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scubatankfilledwithfartsinspired by this and this
Law doesn’t believe in fate, in acts of the divine, barely believes in the chemistry between two people to create a warm bond of love that lasts a lifetime—but if he did he believe he must have done something much worse than usual in another life. Or maybe there’s a live studio audience in wait somewhere, if he were the paranoid type.
[he is the paranoid type but he isn’t Usoppp-level conspiracy theories]
His eyelids scratch his eyeballs on the way open, and he imagines, if this were a cartoon and he had a decent sense of humor, they’d flap open like the blinds of a window. As it happens he can nearly hear the sandpaper sound they make across delicate orbs. This isn’t unusual, it’s—Tuesday? Thursday? It’s a day of the week.
What isn’t usual is the sounds of cursing in his one room apartment and the fire alarm’s all too cheery beeps of doom from the kitchen. Not to mention the enticing aroma of smoke filling the entire apartment at an alarming rate. Law doesn’t even realize he’s out of bed until his bare feet hit the floorboards in the kitchen and he’s face to face with Portgas D. Ace, resident pain in the butt and voted most likely to be left in the middle of a field somewhere but find his way back like a bad report card or a dirty pair of underwear you’ve buried and prayed no one will find.
Ace turns to look at him, his smile only slightly inconvenienced to show how not-a-big-deal the current burning kitchen situation is. “Hey! The party went on real long and I brought your toaster home for some reason…thought I’d bring it back and make breakfast!”
Ace’s brother, Monkey D. Luffy, the other pain in the ass from the complex across the street, the very representation of those dogs that repeatedly run into glass windows, beams back at Law’s steadily paling face and, once, again [this was the crashing sound before] slams his toaster, now on fire, onto the ground.
“Here it is, Torao! It’s good you’re gonna get a new one cause this one couldn’t even make it through Ace’s awesome French toast. Obviously it sucks!”
A few things to consider: Law does not recall hosting a party in his apartment last night. He would never invite this duo even if he were hosting his own wake. Who the hell let them in?
Ace watches as Law goes through a face journey, grief and acceptance cycling over his dark features again and again. Those stormy gold eyes finally flicker to him and if he didn’t know Law was a doctor he’d consider assassination of a politician to be right up his alley.
It feels like someone’s walked over his grave and held it at gunpoint.
Another thought enters Ace’s head: does Law own a gun? This wouldn’t be a good time to find out. As Law approaches like a dark shadow, like the Grim Reaper, Ace grabs Luffy by the back of his shirt and drags him to the door.
“Actually you know, Torao, we’re on our way out! Breakfast is on the table, go ahead and enjoy! No need to thank us for cleaning up the mess—bye!”
On the other side of the door Ace is quick to realize no, Law doesn’t have a gun. But Kikoku, his collectible sword, is quite sharp where it jabs his buttcheek through the door.
Law doesn’t believe in fate, in acts of the divine, barely believes in the chemistry between two people to create a warm bond of love that lasts a lifetime—but if he did he believe he must have done something much worse than usual in another life. Or maybe there’s a live studio audience in wait somewhere, if he were the paranoid type.
[he is the paranoid type but he isn’t Usoppp-level conspiracy theories]
His eyelids scratch his eyeballs on the way open, and he imagines, if this were a cartoon and he had a decent sense of humor, they’d flap open like the blinds of a window. As it happens he can nearly hear the sandpaper sound they make across delicate orbs. This isn’t unusual, it’s—Tuesday? Thursday? It’s a day of the week.
What isn’t usual is the sounds of cursing in his one room apartment and the fire alarm’s all too cheery beeps of doom from the kitchen. Not to mention the enticing aroma of smoke filling the entire apartment at an alarming rate. Law doesn’t even realize he’s out of bed until his bare feet hit the floorboards in the kitchen and he’s face to face with Portgas D. Ace, resident pain in the butt and voted most likely to be left in the middle of a field somewhere but find his way back like a bad report card or a dirty pair of underwear you’ve buried and prayed no one will find.
Ace turns to look at him, his smile only slightly inconvenienced to show how not-a-big-deal the current burning kitchen situation is. “Hey! The party went on real long and I brought your toaster home for some reason…thought I’d bring it back and make breakfast!”
Ace’s brother, Monkey D. Luffy, the other pain in the ass from the complex across the street, the very representation of those dogs that repeatedly run into glass windows, beams back at Law’s steadily paling face and, once, again [this was the crashing sound before] slams his toaster, now on fire, onto the ground.
“Here it is, Torao! It’s good you’re gonna get a new one cause this one couldn’t even make it through Ace’s awesome French toast. Obviously it sucks!”
A few things to consider: Law does not recall hosting a party in his apartment last night. He would never invite this duo even if he were hosting his own wake. Who the hell let them in?
Ace watches as Law goes through a face journey, grief and acceptance cycling over his dark features again and again. Those stormy gold eyes finally flicker to him and if he didn’t know Law was a doctor he’d consider assassination of a politician to be right up his alley.
It feels like someone’s walked over his grave and held it at gunpoint.
Another thought enters Ace’s head: does Law own a gun? This wouldn’t be a good time to find out. As Law approaches like a dark shadow, like the Grim Reaper, Ace grabs Luffy by the back of his shirt and drags him to the door.
“Actually you know, Torao, we’re on our way out! Breakfast is on the table, go ahead and enjoy! No need to thank us for cleaning up the mess—bye!”
On the other side of the door Ace is quick to realize no, Law doesn’t have a gun. But Kikoku, his collectible sword, is quite sharp where it jabs his buttcheek through the door.