every time he thinks he’ll be okay you come back and feed him those sweet, sweet lies and-

“Law, stop it.” He feels your hands(but there is no warmth) reach to cup his cheeks and he automatically bows down slightly to accommodate your shorter frame. 

This is new. You’ve never… you’ve never called his name before, much less cross the invisible barrier between you. And you’re looking at him with so much love and concern and it makes Law momentarily forget that everything is just a dream and suddenly it’s all too much- everything is too much and he just. Collapses.

His face twists into despair, gasping as he falls to his knees. His hand grabs ahold of your shirt with a vice-like grip like he’s trying to keep you from leaving again. 

“Please don’t leave. Just stay. Stay with me.” He pleads, and nothing can stop the words from pouring out. Nothing to stop his grief. He doesn’t even know when he’s started crying.

“I don’t want to go back. Not without you. Come back with me. Please.” He begs and begs and begs but he already knows that no amount of begging could ever release you from death’s embrace. 

“You know I can’t do that.” You kneel down in front of him but his grip doesn’t relent. He doesn’t want to let go. He can’t . Why can’t you just lie? Lie to him that you’ll go with him, to your crew, to your home. That you’ll continue to go on adventures with him, make up for the lost time until the both of you are old and wrinkled, and maybe you’ll settle on some remote island and live out the rest of your days.

“I love you,” He chokes out, and it’s embarrassing and humiliating because now he’s so much older than you than he was before and he’s stuck confessing to a memory of you when so many years have already passed and it’s just so, so pathetic , but it isn’t enough to stop him. “I love you so much it hurts-and I miss you, I miss you being in my life.” 

“I’ll do anything so just-just come back .” Law wants to touch you, hold your hand, pull you close and never let go but he’s afraid to push his luck when he’s already lucky to have you calling his name and be as close as you were.

“Let’s get married,” He blurts out. “I-we don’t have to be pirates anymore, there’s an island I’ve been to and I think you’d love it there. The people are nice and I’d like you to meet some of them and-and it’d be safe there .” He rambles reasons because there would be no Marines, no pirates, no danger. And even if there was, Law would be by your side. He can protect you this time.

He’ll give up his dreams for you. But what he doesn’t realize, is that you are the dream he has to give up.

He sits there hunched over and on his knees, clutching to the front of your shirt like it was a lifeline. It’s quiet, save for his sobbing. You don’t say anything, nor do you move to touch him, to hold him, to comfort him like you would have. Law glances up at you, vision blurry but still able to see your beautiful face as clear as day. His peripherals take note of your white shirt, the white void, and the unnatural white light that envelopes you. And if Law was some poet, he would sing about the symbolism of it all, but he’s not. It was just a dream.

“I’m sorry,” You break the silence, placing a gentle hand on his fist. “I wish I could-”

“But you can , just-just leave with me and we’ll, and we’ll be fine.” He interrupts, unable- unwilling to hear your rejection. 

You just sigh, like when you were sick of Penguin and Shachi’s shit, but the kind look doesn’t waver from your eyes. 

“I’ll be with you,” And Law almost perks up at that. “Just… not in the way you want.”

Law knows this, but it still hurts. He says nothing, instead trying to cherish this pitiful delusion with you. Silence surrounds the two of you, but instead of being comforting like it normally was, it is deafening. 

“Is this it? The last time I’ll get to see you?” Law asks, a sense of finality looming over the tender moment. 

You hum in thought. “Do you want it to?”

Law doesn’t answer. He doesn’t want it to, he wants to keep seeing you, doesn’t want to say goodbye but he honestly doesn’t know if he could do this anymore. 

The chance to say anything is taken from him, his body pulling him from the dream.

Law wakes up peacefully. There's no false hope, nor is there any cold revelation. He's already aware of the dream and what lies within, and he takes a moment to process it fully before it disappears to the back of his mind. His heart was heavy but a part of him also felt at peace, weirdly enough. He lets out a shaky sigh, a hand rising to rub at his face only to find it stained with tears. He frowns, wiping away at them before rolling over and burying his face into the sheets. 

It was fine.

He’ll be fine.

He’ll get to say his goodbyes next time, if there is one.

[k0iy0]

Bless you, MusicalHoe.