A/N: *Head meets desk*

I have no excuse for writing this. None. I literally. Could not. Help. Myself.

I've already written one self-insert One Piece story—see I Am Not a Pirate—and that's something else entirely. So why, why, WHY am I tempting fate by writing another one when I KNOW it's not my forte?! Do I have a death-wish? Am I suicidal? Am I that eager to put my pride on the line and try another pure One Piece story! Naruto crossovers are my thing, not this! So why...

...WHY DO I FEEL COMPELLED TO WRITE THIS MAD LITTLE TALE?!

Xomniac and Vikingr, I blame you for inspiring me XD

I was even able to get some much-needed advice/guidance from The Patient One himself in writing this. Thanks to his help I was able to make this story so much more than it could have been. He's been absolutely INSTRUMENTAL in expanding a mere idea of mine into an absolute masterwork, and it's been nothing short of glorious!

Thanks to him, this unorthodox idea gradually gained traction in my mind and became the absolute BEAST of a chapter you see before you.

If someone's tried THIS approach before—that is to say, this particular power and setup—I'll eat my boot! Well, that and I'll be horridly depressed. I can only pray that this humble story receives even a fifth of the overwhelming popularity "This Bites!" or "Twelve Red Lines" have earned.

I hope to live up to your expectations!

So!

Here we go.

I now present:

Wordplay. Didn't expect that, did you?

"Note to self! Murphy's law. Do not fuck with it!"

~Ryan D. Swords.

Wordplay

A wise man once said words have power.

They can harm or heal. Support. Destroy. Inspire. Condemn. Words can save a nation. Or condemn it to destruction. They can wring tears from a heart of stone. Light fire in the eyes of men. Their truth can bring light to darkness; conversely, a lie can plunge everything right back into the black. The tongue has no bones but is strong enough to break a heart. So choose your words carefully. You have to use them wisely; to think before you toss a careless word in anger or grief, lest you lose everything—everyone—you've ever held dear.

Words are a weapon.

Written words, even more so.

"Alright! I think I can call it a night now. That's a fine prologue for another crossover. I'll work on it again tomorrow—"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?"

HeywaitwhatareyouDOING?!

(...Scene Break...)

Hrrk...just five more minutes...dry and gravelly...why is it so hot...?

My shift back to the land of the living wasn't a gradual shift by any means; nor could it be called a pleasant one in any way. One moment I'd been happily dozing in what I assumed to be warm, contented bliss, albeit with a somewhat scratchy sensation teasing the tip of my tongue. Ignoring that sensation, I flopped over and tried to inhale. That soon proved to be a mistake.

Sand!

IN MY!

THROOOAAAT!

"PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT!"

...and in the next, reality decided to drop-kick me upside the head as someone shoved a gallon of powdered stone into my lungs.

I flailed upright with a shout, thrashing like an angry bull. In my haste to stand, I must've moved a little too fast; because my legs buckled and I found myself flopping back onto the bank with a gasp. And then, quite suddenly, there was pain. To say that it hurt would've been an understatement. I felt an explosive ache in every muscle; not just my side, but my very being, feeling as though I'd been stretched a dozen different ways. As though the very core of my being had been pulled apart, compacted, stretched again, and stitched back together like a modern-day-Frankenstein.

It was, in a word, unpleasant.

It took all I had just to squint at the searing sun overhead.

"All right," I growled, "Did anybody get the number of that bitch?"

A hot breeze slapped me across the face in recompense for my temerity.

"...I'll take that as a no?"

If the wind could've laughed, I suspected it would have belted out a loud one just then.

I lay there for a long moment, chest heaving madly—why in blazes did it feel so heavy?—sucking in great gasps of scorching air, struggling to catch my breath and dislodge the last of the grainy material from my throat. To say that I failed spectacularly would've been an understatement. I didn't know what had happened, where I was, or how I'd found myself there. Rather, here, if the gritty grains against my back was any indication. My last coherent memory was one of happily typing away at a keyboard; of someone tapping me on the shoulder, then...

...nothing but darkness.

Wait.

One.

Minute.

Sand?

After a brief bought with gravity, I managed to raise my head and survey my surroundings in spite of my tattered attire.

Rather than a cool breeze and gentle waves lapping at my feet—because wouldn't that just be peachy keen?—I found a land of arid dunes stretched out before me. A veritable sea of sand, stretching out as far as the eye could see. Had that been all, my spirits might've remained somewhat intact. Instead, they plummeted with each passing moment. Nothing. No sign of civilization, nor a glimpse of the sea. Just...sand. Endless sand accompanied the scorching heat beating down on my head. That laughter I thought I'd imagined earlier? It sounded all-too-real now. With each passing second, it only grew louder.

Groaning, I climbed—crawled, really—back to my feet. A muscle jumped in my jaw.

Then a cross-popping vein grew out of my forehead, one my hand immediately slapped upward against.

At that moment, a single horrified thought encapsulated my existence; and it wasn't a pleasant one by any means.

"Oh, no. Nooooononono! Hell no!" Flinging my hands up, I shook my fist and raged at the unresponsive heavens. "Absolutely not! Did you just drop me in fucking One Piece?! You already did this shit to Xomniac! I want no part of this! Is this Alabasta?! Because IF IT IS—"

THUNK!

As though summoned by that very outburst, a sign of all things slammed into the sandy soil at my feet with a meaty thwack. For a moment, I boggled at it with my hands flung up to protect my admittedly vulnerable face. I hadn't been expecting an answer when I'd railed at the...hmm. Did the One Piece universe have a god? I wondered about that. Random deities were one thing, but if I was actually having a pissing contest with whatever stranded me here...

The words that awaited me made me think otherwise.

"Tough shit, bitch."

...I can't rightly say why, but I got the distinct impression that my kidnapper was of the female persuasion. Part of me was almost amused; the rest...slightly horrified. How else could a sign literally radiate smugness?! I want to state for the record that I reacted appropriately and hollered my fury to heavens.

"YOU SEND ME BACK RIGHT NOW, WOMAN! I'm not equipped for this!"

Needless to say, the sky didn't answer.

The heat, however, did.

With a vengeance.

My body chose that moment to remind me that yes, I'd been standing the middle of the desert for the better part of five minutes now—who knew how long I'd been out before that—and no, despite my frantic shouting, or perhaps because of it, my surroundings had yet to change. Shit. I'm just a writer! What kind of random god/goddess asshat thought it was a good idea to drop me headlong into a country in the middle of a freaking revolution?! Oh, that was a whole other can of worms right there, let me tell you! Some might call that viewpoint selfish, but at the moment I was more concerned with not dying of thirst!

Wait, there was a weight on my shoulders...

...which meant I'd come to this world with my backpack! Yes! Score!

Unfortunately?

Said backpack was presently empty, sans my journal a handful of unfinished novels, and one of college prep book. Well! I wouldn't be writing that essay now, would I? A snake of dread coiled in my stomach, tying my guts into a knot. A cursory search of my pockets turned up similar results; nothing useful beyond a few crumpled bills and my smartphone...which had no charge to speak of. For a second, I thought I saw the reflective surface flicker under the harsh light, only to vanish when I gazed directly into its screen.

Fuuuuuuuuuck.

Smacking my already-dry lips, I glanced reluctantly at the sky.

"I, ah, don't suppose you'd be willing to provide me a canteen or—"

A particularly dry breeze wilted the words on my tongue.

"Tch! Fine!" Slamming my (broken?) phone back into my pocket, I slung my pack over my shoulders and fixed the cloudless sky with the most menacing glower I could muster in my present circumstances. "I don't need your help! I'll find a way out my own! You'll see! Just you wait!"

Huffing, and for lack of any other option, I picked a direction and began walking.

North, I hoped.

'I'm doomed!'

Alas, with nothing but my gut as my guide, I soon found myself lost in my thoughts. A self-insert story. It just had to be one of those, didn't it? Why me? Again, I don't claim to be anything special. Just your average fellow...albeit one with an overactive imagination. I wasn't particularly strong nor agile, I performed reasonably well at my job and earned enough to pay my bills. If there was one thing I held some measure of confidence in, it was my ability to write. Shame I couldn't write myself out of this.

A desert.

Why did it have to be a desert?

Morbid as it might sound, if I had to choose my demise, I would've happily jumped in a snow drift or dunked myself in ice water. Cold was easy; everything went numb after awhile. You just...slipped away. Anything was preferable to the slow roast I now found myself subjected to—stop! Think cold thoughts! Heat is the enemy! Resist! Fight!

But how does one fight the air?

Still, the searing temperature beat down against my head as I trudged ever forward. But what other recourse did I have? To stop meant death. Looking back, I couldn't say how I knew this; only that I did, and that thought spurred me forward. But even faith can only drive you for so long. I'm not ashamed to say I started to lose hope after the second hour. With nothing beyond my battered pack for shade, I found myself exposed to the elements in the worst of ways and my admittedly meager reserves began to flag.

Despite the heat exhaustion, I somehow managed to spur myself forward. Step after faltering step, spurred on by the fleeting hope of civilization, only to be denied time and time again. For all my hopes, they too proved themselves to be a mirage.

Finally, just when I'd abandoned all pretense of making it out alive...

"Ack!"

...I tripped.

Now, I know what you're thinking. How can you possibly trip when there's nothing but sand hereabouts? Actually, you'd be surprised—Not the point! In any case, my foot caught something, and I went down in a tumble of arms and legs. Dusty soil greeted my face, and I coughed, snarling as I sprawled into the ground.

Belatedly I realized what had tripped me.

Not a puddle, of course, that would be too lucky. Rather, a lack thereof. An empty, arid dish consisting of cracked soil, framed by the shriveled stump of what might've been a tree, once. Ah. This must've been an oasis, once. Perhaps even recently. Before the rains ceased. Despite my best efforts, my heart clenched. Crocodile's work. While I had no idea as to the whereabouts of the current timeline, that still didn't stop me from wanting to shove my foot firmly up his—

I raised my gaze and found myself staring at a fruit.

A simple, if colorful pear, hanging against a withered stem.

I confess, I momentarily found myself at something of a loss, then.

...fuck it.

In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. In hindsight, can you really blame me?

It looked like a prickly pear—and that's asking me to think of an old movie—and given my starving state, I didn't think twice. It couldn't be a Devil Fruit, I told myself. Not even one of those could possibly survive this kind of heat. And if it was, at the risk of breaking the fourth wall, why me? I hadn't had any character development yet. But if by some chance it was...well if I didn't eat/drink something soon I was going to die from exposure. I didn't want to die. Rather fond of living, you see. That and the idea of becoming a shriveled-up corpse didn't appeal to me.

Therefore, the solution was painfully obvious.

"Down the hatch!" In a heartbeat, I ripped the fruit from the strange, cylindrical stem and—praying it wasn't poisonous or what I suspected it to be—crammed the whole thing into my mouth. I nearly choked in the doing, but somehow I managed to work my jaw around the fruit and start chewing. Needless to say...

...mistakes were made.

The flavor hit like a truck.

Nope, fuck this shit! We're out!

My taste buds revolted and joined my tongue in a bitter civil war; one that threatened to tear my stomach to shreds. Oh, God! The taste! I couldn't even begin to describe it; there was no word too foul, no adjective worthy to describe the feeling of complete and utter slime running down the back of my throat. I choked, my hands flying to my neck even as I struggled to master the bile in my mouth. It took all I had just to swallow; even that threatened to strip me of my strength. My knees buckled, and I nearly collapsed on the spot as my fingers raked themselves bloody across the arid soil, my very being spasming in agony.

Devil Fruit!

Definitely a Devil Fruit!

Why did I think it was a good idea to...oh...stars...

I must've blacked out at some point; when I came to, my face had become intimate with the sand in a way no self-respecting individual desired, and my tongue had all but glued itself to the roof of my mouth. I wasn't sure how much time passed after that. Minutes? Hours? Days? Surely it couldn't have been that long; the heat would've rendered me little more than a prune by then. Some small part of me railed against the idea, demanding that I do something; that I stand, move, anything but lay there. For all my efforts, I could barely lift a finger. A stab of misery thrust its way through my gut, and I felt something break inside me.

Water.

Just a drop.

Water.

Just a handful.

Water.

Just enough to quench my thirst.

Water.

On a whim, I traced a bloodied finger against the sand, carving the word into the broken soil. Looking back, I don't know why I put the idea in my head. Perhaps it was a severe case of heat stroke; one final desperate effort by my body, a last frantic attempt to soothing the raging desert in my throat. I didn't know. Didn't care. I could feel myself hanging on the precipice of life or death; a stiff breeze would surely knock me right through that door. Not like this. I didn't want to die here. I felt only...felt...

My hand felt...wet.

Bleary eyes rose to regard it.

A small pool of water awaited my gaze, awkwardly scrawled out against the shifting sands by my twitching hand. Somehow, against all odds, I'd found it. Brackish and warm perhaps, little more than a puddle, but water nonetheless. Without a second thought, I slammed my face into it and drank greedily. In doing so, I inhaled a fair bit of wet sand; yet in the doing, I felt a sliver of energy crawl back into my depleted veins. I considered it an even trade. Even dirty water was a tender mercy compared to the hellish heat I'd been enduring.

If the burning heat hell of Impel Down was worse than this, I had no desire ever to visit it.

My mind snapped back like a rubber band, and I turned wide eyes back on the now-mangled word I'd scrawled. Either this was the mother of all fever dreams, or I'd finally lost what remained of my mind. Once more, now with great care, I etched the word into the sand. This...this was a hallucination. It had to be. I couldn't simply create something just by writing...

"W-a-t-e-r."

Something shifted within me as I traced that bloody digit against the sand. Sure enough, as I looked on, the word dissolved into a small puddle of liquid. Warily, I dipped a finger into its surface and placed it against my lips. The cool balm of fresh water graced my tongue, followed by a disbelieving croak. It was almost too good to be true. Once more I experienced that strange smugness I'd felt before...the same that had stemmed from that damnable sign. A delirious laugh burst out of me before I could think to stop myself and I buried my head in the sand.

"Are you kidding me?!"

What kind of fruit was this?!

The Word-Word Fruit or something?

'I'm not going to laugh. Its just...too ironic!'

On a whim, I sketched something else. Another word.

The only thing that was arguably more important than water when you were stranded the way I was...

"M-i-r-r-o-r."

Sure enough, the sands hardened and coalesced beneath my palm and a crude pane of glass formed within. Not perfect by any means, but serviceable. A sea of possibilities swam before me, and I nearly drowned in them immediately. This...it was almost too good to be true. A fruit based on words? The power to create? I couldn't have asked for a better ability if I'd handpicked one from the damn catalog! Again, I felt like laughing, and I would have, too, were it not for the sight of my reflection.

My face glared back at me, drawing a grimace.

While on the topic of anatomy, I would like to state for the record that I'm the picture of health. Not terribly tall, but neither short. Adequate. Average, both of height and build. In terms of clothing, I nominally favored a long-sleeved red shirt and dark khakis. What?! You try living with winter in North Dakota and not bundling up!—and today was no exception. Really, my only unique feature would be my piercing green eyes and dark hair. Not something I'm entirely proud of, given my heritage, but there you go. Eh, semantics!

Enough about me!

Back to my thoughts on my current appearance:

"Jeez, I've seen better days..."

Groaning, I lifted an arm and strained to let the reflective surface catch the light. It might be useless for all I knew, but something in me insisted I make the attempt. Maybe it caught the sun. Maybe it didn't. The next few hours were dedicated to...experiments. Glorious, glorious experiments. For science! Water. Water. WATER! I scrawled the word over and over, heedless of the consequences. I think I might've put a certain gaseous scientist to shame with my cackling. That, and the small—if dirty—oasis I inadvertently created. Was this a miracle? Surely there had to be a drawback of some sort or a limit? Maybe a ohhhhhhhh there it was.

Then came the fatigue.

'Nooooononono!'

Like a mountain crashing down against my shoulders, so too did I collapse against the soaked sand. Did I say I'd been exhausted before? No? This was true exhaustion. Every cell in my body, united in a singular sentiment. I could scarcely lift my head, much less speak. Well. This was problematic...

"And what do we have here?"

A harsh crunch against my ears drew an equally harsh cringe.

By some miracle, I managed to raise my gaze and behold my would-be rescuers. Against all hope, I'd almost expected to find a friendly face waiting for me when I did.

Instead, I found my would-be allies...

...riding an alligator.

...what.

Wait, wasn't that an accelegator? Didn't Robin ride one of those back in Alabasta? Huh, I mused blearily. It really did have a banana on its head. Tail, too. For some reason, I found that funny. A mad giggle trailed out of my lips, only to be stifled by the sand. Huh. Was that a boot? Looked like it. One I recognized dead away, if only because I noticed the owner of said boot. And the cowboy hat. Because really, who else wore an outfit like that much less with...

Oda's art really hadn't done them justice.

Unfortunately, her companion inspired nothing short of apoplectic dread.

I immediately found myself reminded of an Italian mob boss. His slicked-back hair, the stark scar standing out against his grey skin, those dead eyes, and of course, that vicious golden hook. Even his attire resembled what I remembered; from his signature black-buttoned vest, brown suited pants, right down to those polished black shoes and long, thick, dark pelted fur coat. As if he stepped out of the manga and into real life. That gilded hook of his seemed to writhe and twist in the light, and despite myself, I gulped.

Say what you would about Capone Bege and his gangster motif, but he had nothing on Crocodile.

"Now, then." His deep, resonant voice sent a chill shooting down my spine. "Who are you?"

Despite the inherent dread I felt, I somehow managed a sickly smile.

...I was going to have one hell of a story if I survived this.

A/N: Now to clarify, this essentially takes place at the start of Canon itself.

In other words, Luffy's only just set out on his adventure. Meaning I won't be meeting them immediately...but it'll happen...

...and I just got myself roped into more madness.

I think I just got rescued by Baroque Works.

Against my bloody will, I might add!

*blushes furiously*

Oh, I've gone and done it now. I've officially leaped headlong into the madness of One Piece. I longed to do things differently, to throw my own spin on things, you know? In the end, I chose this route, and I hope to God you're all happy with it because I spent a helluva long time agonizing over this. If Xomniac's "Soundbite" is a veritable god of noise/anarchy and Vikingr's "Jones" relies on kinetic energy to get the job done, well, I want to take the road less traveled...

...gosh darn it, I choose to be a God of Words.

So in the Immortal Words of Atlas...

...Review, Would you kindly?

No lengthy previews!

Only short ones!

(Previews)

A golden hook loomed large before my vision.

"Well, you have two choices then, Swords. Join or die."

Urk.

"Join it is, then...

...for now.' I swore.

Crocodile offered a rictus of a grin.

"A wise choice. Now then, about your ability...

I'd seen that bone-chilling smile before and I knew all too well what it meant...

Bastard must've seen my fear, because that smile only widened. "I think I have a use for it."

A fist snapped out, firing me into a building.

"Shitshitshit!"

A desert strawberry spider...?

"Okay, maybe if I write this, you'll calm down...

Nope.

The little creature rapidly slashed its legs at me in what I could only assume was an unflattering gesture—no, wait, I recognized that one. If you told me yesterday I'd find myself flipped off by a spider of all things, I would've decked them on the spot.

"Suppose Charlotte would be too on the nose...

...wordspider?"

An anagram, them?

"Pridesword?"

The little creature preened.

"Wait, you are a girl, aren't you—DONOTSPRINGATME!"

R&R~!