ishouldbedoinghw

[ishouldbedoinghw]

You Can't Erase Me

One Piece fanfic, part 11: Marriage of Inconvenience

Previous parts are in my pinned masterlist.

A woman enslaved by the celestial dragons is found by a man with red hair. Angst and comedy ensues.

A/N: Y'all know the drill. I was going to get some other writing done before picking this one back up, but yknow I watched Beetlejuice Beetlejuice the other day and it inspired me to go ahead and start this chapter.

TW: More thirsting over a vampire, alcohol consumption, allusions to SA, descriptions of drunkenness, bad decision-making, Shanks, suggestiveness but not nsfw, possibly ooc Mihawk, I'm still learning how to accurately write stoic characters

---

"You mean to tell me you didn't have a clue who the fuck that was?" Zutsu was demanding, shaking me a little.

"Um-"

"Please tell me you at least know what a warlord is."

"Yes, I'm not that dumb," I snapped, my gaze repeatedly lingering over to where Mihawk was trying his best to ignore a very drunk Shanks, while Benn looked even more tired than usual.

"I wasn't implying you were dumb, I just-" he sighed, his hand leaving my shoulder. "I'm just shocked, is all. Anyone who knows anything about the relationship between pirates and the World Government on the Grand Line are very familiar with the warlords. Hell, my sister is 13 and I think she has a Sir Crocodile poster on her wall from an issue of Hot Pirates Weekly."

I didn't want to know anything about what pirates were hot after my discussions of Shanks with Maria, so I didn't ask what Hot Pirates - Whatever was.

"Listen, I know who the damn warlords are, I just don't- didn't know what this one looked like 'til now, alright?" The only pictures the Red Force had was the wanted posters of Straw Hat Luffy, and some blue-haired chick with bad makeup the crew said to never, ever bring up to Shanks. Some ex of his he wasn't over, I reasoned. Hongo had some of the crew when they were younger, but he pretended they didn't exist for fear of acknowledging he actually likes the guys he's spent years on a ship with.

In other words, even though I knew Shanks was old friends and rivals with the warlord, I'd never actually seen the guy.

Zutsu seemed satisfied enough with my answer. Instead of prying further, he just asked if he could meet Shanks. I begrudgingly said yes, although I could tell his motives for speaking with the ginger were just as nefarious as Maria's.

Benn was shooting me a now-familiar I am about to strangle this bastard look as we approached. Shanks was still yammering off to Mihawk, whose eyes I refused to meet as I introduced Zutsu to Benn and Yasopp, Roux having disappeared somewhere to find a bite to eat.

While Zutsu blushed plenty when Benn shook his hand, I could tell I wouldn't get any peace if I didn't at least try to get the captain's attention.

"Shanks-"

"Spooky! I'm a bit hurt you didn't wanna dance with me, but Hawkeyes seemed to have plenty of fun- I didn't know you had it in you, I guess that's what I get for thinking you couldn't pull-"

This jackass never shuts up, does he? It could be white noise to me by now if he wasn't so damn loud.

"Shanks, as much as I appreciate your undying confidence in me, please-"

He interrupted me again, having spotted Zutsu next to me. "You're such a lovely dancer, you could teach me a thing or two if you wanted-" He stooped slightly to land a wet kiss on the back of Zutsu's hand.

"Oh, ew." I muttered aloud, and if Shanks heard me, he didn't give any indication.

"I'm surprised you aren't used to his- hunting games by now." The smooth voice made me jump. Mihawk had replaced Zutsu's place next to me, and I willed the sweat gathering on my hands to disappear. Thankfully, he wasn't looking at me, just watching Shanks with mild disinterest.

"She hasn't had the misfortune of witnessing it in person since she joined us, and I must say I'm envious." Benn, you absolute saint. I'd had no clue what to say, as I was too focused on steadying my breathing and hoping the blush on my cheeks only made me look drunk.

This is pathetic. He's only a man, and kind of a rude one at that. Then the words Warlord and World Government came to mind, and I was left wondering if openly trying to insult him during our dance was the best idea.

Mihawk started to slip away while Shanks was occupied, trying to make his way back to his massive sword at the still-empty table.

Shanks, however, wasn't having it.

"Hawkeyes! You never want to stay and chat, I thought you loved me!" Shanks did his best pouty-face, though it looked odd on the face of a 40-something-year-old.

Mihawk looked as if staying around Shanks was the last thing he wanted to do, but he hesitated in leaving nonetheless.

"You can grab the farm plow you call a sword later, we're having more drinks!" Shanks said it matter-of-factly, and I was left wondering just how often he succeeded in harassing Mihawk into partying with him.

Judging by the slightly annoyed yet surrendered look Mihawk was giving him, it was quite often. I had little doubt he ever successfully refused Shanks. To be fair, not many people successfully refused Shanks anything.

Mihawk seemed to procure a wine glass out of thin air as he sat down, remaining completely silent. Benn nodded in curt greeting, while Yasopp tried his best to merrily clink his mug with the wine glass.

The only reaction he got was a withering glare.

---

Two Hours Later

---

After enough alcohol to sterilize a hospital, Shanks had loudly announced everyone should go back to the ship to bring the party to the rest of the crew.

We were now all crowded around a large bonfire, the majority of the crew having joined us on a small beach. There were a few locals and tavern dancers that had joined us, but most of them had been too intimidated to party with pirates.

Maria had joined us, at first trying her hand at flirting with Benn, then ultimately deciding 50 was older than she could do. She proclaimed this quite loudly to the entire group, although I was sure she only meant to whisper it to me. Afterwards, she'd also tried to get Shank's attention, but waved the white flag of surrender when the pirate pulled Zutsu onto the makeshift dance floor.

"Such a tragedy to lose such a man," she sighed, "But Z won him fair and square."

I still wasn't fully comfortable with how openly she talked about wanting to sleep with my captain, but it seemed I was the only prude present. She'd thankfully changed the subject when she saw my grimace, although what she brought up next was not much better.

"I get he's scary and all, but you can't tell me Hawkeyes isn't hot as hell." Hawkeyes was also a mere 7 feet away from our conversation, but the rum we'd had diminished our embarrassment, Maria moreso than me.

"I'm not gonna gush about a guy like I'm twelve, Maria," I took another swig from the bottle we shared, grimacing as the bitter taste caught up to me. "But, yeah, he isn't bad."

Maria rolled her eyes mockingly, giggling. "Hypocrite, you're looking at his ass right now."

"Shut up, I have enough decency to not oogle at someone's ass-"

"Maybe not his ass, per se, but you're definitely looking-"

"I'm looking at you, 'cause that's who I'm talking to," I huffed, licking my dry lips.

I had, in fact, been looking directly at his ass unabashedly, but I wasn't about to admit it out loud.

"Well, regardless of who's ass you're looking at-"

"No one's."

"Regardless-" she spoke over me, "He's, like, super dangerous and all, and he may or may not actually drink blood, but it makes him cool and sexy-"

"Cool-and-sexy is standing right there, and can definitely hear everything you're saying," Zutsu sat down with a huff, sweaty and breathless.

"Like you can say anything, you've been Red-Hair's arm candy all night, shameless bastard," Maria snapped, though her voice held no venom.

Zutsu at least had the decency to blush, staring down at his feet.

"Where'd Shanks go, anyway?" I asked, craning my neck to look for him, and definitely not using it as an excuse to ogle at Mihawk.

"He went to- to piss, I think," he muttered.

As if on cue, Shanks returned to the party with a shout, and planted himself directly in Zutsu's lap, and landing a wet smooch directly on his neck.

"Oh, gross." I scrambled to get up, the sand making it a bit difficult.

"Oh, I take it back, Red-Hair looks like he kisses like a teenager," Maria huffed, wiping a bit of sand from her skirt.

I let out an extremely unflattering laugh, playfully shoving Maria, and receiving a shove back. Given her intoxicated state, she shoved me harder than intended, and I ended up stumbling directly into the back of Dracule Mihawk.

He didn't stumble even slightly, and didn't say a word as I caught myself on his coat without even thinking.

"Trying to dance again?" he asked, sipping on the rum he'd replaced his wine with.

My face burned, and I backed a few strides away, trying not to think about how solid his back had felt. I was also slightly peeved he had once again commented on my dancing, something I'd actually been decently proud of that night.

"You wish," I muttered, the irritation winning out with the rum in my system.

He didn't say anything, buyout he didn't turn away either.

His massive sword was now leaned on a barrel nearby, and he hadn't strayed far from it. Likely in anticipation of an attack, I reasoned.

We stood in silence for a moment, Maria having disappeared somewhere else. It was almost comfortable at first, before I grew anxious that he might think I was strange for not saying something.

Before my brain could catch up, my mouth had blurted, "What's your sword's name?"

Oh my fucking- how stupid could you sound. Who the fuck asks the name of an inanimate object, why are you so dumb-

"Yoru," he said simply, in a way that suggested I should already know the answer.

Oh. Was it common for weapons to have names? I'd never heard any, but I suppose I had never asked, either.

A small distance from the bonfire, some odd group of crew members and part of the band I recognized from the tavern had started to play. I focused, trying to figure out what song they were playing, hoping it would jog some memory.

No such luck, but the melody was fast-paced and energetic, and I had to force myself to keep my hands from tapping along to the song.

"How did a dancer join Red-Hair?" Mihawk asked, almost shocking me. Until this point, he seemed entirely uninterested in everything around him.

"I-" I wasn't entirely sure where the warlord stood in the field of trustworthy. I knew he was an old friend of Shanks's, and I knew that while it seemed the crew was aware of the power he held, they all seemed completely comfortable around him.

Maybe it was the rum that had loosened my inhibitions, but more than anything, I wanted the chance to tell someone about myself without having to make up a lie.

"I- They found me out at sea, they said a mermaid dumped me and ran."

Mihawk quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"I don't have any memory from- well, from before-" I wasn't sure how to explain it. I didn't want to bore him, or seem like I was trying to garner any type of sympathy.

"Before-?" The tone of his voice was haughty and a little impatient, but not unkind.

I took a deep breath and started again. "I was- I belonged- to the Celestial Dragons. I don't remember the mermaid, but the man who got me out was the one who brought my food to me."

It all became a rush after that.

"I was kept in this- cage or something, hanging in the air. My job was to sing lullabies to their little boy." I focused on the grains of sand at my feet, my brow furrowed. "But they gave me something, it made me forget everything, even who I was, before then. I didn't even remember seeing the little boy grow up."

I heard him taking a swig of rum, the rustling of his coat the only indication he moved. I wonder how he managed to be so quiet.

"The day I- got out, you know," I continued, "The boy, a man then, I guess, was angry about something. He took me out of the- the cage, and took off my-" I gestured to my neck, and with a pang remembered the very obvious scarring around my throat.

The next part I had only described in detail to Hongo and some to Shanks, but the words wouldn't stop when logic told my mouth to close.

"I- he- I'm not sure of everything that happened, but-"

"You don't have to explain everything if you don't want." He took another swig. "You have the choice to do anything now, and tell anyone anything you choose to about yourself."

It was... comforting, in an odd way. I had only ever been asked as some sort or ward or patient, like what had happened to me was something someone could fix. Hongo had needed to know as my doctor, and Shanks had- well, I wouldn't be surprised if he was just nosy, but he was the captain and responsible for everyone.

Choosing to share something myself felt much better.

"He gave me more of the- the drug, I think. I couldn't move, but the man who brought me my food, you know, he came in and grabbed me." I paused, wishing I had a little more rum.

"All I remember is glass breaking, popping, and screaming. I think he threw me into the water, and I woke up on the ship later."

Mihawk didn't say anything. I wasn't even sure if he was still there until I looked up and found his golden eyes studying me. The sight made me jump a little, and I giggled a little at myself.

"Would you like to dance again?"

The question surprised me. Was he fucking with me? I thought he'd hated the one dance we already had.

But he offered his hand to me, much like I had held out mine in Delilah's. After a moment of hesitation, I took it.

After downing the remains of his drink quickly, the warlord led me to the other dancers, and I caught him glancing every so often to Shanks- obviously checking to see if he was watching. There was no singer in the little impromptu band, but the music was all lively jigs, everyone drunkenly (and rather clumsily) dancing. Maria had pulled a very flustered Lime Juice into the swath, and was giggling at the way he tried to keep up with her.

I was giggling myself as Mihawk turned to face me, his large coat swishing with the movement. His hand met my waist, and my face burned at the contact. He started leading me in a slow sway, but my feet were itching to actually keep up with the music.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Warlord, but I am not doing that."

"What-"

Without thinking about what I was really doing, I reached behind his shoulder and pulled him closer to me. Much to his silent but obvious indignation, I lead him in a brisk two-step once again, actually rotating around the floor rather than sticking to the outskirts.

I felt a little braver this time as the familiar ache made its way back to my legs- he wasn't a complete stranger anymore, and I knew how to dance. Although he had been taken slightly by surprise, he matched my steps perfectly, never even stumbling.

This dance was what I'd somewhat hoped the first one would be. He seemed to enjoy himself this time, occasionally spinning or dipping me, making me laugh. He never smiled, though his face was considerably more relaxed than before. We danced to one song, then two, and we were on the fifth before either of us spoke.

"Do you believe you were a dancer before?" He asks, spinning me as the song ends.

"I think so," I say breathlessly, the pain in my limbs finally catching up with me. "I know my first few dances tonight were- less than professional, but..." I trailed off as his mouth quirked up in an almost-smile.

"You're beautiful," I blurt without thinking.

He brushed away a curl that had gotten stuck on my cheek.

"Marry me."

What... what the fuck? Had I heard that right? Was alcohol making me hear things? As attractive as I thought he was, and as well as we'd gotten along tonight, I wasn't thinking about proposing to the damn guy.

"What-"

"Oi, Hawkeyes, you asked her without me?" Shanks was clambering over, this time without Zutsu attached to him.

"What-"

Mihawk pointedly ignored Shanks, still looking at me. His expression was as stony as ever, and you would've thought he was telling me to shut up, not proposing.

"Since it seems he hasn't explained it to you, I shall," he said pointedly. "The Celestial Dragons do not take kindly to losing what they believe is rightfully theirs. They will hunt for you, and are not accustomed to taking 'no' for an answer." He folds his arms, now directing his gaze at Shanks.

"I would think your captain could have told you this, considering how much he likes to talk."

"I didn't want to worry her-"

"Wait," I interrupted, "You knew someone was hunting me, and didn't mention it?"

Shanks at least had the decency to look sheepish.

"And what the hell does that have to do with you proposing to me just now."

Mihawk didn't even try to look sheepish.

"I am a warlord," he said simply. "With that, I am given what is essentially political immunity, as long as I keep the Navy satisfied. If you were attached to me, and you did not reveal yourself as a former slave-"

I was sure my cringing was visible at the word.

"-the Marines who pose any threat would be smart enough not to dig up anything about you."

I hadn't thought about being in any danger from the government, though I'd had plenty of nightmares of returning to- wherever I'd come from. One good thing about sailing with Shanks was that, at least awake, I felt safe.

"Listen, Spooky, I can protect you, but we could get separated, or worse, you get stranded where I can't find you." Shanks said, looking infinitely more sober than before. "Being a Red-Hair pirate gives you some protection, but you aren't exactly known as a pirate. Being married to a warlord puts you in the public eye without anyone actually seeing you on a bounty poster."

"And anyone trying to cause you harm risks angering the world's strongest swordsman," Although he seemed to be bragging, Mihawk stated it as a fact, and didn't bother to look smug.

I, for one, was simultaneously far too drunk and far too sober for this conversation.

"So, I- I marry you, and then-?"

"You are free to do what you want," Mihawk said simply. "Choose to stay a pirate, although I don't recommend causing enough trouble to garner your own bounty, or stay with me."

Blunt, isn't he? "Stay-"

"On my home island," Mihawk said. "As long as you don't disturb the peace and quiet."

"Oh," was all I could muster at the moment. Too many questions threatened to spill out, like Would we be married forever? What would being married even be like? Could I go anywhere I wanted now? How convincing would we have to be?

"Do what you want," Mihawk interrupted my train of thought, having somehow gotten his hands on another glass of wine. "No one can force you into anything."

As many ways as I could see the entire arrangement going horribly wrong, I couldn't deny the allure of nearly-complete freedom. Life on the ship wasn't bad, but I hadn't known any different - hadn't felt like a real, breathing person - until tonight. I wasn't likely to leave the crew anytime soon, but if I could actually see every island we visited? The rush of hope was exhilarating.

It was my future, my choice. And who was I to deny myself a life of freedom by being married to the most handsome man I'd ever seen?

"Alright," I said quietly.

"Hm?" Shanks evidently hadn't been paying attention.

"Alright," I repeated, firmer this time. "I'll do it. I'll marry you."

Shanks let out a whoop, though I'm not entirely sure what had made him so happy. He hoisted me over his shoulder, causing me to shriek.

"To the church, lads, she said yes!"

[ishouldbedoinghw]

Since I’ve decided to make some changes to her design, here’s Jett’s first draft character design! Spoilers for her fighting style censored :3

Most of the changes I’m making will be to make her more goth and campy

[ishouldbedoinghw]

You Can't Erase Me

One Piece fanfic, part 10: Calico Jack

Previous parts are in my pinned masterlist.

A woman enslaved by the celestial dragons is found by a man with red hair. Angst and comedy ensues.

A/N: Y'all know the drill. This chapter is the one that inspired this entire story. I was driving and listening to this song when a great idea that I really hope doesn't suck exploded into my head. Also I finally got a new computer since I've been working a couple of jobs this summer before moving back to college.

Also I would like to preface this chapter by saying this has a good bit of dancing described in it. The only experience I have with dancing is country western swing dancing and white person line dancing. It might be bad. Dead dove do not eat.

TW: Bad descriptions of dancing and music, thirsting over a vampire, alcohol consumption, drunkenness, Shanks

The first swig from Maria's bottle was, frankly put, fucking terrible. This was the crap Shanks was always chugging?

As I spluttered, trying my best to hand back the bottle before I dropped it, Maria and her friend were giggling behind polite hands.

"Never had liquor before? Traveling with Red-Hair? And I'd bet money on you being almost ten years older than the two of us."

Almost ten years? How young were these girls? How old was I?

"Listen, I had some health problems, alright? And how old do you think-"

Maria's hands shot up in surrender. "Sorry, didn't mean anything by it, we didn't know."

Her friend, still slightly giggling, took the bottle from me and took a swig herself.

"Look, this stuff is cheap, so it isn't about tasting it, you've gotta just let it be nasty and focus on what it's doing to you." She handed it back to me, her long nails curled around the bottle neck.

It tasted just as nasty the second time, but at least I was prepared for it. I swallowed it quickly, doing my best to keep a straight face.

As Maria took the bottle back to hide it away, her friend started to study me, clicking her tongue occasionally. My face burned a bit at being studied again, and it made me wonder if I really looked as good as I felt.

"Maria, you really don't miss, do you?" She laughed, and started to head back down the hall, seemingly satisfied. "Let the newbie know what her big job is tonight, and have her watch during the first couple of songs, so she at least doesn't go in blind."

"Yeah, yeah," Maria called back, shaking her head. "A control freak, that one."

Fiddling with the lace on my corset, I watched Maria finish adjusting herself in the mirror. After she seemed satisfied, she beckoned me to follow her as she went down the hallway after her friend.

"So- what is it that I have to do, exactly?" I ask, nervously gripping my skirt, trying to adjust to walking in it.

"So, every week we have a night where we do the Calico Jack- one of the older, tougher girls is picked to find someone in the crowd to dance with to a song about running off with a pirate." She stopped to adjust a strap on one of her shoes, and I almost run into her. "I personally don't see the appeal in it, and neither does Delilah, but it always brings in a big crowd of rowdy men who pay plenty money to drink and feed their egos if the girl picks 'em."

"That's why we get a grown woman to do it, too- in case a fight breaks out over who gets picked, the dancer doesn't get hurt." She continues. "We try to stay away from the really wild ones- we had a big ginger muscleheaded prick get upset a while back, his blonde boy-toy or whatever had to drag him out."

My mouth had gone quite dry at this point, though whether it was from the liquor or my nerves I wasn't quite sure. I had to dance with a stranger? Hell, I don't think I'd ever danced before. My plans for tonight were to maybe dance with Benn, and then to just listen to something other than the crew's terrible singing. And yet, here I was, painted as a doll ad about to be strung up like a puppet because of some old woman I didn't even know.

"Do I-?"

"Yes, you have to do it, I'd like to keep my room and my nice-paying job, thank you very much." Maria was trying to sound confident and relaxed, but I could see the sweat starting to bead on her neck and face. "Listen, no one would question it if you just picked Red-Hair, and you'd likely avoid a fight that way too, no one would argue that he's handsome and powerful."

I started to argue about calling Shanks anything other than annoying, but I stopped myself- I couldn't deny she had a point. No one would recognize me as the girl he came with, and he was powerful enough to avoid confrontation with someone else. Shit, she might've just given me an easy way out of this mess. I would just get the one dance over with and-

"Of course, before that dance, you've gotta join the rest of the tavern dancers since we're short one."

Of course.

She shoved me, clearly seeing my face. "Listen, it really isn't as bad as it sounds. For whatever reason, the boss has faith in you. She doesn't just drag random strangers out of the crowd- well, at least not all the time." She said with a laugh.

As we neared the end of the hallway, I was expected to be met with some kind of music, or lights like before. Instead, the dance hall was dark and quiet, with only the light hum of hushed conversation. Maria was gripping my shoulder, and I could see her straining to get a glimpse of something off to our right. I tried to follow her gaze, but all I could get was dim outlines of figures, and the flash of something shiny reflecting the dim light of the hallway.

As Maria's grip tightened, chills shot through my body. A whisper from the right made the room a silent vacuum, and I strained to hear the words.

"Hickory, oak, pine and weed-" A small flame flickered in the distance, lighting up the face of the old woman who'd woken me up. Delilah. Her voice was softer, yet somehow stronger when she was singing. Perhaps it was the lack of grouch. A drum was the only instrument playing, only hitting one note to make a beat.

"Bury my heart underneath these trees-" My body froze, waiting for the adverse reaction I'd had when Emily had been preforming.

"And when a southern wind comes to raise my soul-" She drew out the last note in a slight vibrado, and I found myself wondering how the hell I knew that.

"Spread my spirit like a flock of crows." I saw the flash again, and as I focused, I could make out someone holding a guitar, a sleek, slim version of the one Yassopp owned but couldn't play.

"'Cause I loved ya for too long, I loved ya for too long," Her voice was getting stronger, and louder, the den-den mushi in front of her picking up more sound.

"I loved ya for too long-" She held the last note in a vibrado again, holding it out until she was nearly whispering again. Her voice was admittedly beautiful, if not a bit haunting.

"Old heat of a raging fire, Come and light my eyes Summer's kiss through electric wire- But I'll never die-"

The stage lights all came on at once, showing off just how massive it was. A full band stood to the left of Delilah, while a handful of the girls I'd seen earlier were standing to the right, all with their own den-den mushi. On the same beat, as Delilah shifted to a full belt on the end of "die," the girls burst into operatic backup vocals, and the band started playing at top volume. The drum continued at a slightly faster pace, and the guitar strummed at a slow, steady pace to match it, contrasting the passionate voices of Delilah and her choir.

"Sycamore, ash, moss and loam Wrap your roots all around my bones And when they come for me When they call my name Cast my shadow from a bellow's flame-"

Chills ran up my spine, and my heart seemed to seize in my chest. I panicked, thinking I would pass out again, but my breath remained steady, and my mind clear. What the hell was going on?

"Cause I loved ya for too long I loved ya for too long I loved ya for too long So let the storm come-"

My body trembled, my mouth was dry once again, and the back of my neck was coated in a sheen of sweat. My heart was pounding against my ribs, my eyes watered, and I wanted to scream.

"Old heat of a raging fire Come and light my eyes Summer's kiss through electric wire But I'll never die I will never die You can bury my body but I'll never die-"

It was the best thing I could ever remember experiencing. Like a piece of me I'd been searching for ever since I woke up on that damned ship had finally come back.

I loved music. I've always loved music. I could feel it in the depths of my soul, in every bone in my body.

My entire life, I have always loved music.

The way Delilah ripped through the vocals was a storm tearing through the fields of my mind. Every sound I could make out on that stage rocked me to my core.

Watching Delilah's passion was almost as good as listening to it. Her eyes seemed to be gleaming like fire, and she spit out every word as if she had lived through the song over and over again, like she'd truly meant all of it. I'd believe it if they said she was an immortal deity from her stage presence alone.

Her boots stomping caught my attention as she transitioned to the bridge. All instruments but the drum had stopped playing again, and I could hear the thunder of voices in the crowd join her.

"In the dead of night I'm gonna loose these chains Mmm, I'm gonna run and run and run and run and run I'm gonna run and run and run and run Coming for you again Oh, coming for you again-"

The instrumental that followed blew me away once again. I never knew someone could make the instrument Roux purposefully hid from Yassopp sound so damn beautiful. Leading up to the last run of the chorus, Delilah was screaming her vocals, and a new chill ran through my body.

I need to do that one day.

All I wanted, with my entire being, was to be singing these songs with as much passion as she did, in the hopes I could feel something other than fear, anger, or shame.

As Delilah sang the final chorus, she spread her arms, letting her large coat that had been hanging over her shoulders fall to the ground. She was surprisingly muscular for her age, and-

Holy shit, she didn't have any hands.

Her arms ended at the wrists, and were webbed in a messy array of scars. The crowd screamed at the reveal, whether out of fear or something else, I couldn't quite tell.

Maria started to cheer at my side, startling me. She started shaking my arm and bouncing up and down, still yelling her ass off. I didn't pay much attention to it, distracted by Delilah's performance. It wasn't that her lack of hands was a shock in itself; I'd seen where Shanks had lost his plenty. I simply wondered how in the world she'd slapped me so effectively earlier.

"You ready?" Maria yells in my ear, her voice fuzzy with all the noise.

"Ready for wh-" And she shoved me in the direction of the stage as the room grew dark again. I flailed about and stumbled a bit, before one of the male dancers, a dark-haired, freckled young man, caught my arm.

"Newbie, right? You know the Mull River Shuffle, yeah?" He hooks his arm in mine, pulling me to the opposite side of the now empty dance floor.

"The fucking what-"

"Yeah, Maria said you might not, don't worry, you just gotta follow my lead. You dance some, yeah?"

"No-"

The guitar starts a faster rhythm than before, and the lights flash on again, making my vision spotty. My partner squeezes my arm, catching my attention before he starts moving around the floor with the other dancers in a wide circle. The more we moved, the slower and dizzier I felt we were moving. The steps I took to mirror his were clumsy, and my neck burned in shame at how stupid I likely looked.

"You know, Maria failed to mention she got you drunk as hell." What?

"I'm not-"

"Not even the clutziest of kids are so unsure of where their own damn foot is. You're thinking way too hard, you've gotta trust yourself. The liquor is supposed to take away fear, not grace."

I'm not sure why I giggled, and as we paused to turn and move the opposite direction, my body still felt it was moving around.

"I'm about to spin you towards the middle, don't puke." He was irritated now, and I felt terrible. He hadn't asked for a shitty partner tonight, yet here I was. I just let him sling my body around, and I grew a bit lightheaded at the speed.

"That wasn't half bad, think you can go faster?" The relief that flooded me was almost overwhelming, and I couldn't help but giggle again. I'm not sure why the little phrase had made me so happy.

Trust yourself.

The words rang in my ear as the tempo of the song picked up again, and the group of dancers split down the middle, my partner shoving me gently to line up opposite him.

As everyone stepped toward the middle again to meet their partners, I did the same; although I was half a stride behind them. My partner made up for the time, quickly spinning us around and pushing me in the direction he'd come from.

The more I relaxed, and the more I let myself move and spin and step to the music, the more fun I let myself have. This wasn't exactly what I had in mind when Shanks had made me leave the ship, but I had to admit to myself that I was actually having a great time.

"Told you, just let go." He was smiling at me now, and I couldn't help but excitedly smile back.

"You know, I've never danced as far back as I can remember." I wasn't sure why it felt so good just to talk for the hell of it.

"Yeah, I could kind of tell that when we started."

I giggled again, then had to catch my breath as he spun me around again.

"Yeah, I don't think I've ever had so much fun."

It was his turn to laugh then, before we split into two lines again. He didn't have to push or pull me this time, and I was able to keep up with the pace of the rest of the line.

As the song ended, he pulled me over to Maria, who was still standing off to the side of the stage.

"You've got to stop giving me the drunk ones, man." He elbows Maria in the ribs, and she laughs, shoving him away.

"It looks like she got the hang of it by the end, be grateful she didn't vomit on you or something, Zutsu," she said, reaching over to fix my skirt.

"We've got Rove and Go next, you know that one?" Zutsu asks. "I'm not sure where the hell you came from, but I don't know anyone that doesn't know the Rove."

For some odd reason, I felt I did know the song, like it was some common knowledge that was ridiculous not to remember.

"Maybe? I'm not sure-"

"Good enough, maybe it'll jog your memory when you hear it." He pulled me back to the dance floor, into a line of dancers that snaked through the entire hall. "Listen, I usually take the lead on this one, but we'll stick to the back to keep you comfortable."

And keep me from embarrassing you. I couldn't even bring myself to be upset, Maria made it sound like the quality of performances were held in high regard by everyone here.

The tempo of this song started much faster than the last, the drums kicking in at full volume, followed by a fiddle that was one of the sweetest sounds I'd ever heard.

It was the first line of the song that sent a cold shock down my spine, and made sweat cling to my face.

Why shouldn’t she go she’s only ninety?

Delilah held out the last note of the line, and my skin grew clammy. I knew this song. I was sure I'd known this song almost as long as I had loved music itself. My hand shook in Zutsu's, and he squeezed it, muttering, "Don't puke yet," as he started stomping his feet on beat with the rest of the dancers. As if they had a mind of their own, my feet did the same.

I know the dance. I could remember every movement to the dance Zutsu was about to lead me through. I could hear it in my head, to the rhythm of the song, in counts of four.

Stomp, shuffle, stomp, shuffle-

Scoot back, back, back-

Away from your partner, back to your partner-

Holy shit.

"Look at you, you do know this one." Zutsu says, loosening his grip on my hand.

I wanted to cry, puke, and laugh all at once. I used to dance. I had to have grown up dancing. To my disappointment, I couldn't remember any more dances offhand, but it did little to stifle my excitement.

Every step, every dip, and every spin made my heart feel as it were flying through the sky over the bright ocean, free as a wild bird. I was addicted to the dizziness, the breathlessness, and the feeling of my body moving with the music. This, right here, was something I'd been born to do. I felt it in my soul the same way I'd felt when I heard Delilah sing. My body, mind, and spirit felt at peace, and I felt like I had some kind of purpose other than being the crew's fragile pet.

"Hey-" Zutsu's voice cut through my thoughts. "During the bridge, when the fiddle goes crazy, we don't keep in line, we'll split off and start two-stepping around the audience, try to get them to dance, yeah?"

"Oh- alright, got it," I said quickly. Relief swept through me as I realized I knew exactly what he was talking about. Two-stepping with a partner was one of the most basic skills I'd learned when I was just a kid- how I knew that, I had no idea. I couldn't picture memories so much as feel it, my mind trying to grasp some physical evidence that wasn't there.

Zutsu pulled me to face him, and he kept his back in the direction we traveled as we kept a fast paced two-step. I fell into the rhythm he set easily, and almost wept at how at home it all felt: the fast pace, the grip he had on my hand, and even the burning in my right calf and left hip.

"You had to have been holding out on me before," Zutsu laughed, guiding me in an impromptu spin that had a small part of the audience cheering. "You dance as naturally as you breathe when you know what the hell you're doing."

I giggled back, heart soaring at the compliment. It made me want to try more, to do something other than-

"You wanna try swing dancing some?" He asks, as if he read my mind.

I nodded eagerly, my heart pounding again as I recall the term, knowing exactly what he meant.

He pushed me out and away from him, before pulling me back in. I knew the steps by heart, I could feel them in my feet and fingers as I ducked under his arms and spun behind him, before twisting around as he caged me in his arms. He spun me around as fast as I could twice, before finishing with a dramatic dip, my "hair" nearly touching the floor.

"Please tell me you're sticking around after tonight, you're the first partner I've had that could move so damn fast."

I clicked my tongue, looking up at him with a twinge of disappointment. "I'm honestly sorry, but I'm just passing through with a group of- with a crew," I finished hastily.

He raised a brow. "Red-Haired Pirates, right? I'm pretty sure I saw you come in on the captain's arm."

I grimaced at the notion my disguise hadn't worked as well as I'd hoped. "I- yeah," I muttered weakly, sheepishly looking at the floor.

"Don't sweat the whole Emily thing," he shrugged, and did his best to wipe a few droplets of sweat from his cheek. "I only knew it was you because I've been staring you in the face, and I was close by when they dragged you backstage. No one in the audience will be able to tell." He poked me playfully. "Not even your Calico Jack of the night."

I groaned at the mention of that stupid dance. "Why do I-"

"Please don't get me booted from this place by answering that honestly. I'd hate to say anything untoward about my boss and her- interesting notions."

I decided not to press the issue, and to take comfort in the fact that Shanks was here for me to make an easy pick. I was also itching with curiosity to hear every song of the night, and to see if I could recall any more dances.

I wasn't sure my legs could take another step as the song finally ended. Zutsu made sure I took a long swig of water and sat down for a minute before disappearing backstage, leaving me with a very bouncy and tipsy Maria.

"That was- burp- incredible!" she shouted, throwing an arm around me. "No offense, but I thought it'd all go to shit."

I grimaced, choosing to focus on the compliment. "Yeah, thanks."

"You knowwww- the next dance is allll yours," she giggled, then nearly knocked me over trying to wave at one of her friends.

My mouth went dry. Already? I thought I'd have a couple more dances to get more comfortable, maybe figure out something simple to start the song with.

"Don't even sweat it, baby, you'll do great." She fixes one of the stray curls stuck in the top of my corset. "Plus, you look great, so it won't even matter."

Her reassurance did little to ease the nausea building in my gut.

---

I'll never forget the song that echoed through the room next. It wasn't anything spectacular, like the operatic section of the first performance. It was just a small tradition in a dance hall that would one day outlive me. But one moment in that song changed my life forever.

The Calico Jack song was an old ballad about a young lady running from her abusive marriage to live on the sea after meeting a handsome pirate in a tavern.

Of course, the only thing I knew at the time was that I had walk around at least once in the room, and pick a partner before the first chorus of the song started playing.

"It was a borin' Evenin' Down at the tavern My husband left for sea again And I was sick of waitin'-"

The song started, and I could feel my heart in my throat as I started my walk around the room.

All you have to do is walk once around and then to Shanks.

My steps felt too loud, the room was too big, and I was moving too fast, not really paying attention to who was actually there.

Look up, look up, look up, look up-

I tried to convince the crowd that I was looking, studying for the most eligible one there. I couldn't convince myself into thinking I was giving a good performance, however. My heartbeat grew louder as the audience cheered when I walked by, and I gave a weak smile, trying to look like I knew what the hell I was doing.

"Sick of drinkin' And thinkin' And questioning my measure Then suddenly A breeze came through the door-"

And then I caught a glimpse of him.

The most beautiful man I could ever think up in my head was sitting on the outermost edge of the crowd, sipping a glass of wine. He had a feathered hat that hung low over his face, but it wasn't enough to conceal his eyes- bright gold, with rings of orange, the strangest eyes I'd ever seen. His hair and beard were nearly black, but against his pale skin I could see the slightest tinge of brown. He was all sharp angles; high cheekbones, a sharp jawline and nose, even his facial hair was shaved into neat lines.

"He was smilin' Blindin' The pirate, Jack Rackham He tipped his hat and that was that I was in love with him-"

I would've liked to say that the great golden sword leaning on the table was what I saw next, but I couldn't. His large coat was ornate and expensive-looking; it was also completely open, his torso completely bare, save for a large golden cross hanging from his neck. Damn. That's all I could think- damn. He was, with no other way to put it, absolutely gorgeous.

And the little, nagging, tempting thought that I both curse and thank God for to this day wouldn't hush in my head. Ask him to dance.

And I wanted to. So, so, badly did I want to walk right up with all the confidence in the world and ask him to dance with me. It felt as if my entire body was burning at the prospect of even looking at him again.

"Oi, over here, Spooky!" Shanks was in front of me now, grinning and waving like the idiot he was. I mustered a weak smile back, quickening my pace and trying to ignore the feeling that the entire room was watching my every move.

Benn had to reach over and keep Shanks from standing to pull me into a hug, which I thanked him for with a polite smile. Yasopp was trying his best to make me lose my composure with stupid faces, and I was failing miserably at keeping my lips from twitching.

Maria was giving me a cheerful thumbs up, Zutsu and her blonde friend, whose name I really needed to learn, by her side as I passed around a second time. This round, I couldn't help but look for the beautiful man. Half of me hoped he wasn't there, and I wouldn't have to worry about getting up the courage to ask him anything, but the other half would have been crushed if he was gone.

He was still there, still sipping from his wine glass, in the exact same position as before, and still as devastatingly gorgeous.

Ask him, you'll regret it if you don't.

Yeah, sure, and embarrass myself to pieces if he refuses me.

I paused for an instant, hearing what sounded like the first line of the pre-chorus from Delilah. Shit shit shit shit shit-

I had to hurry along, or I'd make a fool of myself regardless of who I picked.

Shanks. I'll just go to Shanks. Maybe Benn, if he's too drunk.

But my feet carried me, trembling, to the man sipping his wine.

"Calico Jack Calico Jack I've never met a man here looking like that-"

Still trembling, I held out my hand. His eyes seemed to cut into me like knives, and he didn't move.

But neither did I.

The room had gone silent, and all I could hear was Delilah's voice and the band. Beads of sweat gathered on my forehead, and my hand faltered slightly. I did my best to give a polite smile to him, praying he would hurry up and either refuse me or take my hand.

"Calico Jack You've met your match Calico Jack Won't you give me my heart back-"

I started to turn away, ready to just ask Shanks, or piss myself, whichever came first, before I felt it.

His hand wasn't particularly warm, and it was rough with calluses that I presumed were from the giant sword sitting beside him. His touch was tentative for a split second, before committing and fully grabbing it before standing.

Damn, he was tall. I was eye-level with his collarbone, and was trying my best not to gawk at the chest below it when he gingerly grabbed my waist. I jumped at first, forgetting why I'd come up to him in the first place.

"Your friends have been trying to get you to back away since they saw you looking this way. Should you have listened?"

As bored as his tone sounded, his voice melted me like butter. Fuck. This was embarrassing.

"I just- it felt right to ask you," I blabbered, trying to avoid eye contact with him.

He let out a hmf before stepping closer toward me. I snapped out of my trance at the proximity, and hurriedly stepped out toward the dance floor, pulling him with me. Maria and the rest of the dancers were in my peripheral, all looking as if I'd died in front of them.

Was it so hard to believe I could get a good-looking stranger to dance with me? I'd thought that at least Maria had some faith in me.

We settled into a fast-paced rotating two-step, and as we passed around the room, the audience grew rowdy again. I hadn't realized my decision had held so much weight here, but perhaps the little custom meant more to people here than I realized.

I dared to look back up at his face, and instantly started to sweat again as his gazed pierced through me. Shit, he was even more beautiful up close. He'd taken the lead in the dance now, and surprisingly, held himself with the grace of an experienced dancer. Judging by his looks, I could have guessed he'd waltzed or something fancy like that at some point in his life, but he didn't seem the type to be in a dark, noisy place like this. Nor did he seem to be the type to take part in dancing recreationally as a whole.

Too nervous to say anything directly to him, I offered him my best version of a pleasant smile. He remained stoic, but I could have sworn I saw the corner of his mouth prick up.

I was trying my damnest to ignore the lovely shape of his lips when he asked, "What's your name?" it was a piss-poor, stiff attempt at being polite, but I appreciated it nonetheless.

"Jett."

"How lively."

I hummed in response, unsure of what to say.

"Your first dance tonight was... interesting to watch."

Oh, that was mortifying. My face burned, and I could feel my palms growing sweaty.

"I, uh, I'm new here, I hadn't danced in a while, and-"

"You were drunk?" The corner of his lip was quirked up again, just barely noticeable.

"Yeah, but-"

"And now-"

"There's no need for you to be an asshole," I muttered, my embarrassment reaching my tongue before common sense could hold it.

He gave the impression that not many people stood up to him with the way his brows furrowed just slightly. Thankfully for me, he also seemed to want to keep his composure.

He liked being in control.

Perhaps it was the lingering effects of alcohol that made me gather the courage, but that one slip in his stoic expression made me determined to make him crack.

Perhaps a small part of me wanted to see him really smile.

"So- you've been watching me tonight?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

"That didn't answer the question."

"Please, if I wanted to watch someone drunkenly stumble about, I wouldn't have come all the way here." He was trying so hard to stay grumpy, it was laughable.

As controlled as his expression was, he had one fatal tell- those pretty eyes. And they seemed to like to shift the slightest bit down every now and then before looking me in the face again. There.

"You know, you might think my dancing is subpar, but you certainly don't mind peeking at my-"

His grip tightened on my waist, although his face remained neutral. Leaning down, the brim of his hat grazed my temple.

"You are the last one who can make any comments about any sort of inappropriate glances, dear." As he withdrew, he brushed a stray curl over my shoulder.

I hated that he was right, and his touching wasn't doing much to help my case.

Neither was that very open coat that revealed a little more of his waist each time stepped with his right foot. What was somehow more impressive was that he was completely unfazed by dancing. I was sweating and aching, and a few annoying bits of my "hair" kept sticking to the back of my neck.

As thrilled as I was at the chance to dance with such a handsome man, I couldn't help but think it was such a pity he turned out to be so glum. Witty, certainly, but still a bit sour. To be fair, I also couldn't judge him based on his attitude, as I also wasn't exactly sunshine and rainbows.

We were actually quite alike, I found, as the dance ended, and the two of us were promptly pulled aside by a very loud ginger man. It seemed the both of us were equally as annoyed by him.

"Oi, Hawkeyes, I didn't know you had that in you," Shanks was slightly slurring his words, but still remained perfectly upright.

Hawkeyes? Oh, shit-

I'd just danced with the world's strongest swordsman, a fucking warlord, Dracule "Hawkeyes" Mihawk.

[ishouldbedoinghw]

[ishouldbedoinghw]

You Can't Erase Me

One Piece fanfic, part 9: Tavern Wench

Previous parts are in my pinned masterlist.

A woman enslaved by the celestial dragons is found by a man with red hair. Angst and comedy ensues.

A/N: Y'all know the drill. This and some future chapters of this story have been inspired by music I love listening to while writing or planning out scenes in my head. I highly recommend the Derina Harvey Band for some rock-inspired sea shanties, and I also really like Karilene's album inspired by the story of Anne Bonney.

TW: Some self deprecating language, alcohol consumption, Shanks

I might make a playlist of the specific songs that inspired this chapter, and I'll also link the songs used for specific moments because they really helped shape this chapter and the sort of energy I want to portray.

As we neared the town once again, the sun had sunk low in the sky, throwing its last rays over the sea in hues of orange and a slight pink. I held onto Shanks's arm, as he had insisted he had to be the one escorting "the lady" inside since he was the captain. Despite evidently wanting to look "manly", he still sported a hideous pair of shorts and dirty sandals.

How in the hell is he expecting to go dancing in those anyway?

Our party consisted of the wretched ginger, Yasopp, Benn, Roux, and myself, the former two having burst into some out-of-tune melody about their son John and how he'd lost his limbs to cannonballs or something. I had to admit the song was pretty funny, but I refused to give Shanks the satisfaction of a laugh, so I bit my tongue to keep a straight face.

The "tavern" as Benn had described it, was huge, and nothing like the little bars I had pictured. A massive name of lights almost covered one side of the building, and hoards of people were crowded around double doors, yelling and laughing at each other.

DELILAH'S JOINT

In truth, the place wasn't all that fancy, just a large, almost circular building that looked like it may have been a barn in a former life. The lights looked like the newest installment, as the white paint covering the walls was peeling in many places. I tried to focus my hearing to catch any music leaking through the doors, but all I could make out was the chattering of the crowd.

"Move, you're stepping on my foot!"

"Why couldn't I just stay home, there's too many people here."

"It's too bad Loreley left this place, I loved being able to hear her sing."

"What's your favorite on her new album, mine has to be the one about Delilah."

"That's everyone's favorite, mine is Merry, the one about the Straw Hats."

"That's because you're a freak for the cyborg."

"Franky is hot and you know it, and at least I don't keep Roronoa's wanted poster in my room."

"Shut up-"

"Oh my God, is that Hawkeyes?"

The warlord? I tried to peek over the heads of the crowd, but even my new glasses couldn't help see through people.

"Oi, Mihawk's here!" Shanks piped up cheerfully, also scanning the crowd, "We've gotta get him to join us for drinks-"

A sweet, almost sultry voice silenced everyone. I couldn't even hear the hum of bugs or twittering of the birds.

"It's Emily-"

A thunderous roar swept through the crowd, cheering and chanting Emily's name.

"-and you know what time it is."

No, I did not know what time it was, and I certainly didn't appreciate the way people started pushing and shoving each other to get through the doors. It took one look from the crew to get people to skirt around us, but the feeling of so many strangers looking at us was still overwhelming.

Shanks' arm moved to curl around my shoulders as he herded me and the crew inside and to a large table near the back wall. The inside of the tavern was smaller than I assumed it would be, but it was densely packed with people adorned with jewels and heavily perfumed. The sweet smells mixing in the air all but stung my nose, my eyes burning as I fought to adjust. The light was dimmed, but glowing blues and purples illuminated the floor and walls.

"Emily" as I'd heard before, was a tall, lithe woman with waist length white hair and breezy, iridescent blue silk draped around her. She was the spitting image of a siren in folk tales, with bright beckoning eyes and a slight quirk at the corner of her mouth. It only took one glance around the screaming crowd to understand that she knew the effect she had on people. I didn't even know I was capable of blushing until she glanced in the direction of the crew.

Although, I had a hunch her gaze was directed at Shanks.

I sat there for a minute, watching the lights ebb and flow, and as my attention became focused on the way the patterns of the lights hitched over the uneven floor, the roar of the the crowd became a dull buzz. It was Benn that had to nudge me, his eyes shining with delight, after the show started.

The sound of the first note seemed to explode from the stage,' jolting me in my seat. Yasopp seemed to find that funny, slapping Roux on the arm as he cackled.

The actual song, however, was light and eerie, like some haunted lullaby. Emily's hips swayed with the rhythm, and long strings of beads hung around her waist, following just behind her movements.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth-

Back and forth

Back and

forth

Back

and

forth.

Where had I heard that song before?

I was swaying back

and

forth.

I was singing slowly, I couldn't wake the baby.

Why won't the cage stop swinging? Who is making all the noise? Didn't they know the baby was sleeping? Didn't they know the father would be angry? I wanted to eat, I wanted to live-

I was scared. Why was I back here? I'm not supposed to be here.

One

two

three-

A hand. On my arm. I was supposed to be alone up here.

A murmur. A squeeze. A shake.

A loud, crisp slap. I came to life, chest heaving, with a burning left cheek.

"What- What the hell?" I spluttered, grabbing my face.

"Welcome back, Pipsqueak."

Pipsqueak? No one on the crew calls me that-

"Oi, up here," the voice said again, this time with fingers snapping in my face.

"Stop that-"

"You're in no place to be givin' demands, 'Squeak."

The voice belonged to a large-statured woman who was currently looming over me with a scowl. Her hair was gray and a little coarse, and her right eye was covered with a black patch. As old as she looked, the woman was all lean and tough, with weathered skin that reminded me of Benn's. A pirate, perhaps? She left the impression she'd spent a lot of time in sun and salt water.

"Did you- slap me?" I blurted, unable to think of anything else that sounded more intelligent.

She barked out a laugh, deep and throaty.

"Real funny joke, girl. What I'd like to know, Loreley, is why you're starved-looking and shacking up with Red-Hair." She leaned in closer, squinting at me. "And also why your eyes are fuckin' yellow."

Loreley? I'd heard someone mention the name Loreley outside, it had sounded like a musician or something.

"My name isn't Loreley, what the hell are you talking about."

She snarled and pushed me back over. "Bull-fuckin'-" She stopped, gazing at my face. "Shit."

She backed off of me then, tilting her head as she continued to stare. Then she just shrugged and turned away, saying, "My bad, kid, thought you were someone else."

What the hell? "Wait-" But she'd already disappeared, leaving me alone.

Shakily standing up, I did my best to gather my surroundings. The walls around me were significantly more weathered than the hall I had just been in, and were covered in brightly-lit mirrors. Everywhere I turned was my own reflection surrounded in light bulbs. The place was also a mess, with chairs, fabric, and- makeup?

I was in some kind of dressing room.

Where the hell am I, and where is my crew? Panic seized my chest, and I struggled to breathe. Stumbling a bit, I tried to find a door, a window, sunlight, sound, or anything that could lead me out.

The woman hadn't seemed interested in me after I had turned out not to be Loreley, but would she be angry if I escaped? Was I a prisoner?

A door to my right burst open, and a hoard of blue-clad girls chattering excitedly scurried in, each claiming a mirror. I quickly turned away, face burning, after some of them started to undress.

I could see the last two girls coming through the door in my peripheral, and before I could look away, they made a beeline for me.

"I told you it wasn't her, dumbass." The shorter girl said. She resembled Emily a bit with her long blonde hair thin frame, or perhaps it was just the gauzy blue fabric she was dressed in. It seemed she was playing on the siren aspect of the singer as well, with fake pearls and seashells scattered on her hair and around her neck.

"Shut up, at least I didn't miss an entire line because I forgot the most popular song in this fucking hemisphere." The other girl shot back in a bit of a deep voice. She was nearly twice the height of the blonde, with pastel pink hair tied loosely behind her neck.

"Oh that's rich coming from you," She put on a dramatic forlorn expression, holding her head in her hands. "Quickly! is this the blue dress song or the white dress one!"

She earned a light shove for that, the pink-haired girl's face a bright red at her comment.

"Where am I?" I blurted, gaining back their full attention.

"Um- backstage? The dressing room?" The pink-haired girl looked confused. "Aren't you here to replace Bernadette during the shanties?"

"What?"

The blonde shrugged, starting to pull shells out of her hair. "Listen, maybe the newbie's still out in the hall-"

"Wait a damn minute-" And the pink haired girl pulled her friend closer and whispered hurriedly, glancing at me every so often. The only thing I could make out was a "fucking Delilah" and a few light snickers. My heart was pounding too loudly in my chest to really eavesdrop.

After finishing their private discussion, the taller one turned and clasped her hands together. "Okay, girlie, our boss you met earlier? The old grouchy one?"

I nodded, unsure where this was going.

"Well, she seems to be convinced you can dance after meeting you exactly once, so we are gonna dress your ass up and test that theory."

"What the fuck-"

"Yeah, I'm not sure what's happening either, but I don't get paid to ask those questions."

"You bitch and moan plenty on the clock, so-" The blonde started before being muffled by her friend's hand over her mouth.

"I'm not on for another hour, so I'm the one who gets to watch this shit fail."

I wasn't sure whether I should be offended or not.

----

In the next few minutes, I had been stripped of my clothing, and laced up in some off-white, ruffled dress and a pearlescent corset.

'Tavern wench' was what the pink-haired girl, whose name I learned was Maria, called it.

While I wasn't a fan of how my shoulders and scarred neck were exposed, I couldn't deny I looked damn good in that corset. The laughter I'd received at the market today was almost forgotten as I studied how my figure looked.

It was amazing how much feeling pretty could matter to a person.

I studied Maria as she bustled around me, picking up various bottles or brushes. Her face was brightly colored in dramatic stage makeup, her lips and cheeks shades of pink similar to her hair. It looked lovely on her, and I couldn't help myself from saying-

"I like your hair, it's really pretty."

I should've known something was up when she got a devious glint in her eye as she politely thanked me. After a beat, she reached up and ripped the hair straight from her scalp, making me jump back in horror. I wanted to scream when the wad of hair landed in my lap-

It was a wig.

Maria was cackling her ass off, holding her stomach and slapping the table, knocking a couple of bottles over.

"I will never get tired of pulling that shit." She said, trying to gather herself. Her real hair was cropped close to the scalp, similar to mine, and a deep brown.

I shakily set the wig down on the table in front of me, not loving the idea of the residue of someone's scalp resting in my hands.

What I did love was how at ease I felt around Maria. I hadn't interacted with anyone but the crew or a doctor since I washed up. After making sure I knew the crew was fine and that they knew where I was, Maria had been very considerate of my personal space without coddling me. I felt like a woman getting ready with another woman, not a little girl acting as a doll. It was nice not being treated like glass.

"Here." She was in front of me now, holding a brush dipped in red. "For your cheeks and lips. Rouge is old-fashioned, but I think it'll flatter you," she said, dabbing at my face. "It's more historically accurate too."

After painting my face, she stood back and studied me, heavy brows pinched. Turning and rummaging through a cabinet above me, she said, "So, how'd you end up on a crew with the Red-Hair Pirates, if you don't mind me asking."

I chewed on my lip, unsure of what to say. Both Benn and Hongo had warned me plenty of how the mark on my back couldn't be discussed with people, although they wouldn't tell me why.

I decided on "They found me at sea." followed up with, "I don't have any family around."

She hummed, pulling a couple of wigs out. One was a red shade close to the color of my own hair, and the other was long, black and curly. She held the red one up close to me, then let out a tsk and laid it next to her pink one.

"You know who Loreley is, Jett?" She asks, running her fingers through the black wig.

I was happy to have a question I could answer truthfully. "I've heard her name; she's a musician, right?"

"Yep, she's more of a local legend at the moment, but everyone I know that listens to her stuff is hardcore into it." She squints, and adjusts one of the straps on my dress. "Honestly, you look a lot like her. A little taller maybe, and the eyes are a different color, but I'm surprised more people here haven't trampled over each other trying to get your autograph or something."

"It seems like you know her personally."

"I do," Maria said, holding the black wig up to me now. "She got her big start right here in this building, we all know her. It's why the boss made such a big deal about thinking you were her, she's practically her daughter."

I had wondered about that, why Delilah has seemed so insistent on interrogating me. I still wasn't sure why she'd insisted on me dancing tonight, but at least she wasn't still standing over me.

"Loreley is the whole reason the rest of us are even here. She's the one who got Delilah to open up her place to let other performers get in front of a big crowd." She was pulling the wig over my head now.

"There," she said, securing it. "Your hair color is sick, but it looks too much like hers, you might confuse people and get some unwanted attention."

"Plus," she added, pulling her own wig back on, "Now no one can tell you're Red-Hair's girl, makes it a little safer."

"Oh- I'm not-" I stammered, shaking my head.

"Oh? No? Just your captain, got it." She paused, thinking. "Is he, you know, with anyone?"

"Not that I'm aware of? What-"

"I always thought Beckmann was more handsome, but he's old enough for it to be a little weird-"

"Please stop talking about the guys I live with that way," I groan, "I'm sorry, it's just weird for me."

"Understandable," she quips, leaning into the mirror and adjusting her hair. "You have no clue how many people come here begging to see Emily, or ask us what her favorite food is or some shit."

I giggled a little, remembering how many people had gone feral watching the white-haired girl.

"Emily's the next one to go big, I think. Delilah's picky about who opens for her most nights, so she shows a lot of faith in her."

I hum, nodding my head.

A voice calls through the door in the corner. "Delilah's first set is starting, the newbie better her head into what she's doing here."

"Don't be rude, Goldfish, she didn't faint of thirst over your girlfriend or something."

The voice spluttered, and the door slammed. I could still hear muttering as they stomped away.

"Alright girlie, time to figure out how high the boss is," Maria says, ushering me to the door. "Even if you don't know what you're doing, you'll look great, so no one will really care-"

"Maria!" A different voice this time, it sounded like the girl Maria had been with. "Hey, Maria!" She sounded more panicked this time. "Bernadette was supposed to do Calico Jack, and Delilah won't let either of us do it."

Supposed to do what?

Maria groaned, looking extremely agitated. "Well, shit."

She turned and jogged away, returning with a rum bottle, a similar kind to the ones all over the Red Force. After taking a large swig, and grimacing as she swallowed, she handed it to me. "Drink up, and good fucking luck, babe."

[ishouldbedoinghw]

We're so back

I'm kidding. This fic and blog have been on a major pause due to some big life changes. I stopped writing because the next chapter was meant to be more romantic, and around the time I started writing it I went through a big breakup, so I wasn't exactly feeling up to trying to write something. After I started feeling better and wanted to work on some of my "real" writing outside of this blog, my computer crapped out after falling off of my bed while I was watching Twilight.

BUT

I've been saving up for a new computer and while I'm figuring out what changes I will be making to my more original stories, I plan on working on this story.

I'm also thinking about posting the first couple of chapters of a manuscript I'm working on, but I doubt that will get much attention here :)

[ishouldbedoinghw]

You Can't Erase Me

One Piece fanfic, part 8

Previous parts are in my pinned masterlist.

A woman enslaved by the celestial dragons is found by a man with red hair. Angst and comedy ensues. (Y'all I SWEAR the funny stuff will come soon, I have so many ideas for shenanigans with the crew (Shanks) but I can't skip over the other stuff :/)

A/N: Y'all know the drill. Also certain foods not technically canon in One Piece exist now because I said so.

TW: discussion of trauma, medication withdrawal symptoms, going to the optometrist, self-deprecating language, mc gets made fun of by 8th graders, general angst

A/N: Gave up on the dash line divider thing cause it looks funny on mobile. But I digress.

Enjoy something a little more wholesome:)

It had been a week since Shanks and Hongo had sat me down, and a couple of days since my last episode. Hongo's theory that human touch could help had been correct, and now I was able to get some small amount of sleep while hanging onto some crew member's arm or leg.

It seemed that Benn felt guilty over our spat, as he was the one who offered up a limb most often. He'd tell me stories of the crew's journeys, explain different things about pirates, marines, or anything else I couldn't remember. I learned about different crews, the warlords, and different countries along the Grand Line.

It was also Benn that told me about the One Piece, and while he'd mentioned that Shanks had been on the crew of the late King of the Pirates, he never gave me any details, saying it was up to said captain to share that story.

Hongo kept me company too, although it was in part because he wanted to make sure I was eating and drinking plenty. It was a bit of comfort to hear him explain how my health was progressing, however. Yasopp, unlike Shanks, was good at making me laugh, and often made jokes about the crew to keep me in good spirits.

I probably could have written an essay or two on his son; when he wasn't talking about his own crew, Yasopp would excitedly tell me more about Usopp's adventures with his own crew. Usopp's crew, the Straw Hat Pirates, was a common name thrown around the Red Force, and Shanks loved telling me stories about their captain, Luffy. He especially liked telling me (bragging) about how he saved the kid from sea king that had then eaten his arm.

While I was grateful for the efforts of the crew, I couldn't squash any of the guilt that often bubbled in my gut. I felt like a chore, some kind of burden or part of some checklist they had to make themselves do. Every bump or lurch of the ship made my skin crawl, thinking that we'd made it to an island and they were going to finally be rid of me. I couldn't get it out of my head that whenever the door to the medbay was shut, every one of them complained about how annoying or whiny I was, and how they didn't understand why they had to take care of some girl that they didn't even want in the first place.

They didn't ask for someone that screamed all night, they didn't ask for someone who couldn't eat without it all coming back up. They didn't even ask for someone quiet and unassuming - without another choice, they just let me stay on board, and I'd caused problems ever since. I saw it in the way Hongo's brow twitched when I puked up my lunch again or the way Benn's jaw clenched when I woke him up at night.

Hongo said every now and then that no one on the ship minded me being there, and that they'd much rather help me than throw me out, but I knew that wasn't true. On the rare occasion I made it outside, no one outside of the senior officers wanted to be near me. I was sure the only reason anyone helped me was because they took pity on me, like I was some stray dog that didn't know any better.

At least a dog was cute.

-----

Things got better after I was able to eat, stand, and walk around without vomiting everywhere. The stomachaches hadn't ceased, and most of the time I'd have to sit down from the way my gut constantly twisted, but everything stayed where it was supposed to.

It also turned out Hongo did have a sense of humor after all, because there was a list tacked up on the medbay wall of any foods that upset me- and often those things were very specific.

Chocolate

Too much cheese (don't ask why we have cheese)

Sea king meat on a Thursday night after listening to Shanks sing

Anything past Benn's spice tolerance level (low)

Pop-Tarts - what even are these and why did Roux buy them

PB&J sandwiches, especially when she eats three of them

Homemade mac and cheese (????)

Fried chicken unless immediately followed up with fruit

And at the very end, in Shanks's messy (drunk) handwriting-

pussy>:)

There was also a list of things I could eat without little to no symptoms, and some of them were just as confusing.

Sushi, even raw

Canned Spaghettios - another Roux purchase, it doesn't even count as pasta, I swear this crew is INCOMPETENT

Boxed mac and cheese in small amounts

Copious amounts of chicken alfredo, WITHOUT garlic bread

And Yasopp's addition-

ATE UP Shanks's shorts, NO CRUMBS

As many times as Hongo tried to remove their additions to the lists, both the captain and the sniper would either rewrite what was already their, or in Shanks's case, write something worse. After I evidently couldn't eat "used pirate ass", the doctor just left it alone. Part of me wished he'd left it something a little less gross, like "Shanks's left arm".

----

We'd docked at a bustling island, and I could feel the ship occasionally shifting as the wind changed. I was holed up in one of the storage rooms, and having tried and failed to climb up into the rafters, I was curled up in a corner, keeping in the shadows. My hope was that if the crew never saw me before we left, they wouldn't find some place to leave me ashore. My newly returned hearing proved to be quite useful in times like this, and it wasn't hard for me learn how to pinpoint who was moving around outside the door or above me. I'd hidden like this a few times before, and no one had seemed bothered enough to look for me. I even almost relaxed, feeling confident in my ability to go unnoticed, when-

"Oi, girlie!" Hongo's voice echoed. "I need ya to come with me on shore!"

Fuck.

I stayed silent, trying my damnest to stay in the shadows of the corner, begging him in my head to just change his mind, that I wasn't going to be trouble any more.

"Come on, I want to get there sooner than rather than later."

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. Was he that desperate to be rid of me?

"She's in the closet to the right, back left corner." Benn. A tear snuck down my cheek and landed with a soft plat onto the floor. I thought we'd made up. I thought he liked me.

There was a soft knock on the door. I stayed silent.

"I'm coming in, girlie."

Hongo pushed his way through the door and seemed to strain to look through the shadows in my corner.

"Damn, Jett, you're good at that disappearing act. The only ones who can tell where the hell you are are Benn and Shanks." He yawned, stretching some of the ache form his arms before he continued. "Alrighty, you're coming with me today to get some fresh air and-"

"Are you going to get rid of me?" I blurted.

Hongo stared at me like I had asked him to kiss Shanks on the mouth.

"What? No-" his brow furrowed, and his jaw clenched. "Did someone say something to you?"

"No," I said quickly, "I just thought that since- I-I've been causing so much trouble-"

"I'm going to stop you right there, girlie." He walked closer to me, squinting in the dim light. "No one here thinks you're too much trouble. You're someone who needed help and we wanted to give it to you. We want to be here for you because you don't seem to have anyone else, and we like you; it isn't because we just feel bad now and we'll dump you when we get bored or annoyed."

He held out a hand, waiting patiently for me to take it.

"No matter how many times you decide to upchuck Roux's shit cooking, or how many times you wake me up screaming like you'd seen Lime naked."

As much as part of me was screaming not to believe him, and to run and hide somewhere else, I laughed. I chose to laugh and take his hand and stand up.

"There we go," he said, patting my hand. Then he was back to his usual no-nonsense tone. "There's a pretty decent optometrist here, I'm thinking since your hearing has come back- which I want to test the limits of, by the way - that your vision should have come back by now. So, we're going to see if your problem is physical or purely neurological. Either way, it might be helpful to get you some glasses so you quit squinting at everyone."

I just nodded my head as he continued, watching some of the crew head off on their own errands. My feet felt a little unsteady as we hit the dry shore, now more accustomed to the rhythm and sway of the sea. Hongo offered his arm, but I waved it away, saying I'd be fine. He gave one of his small, rare smiles before continuing on about what Shanks had done to piss him off this week. Something about leaving his dirty sandals in the kitchen? I wasn't paying full attention.

I was wideyed at the busy city in front of us; people were everywhere and all of them seemed to be in a hurry. Most of them were yelling about various things - one couple seemed hellbent on getting a divorce because the husband's cooking was bad, a little girl was crying because her dog loved her older brother more because it didn't like its tail pulled, and someone else was talking about a warlord- there was a warlord here in the city? Did that mean trouble? Benn often said that there weren't many marine warships that would bother the Red Force, so had they sent someone more powerful after us?

I'd opened my mouth to ask Hongo when he turned to me and gestured to the large, shiny building in front of us. It was taller than it was wide, and the large red lettering on the front spelled "HOPITAL". Strange, but okay.

There was a large, red-faced man yelling at a smiling older woman at the front desk.

"We have told you, April, changing the spelling won't stop people who need a real hospital from coming in here-"

The woman, never ceasing her grin, waved us over. "Hongo, you old fart, I haven't seen you in forever!"

The man sputtered at her in indignation, clearly not having been ignored very often. "I ought to have you arrested-"

"For what, exactly?" The woman turned back toward him, her grin widening. "It doesn't say 'HOSPITAL' on my building, so you have nothing to complain about, Hank. Go bother someone else, I have an old friend to catch up with." She opened a door behind her, ushering us through, and shut the door in the man's face. I could still hear him squalling and cursing on the other side as April turned to us, her hands clasped.

"So, honey, what did you need?" Her eyes glimmered from behind her round spectacles, the bright blue irises almost transparent.

Hongo spoke. "I was hoping you could run a few tests on her. She's had-" he rubs the back of his neck and glances at me. "-a rough going of it and might have some brain damage that causes her vision problems."

"And you want me to prove that wrong, yes?"

He nodded. April sticks her hand out for me to shake, staring at me with fascination.

"It's lovely to meet you, young lady, and I'm sure this will be so much fun!" She dons a white coat, and hurredly starts opening doors, pulling out elaborate machines that get more and more comically large in size as she goes. My hand starts to sweat at the... unorthodox way this doctor ran her clinic, and wondered how close those machines were going to be getting to my eyeballs.

Hongo seemed a bit tense as well, but did his best to give me a reassuring look when he caught me looking at him. It didn't help much.

-------

An hour and a half of strange beeping, bright lights, and April telling me to 'Move your peepers this way, dear', Hongo and I were pushed out the door with a cheerful diagnosis. It didn't seem like the- whatever had been used on me had been the culprit of my most recent vision problems; I was simply 'Naturally blind!' as the doctor had excitedly told me. We had also been told to kill a couple of hours as she made my new glasses.

When she wasn't telling me to open my eyes wider than they could stretch, April had talked Hongo's ear off the entire time, evidently having known him as a doctor-in-training. I had to admit, it was funny trying to picture the gangly, nerdy Hongo she excitedly spoke of. He was a far cry from that now, having the same muscular build as most of the Red-Haired pirates, and from what I could tell, now sported no acne.

Said doctor was still a bit red-faced from that interaction as we wandered toward a small street market a few blocks over from HOPITAL.

He seemed to gather himself a bit as we drew closer, saying, "What all can you hear from over here, girlie?"

I tried to focus my hearing on the brightly-colored booths closest to us, and did my best to describe anything I heard.

"The merchant there is annoyed by his oldest. Apparently he was arrested for the-" I paused, trying to get an accurate number. "Seventh time for graffiti. And the woman buying from him isn't thrilled with the conversation." My eyes popped open. "Oh my shit, her wife is the marine that keeps catching him. Seems like she hears this story at home, too."

"Damn. You can hear all that from right here?" Hongo seemed to strain to try and listen too, but to no avail.

I hummed a mhm.

"You know, I wonder if your hearing overcompensates for your vision problems naturally, or if it's caused by your devil fruit." He seemed a little lost in thought at those prospects.

I tuned him out and focused on the booths now surrounding us, trying to catch a mention of the warlord I'd heard about earlier.

"I can't believe Shara would do that, she loves that man..."

"Are you wanting that scarf? Look, it's got a sea king tooth on the end there..."

"Look, Strawhat's bounty went up again, wonder what he did this time..."

"Woman, there is no way in hell you actually think Doflamingo is hot..." Oh, gross.

"The hottest warlord is Mihawk by far, I wonder what he's doing here..." There.

I went to tug on Hongo's sleeve, and he let out a grunt, still clearly lost in thought.

"Hongo, people are saying the warlord Mihawk is here, should we be worried?"

He seemed incredibly unbothered by this fact and shrugged. "No, the World Government isn't stupid enough to send Hawkeyes to mess with us. He's refused to fight Shanks since he lost an arm, anyway." He scratched his chin. "I wonder if he'll stay for a drink this time."

I'd heard of Mihawk and Shanks's past, but I'd gathered that the warlord barely tolerated our captain most of the time. I didn't love the fact that Shanks considered himself buddy-buddy with someone under the same government that considered me property, but I was often reassured by Benn or Shanks that he only held the title to keep from being disturbed, and often refused tasks the marines gave him.

I couldn't blame him for wanting that total freedom.

Continuing to listen to the girls' back-and-forth about which warlord they wanted to bang with mild interest, I started looking through a rack of bandanas that had caught my attention. I especially liked one with bright sunflowers on it, thinking it would look nice tied on my head to block my still partially-exposed scalp from the sun. Hongo, having noticed me eyeing it, snatched it up and bought it before I could protest.

"Pick out another one to wear out on the ship, you don't want that one getting too gritty or sweaty all the time." And he went back to looking at a few journals nearby.

He'd also bought the dark blue bandana I'd picked next, and I found myself excited to try them both on. It felt a little silly and childish to get so giddy over pieces of cloth, but I couldn't help myself as I snuck glances at the pretty colors in my bag.

We were contemplating getting Limejuice a t-shirt that said "piss is permanently in my Cheerios" when I heard giggling. It was a girl and boy, teenagers from the sound of them, and they were just far enough away behind me that I couldn't quite make out their faces.

"That's the doctor for the Red-Haired pirates, right?"

"Yeah, his name is Hon- Hongo, right?"

"Oh my God, he is so hot, look at those arms." I had to stifle a giggle of my own, and was about to whisper to Hongo that we were being watched when I heard-

"Who is that with him? You think that's his girlfriend or something?" Yeah, no.

"No way, her ass is ugly as hell, must be another crew member. I don't remember seeing her bounty poster anywhere though." What?

More giggling.

"Look at that ratchet-ass haircut, and that dumbass outfit."

Cackling, then a "Shhhhhhhhh, they'll fucking hear us."

"Wait, I saw her face earlier, her nose is so crooked, what the hell."

"And what kind of pirate is that skinny? And on a Yonko's crew?"

"Holy shit, do you think she's their who-"

My eyes watered, and I reached up to lightly touch the bridge of my nose before swallowing thickly, trying not to sniffle or let any tears fall. I tried focusing on any other sounds on the street, to the cats in the alleys nearby, to anything that could distract me from how badly my face was burning.

"Girlie? You spaced out for a minute, did you hear something?" Hongo leaned in closer and saw my face. "Jett? What's wrong? Do you feel sick-"

There was that damned giggling again, buzzing in my ears like a persistent mosquito. The two were getting closer, whispering about trying to get a peek of Hongo's ass, and was just within earshot of him when they pointed out I didn't have one.

"Oh." He straightened out, put on his "I'm going to murder Yasopp if he doesn't shut up" face, and strode over to the two. They squeaked as he got closer, and their excited grins vanished as he glared down at them.

"Did you know I've skinned grown men alive for saying nicer things than that to my crewmates?" A grin replaced his scowl, and I made a mental note to never try to make the doctor laugh. It was wider than April's, which was creepy enough, and nearly split his face in two, and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

The kids screamed and ran off, and I almost felt inclined to join them until Hongo turned toward me again, his face back to normal.

"What the fuck-"

He ignored my horrified expression and threw an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him as we continued down the street.

"My secret weapon, girlie- the Doflamingo."

I decided to leave it at that.

------

Two hours, a long search for clothing that would fit me, and a pair of new glasses later, we were back on the ship, immediately getting harassed by our ginger captain.

"Oi, Spooky, lookie here-" he jabbered on about some bar he wanted to go to tonight, and I was thinking about laying in bed, not really paying attention.

"-and I hope you got some good digs, 'cause you're coming with us!"

Excuse me? I stared at him, waiting for him to say something else, that he was just joking and I could go.

"I'm- doing what?" I spluttered, shifting back and forth between Shanks and an approaching Benn.

"Coming with us! An old buddy of Benn owns this nice music club and I figured you could use some fresh air."

"But I just got some fresh air, and I'm tired-"

"Damn. Womp, womp. Go put some nice shit on, we're leaving after dinner."

Benn was the only one with the decency to look apologetic, but even he wasn't budging on the issue.

"You've got to get on your feet and out of that medbay at some point, lass." He smiles a bit. "This isn't one of the nasty places Shanks usually picks out, I promise you'll have some fun."

And that's how I found myself in a billowy white shirt tucked into a pair of flowy pants cinched tight at the waist. It gave the illusion that my figure was fuller than it really was- at least that's what I told myself. Nausea crawled its way into my throat, and I my face burned again thinking back to earlier that day.

Did everyone think that when they looked at me? Was I really so hideous?

Hongo had told me not to pay attention to anyone like those kids, and that I was plenty pretty, but I wouldn't be shocked if he'd said that just out of pity. I just wish he wouldn't lie to me.

I leaned forward closer to the mirror and scrunched my nose. It was crooked, like I'd broken it and it didn't quite heal correctly. I studied the bags under my eyes, and the way my cheekbones protruded just a little too much. My health had improved drastically since I'd arrived here, but I was still so scrawny and all sunken-in. My jaw clenched as I remember some of the women out today, their lips and cheeks full and dewy, eyes bright and curves- well- existing. I didn't have any sort of makeup to try and even out my skin tone; Hongo had offered to try and help but I'd had enough embarrassment for one day. Plus, it seemed stupid to have that kind of stuff on a ship.

"Spookyyyyy, dinner time!" Fucking Shanks.

I groaned and just splashed my face with water, patting it dry. The best I could do was put my new glasses on and hoped that hid the broken nose and buggish eyes well enough. The one thing I did like was the sunflower bandana I had tied carefully around my head at the base of my skull.

I grit my teeth as I emerged out on deck, ready to face whatever teasing Shanks or Yasopp were about to throw at me, or the stares I would get from the crew for my pitiful attempt at looking nice.

A low whistle greeted me from across the deck. I didn't even have to look over to know it was Shanks. I fought back the tears pricking at my eyes. Get a fucking grip, you aren't a child, you can handle-

"You look great, lass." Benn's heavy hand patted me on the shoulder before handing me a plate of steaming grilled chicken and vegetables.

At that remark I nearly vomited. Teasing I didn't particularly want, but pity was far worse.

"You feeling alright? Ya look a little green-" the damn captain again.

"Please shut up Shanks, you're already forcing me to look stupid in front of strangers tonight, at least try not to in front of the people I fucking live with." I snapped, earning a few snickers from the crew.

I wanted to slam that plate down over someone's head so damn bad, and just storm back down into my hiding place, throwing these stupid clothes I'm not pretty enough to wear overboard somewhere in between.

Benn's hand was on my shoulder again. "You don't look stupid, lass, I mean it, you look-"

"Don't." My hands shook. "Do not fucking lie to me Benn."

"I am the vice captain of one of the most dangerous crews in the Grand Line, lass. I haven't told a lie to save my own ass or anyone else's since I met this ginger jackass."

Fuck. I'd pissed him off again.

"Look," his voice was softer now, catching me off guard. "I don't know what goes on in your head, or how to live through what you have. But don't accuse us of being or doing anything we aren't. We aren't trying feed your ego or pity you."

I just swallowed and nodded, not liking the attention I'd brought to myself.

Benn settled beside me when I sat down to stab at my flavorless chicken. Fuck, I hated having stomach issues.

He started telling me about where we were going that night; a tavern run by a well-known pirate from Gol D. Roger's time. Evidently she'd retired after the Pirate King's execution, not interested in taking the One Piece for herself. I didn't understand what was so great about another old tavern, other than the history of the owner, until Benn mentioned that the former pirate was once world-renowned for her singing.

"Her music's considered a bit out of style now, but her voice is still as good as it's always been," he said, sneaking me a few pieces of spiced sea king when Hongo had his back turned. "People go to her place for dancing more than anything, but I've loved the music alone for the entire time I've been at sea."

Dancing? That caught my attention. I wasn't one for rowdiness or heavy drinking, but some dancing actually sounded fun.

AN: Sorry this one was so long, and honestly a little boring, but I needed this one to set up the next bit, which is a scene I've been planning out and looking forward to writing since I started this.

We may or may not be finally meeting our beloved goth warlord ;)

[ishouldbedoinghw]

You Can't Erase Me

One Piece fanfic, part 7

Previous parts are in my pinned masterlist.

A woman enslaved by the celestial dragons is found by a man with red hair. Angst and comedy ensues.

A/N: Ya'll know the drill.

TW: slavery, human trafficking, discussion of trauma, traumatic flashbacks, night terrors, (prescribed) medication withdrawal symptoms, general angst

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was content with my life, for a while. Hongo kept me healing, Shanks still cracked jokes to try and get me to smile, Yasopp would excitedly tell me stories about his son Usopp, Lucky Roux snuck me sweets when Hongo wasn't looking, and Benn often kept me company when I was wanting more peaceful conversation, or to just sit in silence.

I grew stronger, gradually using my cane less and less before being able to forego it completely. My vision slowly focused over time, and I was constantly staring off over the sea, straining to see how far my vision stretched. I was sitting off to the side, watching the- my- crew, studying their every movement, memorizing the way they reacted to things, the faces they made when they did something difficult, how they'd take a breath right before laughing out loud. I was able to hear the laughter from everywhere, able to hear the waves splashing against the side of the ship, able to make out the tink, tink, tink of Hongo organizing his supplies from outside his door, able to hear Lucky Roux clanging around from up on the deck.

The bandage on my back was gone now, all that was left was the huge splotch of mangled, wrinkled skin. It was a shock to most that the wound had healed so rapidly, but I wasn't complaining. Shanks seemed to be the only one undisturbed by the news, just ruffling my now-growing hair and saying somethin along the lines of "sick news, Spooky," and moving on to something else.

Everyone was happy to hear how I'd improved and see me moving around of my own accord, and it was still a shock that all of these people seemed to be happy for me, to be happy I was okay and with them. They all quickly became a family of sorts to me, although being told he was like a mother hen didn't exactly please the grumpy doctor.

I was on a high, soaring, feeling as if I'd been graced at a second chance at life by whatever higher power was out there.

Until I was taken off of all of my medication.

Hongo had checked me over as usual, humming to himself a bit some odd tune I'd heard the crew sing while partying one night. He applied the usual salve to my back, saying it was good for the scarring. He continued to be in good spirits as he told me I didn't have to be on antibiotics or pain medication anymore, and that starting at dinner, I'd be completely weaned off of them. And everything was fine.

Until a few days later, when I woke up screaming, the sheets soaked in sweat. Yasopp was on watch that night, and he was the first to burst in the door, pistol drawn and eyes gleaming. He said I'd been writhing and struggling against something, as if someone was trying to hold me down. Hongo had come in next, barking orders to everyone who'd followed him. He'd nearly murdered Shanks when he suggested plunging me into cold water, and made it clear that no one was to touch me unless it looked like I was going to hurt myself.

My episode only lasted for another minute or so before I'd woken myself up, struggling to breathe and confused at the scene around me. Hongo immediately brought me some water, making sure I drank all of it as soon as I caught my breath.

That first night I couldn't remember what I'd dreamed about, I just had a slight headache and went about my day slightly irritable.

The next night, angry children were screaming at me, and I didn't know why. I'd woken up to Hongo and Shanks again, and promptly vomited on the floor. I had to force myself up onto the deck, either leaning over the railing when I was nauseous, or laying on my side with my eyes closed, focusing on nothing but the waves.

The third and fourth nights were similar; angry children, vomiting, sweating, and eating less and less.

By the fifth night I was begging Hongo to give me something, anything to let me sleep, let me have my strength back. He was unyielding. It had taken me screaming in his face, his jacket balled in my fist for him to react at all.

I tried my damnest to just not sleep at night, but my body had grown so exhausted from lack of food and dehydration that I passed out anyway; and every time it was the same terrors, the same stupid episodes I couldn't understand. The crew that I'd grown close to, that had tried their best to make me happy did nothing but irritate me now. I didn't want them to touch me or look at me, but I was angry when they didn't want to come near me. If they grew irritated or raised their voices, I got louder and meaner. Hongo wouldn't speak to me, Lucky Roux and Yasopp wouldn't joke with me anymore, and while Benn tried, his too-honest tongue made my blood boil.

More and more often I'd find myself curled up, shaking and silently weeping in some corner. I didn't want to be angry. I wasn't trying to be mean to these kind people that, truly, had done nothing wrong. I craved that warmth and friendliness I'd gotten a taste of for a short time, and I was just counting down the days until they'd had enough and threw me overboard.

I was too hot, and too cold, and always so so fucking damp, and those stupid kids wouldn't stop screaming at me, and I didn't want to be touched but I desperately needed to be held.

It had been a little over a week when Shanks came to find me, trembling in my usual corner next to some stray bucket. I'd though that was it, he was telling me that they'd docked, that they were leaving me, and I couldn't even fight that because I deserved it-

A hand rested on my head.

Shanks had sat down beside me, his legs crossed. He wasn't looking at me, just staring at the same wall I was facing, deep in thought - as surprising as that was for him.

"We're worried about you, Spooky," he said finally, his gaze shifting to me.

Bullshit, I wanted to say. Every part of me knew that was a lie.

"Hongo says he figured you knew, but all of this is happening because you aren't on anything, and your body isn't used to it."

"I know," I snapped, "It would make it better if he'd just give it back-"

So I wouldn't be like this anymore. So I could smile with the crew again and they wouldn't hate me anymore.

"No," he said sharply, and it was the sternest I'd ever heard him sound. "You'll get through this, and all this bullshit will go away."

"Stop fucking lying."

After a sharp intake of breath, he said, "I'm not. I know you don't believe me, but I honestly don't care. This is temporary. More importantly, me and everyone else on this crew knows that it isn't real."

But it was real. What they knew and what I thought I knew was this drugged-up version of myself, something surface-level caused by nothing but some fucking pills. I'd had this small window of what I thought was freedom, and now I was in a different cage of my own making.

"Jett," he says firmly, "look at me."

I don't. I don't want him seeing my face like this. I can't let him see how bad I look, and how much I'd failed at being grateful to him for saving my life.

So he shifts himself, settling in front of me and lifting my face ever-so-slightly.

"I know who you are is in there, and this ain't it. This shit is something nobody could control, and everyone, even smartass Benn, knows that this isn't you."

He sets my face down gently, and I still remain there on the floor, unmoving.

"No one here is going to leave you, especially at your lowest. We're a crew, dammit, and you're one of us."

His hand is shaking by his side now, and his head is bowed. I feel awful for having caused it, for having caused anyone any trouble.

He steadied himself after a minute, and says, "Hongo has something he wants to talk-"

And I lose it. I start sobbing, screaming I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. I know I'm drooling and letting my snot get all over the floor, but I can't bring myself to care. My head was torn between screaming at this man for lying to me and filling my head with false hope when I knew he was just going to get rid of me, and feeling so damn guilty about treating everyone so horribly if he was right. It wasn't until I reached out to grab the hem of his ugly shorts that he touched me, scooping me up with his one arm and pulling me into his chest, rocking back and forth. He didn't flinch as I was clawing at his skin, or leaving a mess on his shirt. He just stayed there with me, not saying anything, but gripping me so tightly I couldn't even try to push him away.

We stayed like that for a while, Shanks never ceasing in his rocking until I quieted down to just hiccups and trembles.

He grunted a bit as he stood, still tightly holding me. I could hear his feet trudging, and a few doors creaking open and closed. We were in the medbay, surrounded by the familiar clean smell when he set me down in a stiff chair I'd often seen Hongo using.

Hongo was there too, seemingly a little disgruntled that I was a sticky mess, but never said anything about it. I was slouched, the movement and sudden upright position almost making me gag. Shanks pulled a bucket closer to me and settled himself in his own chair.

"Hongo, tell her what you said to me." I looked up at that.

The doctor huffed and sat down as well, grabbing some sort of notebook and putting on reading glasses.

"I don't think that the pain medication I gave you is really what caused all of this," he starts, looking at me.

I wanted to laugh. Of fucking course. I knew Shanks was lying to me, I knew he was only trapping me. And yet my stomach still dropped with dismay, as if i had any right to feel betrayed.

"-because I think you had been drugged before that, before you came here."

What?

"I wasn't sure at first, and I don't like to give patients guesses to sit and overthink about, only to have that guess be wrong. On top of that, I don't have the equipment on a ship to do a blood test for anything drug-related," he paused, tapping a finger on his notebook. "And I can't exactly waltz in anywhere sophisticated enough to have that for obvious reasons.

"However," he continues, "We do know someone who could help. Unfortunately, we aren't on the friendliest of terms."

I don't miss the look he shoots at his captain.

"But all the observable symptoms you're displaying lead me to believe the only reason we would need a blood test is to figure out what you may have in your bloodstream, not if there's anything there at all." He sets the notebooks down, and had I not felt like a steaming pile of dogshit, I would've laughed at the way he looked at me over his glasses.

"Most of the time, your typical medical withdrawal period would be a few days to a couple of weeks. However, since we don't know how long this particular drug has been in your system, you could continue to have symptoms for months."

Months. I'd probably die if I had another week of this shit.

Hongo continued, "What we can guess, however, is that this drug is what caused your amnesia, loss of mobility, and hearing and vision issues." He hesitates, before adding, "It's likely someone wanted you to forget, and render you helpless."

I didn't understand. "Why would someone want to do that?" My voice was hoarse, and almost seemed foreign.

It was Shanks that shifted forward, taking my hand. "Do you know who the Celestial Dragons are?"

For some odd reason, the term was familiar, but as with most things, I couldn't quite place it.

"We wouldn't be telling you all of this with the shape you're in, but we thought it would be better for you to know why all of this is happening to you." Shanks's hand twitched in mine.

Hurry the hell up and tell me.

"The Celestial Dragons are essentially royalty - they're descendants of the founders of the World Government."

The World Government - I did know what that was.

"Because of their status, they can get away with anything they want - it doesn't matter the crime, the government either covers it up or ignores it. There are many people who have watched those bastards murder someone and not blink an eye."

I was getting impatient, and sleepy. What does this have to do with me?

"Another thing they can get away with is slavery - they can legally own people."

My blood froze.

"The marking on your back is definitive evidence that you were once a slave to the Celestial Dragons. We think that they or someone who they bought you from-"

"No-no," I started, my head starting to pound again. "I- that's not right."

"We know it isn't right, but-"

I cut Hongo off again. "No, it isn't right. I had a family." Tears started welling up, and I had to force the words out that were stuck in my throat. "I had a mom, and a dad, and a brother, and I think sisters- no one owned me."

"You could be right," Shanks suggested gently, squeezing my hand a little tighter. "But most slaves are captured and taken to be sold. No one truly can or should ever be considered someone else's property, but unfortunately, human trafficking isn't an uncommon thing."

"So the man I sang to-"

"Was a Celestial Dragon, yes."

I thought about it for a minute. As much as I didn't want to think I was ever considered - that - it made sense. Why I was kept where I was, why I had a job; I'd thought maybe I was just a prisoner, and in truth, I was - but not in the way I'd expected.

It seemed that i had been so wrapped up in my new life, that I hadn't tried to remember how or why I'd been in that cage in the first place. Sure, I'd thought about who I could've been before then, but I'd avoided dwelling too much on the few bad memories I did have.

"Do you remember your family?" Hongo again.

"I- I don't, really. I can picture myself with one, and it feels right to have had one, but-" I paused, biting my lip to curb the ache starting to pound in my head. "I can't picture their faces or their names."

"What do you picture?" Shanks, this time.

"Something inside me knows I have parents, both of them. I can't picture them without picturing a brother, too. And I think I have sisters - more than one, but I don't know how many."

Hongo let out a hmph and reached for the notebook again.

"We also think," he starts, either missing the look Shanks cuts in his direction or ignoring it, "that you were with the Celestial Dragons for quite a long time. Amnesia this extensive and physical symptoms this severe don't happen overnight. I'm actually quite surprised you recovered your vision so well."

He starts talking faster, and I could tell Shanks was getting increasingly more irritated.

How much of my life did I lose in that cage? was all I could think.

"Your quick recovery is common among those who are Dev-"

"That's enough," Shanks's tone was dangerous, and there's a pull in the air similar to when he found me crying in the bathroom. Hongo wasn't quite willing to relent, however, and keeps going, avoiding his captain's eyes.

"She has a right to know about herself, Captain-"

"This isn't going to help her in the state she's in right now," Shanks all but snapped, clenching his jaw.

"She isn't made of glass-"

"But she isn't in any state of mind to-"

"She's right here," I muttered weakly, trying to get anything to stop that damned pressure from blowing my brains through my skull. I had no idea what they were talking about, and part of me just wanted both of them to shut up and leave me alone to at least lie down, vomit again, anything as long as it was quiet.

The other part of me was dying to know what Hongo wanted me to know and what Shanks wanted to keep from me. I wanted to believe that the both of them had my best interest at heart, but the disagreement they were getting into was giving me whiplash and I didn't want to pick a side.

I grit my teeth, saying, "Why don't you want me to know, Shanks."

The tension loosened up a bit, and Shanks groaned and rubbed his forehead.

"It isn't that I don't want you to know, I don't want to give you something else to wonder about right now. Something I thought a doctor would understand," he bit out the last bit, glaring at Hongo again.

Hongo was a bit shaken, not wanting to meet the redhead's gaze, but didn't back down. "I want to give her some hope. The whole point in telling her would be to say she could get better faster.

"Faster?" I cut in again, interrupting whatever Shanks was about to say.

"I think you may have a Devil Fruit." I barely heard the words as Hongo blurted rapidly.

"We know you have a Devil Fruit," Shanks seemed to have given up the fight and leaned back in his chair. "Devil Fruit users sink like rocks and go damn near comatose in sea water."

"I passed out when I was thrown in the water," I realized.

"Yep," said Shanks, popping the p.

Hongo had relaxed considerably at Shanks's reaction, and his tone shifted into something more professional again.

"Can you remember eating a fruit that looked funny and tasted really bad?"

I shook my head; even when I pictured meals brough to me, none of it looked like a weird fruit.

"What's- what's a Devil Fruit?"

It was Shanks who replied, looking extremely pleased with himself that he'd cut Hongo off. "Devil Fruits are fruits that grant the eater with some kind of power in exchange for their ability to swim. Eating one is like making a deal with the devil, hence the name. Each one is different, and no two fruits with the same power exist at the same time."

It was Hongo's turn to look peeved. "We know you ate one, but we don't know which one, since most of the time you don't know what a Devil Fruit does until you eat it."

What the fuck?

I let out a low groan, the pangs in my head unrelenting. So not only was I considered property of the fucking government, I'd eaten some fruit and couldn't swim. Hearing absurd shit wasn't the way I'd choose to spend a typical Wednesday, but I guess it beat crying on the floor.

------

I'd outright refused when Hongo suggested I sleep after I'd been cleaned up, which didn't seem to surprise him. He'd shooed Shanks out of the medbay and all but force-fed me some bread, curbing the nausea that threatened to boil over every now and then.

I'd made a joke about tranquing me so I could sleep, but instantly felt horrible when Hongo looked at me solemnly before forcing me into a bed. I was confused when he pulled a chair up next to me and settled into it with a sigh, resting a hand next to me.

"Human touch can help with the terrors," he explained. "Just- hold onto my arm or hand."

"I'm not a child, Hongo, I don't need some teddy bear-"

"Then die of exhaustion when you can't sleep. See if I care." But he didn't move his arm, he just brought his other hand up to rub his temple. "I know you aren't a kid, I'm pretty sure you're around 25."

He forced me to lie back down when I struggled to get up.

"What?"

"I'll tell you why I think that when you wake up, just please go to sleep, I've had enough theatrics for now."

As frustrated as he sounded, he didn't budge his arm, he just leaned back in his chair, grabbing first his glasses then a book.

I tentatively reached out for his arm, at first only touching it before fully grabbing it and shutting my eyes, willing my damn headache to leave me alone.

I'm 25.

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A/N: I'm so excited for the next couple of posts, because I'll finally be able to write out the scene that inspired this story and be able to write for another one of my favorite characters, as well as another OC of mine I'm excited to introduce.

[ishouldbedoinghw]

You Can't Erase Me

One Piece fanfic, part 6

Previous parts are in my pinned masterlist.

A woman enslaved by the celestial dragons is found by a man with red hair. Angst and comedy ensues.

A/N: This story will follow the canon loosely; some events will stay the same, others will be edited for the plot. The timing of events will also be slightly edited from canon so that certain characters are included. The main character is an OC of mine and in her mid-20s. Yes this is important. Character design will likely come soon.

TW: slavery, human trafficking, discussion of trauma, general angst, mention of nudity but it isn't sexual, alcohol consumption, Shanks

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I'm not sure what color hair I have. At first I think it's pink, then red, then a purple. I can't help but feel as if I've seen the color somewhere, but I couldn't remember what it's called.

I lean in closer to the mirror, my nose almost brushing the cold surface. My skin is a dull shade of chestnut, and freckles are spattered over the bridge of my nose, which seemed a little too big for my face. My eyes are wide and sunken into my skull, the skin around them a dark purple. I couldn't decide whether or not I liked the color of my irises, the bright yellow-green reminding me of bugs.

I trace my fingers around my neck. It's paler than the rest of my skin, and rough to the touch. Every direction I twisted my head, it puckered and wrinkled, as if it was protesting against being stretched.

Seeing myself and knowing my name made me feel alive.

I was Jett. I was real.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Girlie, you done?" Hongo called.

I hurredly tugged on the blue shirt and baggy shorts Shanks had given me before pulling open the door. Hongo stood there with an older man with long gray hair pulled into a ponytail. Somehow he seemed taller than even Shanks, and he barely fit in the bathroom doorway.

"This is Benn Beckman, he'll bring you onto the deck if you want. Some jackass got himself stabbed in a bar, I'll change your bandage later." Hongo disappeared down the hallway, leaving me to hold onto Benn's outstretched arm.

"I'm assuming Shanks gave you that to wear," Benn remarked as he led me down the hall opposite the direction Hongo went.

"Um- yeah."

He chuckled. "I'll apologize for him, lass, because he probably won't."

I really hadn't thought about how the clothing looked, but when I peered down to study my shorts I grimaced - they were heinous.

"Don't sweat it, lass, we won't make you look like a Shanks clone for too long."

He paused in front of a door, turning to look down at me with his hand on the latch.

"Just a fair warning, some of the crew's back, and-"

The door was snatched open, and Benn moved his hand to grip the one I had curled around the crook of his elbow.

What was it with this crew and just barging in places?

A blonde, dark-skinned man wearing a headband that said 'YASOPP' was leaning against the now-open door. He didn't do much to block the sunlight pouring in, and I had to massage my temples and blink away the white spots dancing in my vision before I could even look outside.

"Damn, Benn got to the lovely gal first," the man, who presumably was the Yasopp Hongo often complained about, drawled. I almost laughed in his face, knowing damn well I looked like hell and not a touch "lovely."

"Don't be a nuisance, Yasopp," said Benn.

Yasopp clutched his chest dramatically and pretended to weep, throwing an arm over his face. "You wound me, Bennjamin. I'm nothing but kind and compassionate to you-"

"Shove that horseshit up someone else's ass," Benn grunted, "Preferably your own."

I couldn't help but giggle, catching the two men's attention. Benn sighed, rummaging for something in his coat pocket before leading me out the door.

The sea had to be the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

Benn led me over to the railing along the side of the ship, careful to keep me steady over any damp spots. Letting go of his arm, I leaned over the railing as far as my nerves would let me.

Light danced over the little chopping waves that pattered against the ship, creating a kaleidoscope of colors that almost hurt my eyes to look at. Bright turquoise faded into a deep sapphire as it stretched into the horizon. My vision blurred off into the distance, but the vast nothingness that laid before me was almost haunting. I wondered what it would be like to soar on wings above it, to feel lost in the sky surrounded by nothing but blue.

The gentle flick of a lighter drew my attention, and I turned to see Benn taking a long drag from a cigarette, the end burning a bright amber. He let out a heavy breath, smoke spilling from his lips. My eyes watered, a bit, and I struggled not to cough as I tried scooching away.

"Shit, sorry, lass," he says, his face turned in the opposite direction.

I faced the water again, squinting to see how far my vision could reach.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Benn grunts, a slight smile on his face. "It never seems to end."

"Has anyone seen all of it?"

If he's surprised by my question, he doesn't show it. "One man has, but that's a story Shanks knows more about than I do." He grimaces, then mutters, "Maybe you shouldn't ask him, he might gab on about the damn clown-"

"Benn, if you don't shut the fuck up right now, I'm going to shoot your kneecaps." Yasopp's voice was chilling compared to the easy tone he had earlier, and his expression was downright murderous.

"I guess Shanks is on his way back, then," said Benn, undisturbed. "Please never mention clowns or bugs around him, lass, you'd be signing us up for torture."

"A sick and unusual punishment, indeed," said Yasopp somberly.

Benn, having finished his cigarette, steps toward me. "Guess we'd better introduce you to some of the crew."

"Although I'm afraid you've already met the most handsome and awesome member," Yasopp cuts in, dramatically flexing his arms.

"Don't you have other shit to do?"

"Such a dirty mouth around a lady, Benn! I would never-" and he faded off, still babbling as he disappeared below deck.

Benn let out a sigh, rummaged in his pocket again, then paused before thinking better of it. "Alright, lass, in case no one's told you yet, welcome to the Red Force, ship of the Red-Haired pirates."

I almost pointed out that Shanks was the only one with red hair that I'd seen, but decided to keep my mouth shut.

More of the crew started appearing here and there, carrying various crates and bags of things, though I couldn't make my vision focus enough to see. I had to squint to make out some of the various crew members Benn started pointing out, but most of them seemed so happy to be introduced to me that I couldn't bring myself to say I couldn't see most of them from where we were.

What I was able to notice, however, was how odd some of their names were. Rockstar? Limejuice? Bonk Punch? Building Snake? What in the actual hell? Benn gave no indication that these were just nicknames, either, and didn't acknowledge how strange they sounded.

Another thing I noticed was how big everyone was. I thought Benn would be the tallest man I'd ever seen, but Building Snake - damn, it felt stupid to refer to anyone like that - was basically a giant. Despite everyone's daunting appearance, however, everyone seemed good-natured and cheerful - with the exception of Limejuice, who seemed more quiet and serious, though still polite.

Gab won me over almost immediately, with his sweet and bashful demeanor contrasting his fearsome appearance. As one of the few members I actually saw up close, I was able to see just how much he looked like a lion with his long, wild hair and sharp teeth. He didn't say much, but he did give me a timid smile before scurrying off, evidently not for conversation with strangers. I couldn't blame him. I was leaned over the railing again, watching the water as the sun started to dip when Hongo shouted for me.

"Jett! Let me change up your bandage before we eat." I didn't think I'd ever get tired of hearing other people say my name. It made me feel less like some poor, weak stray that had turned up and more like a person.

As soon as I was wrapped back up, my back stinging slightly, Hongo was pushing a cane in my hands, telling me I needed to start walking longer distances on my own. While it was exhausting, I had to admit it was liberating to be able to move around independently, with no grumpy pirate to lead me around.

I'd just made my way back out onto the deck when i heard a loud, sharp whoop. The men seemed unfazed by it, continuing to load up- whatever pirates loaded up. Food? Water? Weapons, maybe?

It wasn't until Shanks made it up onto the deck that I figured out who it was. I was right - Shanks was the only crew member with red hair, and I was able to decipher him from much farther away than the others. He was carrying something large and round on his shoulder, and as he drew closer, I could see the wide grin on his face.

"We're celebratin' tonight, boys, I got my hands on the good stuff!" he shouted, all but slamming down what looked to be a barrel from his shoulder to the floor.

"We've got a new crewmate to welcome!"

-------

It was the first time since arriving that I had eaten with the crew. We were all out on the deck stuffing ourselves, and I was still buzzing from what Shanks had said earlier.

Crewmate.

Did they like me that much? Everyone seemed so happy that I was here, it was unreal. They didn't even know who the hell I was- although I didn't exactly know that either.

All night, I'd received choruses of "Oi, lass," or "Aye, miss," or the occasional "Need more food, little lady?"

The last one tended to come from the ship's cook, Lucky Roux, who was about as wide as he was tall. He always seemed to be knawing on a meat rack, a wide smile across his face. Out of all the crewmates I'd met, he was the sweetest; though if he was a little more outgoing, Gab could certainly give him a run for his money. Roux also seemed hellbent on making my stomach explode; any time I finished something on my plate, we was shoveling me more.

Benn sat beside me, his manners probably as proper as any pirate's could be. Shanks sat opposite him, having finished eating a while ago and was continuously chugging a foul-smelling liquid that Hongo had forbidden from me. He'd said that it would react badly with the medicine I was on; he also looked like he'd murder everyone on the ship if I didn't listen to him.

It seemed like everyone was drinking the stuff - liquor, I thought, after watching Shanks's cheeks flush and and most of the crew get a little less precise with their movements. Benn and Hongo were the only ones aside from me staying sober, and I was grateful for it. Hongo was in and out, making sure I was eating the right things then disappearing back into the cabin.

"He's cleaning," Benn grunted, fiddling with an unlit cigarette.

"Honey?" Shanks piped in, "the man's obsessed, I swear."

"Someone's got to be clean on this ship, and I know it won't be you, Captain," Benn snapped.

"What's up your ass, Benn, you've been a dick all night," Shanks giggled, "oh my god, maybe it's dic-"

"He hasn't had his smokes today," Yasopp interrupted, swaying slightly with an arm around Lucky Roux's shoulders.

Benn just grunted, his hand twitching.

I thought back to earlier that day, when he'd looked so guilty at making me cough. Did he stop because of me?

"Um- Benn- if it's because of me," I hesitated before continuing, "I don't mind if you smoke."

Shanks gasped dramatically, saying, "She does speak-"

"Shut it, you arse. Don't be rude," Benn snapped. He turned to me, and in a gentler tone he said, "I'll be fine, lass, don't want to spoil your lungs."

"I'm not a child, Benn, I'll be fine if you go somewhere else to smoke," I blurted out before I could stop myself.

If I'd pissed him off, he didn't show it; he just squeezed my shoulder, muttered an "alright then," and walked off.

Shanks absolutely cackled at this interaction, having no shame in teasing his first mate. "Spooky, I wish you could see well enough to look at his face right now." Genuine tears rolled down his cheeks, and he sloppily wiped them away.

With the absence of Benn, Yasopp and Lucky Roux had fixed themselves around me, snickering at each other.

"So, Jett," Yasopp started, "how old are you, if you aren't a kid."

I had to think for a moment. In truth, I had no idea how I knew I wasn't a kid. How young did I think I kid was, anyway? Eighteen? Twenty? Was I older than that?

"I- I'm not sure," I admitted, and Yasopp stiffened a bit.

"Amnesia that bad, huh?" he jokes lamely.

"I WISH THAT I COULD WAKE UP WITH AMNESIA-" Shanks's singing was awful, and the crew seemed to share that opinion, Yasopp grimacing and Lucky Roux's smile faltering.

"Shanks-" someone started to say before I interrupted.

"You're going to make me more deaf than I already am." It was quiet, but Shanks caught it, and he guffawed before his face settled into a pout.

"I'll have you know I'm a terrific singer, Spooky, you lot just have no taste."

Yasopp scoffed, before covering it with a cough that made Roux chuckle.

"The lady's got a bit of a mouth on 'er, even if she is quiet," Yasopp slung an arm around me, his blonde dreads brushing my shoulder.

-------

The night wore on, and although I was exhausted, and Benn had suggested more than once that I should probably be asleep, I found myself captivated by how the crew interacted with each other. They laughed and joked around each other, and everyone was happy to be there. A few of them seemed to have partied to hard - Shanks being one of them - and were either vomiting into the ocean or passed out.

Somehow, Shanks's head had ended up in my lap, and Yasopp and Roux were sitting across from us. Benn was constantly smoking a small ways from us, something that worried me until Yasopp assured me it was completely normal "Benn behavior".

"Ssssshhhpooookyyyyyy," Shanks slurred from my lap, and I awkwardly patted his head.

"Hm?" I'd gotten more confident in my voice as the night had worn on, saying a few more words at a time, and responding more often.

"Benn said - hic - Benn said the shorts I gave you were uglyyyy," he whined.

"Well- I- yeah," I said, looking at the bright purple stripes that adorned said shorts. "But thanks for letting me wear them."

The redhead shifted to face me, grinning. "Don' worry Shpook, we'll get you some woman clothes sometime."

I hummed a minute, looking away from him.

"Shanks," I finally said, gazing out over the dark where the ocean should be.

"Hrrngh," he grunted.

"Why are you letting me stay here?"

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Shanks POV

I looked at her, but she wouldn't meet my eyes. I'd seen the look on her face countless times on countless faces. I tried moving to sit up, but glaring white spots danced over my vision, and my head spun. Fuck.

I was way too drunk for this.

The truth was that in the time she'd already been with us, no one had been able to find any record of her existence. No missing person reports, no recent kidnappings - nothing that suggested someone was looking for her. It was Benn that suggested she might've been gone long enough that people had stopped looking for her; and I had a terrible suspicion he was right. It wasn't uncommon for all records of a person who'd been sold as a slave to "mysteriously" disappear, but usually someone would get by with reporting them in the News Coo. Some of the crew, including myself and Benn, had looked through almost a year's worth of any news, reports, or even wanted posters.

Our girl was nowhere to be found. To make things worse, Hongo shared his fear that the amnesia she had could be permanent, even if her vision and hearing improve. So, she couldn't tell us herself.

Maybe I could get Mihawk to look at some Marine record or something.

I shoved those thoughts away. We'd keep looking, but at some point, we'd have to tell her. But for now, I'd do my best to keep her happy.

"Finder's keepers, Spooks," I said finally, pushing myself up and groaning.

She watched as I raised my bottle, and I could've sworn I saw her smile a little when I shouted, "A toast! To our newest crewmate and friend!"

Nothing but cheers erupted from the crew.

[ishouldbedoinghw]

You Can't Erase Me

One Piece Fanfic, Part 5

Previous parts are in my pinned masterlist.

A woman enslaved by the celestial dragons is found by a man with red hair. Angst ensues.

A/N: This story will follow the canon loosely; some events will stay the same, others will be edited for the plot. The timing of events will also be slightly edited from canon so that certain characters are included. The main character is an OC of mine and in her mid-20s. Yes this is important. Character design will likely come soon.

TW: discussion of trauma, general angst, Shanks,

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My world stayed confined to that room at first, Hongo bringing me food and examining me daily. The medicine he gave me kept the pain in my back down to a dull twinge, and he changed the bandage occasionally, cleaning it as he did so. He kept silent at first, then over time, as we continued our little daily ritual, he talked more and more. It was mostly complaining about Shanks or other members of the crew, or muttering about how each of the treatments he gave me worked. He seemed nervous to mention he and the crew were all pirates, but as I wasn't sure I knew what a pirate was, I couldn't find a reason to care. I enjoyed listening to him chat, and tried picturing each of the crew members when he spoke of them.

I didn't reply often, choosing instead to listen in silence. It wasn't that I wasn't curious, I simply didn't want to irritate him.

True to his word, Shanks returned to the room every now and then, mostly cracking jokes, bugging Hongo, and occasionally asking me questions. He was certainly more talkative than the grumpy doctor, and seemed to be on a personal mission to make me laugh. He hadn't managed it yet, but he never faltered with the corny jokes, often more stupid than funny.

I grew comfortable in my new routine; I'd wake up from a deep, dreamless sleep to Hongo waiting with a plate of food, ready to check me over. I'd eat my fill and listen to him "bitchin'," as Shanks called it, about whatever crew member had already irked him that morning. When it wasn't Shanks, it was Yasopp or Lucky Roux. Hongo often complained about them being too loud or too messy, but I couldn't help but wish I could hear the life he described outside the door.

The one question I'd dared to ask was in regards to my hearing, to which Hongo replied as gently as he could that he really didn't know if there was anything he could do to help.

Under his watchful eye, I slowly started moving around more, feeding myself with ease, and even walking around, though I couldn't hold myself up for long periods of time. Often, when he was gone, I would creep up to the door and strain to listen. Occasionally, I'd catch some muffled conversation or laughter, or heavy footsteps. I quickly learned how to discern Hongo's or Shanks's gaits, and would quickly retreat to bed if I heard them approach - Hongo didn't exactly like it when I roamed around without him.

What I wanted to hear the most, however, was the sea. The only clue I had that I was even on a ship was occasional rocking or the creaking of wood.

I wasn't sure how, but I knew that the sea was salty, and I could recall some feeling of wind blowing my hair and the smell of salt and fish. As I felt the short, prickly hairs on my head, I wondered if the memory was real, or some fantasy I'd made up on my own.

With each passing day, I had more and more questions about who I was, and where I really came from. There had to have been a before the cage that I just couldn't recall - but what was it?

Was my hair long once? Did I have a family? How old was I? What was my name? Why did I like sea king meat better than squid? Had I always preferred one over the other? Why had I been in that cage? When had I been put there?

The muddle of questions in my head was always confusing. It felt a bit stupid to wonder about things like my hair when I couldn't even remember how old I was, or if I had parents. I constantly stared at the wall across from my bed, trying to picture myself with parents or siblings, seeing which combination of the two made the most sense.

I had to have parents, the picture in my head always had a mom and a dad. I would've sworn up and down I had a brother, it didn't feel right to not imagine one. Sisters were the one thing I couldn't grasp at all- or maybe I was wrong about all of it, maybe I never had a family and my life had always been the cage, maybe I hadn't come from any place of love, like I pictured a real family to be. Had I ever been given a hug? Had my mother ever kissed me goodnight? Had I ever played with other children? Did I ever have friends? It made me sick to my stomach to think the only person that had ever touched me was that man- no, Hongo and Shanks touched me.

Touched me because they had to? Or did they really want to?

I groaned, leaning my head back and pinching the bridge of my nose.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

One, two, three, four.

Four, seven; seven, four.

What did these damn numbers mean? Why couldn't I get them out of my head? Were they important?

Counting to them was soothing, at the very least. The itch that they meant something wouldn't go away, but I found comfort in repeating them regardless.

The door slammed open, making me jump.

"Hey, girlie." It was Hongo, and he seemed a bit more cheerful than usual. "Ship's empty, and you reek. Since you can move around, I figured you'd like to wash up."

"I'm leaving this room? Going out the door?" I blurted before I could stop myself.

Hongo seemed to grimace a bit. "I guess I'd go stir crazy looking at the same four walls, huh? Sorry, girlie, I should've known you wouldn't like being all cooped up like this."

He seemed lost in thought as he held out his arm for me. I gripped his forearm tightly, and for a moment I was surprised to feel nothing but thick muscle under the doctor's skin. It would make sense, I reasoned, that he would be ridiculously strong - he was a pirate.

But how did I know pirates were strong?

I held my breath as he opened the door and we stepped out into the hallway. The sight was - a bit anticlimactic, but it didn't do much to quell my excitement.

The ship wasn't rocking too badly today, I noted, and the lack of a crew made me wonder if we were docked somewhere.

That's a stupid thought, where would the crew even go if we weren't docked.

I flushed in silent embarrassment. Hongo didn't notice, only looking down at me if I stumbled.

The bathroom wasn't anything extravagant, but I was giddy to see it anyway. It sported the same wooden walls of my room, with a row of showers along one side. A white tub stood alone against the opposite wall, and a row of sinks I wasn't sure I could even reach stretched directly opposite the doorway.

"I cleaned it best I could for you," Hongo said as he led me to the tub. "To be honest, I'm not sure how many of the crew members even bathe regularly, so it doesn't get too dirty anyways."

He left me leaning on the side of the tub as he strode quickly over to one of the sinks, retrieving a fluffy towel and a couple of bottles.

He looked a bit sheepish as he set everything down on the tub's rim.

"I got these for you - didn't think you'd want to use our shit."

"Thank you."

He looked a little surprised to hear me so eager, but seemed pleased nonetheless.

"Let me take your bandaging off, I can replace it when you're done."

My fingers were fidgety as I held the back of my shirt up for him, eager to get out of my grimy clothes. He worked quickly, balling up the bandaging in his fist. when he was done.

"I'll leave you to it - yell if you need anything." and he was out the door.

It seemed a little silly to be excited over something like a bath, but as I turned the knobs attached to the faucet, I found it hard to contain my excitement. As the tub filled with warm, steaming water, I shakily undressed myself, tossing the ratty shirt and shorts to the ground. For some reason, it struck me as odd to not be wearing anything underneath, but I shook the feeling away as I lowered myself oh-so-carefully into the water.

It was a tad too hot, but I groaned in pleasure at the sensation anyway. I soaked up the warmth and relaxed my limbs completely, sinking down and submerging my body in the water. I stayed like that for a while before grabbing one of the bottles Hongo had left.

Strawberry scented shampoo. For sun-damaged hair.

I let out a small giggle. I had hardly any hair, but I couldn't help but lather it over my scalp anyway, reveling in the feeling. The other bottle was also strawberry-scented, and I studied every inch of skin I could see as I scrubbed my body.

The bruising around my hips was a dull yellow-green now, and any scratches I'd gotten were barely visible. I had a dark birthmark on my right calf, and I counted seven or so dark dots over my torso and legs. My feet were calloused, and the skin around my neck felt rougher than it should be.

The thing that drew in my attention the most, however, was the odd pattern of white scars that stretched over the top of my right thigh. For some odd reason, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd seen these marks before, and as I pressed and pinched on the skin, I tried to see what shapes they seemed to make.

Over a dozen little scars, three separate groups of them. As I leaned in closely, stretching the skin to make the color clearer, I choked.

They were letters.

J. I could make out a capital J. I tried to convince myself I was seeing things and making a big deal out of nothing, but the more I looked at the little scratches, the more prominent the letter became. It had to be J.

The next little group was so obvious I could've slapped myself. E.

J. E. H? The last few scratches were messier, two vertical, parallel lines with a large, perpendicular slash through them.

What did they stand for? Were they initials? Something else?

No- H didn't seem right. I felt it in my bones that H wasn't right. I pressed my lips together, studying the marks.

My blood went cold. TT. It was TT. J E T T.

J E T T. JETT. It had to be. What was JETT? What did it mean? Was it an initial, as I'd thought before?

JETT. Jett-

I screamed. I screamed until there was no air left in my lungs, and my throat ached. I clamored out of the tub, trembling and grabbing the towel, wrapping it around myself before I crumbled to the floor.

"HONG-" I didn't even have to finish before Shanks burst through the door, chest heaving. My head went fuzzy as I met his gaze, and my eyes grew heavy. I felt forced to the floor, about to lose consciousness- and then nothing. The feeling simply left, and I struggled to push myself upward again.

"Spooky! Look at me, are you hurt? What's wrong-"

"Nothing," I rasped, struggling to form words. "Shanks, I-" I tried to swallow, but my throat seemed to stick to itself.

"Shit, I overdid it, I'm so sorry," Shanks knelt next to me, holding me upright and scanning me over.

I steadied my breathing, then gripped the arm holding me.

"I know my name," I choked out finally, "My name is Jett."

Shanks visibly relaxed, settling on the floor a bit. Not even a full minute had passed when he started laughing. Full on witch-like cackling, as if I'd just said the funniest thing in the world.

He didn't speak when he finally stopped, he just withdrew his hand from me to shrug off his coat and sling it around me. I had barely registered that he only had one arm when he pulled me toward him, crushing me into his chest.

I didn't understand why I started sobbing. I was so unbelievably happy, but I couldn't stop hot tears form pouring down my already-soaked face.

Shanks leaned down and pressed a kiss onto the top of my head, squeezing me tighter.

"Nice to meet ya, Jett."

[ishouldbedoinghw]

You Can't Erase Me

One Piece fanfic, part 4

Previous parts are in my pinned masterlist.

A woman enslaved by the celestial dragons is found by a man with red hair. Angst ensues.

A/N: This story will follow the canon loosely; some events will stay the same, others will be edited for the plot. The timing of events will also be slightly edited from canon so that certain characters are included. The main character is an OC of mine and in her mid-20s. Yes this is important. Character design will likely come soon.

I know what goes in an actual captain's log, but we all know Shanks wouldn't care to do allat and I don't want to make up coordinates.

TW: slavery, human trafficking, vomit, discussion of attempted sexual abuse, traumatic flashbacks, discussion of trauma, general angst, Shanks because he needs his own warning

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An Excerpt from Red-Hair Shanks's Personal Log

10/31 - Grand Line

Halloween

Ship was approached by a lone mermaid that refused to stay for Halloween drinks

She instead brought a young woman on board and took off

Young woman, age unknown, was in need of immediate medical attention, was barely conscious and seemed weakened by sea water <- maybe Devil fruit user???

Hongo took her in for medical treatment and wouldn't let me in, which was fine because she started puking VIOLENTLY

Hongo seemed annoyed by the red-haired man that burst through the door, and somehow I felt a bit better knowing what his annoyance really looked like.

"Hongo!" the red haired man starts, slapping Hongo on the back. My insides twisted at the sound. "How's Spooky? She done upchuckin'?"

Hongo rubbed his temple with his thumb and sighed. "Shanks, I told you to stay out, and don't be so insensitive-"

"That's a big word for you, Hongs, are you havin' a stroke?" Despite Hongo's protests, the man strode across the room towards me as he giggled at his own joke.

He was huge, and towered over my hunched-over figure. I kept my gaze in my lap, not wanting to meet his eyes. I couldn't keep my hands from trembling, and my heart from pounding, and my head from spinning; his presence seemed to swallow me, and I felt that I should be running from him but I couldn't find the strength to. Sweat started pouring down my temples again, and I could feel my throat clench, preparing to vomit again-

And the terrifying presence was gone. There was a large, callused hand squeezing my own. It was warm, and the twisting in my gut eased a bit.

"You can look at me. I'm not going to hurt you."

But I don't. Not for 1, 2, 3, 4 beats. Then I swallow, blink twice, and slowly lift my face.

He's not standing like before, but kneeling in front of me, now at eye level. He's smiling slightly, with his brows pinched a bit. I have to swallow and blink again when I notice the three scars over his left eye, as if some beast had landed a swipe on him.

"There you go, Spooky."

I decided I liked Spooky better than Cheeper.

I also decided I didn't really like the odd smell on his breath.

He squeezed my hands again, and asked, "Is it alright if I ask you some questions?"

I heard Hongo start to protest, saying that I'd barely received any treatment, and Shanks needed to "get the hell out." But this was the only person I could remember that had spoken kindly to me, and wanted to know things about me, and was offering to hear things I had to say- so I did my best to sit up a little straighter and nodded my head.

He smiled wider then. "Perfect."

Hongo was still muttering when he started moving around, looking through one of the cabinets across the room.

"Alright then, Spooky, I'm Shanks, but you can call me Shanks," he started, and the corner of my mouth twitched. "What's your real name?"

My voice was hoarse when I answered, "I don't know."

"Hmph. Okay, well, do you know how you got here?"

I really didn't, the last thing I remembered was the popping noises, and feeling cold and heavy. I shuddered, glad for the warmth of the room.

"No. I don't."

"Do you know where you are?"

I paused before answering that. I looked around the room, and while I'd already noticed the room was completely made of wood, it didn't strike me as odd until now. The room I stayed in was white and gold, with other various colors I couldn't recall now. The ceilings of the other room were high, but this room was a bit squat. I could hear a slight creaking, but aside from that, I couldn't quite place anything.

"No."

"Okay, well-"

"Can you not hear the water outside?" Hongo butt in, walking over.

I strained to listen, but I didn't hear anything that sounded like water.

Hongo let out a grunt as I shook my head, then continued his rummaging, muttering to himself.

"Hm," Shanks said, clicking his tongue, "That's odd, considering we're on a ship."

A ship? We were out at sea? How the hell did I end up at sea?

"So you don't remember the mermaid at all?"

Mermaid? Was he joking?

Shanks chuckled at me, and I wondered if my face looked as confused as I felt. "Mermaids are real, Spooky, and one dragged you through the water right up to us."

"Um- okay."

"Do you know how you got into the water? Or at least where you were before?"

Hongo had paused by now, listening to what I'd say. Shanks gave a reassuring squeeze, and said, "If it's bad, it's alright, We'll listen, and might even be able to help you figure some things out."

I let out a long, shuddered breath before I spoke.

"My memory isn't that good- but I remember some things."

Shanks nodded encouragingly.

"I lived in this- cage. It was gold and wood, I think. It hung from this tall ceiling in a big white room. I had a job, singing to this boy-" I stopped, remembering finally seeing him up close.

I wrapped my arms around myself, scooting a bit away from Shanks. "I thought he was a young boy. But he was a grown man."

Now that I'd started talking, I didn't want to stop. I wanted to tell them everything I knew about myself and maybe they'd help me somehow. Maybe they knew something I didn't, like what happened with the mermaid.

"I would sing him lullabies when he was upset. They would calm him down and he would be quiet."

Shanks's expression remained unchanged, while Hongo seemed to go a little pale.

"There was a man who would bring me food every day. I think he liked me, he always tried to tell me things that would help me."

"Like what?" Shanks asked.

"I-" but the words wouldn't come out. I always remembered him coming and talking to me, but now, I couldn't remember exactly what he said.

"I don't really remember. I remember him telling me I couldn't ask questions, but," I paused, looking at the floor. "But I don't remember what he said before that."

"Do you remember how you got out? Before you ended up in the sea?" Hongo started protesting at Shanks's question, saying it was too much for now, but it went seemingly unnoticed by the redhead.

"I remember that it was before I ate that day, and the man I sang to was angry. His father wouldn't let him do something, I think. I don't know what it was."

I felt sick to my stomach again, and my tongue felt heavy as I tried to form words. Truth be told, I didn't understand exactly what, if anything, had happened to me, but part of me was screaming that I shouldn't share it, that it wouldn't be good and it could make them upset with me.

As I tried to steady my breathing, Shanks spoke softly, "We won't be angry with you for telling us anything."

Hongo butt in, "And you don't have to tell us about something if you don't want to."

I wanted to, I wanted to get an explanation for something, get an answer for at least one thing-

"I'm not sure what really happened," I start, "But the man took me out of the cage and right after I had trouble seeing, and my head went fuzzy. I only remember his- his hands everywhere, and I couldn't move."

I swallowed, and looked up past them, at the wall, trying to focus on the way the grain moved, how many notches or scratches were in the wood but failed.

"I could still hear a bit, though, and the door opened. I remember seeing the face of the man who gave me food, then being carried away.

"There was glass breaking," I continued, "And the food man and I were falling. I think he was running after that, and there was this popping noise everywhere. And then it was cold, and quiet."

I went silent for a minute, shuffling my feet. Was I always barefooted?

"Is that all you remember?" Shanks finally asked.

I nodded.

"You're a tough girl for allat, Spooky." He said, starting to stand. His knees cracked and he winced before stretching to his full height.

I wasn't sure how to feel now. It felt good, talking and having someone listen, but I couldn't help but feel this pit in my stomach telling me I'd made a mistake.

Shanks's head jerked to the door. "Some shithead's yelling, take care of her, Hongo, I'll be back later."

Hongo was quick to shut the door behind him.

"Are you alright?" he questions, pulling gloves on and grabbing a few things before stepping in front of me again.

"I think so," I say, watching him set down what he was carrying beside me.

"Are you alright with me touching you right now? I'd really like to get your back cleaned up before I let you rest."

I just nod, and turn away.

"Alright- this might hurt quite a bit."

His gentle touch was soothing until he pressed something wet and cold to my tender skin. I wanted to scream and pull away, but I felt frozen, and all that would leave my lips was a choked sob.

"You're doing great, girlie," Hongo grunted.

With every press of that damned cold thing, it felt as though something was tearing the muscle from my spine. I dug my fingernails into the wood beneath me, trying to do anything to find some relief.

After what felt like hours, my back was bandaged and the pain had lessened to a dull ache.

"You did great, girlie, I think some of the men I treat should take notes." Hongo pulled his gloves off before chucking them somewhere. "How about I get you some food?"

"I'd love to punch you in the jaw." I grumbled, shifting to face towards the door.

He barked out a laugh at that. "Sorry, but you don't want me treating broken bones too. Your scrawny ass is in no state to be threatening anyone."

--------

I'm almost asleep, laying on my stomach when he comes back with a steaming bowl.

"Hope you like stew, girlie. Think you can sit up and feed yourself?"

I groan, and try to push myself up with shaking hands. Hongo sets the bowl down and watches me flounder for a bit before helping me.

I feel weak and foolish, like a child, as he hand-feeds me bite by bite. Purposefully not meeting his eyes, I focus on each spoonful, watching it move from the bowl to me.

I couldn't taste much of it, and I was full after only a few bites. Hongo didn't seem particularly concerned, and handed me a piece of bread.

"Chew that up, girlie, it'll absorb the acid in your stomach if it doesn't like the food."

I had no idea what he meant, but I did as I was told.

After I'd chewed the bread and swallowed something that Hongo said would ease pain and make me tired, I was tucked into the softest bed I'd ever felt. After hearing Hongo say he'd stay and watch over me, I completely knocked out, gripping a pillow tightly.

[ishouldbedoinghw]

THIS SEMESTER IS FINALLY OVER!!!! I CAN BREATHE NOW!!!

I finally got done with my last paper of the semester and have started winter break. I’m really hoping that I’ll be able to write more both on personal projects and the one on this blog, but I’m tentative about getting too hopeful because I’m the only one in my family without an actual job outside of being a full-time student, which means I’m usually sent around to do the things no one else has time for.

[ishouldbedoinghw]

You Can't Erase Me

One Piece fanfic, part 3

Previous parts are in my pinned masterlist.

A woman enslaved by the celestial dragons is found by a man with red hair. Angst ensues.

A/N: This story will follow the canon loosely; some events will stay the same, others will be edited for the plot. The timing of events will also be slightly edited from canon so that certain characters are included. The main character is an OC of mine and in her mid-20s. Yes this is important. Character design will likely come soon.

TW: slavery, human trafficking, vomit, mentions of attempted sexual abuse, traumatic flashbacks, discussion of trauma, general angst

---------------------------------------------------------------

The first thing I remember next is vomit. There's acid pouring out of my mouth and sweat covering my body, and I'm emptying my stomach again and again and again until I don't think I even have bones anymore.

I'm hunched over, gripping the sides of a bucket so hard my knuckles turn white and my fingertips bleed. My clothing sticks to my body, and my mouth is writhing with the taste of vomit and bitter salt. My right hand reaches under me, trying to find some stability and trace the seven grooves in the floor. I can't feel them. The floor beneath me isn't the smooth wood I'm accustomed to, but a bumpy, moist texture that makes me want to vomit again.

Where am I what am I doing why am I sick what's happened-

A hand gingerly touches my back, and a white-hot pain tears through my body, making me scream. The hand quickly withdraws, taking the pain with it. At first, I think it might be the honey-man, then nausea rolls through me again as I picture the not-boy's hands touching me again, and I'm gagging over the bucket.

"It- it's alright, I won't touch you again," says a voice behind me, and I want to whirl around and put space between me and whoever is calling out to me, but the most my body will do is heave itself around slowly. My limbs feel heavy, and my head is pounding with the movement, and I catch a glimpse of dark blonde hair before I let out a choked sob that I don't quite understand. I spent my life serving the not-boy, why do I now want to scream at the thought of him being here?

Despite my mind's screaming protests, the blonde hair moves closer to me, and the blurred figure becomes a face. I relax slightly - it isn't him.

But I can't convince myself that I'm okay. I can't remember ever seeing anyone that looked like this man, he was never someone that came into the not-boy's room. He wasn't the honey-man, and I'd never heard his voice even murmuring in the hallways or through the walls.

"My name is Hongo," he speaks again, gesturing toward himself. "I'm a doctor, I'm here to make sure you're okay, and I'm not going to hurt you."

A doctor?

I stay silent, and he speaks again.

"What's your name?"

My mouth is sticky and unyielding as I try to open it. He looks at me, not speaking.

Is he just waiting for me to say something?

He's sitting cross-legged across from me, and I feel very... studied under his gaze. There's a scar creeping from his hairline, and most of his dirty blonde hair is pulled into a ponytail near the top of his head, the rest shaved from the top of his ear down. He's clearly older, but he moves with the energy of a much younger man, still full of life.

My tongue loosens, and I finally say, "They call me Cheeper."

He smiles at me then, all teeth that splits his face in two. He's missing a couple of teeth on one side, and I find myself staring at the gaps.

"But is that your name?" he presses further.

I really didn't think it was, the longer I thought about it. I think at one point I'd been something else, but I'd been Cheeper for so long that it was really the only name I associated myself with.

"No," I said finally, shifting my gaze from him to the floor.

"Do you have a name?"

Why does he care so much?

"I don't know," I shrug and start picking at the floor, somewhat missing the familiar one, two, three, four, five, six, seven grooves again. My body was still uncomfortably sticky, and my fingers left little semi-transparent smears as I traced shapes in the floor. The more I move my hands, the more I notice them shaking.

Hongo's hand starts reaching toward me again, and I find myself shuffling away before my back hits the wall behind me, and that burning pain shoots through me again. I let out a choked sob at the sensation, and he snatches his hand back, looking a bit sheepish.

"Is it okay if I touch you? Sorry I didn't ask before, I'm used to- well, different kinds of patients."

I wasn't sure what he meant by that, and I didn't ask. I just force myself to nod, closing my eyes and bracing myself for the pain from earlier.

Hongo's POV

"It would be better if you opened your eyes for this, might help you keep calm if you can see what I'm doin'," I say, reaching for a pair of thin gloves from on top of the table to my right.

She warily opens her eyes again, but doesn't relax an ounce, even at the sight of the gloves. She almost reminds me of a deer, with the way her spindly limbs tremble and how she looks at me with wide, terrified eyes.

"How about you just watch what I'm doing, you can tell me to stop anytime," I say as gently as I can, showing her my hands.

Her pale lips twitch, and her eyes are watery at she looks away, clearly fighting with herself. I wait, moving my hands to now fold them in my lap.

"I-" she finally says, her voice barely audible. "I don't want it to hurt again."

I shift closer to where she's cowered in the corner as subtly as I can, holding my arm out.

"Look," I say softly, "Touch my arm."

She doesn't move, so I continue:

"I think you have some injury on your back that's causing that pain. I won't touch you there if you don't want, but I need to see what other injuries you have if you don't wanna get more sick."

She looks at me again, tears spilling down her face as she says, "Okay."

I grab her wrist as gingerly as I can, and she visibly flinches as I press her fingertips to my arm.

"See?" I say, giving her what I hope is a comforting smile. She doesn't shy away as I release her wrist, so I take that as permission to continue.

She watches me with wide eyes as I check over her exposed skin. She's ghastly pale, and extremely dehydrated - to be expected from someone who was just fished out of the ocean and promptly puked everywhere. Her skin is raw and bruising around her neck, but nothing too serious as far as I can tell.

Lean back away from her, I start chewing on the inside of my cheek as I figure out what to say next. I don't want to push her, especially considering I'm a man she doesn't know, but I'm worried about the pain in her back.

I let out a sigh, and say "Listen, I know you're scared, and you don't want me to touch your back, but I need to see what's wrong so I can help."

"Do you promise you're going to help?" Her voice is barely a whisper, but I can't help but be thrilled that she's cooperated thus far. I stand, holding my hand out to her. She stares at it for a moment before putting both of her hands in mine, gripping both sides of my palm as I help lift her to her feet. She doesn't let go, and her legs tremble beneath her as her grip on my hand tightens.

Can she even stand on her own?

I start chewing the inside of my cheek again as I take just how truly tiny she really is. I can't even tell how old she is, she's all bones and pale skin, and my stomach clenches as I take in how malnourished she seems to be. I let her lean on me as I lead her to the bed on the other side of the room. As I gently guide her to sit down, her arm shoots down to stabilize herself on the stiff mattress. I almost turn back around to grab the puke bucket again as I watch her head hang and her breath quicken, but she looks up at me again after a minute, waiting for me to start.

"I promise that I'm here to help, but I can't promise this is going to be painless."

Her throat bobs, and for a moment I'm afraid she'll refuse my help, but she nods her head. I let out a sigh of relief, and start checking her vitals, saving the inspection of her back for last. I start mumbling what I'm doing once I touch her, hoping to offer some form of comfort.

Finally, I let out a puff of air and stand to full height, my knees cracking a bit as I did so.

"Alright, girlie, I need to lift your shirt up to see what's going on there, okay? I'm just gonna push it up over your shoulders, and it'll stay covering your front."

She just nodded once, and hunched over a bit more. The corner of my mouth twitches at her attempt to help. I had no idea where the poor girl came from, or how she'd ended up with some mermaid, especially so far from Fishman Island. Hell, even she didn't know. As I sat down next to her and gingerly started lifting the hem of her ratty shirt, I tried wracking my brain to figure out how a person couldn't even remember their own damn name.

A sour smell hit me as I slowly pushed her shirt up to her shoulders, and I could see raw, festering skin underneath. Bile rose into my throat, and my breathing grew unsteady as I saw the full state of her back. There, settling an infection deep into this girl's back, was the brand of the Celestial Dragons.

And it all made sense. The raw skin and bruising around her throat, the lack of any nourishment, right down to her lack of spirit-

My hand started shaking as my gaze traveled down to the exposed skin of her hips, littered in bruises. My breathing grew labored, and I had to clench my fist to keep myself from pulling her into my chest and telling her it would be alright, she was safe, and that she was far away from whatever sick bastards had done this to her.

But I couldn't scare her. I'm not even sure she was aware of anything that had really happened to her, and I sure as hell didn't know how to tell her.

I knelt in front of her so that I was at her eye level, and steadied my breathing.

"Well, girlie, you've got a nasty burn that looks infected. It's gonna hurt like a bitch, but I've gotta clean it and treat it or it'll get a lot worse."

To be honest, I wasn't sure how that infection hadn't killed her already. If she couldn't even remember where she came from, and she didn't even know what was on her own body, I can't even imagine how long she'd been under their control.

"Girlie," I started softly, "Do you know where you got all this?"

She looks at me, and shifts on the bed to run a trembling hand through her hair. It looks like a deep maroon or magenta, and seems to have been buzzed fairly recently.

"I don't know. I-"

She was cut off with a sharp knock on the door. I wanted to groan, knowing exactly who it was interrupting me. The door swings open, and there he stands - my captain, Red-Hair Shanks.

[ishouldbedoinghw]

I’m shocked my little bits of writing have received so much attention (compared to my usual posts anyways) the last few days, and I’m really excited people seem to like it!

I’ve been meaning to post the next part of You Can’t Erase Me, but this weekend has been a blur of running around to different events and finishing projects to round out this semester.

Because most of my classes are now finished, I should be able to finish up the next post within the next couple of days!

[ishouldbedoinghw]

You Can't Erase Me

One Piece fanfic, part 2

-> Part 1

A woman enslaved by the celestial dragons is found by a man with red hair. Angst ensues.

A/N: This is probably gonna be a long one, so bear with me. This story will follow the canon loosely; some events will stay the same, others will be edited for the plot. The timing of events will also be slightly edited from canon so that certain characters are included. The main character is an OC of mine and in her mid-20s. Yes this is important. Character design will likely come soon.

TW: slavery, human trafficking, insinuation toward sex trafficking, sexual abuse, vomit, general angst

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I eat, I sleep, I wake up, I sing

I eat, I sleep, I wake up, I sing

I eat, I sleep, I wake up, I sing

I eat, I sleep, I wake up, I sing

I eat, I sleep, I wake up, I sing

I eat, I sleep, I wake up, I sing

I eat, I sleep, I wake up, I sing.

My life is a carousel. A soft, rocking up-and-down, slowly drifting in a circle. My horse is this cage, and this room is my festival.

Have I ever been to a festival?

Days are separated by nights and marked by meals, and I think I used to count them. It must have been a large number, because I can't remember it now.

One, two, three, four, five, six, se-

The door flings open with a bang.

"FATHER!" I recognize the boy's scream. "FUCK WHAT YOU SAY, I CAN-"

"You will do no such thing," An older man's voice follows behind the boy calmly. "Do what you wish afterwards, but your first wife must be a noble. I will not allow-"

"YOU CANNOT FORBID ME-"

"And yet I have. I can have you stripped of everything, and I will not hesitate to do so if I find that you have laid a finger on a commoner." The man left the room with an air of finality, leaving the boy fuming behind him.

The boy rammed the door shut again, and assumed his usual behavior of destroying his room.

This time, however, he didn't collapse on his bed and ask me to sing. This time, he grew silent; a thick, choking type of silent that I was sure I'd felt before but couldn't remember where. When I dared to peek down, he was standing directly beneath me, reaching up to grasp the bottom of my cage. He yanked it down, and I yelped as my stomach dropped with the fall. His face appeared in front of me, and I got the distinct feeling I'd seen him this close before, but I couldn't come up with the memory.

His hand slapped against the bars, and I jumped involuntarily. Leering at me, he seemed to feel around in his pockets before disappearing from view again.

The door to my world is wrenched open, and I see who I think is the first person whose face isn't distorted by bars. Up close, with his long, curly blonde hair and thin facial hair, he doesn't look like a boy at all.

The man grabs me around the neck, snatching me out of my cage and dropping me to the floor.

"Father cannot forbid from me that which I already own," he sneers, moving to grab at my neck. His hand is gloved, and his movement is almost timid as he gingerly fiddles with something around my throat.

Has there always been something there?

I try moving my hand to feel it, but he slaps it away, hissing that I "would get us both killed."

He pulls the thing away and gently sets it aside. A rush of cool air surrounds my neck, and I reach up again. I'm met with agitated skin, sore to the touch.

How could I not know somethin was around my own neck?

He slaps my hand away again, and starts dragging me across the floor. My head spins with all of the sudden movement, and I struggle to not let my forehead smack against the slick stone below me. I can't quite tell where in the room we are, all I can see is the floor directly below me and the hands gripping my clothes. I'm heaved up onto a cushioned surface, bouncing slightly as I collapse fully. The man's face comes into view again, and I notice that there seems to be a clear bubble encasing his head. It struck me as odd, but I'm not exactly sure why.

I feel a prick in my neck before hands are everywhere. They're everywhere on me and I don't think they should be and I don't want them there but I can't seem to move and-

The door swings open, and I muster the strength to turn my head and squint. It's the man that brings me my meals, the one who brings me honey sometimes. He stares at me for a moment, then glances at the floor. He seems frozen then, and I think I can see his hand shake before he dives to the floor before coming back to my line of sight holding something small and shiny.

"GET-" The body above me is knocked away, and my body is heaved into the air once again. I think the honey-man is running with me now, my body flopping helplessly against his side. I hear a grunt, a shattering of glass, and a woman sobbing before I'm lowered to the ground. Another grunt, and a horrible cracking sound echoes through the room before a blinding light forces me to squeeze my eyes shut.

I'm clutched again at the side of the honey-man before a sudden drop nearly makes me vomit. An outraged scream follows us as we tumble down, down, down, down, down, down, down-

We fall just long enough for panic to grip my insides before we land with a thud, the man holding me groaning before sprinting off. His gait jolts my body, but the thick arm wrapped around my middle is warm and somewhat comforting.

I hear loud popping noises chasing us, and the woman from before seems to be wailing again. A particularly loud pop causes the man to stumble, losing traction with the ground before regaining his balance and speeding up again.

There are people screaming, and the light is everywhere and it's blinding, and my body feels numb to the world around me and my mind feels like it's moving through time through a thick jelly. There's popping and groaning and sobbing and screaming and all I can do is stay limp and keep my eyes closed.

It isn't until I'm flying through the air without an arm around me that I open my eyes. My stomach is rolling again at the loss of solid contact with something, and I try to open my mouth and scream and scream and scream but all I can do is stay silent. My jaw feels limp and my tongue is clued to the roof of my mouth and I keep falling and falling and falling and falling and falling. I finally manage to blink the pain from the bright light away just to see a vast sheet of blue beneath me. As far as I can see, just a vast blue nothingness.

Have I died?

And I hit something hard and cold before getting swallowed.

[ishouldbedoinghw]

You Can't Erase Me

One Piece fanfic, part 1

A woman enslaved by the celestial dragons is found by a man with red hair. Angst ensues.

A/N: This is probably gonna be a long one, so bear with me. Also, this story will follow the canon loosely; some events will stay the same, others will be edited for the plot. The timing of events will also be slightly edited from canon so that certain characters are included. The main character is an OC of mine and in her mid-20s. Yes this is important. Character design will likely come soon.

TW: slavery, human trafficking, general angst

---------------------------------------------------------------

I don't know how old I am.

I know how many scratches are in the floor below me.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

Seven. Seven smooth grooves under my fingers. Seven times the wood under me became buried in my nails. Seven.

I know there are seven days in a week, and I eat one time a day. I know that there are months, and years, and I've been alive for many years, but I don't know how many. I know that time goes on and I think the world turns, but I'm not sure. I know that the people I see around me everyday seem to slowly change, they grow sadder and grayer; but I don't know how much I've changed. I'm not sure if the picture I have in my head is right.

I don't know how old I am.

I tried asking once, a while ago. I asked the man who brought me my food how many years i had been alive. He told me that I must be stupid for not knowing, and more stupid for asking. It wasn't my job to ask things.

It was my job to be a bird, they said. I was a bird that they needed to sing. So I sing. I sing every day for as long as I'm told, until my throat is raw and aching and I can't sing anymore.

Sometimes the man who brought me food and calls me stupid gives me honey. I think he is trying to be kind.

I sit in my cage up in the sky and I sing like a bird for the people who live here.

It was an honor, they said. To sit here with these great people in their great palace and sing for them. To not be among the pigs and the dirt and the commoners. I asked if the pigs and the commoners lived in cages once. They didn't tell me. They just ring the bell and I sing for them. I don't think I really know how to do anything else.

I mindlessly tap on the floor as the boy comes in. He seems angry, thrashing around the room and throwing his things around. He screams, pummeling the walls with his fists again and again and again and again. He finally quiets down after a while, his screaming and wailing hushing to whimpers. I hear him collapse on the bed, and I try to shift slightly to peer underneath me. In the amount of time I've been here, I have learned to be quieter than a mouse. The boy does not like noise he doesn't ask for.

"Cheeper!" he calls, and I while I can't see his face, I can feel his gaze burning me.

"Cheeper!" he calls me again, and I creep to the edge of the cage nearest to him. I don't like the name Cheeper.

The boy grunts, shifting restlessly on his bed.

"Sing for me, Cheeper."

And so I do. I sing something soft and soothing, a lullaby he seems to enjoy. He hums it along with me, finally resting.

This is how my life goes. The boy comes in, often upset, and I sing to calm him down. He yells at me sometimes, throwing things up at my cage. Occasionally he hits his target, causing my cage to sway back and forth. I vomited from it once.

My life is relatively peaceful aside from that. It's quiet, even if it is small. The borders of my world are limited to the golden bars of the cage, high above the rest of the world.

The rest of the world. What does it look like?

The thought escaped me as quickly as it came. Who cared what the world outside looked like? I had to stay right here, I always just had to stay right here.

I could hear soft snores below me, and my song came to an end.

I count the grooves beneath my fingers. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

[ishouldbedoinghw]

Howdy!

This is just a little sideblog I'm using to post my writing! I use these projects as a way to get out of writing slumps and to get some practice in. I'm not currently taking requests, as I'm focusing on one story at a time, but I might in the future!

MASTERLIST

Currently working on: You Can't Erase Me - One Piece fic

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Part 10

I've just put it up on AO3, too!