Alt Prompt - Tumblr Posts

Day 2 : Again.

Luffy relives the worst day of his life, over and over again.

I wasn't inspired by today's prompts so I chose one of the alternatives: Time Loop. Since I didn't have time to write everything, I'll post loop by loop as I go along, instead of all at once. This story is quite hard to read (and write), so pay attention to the warnings and take care of yourself above all <3 Trigger Warnings: - Graphic Description of Violence - Blood and Injuries - Burns - Major Character Death Fandom : One Piece (Anime & Manga) Character(s) : Monkey D. Luffy Relationship(s) : Monkey D. Luffy & Portgas D. Ace Words Count : 1,548 No. 2: ALTERNATIVE  Time Loop

First Loop

Luffy struggled to retrieve Ace's Vivre Card that was slipping from his fingers. It was in front of him, just inches away, and yet unreachable. He didn't really know why, but he had to retrieve that Vivre Card. It was important, it was a part of Ace. He couldn't lose it. Nothing else mattered. The outside world faded into the background around him — the screams of agony, the smell of blood and smoke, the corpses he was stepping on to escape — leaving only the small burning piece of paper in his field of vision. 

(Ace had been burned by Akainu. His big brother, the one who always walked two steps ahead of him, unreachable and strong , the living embodiment of fire, had been burned . Sabo had died in the flames of an explosion. Luffy had forgotten it, but big brothers could burn too.)

Luffy's hand finally closed around Ace's Vivre Card and the panic that clouded his mind subdued. He had succeeded, Ace wouldn't leave him.

He had promised.

“You won't leave here alive!”

Luffy looked up and met Ace's desperate gaze. Why was Ace looking at him like that? He should be happy, Luffy had his Vivre Card back.

“Luffy!”

The flaming fist of Absolute Justice charged at him, invading his field of vision until all he could see was flames — stories whispered by a campfire, the burn of the Grey Terminal fire on his skin, Ace's arm around his shoulders in the middle of winter — and bloody red.

Oh.

Luffy wanted to move, should have moved, but he couldn't. The world was so fast when he was so slow, exhaustion slowing all his movements to the very core of his bones.

(If his crew was there, he could have rested for five minutes before going back into battle, but Luffy was alone .)

Suddenly, without Luffy understanding what was happening — he was so tired — Ace was in front of him, smiling sadly. Luffy's eyes widened in horror as he noticed the fist through Ace's body. The smell of burning flesh hit him in the face and Ace vomited blood, a retch shaking his entire body.

Akainu stepped back, removing his fist from Ace's body carelessly, Ace's guts falling to the ground, bloody and steaming. There was a hole in Ace's torso, where his lungs should have been. The skin around the wound was burned raw, sizzling with blisters and peeling away to the bone. And amidst the mess of ruined and damaged flesh, hidden behind his broken ribs, his brother's still beating heart. 

Thud, thud, thud.

Luffy focused on Ace's fading heartbeat, clinging to his brother's last breath of life. Ace wasn't dead yet! Luffy could still save him. Luffy remembered yelling at Akainu who was raising his fist once more to finish Ace off, but he didn't remember Jinbei and Ace's friends intervening.

Everything vanished when Ace fell to his knees in Luffy's arms. Luffy caught him, his hand red, red, red when he looked at it after touching Ace's back. Luffy placed his hand on the wound, trying to stop the endless bleeding. Ace slid into Luffy's arms, his head falling onto his shoulder, and Luffy tightened his grip around Ace, refusing to let him go.

"I'm sorry, Luffy," Ace struggled to say, choking. "I'm so sorry, I stopped you from saving me properly. Forgive me.”

Ace was breathing heavily, just talking, draining him of his meager strength. Blood was dripping down Luffy's shoulder in large drops.

"What are you talking about? Stop talking nonsense!"

Ace wasn't dying, Luffy could still feel his heart beating between his fingers. Ace wasn't dying. He couldn't die. He had promised. He couldn't die.

"Someone!" Luffy begged, screaming until his vocal cords broke, feeling the heat leave Ace's body. “Heal his wounds! Save Ace!”

Luffy didn't like the cold. Cold meant being alone in the night, cold meant an empty place in the treehouse. Cold meant Death.

"Luffy stop," Ace said weakly. "My time has come. He burned me from the inside out, I won't make it this time.”

And Ace was never weak. He was bold and brash and mean at times, a raging fire. Never weak, always strong. Ace was the reason Luffy survived Sabo's death. Because Ace was strong where Luffy wasn't, learning to be kind and caring for Luffy.

Ace was strong .

Luffy wasn't.

“No! You promised”! Luffy refused, understanding what his big brother meant. “You told me Ace, right? You said you wouldn't die!”

Because Ace was strong but he was also stupid. He forgot obvious things sometimes and Luffy had to remind him. Like the fact that Luffy loved him. But if Luffy reminded him of his promise, then maybe Ace wouldn't die.

“You promised,” Luffy stopped himself from sobbing. Ace didn't like whiners.

“You know, if it wasn't for Sabo, if I didn't have a little brother like you to watch over. I wouldn't have wanted to live.” Luffy's heart clenched painfully in his chest. “No one wanted me after all. So it's completely normal.”

Ace clung to Luffy like a lifeline, as if Luffy was the only thing keeping him alive. Luffy was terrified that he wouldn’t be enough to keep Ace alive for a little longer.

“Oh right, if you ever run into Dadan again, could you say goodbye for me?” Ace laughed softly, his laughter cut off by a coughing fit. “It’s strange, now that I’m about to die, I feel like I miss her.”

Ace’s breath was labored, his voice hoarse. And Luffy didn’t dare look — because if he did, he’d have to face his big brother’s dying face — but he was pretty sure Ace was crying, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“I only have one regret, and that’s not seeing your dream come true. But I know you, you’ll get there, that’s for sure.” Ace and Sabo had been among the first to hear his dream, among the first to believe in him. “You're my brother after all.”

Luffy had two brothers. One had been dead for over ten years, the other was dying in his arms. Who was going to believe in his dreams now?

And yet Luffy couldn't do anything. He was frozen, afraid that the slightest movement would make things worse. The only thing he could do was hold his brother in his arms as he died, hoping that Ace would feel all the love Luffy had for him.

Ace was loved. He had to know that, right ?

"As we promised each other back then, I have no regrets about the life I led."

This time, Luffy couldn't help but protest. This wasn't how it was going to end. It couldn't be.

(Ace's heartbeat was getting slower and slower, more and more rare.)

"No, you're lying!"

"No, it's true!" Ace insisted, his fingers digging painfully into Luffy's shoulder with a surprising strength for a dead man. “It seems that what I always wanted in the end wasn't fame or glory. But just the answer to my question. Why did I come into this world? "

Ace had always been haunted by his past, by the past of those who had come before him, that of his parents. But Luffy didn't live in the past, he didn't care who Ace's father was. What mattered was the present, what mattered was that Ace was Luffy 's brother.

Ace was Ace and that was all that mattered. Ace had always been enough.

"Luffy, I want you to listen to what I have to say and tell the others afterwards," Luffy knew at that moment that his brother's words would be his last. He wasn't ready for that. “Even though I've been a good-for-nothing my whole life, even though I carry the blood of a demon.”

The fighting raged around them and yet it had never been interrupted. Ace's family fought to give them one last moment, one last hug.

"Thank you for loving me!"

Crying, Ace formed a smile on his lips for the last time. Ace collapsed in Luffy's arms, his hand falling from Luffy's neck where Ace had clung to during his final moments, leaving a trail of blood along Luffy's cheek.

Ace fell to the ground, alive one moment, dead the next, and Luffy screamed out all his pain and sorrow, inaudible amidst the horrors of war. Ace was dead.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. 

Ace was dead.

Ace.

Was.

Dead.

Ace was dead.

Years of memories flashed through Luffy's mind in a split second - all ending with the same tragic phrase "thank you for loving me", all ending with Ace's death - shattering his psyche to the last piece.

They were always meant to end up here - Ace, dead and Luffy, helpless - there was nothing Luffy could have done to change things.

“ACE!!!”

In the end, when the darkness reached out to him, Luffy welcomed it willingly. Luffy fell into nothingness, hoping to never come out. Not if it meant living in a world alone.

Click. Again .

Whumptober Day 2: Regret (Alt Prompt)

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Summary: After a long day, Luke starts thinking about his decision to join Kronos while trying to get ready to take a shower.

    It had been a long day. Luke walked into his room, a place he hadn't been in over for 24 hours. He slammed his sword down on his desk and sat down on his bed, putting his head in his hands. After a moment, he stood back up and walked over to the closet that was tucked into a corner. As he grabbed a towel he walked back into the middle of the room.

    Kneeling down, Luke unlaced his boots. Then he took off his shoes and socks. Placing them by the door, the demigod grabbed his towel and walked to his bathroom. When he walked in, he turned the light on and then the water. The man didn't touch the cold water handle.

    Leaning against the wall, the lieutenant sighed. After tugging his shirt off, he slowly pulled bandages and wraps off of his arms and hands. Luke stared at his arms. They were lined with scares. Some, he remembered where they were from and others he didn't. They weren't pretty, at least not to him.

    Looking up, Luke met his own eyes in the mirror. Then his eyes looked down. Scars stained his body. They reminded him of everything that had happened to him and if everything he had done. Slowly, he looked back up at himself. Staring back in his blue eyes, Luke's eyes glanced over at the scar over his eye. It was larger than it had been years ago when he had gotten it.

    Before he thought about it, Luke raised a hand to his face. Gentler then had been to himself in a long time, he traced the scar. Holding up the sky had torn the wound back open. The demigod remembered the dragon's claw and he remembered trying to get the slash to stop bleeding.

    Looking back into the mirror, he thought about the second time he had to fix the wound. Thinking about the blood that poured down his face made him angry. Thinking about the Gods had him angrier. However, thinking of the way he was treated with Kronos's forces made him resentful of everything he stood for.

    All the sleepless nights and excessive training that had been destroying him, the thought of not being in control of his own body, and the memories of the family he had left behind for something 'great' all hit him at once. Before Luke knew it, his fist was in the mirror. There were small, sharp shards of glass in his hand and blood dripping down his arm and the mirror.

    Pulling his hand away, the demigod looked at the remaining glass on the wall. His left eye reflected back at him.

    How could he do this? Had Luke really let anger destroy him? How could he let this happen? Looking at his shaking and bloody hand, the man slid down the wall. Tears fell from his eyes. The steam in the bathroom made it harder to breathe.

    It wasn't the first time the demigod regretted his decision. Luke was tired and worn. "This isn't right." He thought. 'I should leave.' Going to stand, Luke fell back to the floor, overwhelmed. Pulling himself against the tub wall, he turned the water back off. Then he sank back to the floor.

    Slamming his head against the wall, he sighed. "I don't want this." As the truth settled in his heart, Luke knew he had made a grave mistake. Looking back at his hands, every sin he had committed painted his pale hands red. The blood may have been his, but it didn't feel like it anymore. It felt like sick symbolism that made his want to watch the blood cover his floor until he bleed out. "I don't want this."

AI-Less Whumptober Day 10 - ALT Prompt - "If You Weren't Around, I'd Be Long Dead By Now..."

Be Reborn - Eps. 11/12 & 25

Midnight Museum - Eps. 2 & 6

Till The World Ends - Eps. 2 & 3

To Sir With Love - Eps. 2 & 16

The Sign - Eps. 1/8 & 6

@febuwhump prompt: alt 7 Last Words

***

How many times had he been in this position? How many departing words had his ears caught? How many desperate eyes stared at him rather than face Death, seeking one last moment of human contact... Hoping perhaps for a salvation he could not provide... Trusting in him to bear witness to their passing, to carry on the memory of their life in that moment if nothing else.

He refused to rewind time too far. There had been so many instances during his time in the syndicate... Too many. And even before that...

Even starting at the beginning of his partnership with Jet was too much. There had been so many deaths... So many lives winking out with him in their vicinity.

The more recent ones haunted him too strongly to be dismissed.

Katerina. Soundless, he had read on her lips the whispered goodbye she spoke before the police destroyed the vessel she and Asimov had desperately tried to escape in. Asimov whose life Katerina herself had ended.

The thug threatening Faye. Taunting him. Arrogance heavy in his tone as he assumed he held all the cards. Spike had casually disabused him of that notion by firing a bullet straight through his skull.

Giraffe. Bleeding out and still only concerned about doing what he could for the comrade he had once served with. Passing on to Spike the responsibility of ending the life of a monster.

Wen. The monster. Much like Frankenstein's creature, the boy-who-was-not-a-boy had not had much choice in how he came to be. The reality of his existence was still one that Spike found hard to believe despite having all the evidence and testimony that could be had. Killing the monster he had become had allowed the corruption of the boy's soul to be reversed, to bring the poor kid into the peace of death at last. Or so Wen had said before the arrested development of his body catapulted him to a decrepit state.

Roco. Just another well-meaning youth who had taken the wrong path for the right reasons. Stella hadn't cared about her own blindness, she had accepted life as it was for her, she had only wanted to have her brother around. So really was Roco being a hero for the right reason? Not that it mattered now of course... he'd been so earnest, had been so trusting... It was odd to think that his last words had been to wonder about friendship with Spike. There hadn't been that many years between them but there had been a world of difference between being a foolhardy kid in a Venusian mafia and being an enforcer for one of the toughest syndicates on Mars. It had felt like a terrier puppy wanting to befriend a grizzled mastiff.

Gren. The sad soul whose final words had been a desperate plea to return to a time and place he could never revisit, and who had also wasted his own precious breath to share what he had been granted of Julia... how she had spoken of Spike's eyes and how she had indulged in that damn tune, that haunting music...

Mad Pierrot. Perhaps the saddest last words... a broken mind, childishly sobbing for a mother long gone...

Londes. Somewhere, a living soul. But in the ruins of the building where he had led Faye to die, speaking out of countless shattered screens, he had been more displaced technology than anything else to Spike. And yet, his plea had been alarmingly human... the fear of nothingness, the fear of dying alone, and bitching about fairness as if the universe had anything to do with that vaunted concept.

Annie. Fuck. One of the more personal ones... one of the most needless ones. Arms dealers weren't supposed to be casualties even in conflicts within a syndicate. It had been her closeness with Mao and with Spike himself that had signed her death warrant. Him coming back to life had indeed been worse on her than anything else she could have done to herself. Those hadn't been her final words, of course, but even spoken months before they echoed in Spike's mind over her actual murmur at the end, so commonplace and simple... a remark about the weather...

Julia. What had it all been? Is a dream a lie if it doesn't come true or is it something worse? They had been fooling themselves when they were messing around... fooling themselves by fancying themselves to be in love... imagining that they could one day live a dream together. Though he had harbored affection for her long after she failed to show up, her decision to flee on her own had severed some of the bonds between them. Everything had been so meaningless after he escaped the syndicate without her at his side. He had been drifting from that point on... forging new friendships almost against his will, having people barge into his life and into his heart and being entirely unable to push them back out again... and then it all came crashing down and reality blurred once more and... was any of this real?

Shin. Idealistic, naive, brave Shin. "I wanted you to come back..." ...well, Spike did feel bad about abandoning Shin and Lin to the clutches of the syndicate, but they'd still been brash boys gung-ho about the life of gangsters. They hadn't become disgusted with themselves like Spike had. Hadn't fallen for an angel whose own hands and wings were soaked in blood. He wasn't sure if he could have made their lives better by staying in the first place or if he could have kept either alive if he'd done a better job of staying away instead. It didn't really matter now... done was done and he had their lives - their deaths - on his conscience like so many more.

And now... bloodied and battered and staggering away from the crumpled corpse of Vicious... "if that's your wish..." certainly not the most profound last words ever spoken. Then again, he might have uttered his own before that... although, "let's end it all" was by far a much cooler line to exit on if you asked him.

He could do better though, right?

Memories of his own childhood reared in his mind suddenly. Was this his life flashing before his eyes? It had happened quite a few times before, though never this far back... never all the way to an age of jubilation, scrawny rascals racing around playing cops and robbers with finger guns, the sun shining on their wild antics and their laughing mothers hanging laundry on clotheslines stretching between buildings...

"Bang."