#and the ship itself are enough for you to know that it's the Moby Dick

[quinloki]

Ooh ghost ship... horror but make it bittersweet. Imagine being a castaway. Delirious, struggling to survive on a barely functional escape boat, no food, soaked to the bone from the storm that constantly threatens to capsize you- and then through the fog comes a ship so huge it fills your whole field of vision. You drift to the side of it, the davit(I think that's what it's called? The crane they use to get little boats up and down) seeming to attach itself to your boat. You're welcomed aboard, something about all these larger than life figures feels surreal to you. It's like... you can't truly focus on their faces. But you're out of it, so you chalk it up to that, thanking them tearfully for the food the one in white serves you, the fresh set of clothes and warm blanket wrapped around your shoulders. One man, clearer than all the rest, gives you a checkup. Maybe even puts you on an IV after everything you've been through. You're there for a few nights, enough to recover, for your head to clear. And then you wake up, and... the ship is empty. The sky is clear. The quietest it's been in ages. You wander the deck, calling the names of the friends you've made, but you aren't close to death anymore. There's no response. But you find a proper dinghy, fully stocked. A map and log pose are laid out for you, and a letter wishing you well. And along with that- what appears to be a vintage photo of the crew.

THE EMOTIONS I WENT THROUGH READING THIS ANON

How

DARE.

T-T noooo my heart.

You did this right in front of my salad too, I just -

I need to recover.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

hello how are you it if my first time asking but what do you think it would be like if white beard had a daughter and she went on shanks crew like he haven’t seen his daughter for years and then he see her on shanks crew

also I love you writing you my favvvv

Imagine being Whitebeard's daughter on Shanks's crew

A mildly naughty bit under the undercut. Also, I'm having to change how I indicate action, instead of using Asterix *, I'm going to change them to [ ].

Marco: Pops, Shanks's ship is on the horizon, signaling they wanna talk-yoi.

Whitebeard: [rolls his eyes,] Fine let him aboard.

As the Red Force is pulling itself parallel to the Moby Dick

Whitebeard: [spots you working on the rigging] (y/n)?!

You: dukes [knows you're going to be in trouble, so you try to duck into the galley to avoid him]

Whitebeard: Young Lady, I fucking saw you, don't try to hide from me! Come here.

You: [shuffles in front of him] Hi Pops

Izou: oi, oi, don't go getting familiar with him.

Whitebeard: [holds up his hand] No, it's okay, this one is my biological child.

Ace: You have a bio kid? Why didn't you tell us!?

Whitebeard: I was trying to keep her safe, [turns to you and gives you a pointed look,] which is why I left you on Sphinx, where it's safe.

You: It was boring, so I snuck aboard the supply ship, that you send us every month, and hopped out at the nearest port.

Whitebeard: That supply ship is captained by Doma!

Thatch: Shall I go draft a summons letter sent to him?

Whitebeard: yes, thank you. [Turns back to you,] You should have stayed on Sphinx. Yes, it's boring, but that's because it's peaceful. Do you have any idea how rare and valuable peace is? Why would you leave?

You: Because I wanted more! I wanted to see the world! I wanted to fight strong opponents! Because I'm your kid!

Marco: [mutters loud enough for Whitebeard to hear.] Personality is fifty percent genetic.

Whitebeard: [Ignores him.] I understand that... urge to see the world. But why him! [Jabs a finger in Shank's direction]

Shanks: What's wrong with me?

Benn: [pats his captain's head] We've been wondering that for years.

You: He makes me laugh.

Shanks: [puffs up his chest with pride and cheekily sticks his tongue out at Benn]

Whitebeard: Please tell me you aren't in love with this misfit.

You: Sorry, I can't help who I fell in love with, [shrugs.] He makes me happy, and he treats me well.

Yassop: [yells from the deck of the Red Force] That's an understatement! He spoils her rotten, and she gets first dibs on any treasure we get. And he buys her anything she wants.

Whitebeard: [rubs his chin thoughtfully] First dibs, huh?

You: I also send funds home, back to Sphinx.

Whitebeard: I suppose I'll allow it, then.

That evening

The Crews: [have somehow started a boat party]

Shanks and Whitebeard: [chatting around a table ladened with food]

You: Daddy, will you pass the rum?

Shanks and Whitebeard: [reach for it, accidentally touch hands, and lock eyes]

the crews: ʱªʱªʱª(ᕑᗢूᓫ∗)

Shanks: (☼Д☼) !! *Books it for his ship*

Whitebeard: [hot on his heels] AKAGAMI!

Marco: wow

Benn: That was a mean thing to do, (y/n).

You: ଘ(✿˵•́ ω •̀˵) ? I didn't do anything, [lying].

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[gatorbites-imagines]

Whitebeard fucker here lol I’ve been summoned. Could you write something with a reader whose used to being the biggest guy around meeting whitebeard and going “ohhh” and wanting to climb that man like a tree? Any and all kinks are up to your choosing monsieur gator!! Also happy birthday man!

Edward “Whitebeard” Newgate x male reader

Headcanons

Bit my lip so fucking hard when I saw this request. Whitebeard enjoyers come assemble!

Thanks for the birthday wish :) I ended up getting a lot of comics and manga, so I’m very happy.

Reader possesses a devil fruit I made up I call the sun-sun Fruit. Hes also like 16 ft 9. Hes also at least 40+ years old. Old man yaoi.

You had known of Whitebeards existence ever since you started traveling the sea, who didn’t? The guy was a legend known as the strongest man alive, someone to avoid if you did the type of business you did.

You were a bit of an everything man. Information gathering, Intimidation, bodyguarding, assassin, anything that paid you a lot and you didn’t have to hurt the innocent, Youd do it.

The world government were cautious of you, but always let you get away with things others wouldn’t, as you also took jobs for them if need be. You played on every board, siding with pirates, with marines, with the poor, and with the rich. As long as they had good reason for asking for your help.

Your Sun-Sun fruit always helped with this as well, making you an extremely powerful fighter, possessing the ability to gather and store solar energy and light itself. After mastering it you could easily create explosions big enough to destroy islands, coat your body in solar energy, or coat your weapons, as well as many other things.

Your preferred weapon were spears, your most beloved weapon a naginata that had been gifted to you after a job well done, some celestial who fanboyed over pirates wanting to give you a big reward. The naginata was supposedly cursed, but you two got along a little too well most days.

All in all, you were well known in your own circles, but nowhere near as much as someone like Whitebeard.

That was also the reason you turned down your latest request to kill Whitebeard. You might have been strong, but you were never an idiot. You might have stood at almost 17 feet, towering over anyone you had ever met, but even you know Whitebeards crew was so loyal it was lethal.

The people giving you the request has been annoyed about you rejecting it, but they could do nothing to stop you as you left, on your way to the next island. There was never a destination in mind if you didn’t have a contract, so you just called it joy sailing.

It was mere coincidence that you found yourself sailing through Whitebeards territory. You had no need for a crew, as you had mastered the skill to create stand-ins with your sun-sun fruit, creating human shaped beings out of condensed solar energy.

The ship you traveled in wasn’t too big either, especially compared to the moby dick. But they had easily spotted you, and your “crew” had spotted them in return. For some reason the whitebeard crew were interested in you, though their interest made your heartrate skyrocket as the moby dick neared your own much smaller ship.

When it became clear they weren’t there to fight, you agreed to link up your ships, even if it was just because you knew they could end you before you would be able to run for it.

Stepping onto the ship, part of you was curious at their lack of reaction to your towering height, even as they had to turn their heads all the way back to look at you to ask questions about your “light crew”, or one of them demanding to know what your favorite food was, or where you got your naginata.

When you finally met Whitebeard though, it all made sense. The guy made even you feel small, even though he wasn’t towering over you the same way you were the rest of his crew. Maybe it was his presence, as he laughed and patted you on the back, greeting you by the nickname the masses called you.

But all you could think about was how seeing someone taller than you made you feel. Just feeling his large hand patting your shoulder, or seeing how he was still taller than you when you sat, was enough for you to think about booking it again.

You had no idea why, but for some reason you stuck around with the Whitebeard crew for a while. To the point where they started acting like you were part of the crew. Even when you tried to turn it down, they’d just give you a knowing look before ignoring your complaints.

In your opinion, you were too old to join someone’s crew, especially with you being known as a “backstabber”, as you never picked one specific side.

And yeah, you knew why you were sticking around for so long. It was all Whitebeard, and that weird, fluttering feeling he gave you, and the arousal he caused, but that was not as important…for the most part.

It was only after the crew had settled on the island to restock that you thought about leaving for real. One of your contacts had called you on your den den mushi, and told you about a very high paying job. You might have been so rich your descendents would live in luxury, but you could never get enough.

Unluckily for you, Whitebeard had overheard the call. He had looked sad about you wanting to leave, but had invited you to join him for a drink before you packed up and went on your way.

That’s how you found yourself sitting beside him in front of a bonfire, just the two of you, both of you decently buzzed and flushed. Your devil fruit power made you mostly immune to alcohol, the heat of the sun burning the alcohol away before it could work, but whatever stuff Whitebeard had on him seemed to have the right kick.

Later you would blame the alcohol for your reaction when Whitebeards hand settled on your lower back. You had abandoned your jacket a while ago, some of Whitebeards crew running off with it to use it for some drunk game they were playing.

Your devil fruit also worked best without too much clothes in the way, meaning Whitebeards hand was right on your back, and your thirsty self had arched into it with a soft groan, your head flopping to the side to rest against him.

Whitebeard had chuckled, but it wasn’t his usual loud guffaw, but something deeper and smoother, like melted dark chocolate or the best whiskey you had ever drank.

His hand had rubbed and massaged your back until you felt like putty, small sparks of light and solar energy flickering across your torso as your control slipped, Whitebeard huffing amusedly at the small jolts it sent through his arm.

You would blush in the future when thinking about it, denying it ever happened, before blaming the alcohol once more. But in that moment, it was impossible to not spill all the thoughts you had about him. How he made you feel so hot inside, how much you fantasied about him, his hands, his height, his cock.

Whitebeard had seemed almost charmed, and maybe he was. It wasn’t every day that someone his age and especially his size had someone fawning over them. Maybe that was why he pulled you into his lap, with your back resting against his chest, as his battle worn hands traveled across the front of your torso.

He murmured and purred into your ears as one of his large, calloused hands groped and pinched at one of your pecs, making you gasp and arch into the touch, legs jolting until his other hand came down to hold your thigh in place.

The praise falling from his lips had you feeling much drunker than you were, vision blurring for a second before you were able to focus again, your own hands grasping at his pantleg as you huffed out a breath.

The veins across your body lit up every now and then from the stored solar energy in your body flickering, causing Whitebeard to chuckle that deep chuckle once more, making some comment about that being a nice party trick.

You were about to snap back a rebuttal, something rude about his own devil fruit power, but before the words could even leave you, the hand gripping your thick slid under your waistband.

Embarrassment flooded your system as you keened, head falling back onto his chest as your hips jolted. And how crazy was that? He was so tall your head fall onto his chest, not his shoulder, not above his own head, his chest.

It had your throbbing even more, immediately coating his palm in a layer of precum, making Whitebeard tsk teasingly, before rubbing the palm against the head of your sensitive shaft, only making you drip even more.

What could you say. You were sensitive. Being your size made it pretty hard to find a partner who could keep up with you, or someone you wouldn’t hurt on accident. And as your fame grew, less and less individuals even wanted to give it a try.

That was why you were keening and whimpering in Whitebeards lap like some kind of virgin, at least that’s what you told yourself to keep your dignity.

It didn’t explain the way you jolted and spilled into his hand when Whitebeard grabbing your chin, turning your head so he could kiss you. Your eyes rolled back, and solar energy flashed across your body as you came, gasping into his mouth, your breath so hot It would have harmed anyone not as sturdy as Whitebeard.

With his lips still pressed against yours he mumbled praise, telling you stuff that had you melting even further into his embrace, hips still jolting and twitching into his hand like you didn’t want it to end.

As you rolled your hips you could feel his own erection, and you almost wanted to pass out from just how big he felt. You had never met anyone who was bigger than you in that way, yet here Whitebeard was, pretty much offering it to you on a silver platter.

The night was spent with Whitebeard wringing more than just a couple of orgasms out of you, at some point leaving you so overstimulated and pleasured that your body had phased out, turning into solar energy.

Whitebeard had cackled loudly at the sight, seeing how you were in so much pleasure you couldn’t even stay solid. When you finally came back to yourself, he placed a big kiss on your cheek and then your mouth, making some teasing comment about it all.

The next morning you couldn’t look his crew in the eye, the knowing looks boring into your large broad back, that for once was wearing a shirt, to cover most of the hickeys their captain had left on you.

And if you just so happened to turn down the job offer your informant gave you, and if you just so happened to attach your ship to their fleet, and you just so happened to start being referred to in the same parental way as Whitebeard, who would be the wiser.

You honestly had no idea how to react when Whitebeards, and you guessed now your, crew started referring to you with a fatherly title in the same way they called Whitebeard Pops. You hadn’t wanted to be open about your relationship with Whitebeard, but to the crew it was so damn obvious.

Even when you and Whitebeard became official, and maybe even married at some point, you still took jobs every now and then, never getting enough of the thrill of money. But it was a lot less, and you pretty much cut all contact with the world government.

Sure, that got you a bounty and a high reward, but you honestly couldn’t care. After all this time you realized, maybe a crew wasn’t so bad. It also helped to have a partner that made you feel safe and cared for, whilst also leaving you limping in the best possible way.

[hannahbarberra162]

Can't Fix Fix A Broken Heart - Chapter 5

Now on Ao3

Chapter 4 Chapter 6

Chapter 5 - New Beginnings With Newgate

18+, MDNI.

I realized “Moby Jr” is not canonically in OP. It's from “Oh, Sweet Child of Mine” by mamamittens on Ao3. That story got me down the OP yandere rabbit hole in general. I’m not caught up with current OP yet so sometimes I get things wrong. Please feel free to correct me.

Also, there will be more smut eventually. Just not quite yet. We’re sailing in the right direction. 

You walked down the road robotically, not thinking about where you were walking. You had said your teary eyed goodbye to the Brothers - you really would miss them. Walking, you were flanked by the four men, who were slowing down to match your shorter stride. Ace was holding your things at his insistence. You didn’t feel like talking and they weren’t asking you anything. You were already tired and wanted to nap - you didn’t have much stamina. You’d run through a gamut of emotions and fixed all those tables. Normally the fixing alone would have you snoozing. But you had a feeling there wouldn’t be a chance to sleep for a while to come. After all, it was only early afternoon. 

“Cariña, would you like me to carry you? You look like you could use a rest,” offered Thatch. You blushed a little. Carry you? Like a baby? Were you that pathetic? You still had enough pride to walk even if the offer was a little tempting. 

“Ah, no? Thank you though? We’re almost at the wharf,” you said, pointing down the road. And indeed you were - you saw the Moby Jr. gently bobbing on the water. Once the cobblestones of the street ended and the boardwalk to the docks began, your hands started to shake. It was just a lot. You couldn’t even separate all your feelings of sorrow, loss, nervousness and trepidation from one another. 

Vista, Thatch, and Ace all continued walking while Marco stopped you for a moment. He put his hand on your shoulder and turned you towards him. You looked up at him, feeling unsure and weak. He chucked your chin with one large index finger. “Chin up, it will be OK yoi. You’ll be among friends. Oyaji is intense but he means well.” You nodded silently. You weren’t sure about friends but it did make you feel better that you already were acquainted with a few crew members.

Marco moved his hand to your shoulder and you saw some blue flames leave his arm for yours. You screeched in surprise - was the fire going to burn you? Marco looked down and only smiled, keeping his arm where it was. “Don’t worry, those are just small healing flames from the Phoenix. I forget to control them some of the time.” He tilted his head and asked “are you injured somewhere? They don’t appear indiscriminately. I’ll check you out when we get back to the main ship.”

“O-oh, that won’t be necessary, I’m completely fine,” you said nervously shifting your shoulders under his arm. Marco hummed but didn’t say anything else.

Everything blurred together as you set sail on the Moby Jr. Since the visit to your island was for supplies and partying, you weren’t far from the Moby Dick itself. You felt your eyelids drooping - the afternoon sun was so warm and the sea air so pleasant. You had forgotten that being aboard a ship could be relaxing. You knew you were at your limit and needed to rest. You had a hard time sleeping in front of other people - let alone people you didn’t know that well. And the boat was rather small - it would be hard to find a spot where you felt secure enough and out of the way enough to actually sleep. You poked around a little bit and decided to rest between two of the supply crates they were bringing back. Just a quick little refresher and you’d be all set…

You didn’t know how much time had passed before you heard footsteps stop in front of you. You immediately woke up with a start, in full fight or flight mode. You had always been a light sleeper but now were attuned to any noise approaching you when you were sleeping. Marco was crouched in front of you, giving you a relaxed smile. 

“We’re here yoi. Let’s not keep everyone waiting,” he said while ruffling your hair. You took a deep breath and got up, stretching your legs.

You two were the last ones on the boat and you followed Marco to the deck. The Moby Dick was…immense. You had never seen anything like it. It made the Marine ship you had been on look like a skiff. Marco was waiting next to a rope and wood slatted ladder, motioning for you to climb first. You went up to the ladder, frowned slightly, and made the hand gesture for Fix Fix. Only then did you start to climb the ladder.

“I didn’t think the ladder was broken yoi,” Marco said conversationally while you two were climbing.

“It wasn’t yet. But the rope was deteriorating between the second and third rungs of the ladder. It’s been in use for a while and was getting worn down.”

“But if it wasn’t broken, how did you fix it?”

“Oh, um. I can sense when things need fixing, even if they haven’t completely broken yet. I prefer to fix things before they actually break if I can. Like, I can tell that the screw in the left arm of your glasses is stripped and may fall out soon. It’s an awareness I can tune into. It's really not that interesting. And, um, I can also fix your glasses when we get to the top. If you want.”

Marco laughed and said “Thank you. Such a sweet offer.” Suddenly, he let go of the ladder completely and fell as if in a dive. But before you could blink, he was rising above you in his Pheonix form. You could do nothing but stare. It was absolutely breathtaking. He was the most amazing creature you’d ever seen - or would see -in your life. The rippling blue feathery flames, his golden accents, the elegant way his body soared through the air…He was utterly and completely magnificent. You wanted to watch him fly for hours and you knew you’d still want to see more. He stretched his mighty talons as he flew by. You saw their razor sharp edges and cringed at the thought of being at the wrong end of those weapons.

He landed at the top of the ship, partially transformed himself, and offered you a hand to come over the side of the ship. You were still watching his resplendent form and took his hand. He then changed back completely into a man and said simply “Welcome home.”

You wanted to talk to him about his Phoenix form, but it was hard to focus on any one thing when you were finally aboard the Moby Dick. People were milling about, working, people were calling and waving to Marco, Thatch was already drinking and laughing with Ace…there were so many people moving around, so many things to look at, and your devil fruit was calling for you to fix a million different things. And everything was so…large. You felt like you were a kid again, sitting at a chair that was too big for you and swinging your feet. You didn’t have much time to ponder, because Marco once again put his arm over your shoulders really, a simple tap on the shoulder would do and said “c’mon. Oyaji wants to meet you.”

Marco POV

When you looked up at him at the wharf with your big sad eyes, he almost scooped you into his arms up right there. You needed someone looking after you, and he was ready for a new project. You were like a little wounded bird he could nurse back to health. And just like a wounded bird, once he earned your trust and healed you, you’d be thankful and loyal to him. 

When he saw you tucked away, sleeping on the boat? Oh, the things he’d wanted to do to you. You looked so innocent and serene - and calm for once. He loved seeing you at peace, but it brought other thoughts to mind. How would you react to waking up with his head between your luscious thighs, holding them apart, licking and nibbling as a good morning surprise? Would you mewl quietly like a little kitten or would you be loudly moaning his name as you came on his tongue? Would you taste as delicious as you smelled? He knew he’d find out eventually. 

He loved how awe struck you looked when you first saw his Pheonix form. Like he was a God come to life. He didn’t feel bad about pulling out all the stops, he knew the kind of impression his Phoenix gave. He wanted you to see how powerful he was and yes, maybe to intimidate you a little bit. A healthy dose of fear might help you remember that might makes right on the seas, and you needed someone like him.

He knew he and the others were touching you a lot and that you didn’t like it. It did break his heart a little to see you flinch every time anyone came near you. But touching you was the first step of making you comfortable with their attention. And he needed you to be very comfortable for the kind of attention he was going to give you.

Y/N POV

Obviously, this was Whitebeard’s ship. You knew that. It wasn’t a surprise. But you just didn’t think through the idea that you would have to actually meet Whitebeard himself. Marco calmly walked you towards the rear of the deck. You were nervous, naturally. You were meeting a Yonko and requesting to be let on his ship, who wouldn’t be? You saw a dais surrounded by nurses wearing pink uniforms…and thigh high leopard boots. They were fussing over the largest man you had ever seen, who was sitting nonchalantly on a regal looking armchair. He was powerful even at rest. You wanted to stop moving closer but Marco still had an arm over your shoulders, so you were propelled along with him.

“Marco, welcome back my son,” boomed Whitebeard. “I hear we have a new child coming on board.” Whitebeard turned his attention to you - it felt like being in the center of a hundred flame dials. You started fidgeting, and Marco patted your shoulder with the hand that was already there. You briefly turned your head to the side and saw that other people had started watching the conversation from the sidelines - making you feel like you were being watched in an arena. It seemed news traveled fast on the ship.

“Thank you Oyaji. We found someone in need of assistance working with Vista’s brothers. She just got her first bounty.”

“GRARARARARA, what did you do, child? Congratulations” laughed Whitebeard.

Still fidgeting - pinching your fingers, you answered “I, um, didn’t do anything. They said I was part of a pirate crew but I’m not. I think they just want me back. I didn’t do anything, um, bad.”

“Well, there’s always time to change that,” Whitebeard remarked with a smile. Even though he was large enough to squish you like a bug, he gave you a warm feeling. You felt comfortable speaking to him, even in front of the growing crowd.

“What’s your name, child?”

“Y/N”

Marco added “she’s also a devil fruit user. She has the Fix Fix fruit. Maybe could help us out if we ask her nicely.”

“Is that so, child?” Whitebeard said to you with an indulgent smile.

“Ah, yes,” you said, gaining a little bit of confidence. “I can fix almost anything. I’ve worked on ships before so I’m familiar with the kind of repairs they usually need. But I’ve never been on a ship like this,” you said gesturing in a motion indicating the ship as a whole. 

“GRARARARARARA no one has, child. Welcome aboard.” He tossed his head towards the nurses. “Tate can show you where the women’s quarters are. Settle in, and we’ll celebrate gaining another sibling.”

The crew raised their voices in a raucous cheer, which startled you. You had been focusing so much attention on your interaction with Whitebeard you had almost forgotten they were there.

You were astonished at Whitebeard's words - new sibling? You didn’t know that you were going to stay here on board! Did that mean you were in the crew? Or just that you were allowed to stay? Your head was spinning and you didn’t know what to say, so you said the first thing that popped into your mind.

“Um, thank you Captain Whitebeard. Would you like me to fix your chair?” 

You heard Whitebeard laugh again as Marco took his arm off your shoulders and sauntered over to Whitebeard. They started talking in low tones, with Whitebeard laughing intermittently. Tate stepped down off the dais and approached you with a broad smile.

“It’s nice to have another woman on board, Y/N! I'm Tate, the chief nurse on board. Come along with me, I’ll show you where to put your belongings. And as long as we’re going that way, we might as well give you your introductory physical.”

“Physical? Like, a doctor’s visit?”

“Oh yes. Everyone gets one when they first join. It’s standard practice. And you’ve already met the doctor, Marco.”

You gulped - this was not something you had anticipated.

[sometimes-love-is-enough]

HiIII II min, what are you reading/watching/listening to at the moment, i need recs

QUITE A LOT. i am reading and watching and playing and listening to. A LOT. I'm kind of astounded that I'm actually doing all this at once, but here we go -

Books:

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov - y'all already know what this one is about. I'm here to tell you that it's brilliantly done with a genuinely engaging writing voice and style, and a terrifyingly good unreliable narrator. If you're up to stomaching the obvious pedophilia, I fully recommend it.

Moby Dick by Herman Melville - slightly racist biologically inaccurate whale hunting. For people who know nothing about whales. I've been on a classics kick recently, I'm trying to get my way through a lot of the big 'classic' books and this is what feels like the final boss. It's good, but it's dense as all fuck, and I'm struggling despite being very close to the end with it. I don't recommend this one quite as much, but it's good enough for me to stick with it.

Sacred and Terrible Air by Robert Kurvitz - this is the Disco Elysium novel, translated from Estonian by a variety of lovely people. It's good, but it's also pretty dense - maybe not as much as Moby Dick, but it makes it hard to read in large chunks. I'm reading it alongside my beloved @lifewithoutrainydays, and i really need to put more time into it.

S. by Doug Dorst - fucking fascinating book. It's presented as a book called 'Ship of Theseus' by an author that doesn't exist, and it looks and feels like an actual old library book, complete with scribblings in the margins (that form a whole other meta story on top of the book itself), postcards and printouts jammed in between the pages, and an old library label on the spine. Still trying to figure out how to read it, but plucking away at it in-between all my other endeavors.

Our Bloody Pearl by D.N. Bryn - a.k.a., me trying to step out of my comfort zone and read some recommendations, and not quite clicking with it. Found family pirate-siren trauma-recovery story. I like the things being done with communication difficulties, but on the whole it feels a bit too fanfiction-y, which is not something I tend to like in my original fiction. I'd recommend it if you're a fan of that sort of thing, though!

Comics:

Awful Hospital: Seriously the Worst Ever by Bogleech - the author says they've never read Homestuck. I don't know if I believe them. A glorious gruesome surreal hellish trip through a very very bad hospital, seriously the worst ever, and beyond! I'm pretty early on but enjoying the fuck out of it. I don't know where it's going and I'm scared to find out.

Doctor Strange: Fall Sunrise by Tradd Moore - I read this ages ago, but finally have it in printed edition, and that rules because everything about this FUCKS SEVERELY. the art style is unhinged and brilliant, the writing is weird and beautiful, and the plot is........ the weirdest thing Doctor Strange comics have ever done since Into Shamballa, actually. i'm taking it slow this time because i want to savor every panel.

The Apothecary Diaries (manga edition) - this has been on pause for a bit, because everything else I was reading distracted me, but it's good and it's open in another tab right now, so I'll include it. Murder mysteries in an ancient Chinese court, starring the weirdest poison-obsessed apothecary girl who has ever existed. She poisons herself for fun and gets excited over particularly deadly toxins, I love her to death.

Games:

The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt - I loved the books and the show, so I figured it was about time to actually play the games. I'm a tiny bit addicted to it at this point. It's a good fucking game. I like killing monsters and I like playing Fantasy Magic The Gathering and i really really like the battle music. I'm 100%ing this one or I'm dying in the process.

Lobotomy Corporation - has fallen a bit by the wayside because of the Witcher, whoops, but I do fully intend to get back to it at some point. I know there's some less-than-great stuff going on vis-a-vis the creators, but I'm not really engaging on that level. I'm just enjoying it as an SCP-like creature-management simulator. There's some very fun anomalies with very fun writeups in this one, and I enjoy the mental challenge of figuring out what makes them all tick.

Listening to:

Critical Role, Campaign Three - I'm not utterly obsessed with it, but it's a nice long chunk of listening for me to get my evening routine done to the sound of.

And on my podcast 'I'm all caught up, but I regularly listen when new episodes come out' list are: The Magnus Protocol, Dungeons and Daddies, The Adventure Zone, and Apocrypals.

Watching:

The X-Files - all of it, start-to-finish, because I have somehow managed to avoid all spoilers of a sci-fi cultural touchstone all this time, and I'm really looking forward to seeing where this goes. I love some fucked-up monster-of-the-week sci-fi.

[compassmili]

💯🤒 for john,,, and also anyone else you wish ^_^

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

UM. HELP. I DON'T KNOW I JOHN POST SO MUCH IT'S MY FOURTH MOST USED TUMBLR TAG. In her source novel she graduated from an Ivy League, I believe specifically Harvard? Her source novel is also often cited as having "predicted" the sinking of the Titanic (Nearly identical ship names, wrecking after collision with an iceberg in the Atlantic in April, not enough lifeboats, even down to the boat sizes- The fictional Titan being 800ft long and the Titanic being 882ft). Though obviously that's false :sob: Morgan Robertson, the author, was just a sailor himself for years so of course had an understanding of the waters. What else. I made her birthday October 18th because that's my birthday (And the publishing date of the first edition of Moby Dick which is why I chose it. Heart emoji.)

🤒 FACE WITH THERMOMETER — does your oc get sick easily?

Not at all her immune system is crazy. Didn't get sick for like 20 years got sepsis once and hasn't been sick since. Like all the good luck caught up and she got 20 years worth of sickness at once. And now it repeats. So John watch out in your 60s. "How did she survive having sepsis" Dyke powers.

Wife said to do it for Turtle Dove as well <3

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

Turtle Dove initially drew more inspo from a sys member than her source itself. That's still primarily the case, though Turtle Dove's evolved beyond "Avelot's Sinner insert" into an actual OC. (<- Same goes for Gaia). Reap has one of my favorite designs also... She has a slight association with knighthood due to the sys member reap was initially just the insert of highly valuing and having an interest in it, viewing itself as a knight so far as to essentially have her gender be "knight". It's why I gave Turtle Dove a Zwei West ID despite fucking hating the Zwei and everything they are. But honestly I think I'll probably scrap it because even with the knight thing I'm not having my damn OC be a cop. Okay 4th one for fun reaps stuffed animal is named Mr. Mew :]

🤒 FACE WITH THERMOMETER — does your oc get sick easily?

Not really, I think. Noise is kinda hollow so I think even if she got sick she would not realize it because she's so detached :sob:

[sixminutestoriesblog]

Porphyrios

Since 2020 there have been over 400 run-ins with orca whales off the coast of Spain. So far, they've sunk at least three ships and damaged dozens more. A ship's skipper, Daniel Kriz, who has had the orcas damage rudders on two different boats he's been on, says they're getting better at it too.

“In 2020, the attack lasted almost an hour and was not as organized,” Kriz said. “This time we could hear them communicating under the boat. It only took about 10 to 15 minutes.”

Why are whales suddenly going after boats with such determination and for such a long span of time? Scientists are unsure, leaning between the whales retaliating for harm a ship did them previously or simply becoming brave enough in their curiosity to unintentionally damage ships. Perhaps I am a bit too influenced by stories I've read but I would tend to believe the orcas know exactly what they're doing.

I also know this isn't the first time a whale has attacked, or sunk, a ship.

Perhaps the most modern famous one is the sperm whale that sunk the whaling vessel Essex in 1820, an incident that inspired Herman Melville to write Moby Dick in 1851.

But we can go further back than that.

Much further.

Let's go back to sixth century Constantinople. According to Procopius, a historian of the time from Caesarea, a great whale, 45 feet (13.7 meters) long and fifteen feet (4.6 meters) wide haunted the Strait of Bosporus and the waters around it. This whale wasn't just there to sight-see either. The whale attacked and sank ships it came across.

The sailors of the time named the monster Porphyrios.

There's debate what the name was derived from (other than the gut kick reaction to shout 'oh shit!' the second you saw the whale hove into view) but most scholars think the whale's name came from prophyra which meant a deep, purple color. This could have been referring to the color of the whale's skin or perhaps imbuing it with some of the terrifying, regal nature that nobles of the time, the only ones allowed to wear the purple, implied. Whales weren't well known in that area of the world at that time and we have no way of knowing what kind of whale it was. Speculation based on size leads many to believe it was a lost sperm whale a long way from home but it might have also been a large orca. Iberian orcas hunt the Straight of Gibraltar, following the bluefine tuna every year and they're the ones responsible for the recent ship attacks off the coast of Spain of the past few years. It's not hard to imagine one of them wandering east, deeper into the Mediterranean Sea, instead of heading back north when the tuna left. And Porphyrios didn't just set up shop anywhere. He decided that the Strait of Bosporus was his new hunting ground.

Here's the thing. The Strait of Bosporus was the main trade route for that part of the world. Goods flowed down to the Black Sea, crept through the narrow Strait of Bosporus which let out into the Sea of Marmara. One more strait, this one the Dardanelles, where the city of ancient Troy once controlled all trade out of the East, and then it was out into the Aegean Sea and then on to the Mediterranean. Trade goods could pass by on land but it added both dangers and time to the business and, most importantly, took all that sweet, sweet toll to use their water passage right out of Constantinople's hands. Having what amounted to a sea monster living in their main money-maker and convincing merchants to find other ways to bypass the strait, and therefor the city sitting on the edge of it, was disastrous for a country that was trying to restore itself to its former glory. Emperor Justinian I, also known as the Great, put out a bounty on the monster's head and did everything in his power to encourage its capture or eradication.

The tools of whaling used centuries later to drive many whale populations to the brink of extinction however were unknown at the time. Porphyrios shrugged off the arrows and spears lobbed at it and went on sinking ships, sending simple fishing vessels to the bottom of the ocean just as steadily as it did merchant and war ships. There was even a story that Justinian's famous general, Belisarius, loaded a catapult onto a ship to hunt the deadly whale, though this seems to be just a story and one which also failed to killed the great monster of the strait.

Porphyrios becoming a terror that merchant captains probably saw in their nightmares even when they were on dry land. Long routes far out of the way were taken to avoid waters he swam in. There would be lulls. For unknown reasons, Porphyrios would disappear for long periods of time, lulling ship captains and their crews into thoughts that the monster had died. It never lasted though and for over fifty years, Porphyrios hunted the ships of the Bosporus and its surrounding waters, damaging some and sending many more to the bottom of the ocean.

Nothing lasts forever though. One day, the story goes, Porphyrios was chasing dolphins in the Black Sea and ran aground. Struggling to get back to deeper water, it only churned up the dirt, sinking itself more completely into the mud. Locals that lived nearby saw what was happening and ran out to kill the great beast but their axes did little damage against its tough hide. In the end, they lashed ropes to to the whale and, using horses and wagons, dragged its great bulk to higher ground. There they finally managed to kill the beast, eventually hacking it to bits and eating the pieces. Porphyrios, killer of men and sinker of ships, terror of the Bosporus, was no more.

It was the first recorded case of a whale attacking ships.

It hasn't been the last.

Perhaps the Iberian orca, social animals that can teach each other how to disable and sink ships, tell stories, late at night when they rest in the waters off the coast of Spain, with the bright lights from the shore twinkling above the water like electric stars. Perhaps they tell stories of an ancestor who hunted strange waters -

and taught the humans in their noisy ships above what real fear was.

[mydetheturk]

Drabble challenge:

Take the long way round.

have a cute!!!! (this may or may not eventually make it to ao3; i haven't written OP in a couple years, i'm rusty lol) back on my "marco and crocodile dated when they were teenage pirates" nonsense 💜

~~

“Hey, take a left here,” Marco said.

Crocodile frowned but turned anyway. “The ships are the other direction?” he pointed out.

“You wanna go back already?” Marco rolled his eyes and shifted one hand into flame, holding it up in the dark alley. “This is just… us taking the long way round.” He smiled as he said that, though, crooked and mischievous.

“Yeah well, you don’t live with my captain.” Crocodile tucked in close, taking Marco’s other hand in his.

“That’s true!”

The two teenagers wandered through the port town, swinging through back alleyways whenever they realized they were getting just a bit too close to the port itself. It wasn’t like this was a dangerous town – it was well within Whitebeard’s territory and Captain Portgas was allowed to pass through whenever, provided she didn’t cause too many problems.

Marco led Crocodile around, pointing out his favorite parts of the town, ending up at a little diner off the port that had a few outside tables, lit by a series of torches. They could see their respective ships from there, the Hibiscus and the Moby Dick, so it was close enough without being too close.

The moons were nearing their zeniths when older members of both crews spotted them.

“Crocodile! There you are; Captain’s been looking for you,” Master Shakky said. “We’re setting off on the morning tides.” Crocodile’s shoulders dropped.

“That early?” Crocodile grumbled.

“Oh good, Marco’s with him. Marco! You know how late it’s getting, right?”

Marco groaned. “Hi Oden.”

Kozuki Oden grinned and ruffled Marco’s hair, much to his annoyance.

Crocodile got to his feet.

“Sorry about cutting your date short, Croco,” Master Shakky said. She patted his shoulder. “I’ll see if we can pass through longer than a day or two next time.”

“It’s alright, Master Shakky,” he said. “See you later?”

Marco shot to his feet and almost tripped over them in his haste. “Sooner than later,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to Crocodile’s cheek.

Crocodile flushed while Master Shakky and Kozuki Oden laughed.

“C’mon, Oden, I’m sure Pops is going through it if he sent you to find me,” Marco said. The two Whitebeard pirates disappeared in the direction of the Moby Dick.

Still chuckling, Shakky patted Crocodile’s shoulder again. “Puppy love. You can call him once we’ve set sail and we’re out in steady waters again, Croco. Be glad I’m the one that got you; Rouge was going to send Omri and he was going to kidnap you.”

Crocodile groaned again and nearly dropped into a pile of sand at the thought.

[somedayillfindthecourage]

Hi I've not been able to stop thinking about this so please accept my humble words

Eddie Munson has never appreciated costuming more than he does in this moment.

Seriously, the boots alone are enough to give him swagger, but the leather vest? The bandana? The fucking hat??

Eddie Munson has never looked cooler.

“You look like an asshole,” Gareth says, and Eddie can’t even find it in his heart to flip him off, he’s that jazzed about the costume.

“Yar,” he says to his own reflection, winking at himself. Yeah. That’s the stuff.

He whirls around and claps his hands once. “I’m off to plunder.”

Jeff rolls his eyes and Gareth flips him off and Eddie’s gone, swaggering down the corridor. His normal confidence level is about chin level, but this, this is fucking eyebrow levels of self-confidence.

And up ahead, his white whale. Or, you know, probably that metaphor works, he read enough of Moby Dick to know with certainty that Melville was gay and then got bored of reading about whale bits and ship parts, but, it’s fine. Scoops Ahoy can be his white whale if he says it is.

Scoops Ahoy with its stupid little sailor costumes and bored teenage employees. He’s been plotting this hijink for weeks, sorting out the pirate costume and coming up with the perfect phrase. He sort of knows Buckley, so this whole thing is going to be hilarious.

He swaggers right into the store, hit with that weird waffle cone ice cream shop smell and opens his mouth to drop the line of the century:

“I’m here to plunder your treasure chest of ice cream, yarhar”

(Which is not at all dumb or childish, Gareth, it’s a work of comedic mastery and ironic wit)

Only, it’s not Buckley manning the counter with a bored expression on her face.

It’s Steve fucking Harrington.

Steve, who looks up when he walks in and smiles, all boy next door charm and golden boy glow.

Steve, who actually looks good in the stupid sailor costume, with the stupid white cap perched jauntily on his incredible hair. Nothing should ever be jaunty in real life, but that hat on Steve’s head is.

And that’s just the cherry on the sundae of Steve fucking Harrington, with his athletic thighs in those short shorts and the little curl of chest hair just barely peeking out the top of his little ascot-like tie thing.

It’s the chest hair that does him in. Eddie Munson knows better than to look Steve fucking Harrington up and down. His eyes get caught like a loose tape and static fills his brain. He never feels gayer than he does looking at Steve Harrington’s thighs and chest hair.

So instead of opening his mouth and delivering acerbic wit and pirate puns, his tongue practically falls out of his mouth and he says,

“I’m here for your pleasure chest.”

He doesn’t even wait to see the damage, just turns on his heel and speedwalks faster than that pack of moms in athletic wear he sees when he drives past fancy neighborhoods.

There’s probably a trail of smoke behind him, but Eddie doesn’t stop, not even when he careens past Gareth and Jeff standing outside the costume shop, near twin confused looks on both their faces.

No, Eddie doesn’t stop until he’s hit the fountain in the middle of the food court.

Then, he simply lifts one leg at a time until he’s in the fountain, and drops his ass right into the water.

“Oh my god,” he whispers to himself, mortification taking the place of his self-confidence.

He tries to replay the moment in his head, to prove to himself it wasn’t that bad, but it’s like his brain won’t even let him do that. It’s too embarrassing to remember. His brain is amnesiaing itself to protect him.

He didn’t even get to see the look on Harrington’s face.

Why couldn’t it have been Buckley?

Something hits his shoulder.

“Hey,” Gareth calls.

Something else hits the water near him, splashing his face.

“Dude,” Jeff says.

This time the penny hits him on the face, and he watches it plink down into the water.

“Aren’t these supposed to be quarters?” he asks morosely, because his life is over and his bandmates are throwing coins at him.

“Bitches be broke,” Gareth replies.

“Plus, quarters would probably hurt more,” Jeff adds. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Eddie groans and buries his face in his knees, the cold fountain water properly seeping into all of his clothes now, including his oh so cool pirate boots.

“I thought you were plundering?” Gareth practically shouts.

“It wasn’t Buckley,” he mumbles into his knees.

“What?”

Eddie pries his face skyward and rolls from his ass to his knees, which puts him high enough that the fountain actually knocks his hat off, soaking the bandana underneath it in seconds. His hair is a lost cause. He presses his hands to his face and lets out a mortifyingly strangled, “WHY” before just falling backwards into the fountain. It’s not deep enough to drown him, unfortunately, so after a moment he sits up again, properly soaked.

“I made an ass of myself in front of Steve Harrington,” he admits, refusing to make eye contact with Gareth or Jeff.

“Steve Harrington?” Gareth repeats, with far more emphasis than should be allowed on one person’s name. “How??”

“He works at Scoops,” Eddie sighs.

Gareth is undoubtedly smiling at Eddie’s terrible luck, but Eddie refuses to give him the satisfaction of looking at him.

“Steve the hair Harrington, who you mooned over all last year, captain of whatever sports team—”

“Basketball and swim,” Jeff fills in.

“--the guy you composed an actual sonnet for in English class? That Steve Harrington?”

“It was a dirty limerick at best,” Eddie corrects.

“Holy shit,” Gareth says. Then, with more emphasis, “Holy shit. And you just walked in there, dressed as a pirate, and said—”

“I’m here for your pleasure chest,” Eddie whispers, but because Gareth has fucking sonic hearing or some shit he hears him, and immediately starts laughing so hard Eddie’s worried he’ll pee himself.

“No,” Jeff says, properly mortified on Eddie’s behalf, because he’s a good friend, unlike traitor Gareth, who is actually using the side of the fountain to support himself now, lest he fall in and drown laughing too hard at Eddie’s life-ending mistake.

“This is how he finds out who I am,” Eddie moans, dragging his sopping wet hands down his face. “I can never come here again.”

“I mean, the mall cop is gonna kick us out for sure if you don’t get out of the fountain, but—”

“Hey.”

Eddie must be having some sort of chlorine fountain related stroke, because that sounds like Steve fucking Harrington’s voice.

He can’t look. He can’t risk Steve seeing his tomato face and his wet cat hair. If Steve Harrington followed him out to the mall food court fountain, Eddie cannot look at him.

He keeps his palms pressed over his face and holds as still as he can. Like if he can’t see Steve and he doesn’t move, Steve won’t be able to see him either.

“Hey,” Jeff replies, and Eddie wishes Gareth would stop laughing long enough to actually help with something. “What’s up, man? I didn’t know you were working here.”

“Yeah,” and it is Steve fucking Harrington, oh no, casually striking up a conversation with Jeff like they aren’t total strangers. Like Steve didn’t rule the school they all attended with no idea who the gutter rats below his throne were. “Needed to do something this summer, you know?”

“I hear you,” Jeff says, because he’s respectable and does know, got himself a part time job at the costume shop, the only reason Eddie could afford this stupid get up. “I’m at the costume shop just down the way.”

“Cool,” Steve says, and it actually sounds like he means it. “Is that where he got the, uh, pirate costume?”

There’s a beat of silence when Gareth stops laughing, and Steve must have gestured to where Eddie is playing the worst game of freeze tag in the middle of the food court fountain. 

“No, that’s, uh, a new performance piece,” Gareth finally says, and it’s not at all convincing but he’s trying, and for that Eddie is willing to forgive nearly wetting his pants over Eddie’s misfortunes. “It’s a, uh, new statue they added.”

“Weeping Odysseus,” Jeff adds, as though an incorrect reference title is enough to convince Steve that the guy who just walked into his workplace and asked for his pleasure chest is actually just a statue in a fountain. 

“Right,” Steve says, like he doesn’t believe them but is willing to play along, and Eddie might be actually having some sort of breakdown, but he thinks he hears a hint of disappointment in Steve’s voice. “I was just— I was hoping to—” he stops, and Eddie wants to look at him so badly, so he shifts his fingers just enough that he can peer between them.

And Steve fucking Harrington is standing at the fountain edge, in his stupid sailor shorts and jaunty little hat, his face a stupidly cute shade of pink. He’s looking at Eddie in the fountain, and moving his fingers was a mistake, because Steve looks at him with his soft brown eyes, making actual honest-to-god eye contact. He actually blushes harder when he spots Eddie’s eye looking back at him. 

Sirens are going off in Eddie’s brain. 

“Maybe when he’s done weeping, Odysseus can come back to the shop,” Steve says, and he’s smiling, looking hopeful or something at Eddie, soaking wet in the middle of the fountain. “I’ve got plenty in my pleasure chest.”

Then Harrington spins on his heel and marches away, and it’s not fair how good his ass looks in the stupid sailor shorts. They’re stupid. Why is he so hot?

Jeff and Gareth watch him go too, but not really in an ass ogling way, more in a disbelieving kind of way. 

“Did Steve Harrington just use your own shitty line back on you?” Gareth asks. 

Eddie stands up abruptly, water spraying everywhere. He sloshes to the edge of the fountain, grabbing his floating hat along the way, and shoves it back onto his head, uncaring of the water pouring off of him all over the mall floor. 

“Excuse me, boys,” he says, unable to stop the dopey grin from spreading across his face. “I’m off to plunder a pleasure chest.”

eddie going in to scoops ahoy dressed as a pirate and saying he’s here to ‘plunder scoops’ treasure chest of ice cream yarhar’ only he gets to the counter and it’s Steve serving, not Robin. He was expecting Robin. What comes out of his mouth is ‘I’m here for your pleasure chest’. Cue eddie turning on his heel, walking out of scoops and sitting himself down in the fountain of the food court, hugging his knees while the corroded coffin boys throw pennies at him.

[alyjojo]

May 🏋🏻 2024 Monthly - Taurus

Preshuffle: Some of you could be hanging around waiting for your true love ❤️ to come into your life, but most of you are willingly withdrawing from the love game for awhile because you need some perspective.

Meditation: I’m seeing Moby Dick, terrifying a ship of people who are frantically running this way and that to *not die*. Fight or flight. The vision is about “maybe the whale has feelings, maybe he’s lonely.” Like you’re on the outside, feeling sorry for them. And the general consensus being that - who gives af, he’s terrorizing the whole ocean with his bs. You could be either side of this situation 🐋

Main energy: Temperance

All of the snake 🐍 energy is coming out this month, it’s been a repeated message for you. Could be you, could be a partner/ex, someone has had a 3rd party of some kind and fkd everything up in what was hoped to be a stable situation. Now for some - the 3rd party could be work itself, Brad Blueberry with King of Pentacles show a career & finance driven person that doesn’t make a whole lot of time for love. Someone isn’t committed to any situation they can’t trust (makes sense), Temperance shows a need for patience, calm, balance in one’s life. I assume yours, unless you’re dealing with another heavy earth energy. Now where there is something bs going on, it’s happening while you sleep? Or you’ve been “asleep” to this, unaware. Maybe at/regarding work. Sweet Dream at the bottom feels ominous, not peaceful. You should be able to relax, but aren’t able to feel secure enough in this situation to do so. Some of you may have been through breakups or divorces, and are navigating the choppy healing waters with that, throwing yourself into work - avoiding love at all. If not love, for someone - most are - this could be a work thing where you’ve been let go, or other people have been *chosen* over you in some way, regardless of you being loyal & dedicated. You have been more committed to this and they’ve hurt you by not appreciating all you’re giving them.

What’s going on in May:

King of Pentacles:

Whatever this is, you’ve done it for a long time. Years even. Relationships, jobs, you’ve put in the time and effort every single day without fail, and you’ve grown in maturity & wisdom along the way. This King does not like to waste his time, time is money, so 9 Swords clarifying is showing me that it’s the wasted time & effort that weighs on your mind, because you were all-in on something and gave it everything you’ve got. For what? 6 Swords at the bottom. For nothing? You’re deeply dissatisfied with an ending and how things have or are playing out, though with 6 Cups here, it’s probably already occurred and this is the “what comes next” energy. I keep hearing “Keep Calm.” Temperance. You’re the bull 🐂 and you’ve pulled the shark 🦈, I can see Taurus is not the one to fk with right now. If this hasn’t ended - because Temperance is here, then you have a history of non-committal bs and pain, and someone around you stresses you out, or love does in general. On a daily basis? Or their daily habits. Knight of Pentacles isn’t something that’s typically worrying, but in this case, you’re stressed out daily by whatever or whoever isn’t stable or committed in your world. Could be you, could be commitment generally that stresses you out & you’d just rather not.

10 Cups:

I don’t know if this has actually happened or if it’s what you fear will happen. 10 Cups is everything you’ve ever wanted, happily ever after 🌈 Things are beautiful, your heart is full, and then there’s fast moving action of some kind - and you’re alone, The Hermit. 6 Cups shows this may be something you’ve been through before, and whether single or dating now, you’re naturally suspicious and guarded from really investing your heart into things, you can’t trust that things are going to be fine, in your head - they’re not fine. These could be family members too, if not love, The Hierophant rev can be a parent that doesn’t parent, something you take very seriously and they just don’t or haven’t. Or it’s you feeling like you don’t want to commit to anything long-term. You have deep wounds and fear getting into something, risking the chance this could just happen again, for some of you it has. People leave, they can be selfish, and they flat out don’t care. Jobs aren’t invested in YOU, it’s you that has to do all of the investing. No one is reliable and everyone is full of shit…I can see your energy hasn’t been matched, in any direction that I can tell. Maybe it’s played out in one way before (parent) and another way now (love), either way - Taurus craves stable ground on which to build, intending for it to last long-term, and you don’t feel like there is any. Or it’s on an “Indian burial ground” - that’s what I heard. Could be your own, I’m not seeing self sabotage though, and with Third Wheel and Shark, you’re onto something. You’re suspicious/cautious for a reason. Feeling like you’re losing it 😵‍💫

10 Wands:

Heavily burdened, feeling like the world is on your shoulders and it’s weighing you down. Some of you could be expecting happiness, expecting things to just blow over and everything will be fine…but you’re not fine. Or you’re hoping your fears are wrong? Maybe you are projecting, maybe it’s trauma responses, maybe it’s xyz and everything is just fine - you’re the problem. But…7 Swords follows, that can’t be great. I do see you’re onto something, you can feel it. You could be dealing with someone that’s unreliable and non-committal, and you are the definition of stable & committed. You fear wasting your time or a knife in the back, maybe it’s happened before. I don’t get you being *wrong*, just paranoid af. Condor is at the bottom of your animal messages, showing you’re too emeshed in whatever this is. The preshuffle showed The Hanged Man repeatedly, either you need some perspective on an issue you’re too personally affected by, or you just need a break away from whatever this is. Some could be ending a situation out of self-preservation, like every warning flag is up, it’s time to gtfoh, and did anything *actually* happen…or is it just you preventing the worst you feel is going to, I’m not sure.

Another part of this 10 Wands, you’re not telling anyone. Suffering in silence, friends are at the bottom, plans are at the bottom, a future and moving towards that…you’re waiting. Burdened. You only like sharing happy news (who doesn’t) and aren’t likely to be vulnerable with the people around you, you avoid talking about anything - so you have no moral support (or outside perspectives) through this either. There could be shame surrounding something coming to light. I heard “failing.”

7 Swords:

If you’re currently dealing with a liar, cheater, sneak or deceptive individual, you’ve avoided going no contact and telling this person to fk off. Or they have with you, this could be someone that fks up and pops back in like a bad case of herpes. You let them? Or you have before anyway, that could be changing now. The Emperor at the bottom shows rules, boundaries, setting the example or standard, maybe for no contact in the first place - 4 Swords. You’ve had it with this crap, this person shows up as King of Cups rev & King of Wands. So they’re hot, passionate, confident, very forward and a leader, it’s easy to step aside and let this person lead - they’re eager to do so. But they lead you right into bullshit & manipulate you with “loving emotions”, they care so much, let me get that for you, sweet messages throughout the day while pulling whatever 7 Swords bs they’re pulling. Could be you too, for a crosswatcher of Taurus. If this is work, you could be waiting for a better opportunity to come along, maybe management has shifted or something and this new guy is a nope from you, you can sense you’ll just go down with this ship. There is a major lack of accountability regarding manipulation in any case, whoever that belongs to. Someone may have gone no contact as a means of manipulation. Like “chase me”, especially fire energy, they may like the attention and it just stresses you out, you’re not into the mind games and bs, just act right.

Page of Swords:

You’re likely to assert yourself in whatever case you’re dealing with here, Ace of Wands clarifies. Doesn’t feel like passion so much as feeling pissed off, 4 Wands at the bottom. Don’t fk with a Taurus’s stability, like idk why people try. You guys don’t care what other people do in their own lives usually, but the minute it affects your well-being, your paycheck, relationship, home, kids, whatever, we’ve got a problem - and that long, slow building temper of yours starts bubbling up like a volcano 🌋 ready to explode. Could be something you see, something that’s said, something you find, Page of Swords can be nosy - if you’re watching them or digging into what they’re up to. Someone may say the wrong thing on the wrong day, there could be gossip of some kind going around, or you’re just perceptive and notice something ain’t right. Whatever it is, you’re going to feel pissed off, and it’s up to you to assert your position on this matter - The Emperor. Or could be a partner/boss/parent. Very much a vibe of “I don’t think so.” You will need to take breaks and get perspective though, Sweet Dream could even encourage a nap before you explode 🤯 on someone or something. Some of you may be dealing with the worst, some are projecting the worst, and that does not help you at all - who doesn’t know the difference. Spirit got jokes. I think it’s because it’s more about *this* feeling, that’s what matters. You don’t feel secure, you feel bananas 🍌 So, is it worth it? What is worth it? If you’re single with a difficult history, now may be the time you start asking yourself the deeper questions about what you’ve been through and what you need to do in order to put yourself back out there again - rather than spending every second at work. The Emperor would show you setting your list of standards. Meet them or bye ✌️ It’s necessary.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Heavy Sagittarius, Gemini, Virgo, Taurus, Leo & Scorpio

Oracle: ✨

Third Wheel 💔

Enemy - Distrust - Flirtatiousness

Commitment 🖊️

Binding - Obstruction - Contract

Shark 🦈

“Trust your instincts to discern the truth of the situation.”

Your instinctual self is that aspect of you that sends signals to your brain directly from your body. It’s what’s responsible for your survival - particularly when you’re in a life threatening situation and must avoid danger by fighting, fleeing, or remaining still and quiet. It’s much more primal than intellect, and it’s what connects humans with all other animals. The trust for your instinctual signals can be modified and distorted by conditioning, especially childhood conditioning. When you’re repeatedly told to distrust what your body is telling you or you’ve faced life-threatening situations with no escape, this survival mechanism becomes clouded at the least and completely suppressed at the extreme. It’s replaced by either a generalized fear and agitation that gets projected onto relatively benign situations, or else a psychic numbness that anesthetizes the senses and severely limits your body’s ability to process environmental cues for danger. This sensory numbness also limits your ability to fully experience pleasure.

Take the time to tune into your gut feelings, use slow deep breathing. Listen with all of your senses to discern what your body is telling you, and use your intellect to interpret whether it’s a conditioned reaction or an instinctual response. With practice, you’ll refine your perceptual capabilities so that you can completely trust what you feel.

We enter into May as:

Topaz 💛

“If I seek peace, I must embrace my fears.”

Topaz speaks: “To be enlightened is to realize that to gain peace, fear in the heart must be faced.” If Topaz has come to you, he is telling you that it is time to stop talking about what you intend on doing. You must just do it. Things happen for us when we take action, which is the only way to break through what is holding us back. The change that is called for here is surrender, which is an action in itself. No great tasks were ever achieved easily. Remember we do a lot to avoid what we feel will hurt us; you must understand that the pain will recede if you face your fears, allowing you to walk through to the other side. Topaz whispers “Pray for guidance and you will be assisted.” Do not despair, for if Topaz has come to you, relief awaits. By facing your fears, peace and enlightenment will be your reward. That is the gift. All you need to do is ask.

What is to be learned in May:

Brad Blueberry 🫐

“While I worked, my life happened.”

Are you waiting to complete your career to live your life? What are you so busy for anyway? Sometimes keeping busy hides us from the real issues. Is there something you’re putting off doing? What are you avoiding? This card says go live your life! Work is not all there is, you must set aside what is driving you and regain some perspective on your life.

Blue may be a lucky color 💙

🎯 Happy Birthday Taurus!! 🦥

[quinloki]

Okay so building off of the previous ask

Yan wbp with marine reader

What if the party/celebration last multiple days and you use that time to get to know them? Everyone is under strict rules not to attack others and there are people overlooking the whole thing so nothing shady happens.

There are games, drinks, food, music, even a lake so everyone can swim, anything you can think of

You could know them outside of the event and finally get to talk while not in battle or you could just want to see the legends in the flesh but you meet them either way. Sparking up conversation with ace is pretty easy considering there’s a high chance you’ve fought him before and talking about the food and making some bets with him is a no brainer.

Around the second to third day Izou ends up walking over and offering some drinks with some of the calmer commanders and you get to chatting, it’s also easy conversation. Asking about how they’ve been and that you’re totally going to beat them the next time you meet as well as telling them about your promotion soon.Pops is listening in and making note to keep an eye on you along with some others.

Getting asked to join the crew and acting surprised and dramatically turning it down “be a pirate?!? Never!!” And turning the question asking if they’d become a marine.

Playing volleyball with some of your stronger crew against them and losing terribly

Winning the bet with ace and him having to do whatever you say(within reason)

Trying thatch’s cooking for the first time

All that just to crumble when the clock hit 12:01 and battles start erupting and in all the chaos they come at you, izou flanking you from behind, Marco taking the front and thatch and ace covering your sides. You’re trapped. No way out.

The betrayal makes everything hurt less, too focused on your emotions and you make one two many mistakes.

To be fair you were holding up very nicely, you could’ve gotten away from them with some help but let’s not worry about that now.

The bag comes over your head and as your kicking and screaming all the way back to the moby dick where you’ll be a nice new addition to the crew.

-💧

I have no clue if it’s just the ocean devil fruit users can’t swim in but I’m gonna pretend it is 👍

OG ask

I like it - the extra details - and as for if Lake Swimming is possible it's hard to say actually. There's been some inconsistency with the lore of DF users and Sea Stone, but that's to be expected with 25+ years and counting.

Based on how I understand it, Lake Swimming would be out of the question, but swimming pools might not be bad if the water's filtered enough (the idea being that natural water has minerals and the minerals are the issue more than the water itself.) Since Baths and Springs don't have the minerals filtered out, this is why Luffy is seen being weakened in these situations.

But Lake swimming doesn't make or break the idea and the setup - and I like it.

I love the idea of a willful, strong, and fiery marine-darling spending weeks - if not months - as a tiny whirlwind of rage as these big power pirates try to break her without breaking her. It's a very delicate and fine line, and she's not exactly letting them handle her with finesse.

I imagine it becomes a sort of 100 fights thing like Ace had with Whitebeard. They let her fight all she wants, but the ship is their home turf. She's on her own and they aren't.

I can see plenty of questionable and tense moments. Tempers flare and why should they continue to be nice to her, hm? They're just vile pirates, since that's what she thinks and isn't changing her mind no matter how they accommodate her, then why hold back?

Why not take what they want? There's four of them, and one of her, and even if no one else in the crew gets involved, she's not going to be able to stop them. If she won't accept things rationally, then they'll just make her feel so good she won't be able to think enough to resist.

Endless pleasure wears one down just as much as endless pain, but this way they'll enjoy the process along with her. She just has to endure several times more pleasure than any of them and if they fold before her, then she's free to go.

[focsle]

hello! i have a question: what draws you to whaling and that specific era of time in history? how long has it been an interest of yours?

Oh a much too big question for me to answer adequately in one ask. I’ve written tens of thousands of words on this history and the specific points of it that draw me. I’m pouring years of my life into a 400+ page comic about it. Catch me at 3am talking about reincarnation and how much I feel this all caught up in my soul-stuff. This will not be an answer that fully does my feelings justice. But I’ll link to some of my writings in this response that maybe do that better.

I’ve been deeply researching this history for over a decade, but I’ve always had a nautical bent to my childhood that probably sparked it. My grandfather was a Navy man. His house was covered in weird pirate sculptures and little creatures and art pieces he made out of shells and I think I inherited my sense of aesthetics from him. My mum was drawn to sea stories and things of that nature that was probably passed on to me in some way. Like most kids that sea bent manifested in an early interest in pirates, (tho the brief moby dick section of The Pagemaster was formative…it’s funny, I didn’t read Moby Dick until several years into my deeper dive into this history and then I was like ‘ohhhh….melville gets it). Learning about the Globe mutiny many years ago was a big spark to diving more specifically into said history. I first read a book about it where the writer’s (what I now consider, wobbly) thesis was that it was something about the industry itself that generated something within the perpetrator to choose a whaleship for premeditated slaughter, and the story was so rattling to me that I wanted to know what it was about that world that drove someone to something like that.

But instead I found a world that had so much humanity in it. It was one with a unique and isolated society that was unlike any other social sphere. Years on a ship that was a floating home, a floating factory, that had a relationship to the sea in a way that even other maritime trades did not. Fishing had/has some similarities, but not for the same isolating length or uniquely horrific and gruesome labor that whaling voyages held. The merchant trade had briefer voyages on more expected and well-trod routes. Even piracy followed the shipping lines of humanity more than anything else. With whaling your only destination was the sea, in a longer reach as the whaling grounds depleted and the industry stretched on to bring people to further and lonelier places. Where men would briefly touch land maybe every six months, and have liberty in port maybe even fewer times than that. That they were to go out there, and they weren’t to come back until they got enough oil to make the voyage worth it. It was an industry that drew men of so many different backgrounds and motivations, but the common thread tended to be that they were all very young, and that many of them were trying to find something in themselves or for themselves. An industry full of contradictions that I feel is most poetically expressed in scrimshaw, and one of the few places to see a preserved piece of art from an ordinary man. To see a small window into his emotional world and where his heart was in those long stretches of boredom. It was a space of brutal work, demoralizing work, and repulsive work, one where death was a constant shadow for both men and whales in a way that their lives were always inseparably on the same uncertain coin. But within that world, maybe despite that world, there was also a great deal of humanity, be it their music and sense of play, their whaler-specific social functions, their vulnerability. 

That whaling history luxuriously is a field where the words of hundreds of ordinary working class men have been preserved in diaries and logbooks means I get to know so many of them beyond statistics or names in a database. I get to learn about them on a personal level. I know what they worry about, what their favorite foods are, who they care about, when they have fun, when they’re miserable, sometimes what they find sexy, what makes them cry, and what makes them laugh, and what sort of man they hoped to be. In some of them I was reminded so much of myself, but in all of them I saw their unique and individual humanity, for better or for worse. So many of them carried a societal self consciousness within them that made me understand and feel for them. They often weren’t sure where they fit in a world that wasn’t a whaleship, even if that whaleship was a point of great hardship for them. So many of them wanted to be remembered in ways that they necessarily weren’t—few of them became historically important men, many of them died young or didn’t live to see home again, many of them may not have felt like they had anyone who cared about them, but they all had an existence they still clung to, that I feel compelled to try to honor and remember because I feel so much of them within me through that common thread of humanity.

This is a long answer, but as I said I still can’t express this in any way that isn’t shallow in this small space I have. It’s an interest that is both a personal, academic, and daresay spiritual one. I think to fully understand what draws me to it, you just gotta continually lurk in my awhalin tag and that ongoing comic of mine @goingtoweather. But hopefully this is a satisfying enough summary.

[mamamittens]

The Perfect Gift

Day #9 of 2022 December Event

Fandom: One Piece

Ship: WhitebeardXBee(OC)

Warnings: Mentions of booze, teasing conversations, contemplated murder for said teasing, mild embarrassment, and sheer industrial sized cheese for the Christmas season.

Edit: (12/25/22) Properly edited to reflect proper formatting! Enjoy it as I originally intended!

Word Count: 1,613

@secretsnailor

“So… you’ve come crawling to me, eh?” Thatch cackled, leaning on his elbows over a cookbook with a wicked grin. “I should have expected no less considering my vast experience in matters of the heart~!”

Bee, with no expression save a twitch of her eyebrow, grabbed a handful of flour from the bowl on the counter and threw it at his face.

“Shut the fuck up, Thatch. I came here for baking advice. Ass.” Bee hissed through her teeth. Thatch’s face and hair was covered in a thin white layer of flour as he blinked, sputtering and coughing as he laughed. “I don’t know what you think I came in here for—which I did not—but I need help baking something!” She clarified, face hot as she glared.

Blindly, Thatch reached out for a rag and wiped at his face, still cackling. Most of the flour was removed, revealing a shit eating grin.

“Oh, whatever could I mean? I haven’t the slightest idea~” Thatch sighed before straightening out his back and rolling his eyes. “So, I guess this means you’re not giving Oyaji a bottle of booze and calling it good for the ‘Secret Santa’? You know he would never say ‘no’ to that, right?”

Bee briefly considered the merits of pouring the entire bowl of flour over Thatch’s head before deciding the effort it would take to reach that high simply wasn’t worth it. Damn his pompadour.

“No. Close though… How do you think he’d like a whiskey bundt cake?” Bee asked, holding up a vintage bottle. Thatch perked up, eyes wide as he finally gave a genuine smile.

“I think he’d love it!” Then he leaned in close with a smirk. “Now about that love advice~”

“Shut! Up!” Bee hissed. Naturally, the course of love baking, rarely runs smoothly.

Even with Thatch assisting her along the way, double checking her measurements and providing the gigantic proportions of bakeware she needs to make anything substantial for Edward Whitebeard, the cake sets itself on fire no less than six times.

Only twice with actual whiskey inside of it.

Yeah… that stumped Thatch too. After the fourth time, he stormed out of the kitchen to make sure someone wasn’t fucking with them. And yet, no one was. Somehow. Bee wrote it off as her piss poor luck. Just like the stack of letters she tried writing for several weeks now that simply never worked, for one reason or another.

To be fair, a few of those were because someone barged into the room and Bee panicked, spilling ink over the entire letter. The rest was just… long rambling letters about how sweet and handsome and kind and—Bee needed to stop thinking about the fight Edward had with the admiral a few weeks back or she’d toss the bundt cake pan into a wall—

The point was that Bee had a track record of failing to get her feelings across for a while now. Ending up on the Moby Dick was actually a result of a spectacular failure in communication that she will rue to her dying day. But she’d be fucking damned if she didn’t at least convey that she appreciated her captain with this cake. Even if it killed her, and because of the sly comments Thatch keeps making—him as well.

So, when they finally finished baking a delicious ass looking whiskey bundt cake, Bee suddenly found herself with a problem she completely forgot about.

She needed to wrap the damn thing.

“Hmm… we have wax paper but it’s not really gift-wrapping material, ya know?” Thatch offered sincerely. And Bee completely agreed.

For their captain and her ‘totally normal about this man and his beautiful smile and his laugh and his—’ crush, it simply wasn’t good enough to just slap some wax paper on it.

Thankfully, Bee had a heinous supply of beautifully crafted parchment paper perfectly to Edward’s size.

For reasons.

Shut up.

A quick dash to her room while Thatch guarded the bundt cake from thieves or spontaneous combustion solved the issue. With Thatch even graciously wrapping the massive cake himself to ensure it didn’t fall apart, choosing to layer multiple pieces of paper with a grin that briefly inspired bloodlust within Bee. But she reminded herself that he was a good man, a good cook, and a wonderful friend. Even when he was being an ass.

So, he gets to live another day while she delivers this piping hot cake to her ‘very normal, not at all getting out of hand’ crush and captain.

Bee considered it a minor miracle that Edward was, in fact, alone. Well, actually, Marco was there but he saw her with a gift and ducked out with a smile rather quickly.

Edward saw her standing with a massive wrapped gift and smiled.

“Ah! I see my guess about my ‘secret’ Santa was right then.” He adjusted his chair to face Bee properly with a warm grin. “So, my dear, what did you get me? Is that whiskey I smell?” Edward asked cheekily. Bee briefly gathered herself before she melted into the floor from the ‘my dear’ comment.

“W-Well, you’re not wrong! It’s close.” Bee offered up the gift and waited for him to carefully unwrap it. “Whiskey bunt cake.”

Though it was… slightly small in his hands, it was the best she could do without specialty ordering a cake pan big enough to hula hoop in. Never the less, Edward was quite enthusiastic about it. Positively beaming as he dug in.

“Usually, one of my children just give me sake, you know. Getting a cake is quite the treat I don’t get to enjoy often!” Edward bragged, humming as he quickly ate the cake before a nurse could come in and see. Faster than Bee expected, he polished off the whole thing and tossed away the wax paper.

Then he started playing with the impromptu wrapping paper she used, though he distracted himself rather quickly.

“Ah. That reminds me! I know this isn’t quite how it’s supposed to go, but I happened to see this and thought of you, my dear. Merry Christmas.” Edward explained, reaching into a drawer and removing a box with silver wrapping paper. Confused and flustered, Bee accepted the box, picking at the paper slowly.

Inside, wrapped between layers of delicate tissue paper, was a leather satchel. Weather proof and thick with finely embossed detailing. Waves and clouds along the flap and shoulder pad. Edward’s jolly roger stamped on the side in bold, painted lines. It was beautiful, but also very obviously custom made. No one was ballsy enough to just sell things with pirate flags on them. Marine symbols, sure. Maybe. But the very imagery of wanted criminals?! Absolutely not.

Bee snorted.

“You’re so full of shit…” Bee mused softly, warmth spreading in her chest as she clutched the bag.

“Really? I thought I was ‘incredibly handsome with a wonderful smile and kind eyes’?” Edward sighed before clicking his tongue.

Bee jerked, heart slamming in her chest as she looked up at him with wide, frantic eyes.

“I suppose I must be getting too old though… yes, that must be it. Certainly not ‘finely aged’.” Edward held up the ‘wrapping paper’ only for Bee to finally see that it wasn’t blank papers at all.

It was a letter.

A letter she meant to discard for being embarrassing as fuck.

Bee made a sound. Or something like a sound. Something guttural and deep in her chest as she floundered. She meant to say ‘how do you have that? Was it that rat bastard Thatch, that man dies by my hands tonight’.

Instead, the closest she got to any discernable syllables was this:

“Hngh--!?”

“Ah, I suppose it doesn’t matter where I got such ideas. Must be idle thoughts of an unknown author.” Edward grinned, flashing the last page—that little bastard purposefully made sure the entire embarrassing letter was kept together he’s so fucking dead—where there wasn’t a single signature. Because Bee was never going to deliver it.

That was the plan.

She was supposed to burn it. And now look where she is. Mortally embarrassed and completely exposed, clutching a custom bag like a lifeline in front of her crush and captain.

“Wow. How weird. What a mystery. Welpers, gee golly whiz, I guess I should go now.” Bee droned dully as she slowly turned to leave the room. “Glad you liked the present. Feel free to trash the papers. Nothing to see here. Nope. Bye.”

Dignity now scrapped off the floor, Bee made for the door.

“Then again—” Bee froze in the doorway at the soft, teasing tone that went straight down her spine. “It wouldn’t be so surprising if such thoughts were returned to my ‘mysterious’ pen pal. Indeed, I hardly feel compelled to commission a bag for just anyone. And maybe I… purposefully paid extra to add my symbol as a statement. If you wanted to view it as such.” Edward added.

Bee couldn’t just stand there.

So she turned, just a little, to look back.

“…What kind of statement would that be?” Edward smiled softly down at her, almost indulgently.

“That I harbor great affection and would be honored if such a beautiful young lady were to return it. But that would be a Christmas miracle too great to presume.”

Bee couldn’t help herself, her cheeks warm as she smiled, giddy with realization.

“What’s there to presume?” Breathlessly, Bee walked over and allowed Edward to lift her up to kiss his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Edward.”

He laughed softly, his voice rumbling across her skin.

“Merry Christmas, my sweet miracle~!”

[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

Wished by Anonymous

Request: Hi! I love your blog! I hope you have a nice day and I got through your rules and I hope this is within what you are comfortable with! Can I request a Marco with a reader that is literally a real phoenix? Like she doesn’t show her powers but when someone (Izo) gets hurt very badly, she just burst out into this bright red phoenix and start heling everyone while hurting the enemy? Thank you!

...

None of them could believe their eyes.  

Not even when they could feel the very heat from your flaming feathers as you flew past them.

Not even as they watched you, from the very corners of their eyes, jump off from the wooden railings of the ship and transform into the very fiery bird they see before their eyes. Clawing away at the enemy as you flapped your enormous wings, the winds produced with every wave being the equivalence to those produced by some of the strongest hurricanes.

It was magnificent you see. To be in the presence of such beauty, surrounded by the warm glows of golden embers and wisp of red. The glow so bright that it blinded all, the hue so vivid that it bathed the blue skies into a deep vermillion. No more could clouds be seen, no more could the sun be seen --- everything was bathed in red and gold, no other hue existed.

“You dare hurt my friends? My brothers and sisters?” Your voice boomed through the battlefield. Your presence was strong, stronger than even those given the title of Yonko. But how could that be? You hadn’t held the ability of the Conqueror’s Haki nor had you yet to take a bite of the Devil’s Fruit ---  by all reason, you were supposed to be an ordinary person, err, pirate at the very least. Yet the question remains, how was this possible?

It was then at the middle of watching you battle the foes, tearing them down by the tens and disintegrating them with the mere look of the eye, that the Whitebeard Pirates had begun to feel a strange sensation course throughout their bodies. A sensation that began as a warmth of sorts before settling into a sort of coolness. They watch in awe as their wounds, licked by your flames, disappear as though they had never been inflicted in the first place.

“Uh, did you know about this?” Ace inquired, landing right beside his brothers, his own flames licking the soles of his feet.

“That (Y/N) was a freaking phoenix? Hell no. Never even saw it coming to be honest.”  Thatch admitted, a chuckle rumbling out from his chest. Scratching his strangely formed beard, he sent a smirk over to his blond brother,” What about you, hm Marco? Knew that the love of your life was of bird kin too, eh?” Said man rolled his eyes, yet his gaze never left your figure. He watched with great pride as you defended the crew with swiftness and grace unlike anything he’s ever seen before. He watched as you made your way over to the badly injured Izo, your figure hovering carefully over his battered body. And with a single wing, you laid it just inches above him, the feathers gently caressing his wounds. With every lick, the open skin would mend itself back to a close, the skin blushed with newly found life. Izo’s jaw slackened, eyes widening in shock upon your arrival.

“(Y/N)? I-Is that really you?”  He asked. His voice shaken and hoarse. He could still taste the iron of his blood in his mouth.

“Hop on, you idiot!” You yelled out,  stretching your wings away to expose your back. Seeing this, he, with his replenished energy, found himself strong enough to haul himself up from the ground and onto your back. His hands, bruised and calloused, gripped tightly onto the flesh of your neck. “Hold on tight cause I’m gonna burn these fools to the ground!”  It was a simple line of dialogue as it was a simple line of truth.

There wasn’t much after that, everything was as you told. 

Nothing but scorched grounds and shadows of those who once stood.

They dared not to speak of the screams that still lingered in the air.

Returning back towards the ship, you were greeted by a merry sight. Everyone stood by the railings of the Moby Dick, smiles upon their blushing cheeks as they roar in applause upon your arrival. If you were in your human form they would be met by the shake of your head and the sight of your smile. Hovering just above their heads, you made way for the middle of the deck, your crewmates backing up as to not get caught by your wings. Hopping off your spine, Izo stumbled as he regained his footing, his hair breaking away from their bondage and flying wildly as you body was overtaken by yet another blinding glow.

As the glow died down, you gracefully landed upon the wooden planks, the fire that once surrounded you now overwhelmed by the nip of the sea’s freshness. No longer did you smell the addictive scent of smoke, but did you smell the equal addicting scent of sea salt. Turning around, you look up to the Gunner, a worried fold upon your brows.

“Are you okay? They didn’t hurt that bad right?” You inquired, voice dripping wet of worry.

 An angry vein popped out from his forehead.

“Fuck off! What I want to know is when were you going to tell us about...about THAT?!” He yelled angrily at the top of his lung, earning a small pout from you. 

“Well if we’re gonna be like that, your makeup is smudged.” If looks could kill... Raising your hands above your head, you made a face as you slowly backed away from him. Putting your hands into your pockets, you spoke, “I was gonna tell you...eventually.” Clicking his tongue, the Gunner’s gaze softened. Walking up to you, he hesitantly placed a hand upon your head, a smile slowly erupting upon his painted lips as he whispered a small thanks before moving way. And with that, the festivities began.

By the time the afternoon sun was no more, every one had gone below deck to enjoy a swell meal prepared by their favorite chef, Thatch. You could even hear their loud cheers and singing even from where you stood. Their joy breathing into the very cold sea air she breathed, their energy running course through her veins as she felt a warmth blossom upon her bosom. A warmth caused by familial love. 

“So, when were you planning to inform me of your...abilities-yoi?” A familiar voice spoke from behind you. It was then that you felt another’s chest press firmly against your spine, their breath right beside your ear. You felt his arms wrapped around your waist, the muscle rippling under his bare skin. Leaning back into your wall of muscle, you breathed out a sigh. Feeling as all the tension in your body quickly faded away. He always did have that affect on you strangely enough.

“I don’t know...I mean you never asked.” He grunted, finding dissatisfaction with your answer. You sighed, “I really don’t know. It’s just something I don’t really talk about. Well mainly because if it were a known fact that I was an actual phoenix, the World Government would be even hotter on my trail.” Humming, he held you in silence for just a few minutes more before kissing your temple, his lips chapped but soft.

“At least now we know for a fact that we’re going to have baby chicks-yoi.” You chuckled, gazing out into the sea with a soft expression. “Yeah I guess so.” “Then let’s go.” You froze, “Huh?” 

Shifting in his arms, you tilted your head upwards. Your eyes peering through your lashes as you gave him a look of disbelief. But you were only met by the sight of his usual expression of half-lidded eyes and that lazy smirk of his. 

“I hate to admit it, but watching you turn into an actual phoenix and slay the enemies really got me hot and bothered. So let’s get going.” You had no time to react for he quickly threw you over his shoulder, a hand sitting on your ass.

“Whoa, whoa! Wait! What?!” A few men still hanged around the upper deck, so upon seeing your situation they couldn’t help but laugh. Wolf-whistling as they watched Marco take you in the way of his room.

“Can you believe that? Soon enough, there’ll be mini-Marcos and mini-(Y/N)’s running around the Moby Dick!” Haruta jested alongside Vista, a mug of beer in his hand.

“Gurararara~! I’m going to be a grandfather!” Exclaimed joyously Whitebeard, a grin on his face as the rest of the men cheered you and Marco on. Smirking, the pineapple man pated your rear,

“See-yoi? Now we gotta meet everyone’s expectation-yoi. There’s no escaping tonight-yoi~!”

Fuck.

...

Original Request 

(A/N): If you’re going to request something, read the rules. 

Hope you enjoyed!

[husbandograveyard]

Hello lovely! Congrats on 300 well deserved followers, I'm happy to be one of them! You know me by now, I'm gonna ask for Ace haha with 34 maybe? big hugs

Thank you love! Our favorite pouty boi in literally my favorite trope when I wrote fanfiction over 7 years ago. Enjoy some bottle-ordered kisses from the cutest flaming freckles of the seas!  ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

Glad you’re not that drunk - Ace x Reader 

Cliche with bae event - Prompt #34: Spin the bottle 

Character: Portgas D. Ace - Word count: 1.5k

Mentions of drunkness and alcohol. No other warnings. 

Party nights on the Moby Dick weren’t that frequent. Mostly because it was a big crew, and a lot of alcohol needed to be stocked for such a night, and with copious amounts of alcohol, came copious amounts of bad decisions and stupid adventures and actions that were better left in the dark, but there’s always that one person who is not drunk enough, will not forget what happens and will rub everyone’s embarrassing moments right into everyone’s hungover faces the next day.

You were one of those people. You drank along, for fun, but saw no appeal in actually getting completely wasted. It only gave you headaches, and as one of the few ladies on the ship, you just wanted to be a little careful. After all most of the crew could be complete idiots especially when they drunk one too many, and you didn’t want to get into any shenanigans you’d regret the next morning. Pleasantly buzzed was the farthest you would go.

And that was what you were at right now. It was already getting pretty late, and some of the men had started some drinking games, to add fuel to the fire you guessed, asking you to be the judge so you could at least join in on the fun. You had to admit, you were being a terrible judge. Not that anyone had actually asked you for game-deciding decisions, it was more a symbolic role so you wouldn’t have to be sitting to the side, but well, you were mostly focussed on one of your crewmates instead of the games.

The crewmate in question was laughing, and the sight in itself made your stomach flip. Portgas D. Ace, the most popular subject of your dreams and daydreams, but you figured he was many a lady’s dream. You were not sure how one person could be so beautiful, so strong, so funny and so humble. If only you could tell him that, cause every time you interacted you were reduced to the most embarrassing version of yourself, saying the most stupid things, and giggling as if you were a twelve-year-old schoolgirl and not a full-grown woman. It frustrated you to no end, and you had tried so many times to look tough and confident, but the moment he smiled in your direction, you’d melt and become a stuttering, blushing mess. Not a good look for a pirate.

You were drinking a little more, just to try and fit in, just to keep your mind from wandering towards the freckled pirate, but to little avail. You wished it was late enough to excuse yourself, but if you retreated to your hammock now, there surely would be some questions and you had no intention of dealing with that either.

“So y/n, are you in?” You blinked a couple of times. Lost in thoughts way too deep, you had no longer been paying attention to their game, nor their conversation. Assuming they wanted you to play judge on yet another silly drinking game, you mindlessly nodded but got suspicious when the whole circle started cheering, and you could’ve sworn some turned a little red. You blamed it on the alcohol but felt your stomach fill up with dread when everyone filled a circle, and Tatch finished his bottle only to place it in the middle of the circle.

“Wait… what are you guys playing now?” You frowned, your brain had already made the connection, but you were in denying. Surely a bunch of pirates would not be playing a drunken, hormonal teenager kind of game?

“Spin the bottle y/n! You agreed like five seconds ago! Are you having too much sake?”

You laughed in response, denying that you had too much alcohol and firing the accusation of drinking too much right back at all the surrounding pirates that could only laugh in response as well, but you felt some panic rising up as well. The men may be more than drunk enough to participate in such a game, but at this point your decision to stay pretty sober felt like a dumb one because you could definitely use some liquid encouragement to kiss any of them.

Okay, it was only a kiss, but depending on who the bottle landed on, it could lead to some relentless teasing the coming days if someone remembered, and things like this definitely get remembered. Or it could land on Ace, and even though the chance was minimal, you didn’t know what you would do in that case. You’d kill for an opportunity to kiss him, but this was not the way you had intended it to go and if the bottle happened to land on him, his reaction could possibly break your heart, and you were sure you were not ready for that.

Your hand trembled as you leaned forward to spin the bottle reluctantly, the pirates surrounding you in the rest of the circle laughing loudly, blaming too much sake for your shaking hands. You grinned at them just as nervously, letting them think that was so much easier and so much better than letting them know you were scared shitless of the bottle actually landing on...

…. Ace. The bottle landed on Ace and there were loud cheers from the rest of the crew as the two of you locked eyes. Your heart was beating so fast you were pretty sure it was ready to jump out of your chest and jump overboard, and honestly, you were ready to follow suit. Ace seemed to need a moment to register what was happening, looking at the bottle and you a couple of times, his mouth slightly open, and his freckled cheeks turning redder every time his eyes met yours in this little back and forth.

Then he was pushed forward by one of the crewmates sitting next to him, and simultaneously you felt some strong hands pushing you towards the center of the circle as well, you stumbled forward, surprised by the sudden movement, nearly tripped over the bottle in the middle of the circle and then landed right in front of Ace. He was standing up straight, offering you a hand to get up, which you took, not realizing just how close he’d be standing to you the moment you straightened up.

Your ears and cheeks burned up immediately, trying to step back, nearly tripping over that stupid bottle again. The thing that kept you from falling was Ace quickly wrapping an arm around you, supporting your back so you didn’t hit the hardwood of the deck. The crew was enthusiastically wolf-whistling, urging the two of you to kiss, but as your eyes locked, none of that yelling and laughing seemed to matter anymore, your surroundings becoming almost eerily quiet as you were searching for the right thing to say.

“ehm.. Ace, I”

“If you don’t want to do this, that’s fine, we’ll just run off,” he grinned, noticing your flustered state and mistaking it for comfort. You were a little too quick to respond.

“NO! I mean… I…. I guess I wouldn’t mind kissing you? I’d love to actually”

Now it was his time to be at a loss for words, grinning nervously before eventually deciding not to answer at all and just pressing his lips to yours. They were a little dry, probably a side effect from the constant heat this man was in but felt amazing still. His other arm wrapped around your waist to rest on the small of your back as well, and you grabbed his shoulders instinctively, wanting to tangle your hands in his hair, but knowing better than to knock off the hat off his head. He tasted sweet and like the alcohol you’d been drinking before, but way less than expected, and to your surprise, you concluded that he had probably not been drinking as much as you thought he’d be, which meant he was not doing this in some drunken stupor.

He pulled you close, and you were just about to open your mouth slightly to deepen the kiss when the cheering became painfully obvious again, and you pulled back in embarrassment, not wanting to leave Ace’s embrace, but not wanting to attract any more attention from the crew. Ace looked almost hurt for a moment as if you couldn’t get away too fast before he realized just why you were reacting that way. A bright grin spread across his face as he used the pressure he still had on your lower back to lift you up easily bridal style. You yelped out in surprise.

“Sorry men, I think the party is over for y/n and me, we have some private discussing to do.”

You could only bury your tomato-colored head in his chest as he stepped out of the circle, you still in his arms.

“Of course, that is if you’re okay with continuing somewhere more quiet with less of an audience?”

[lo-55]

Lost Things Ch. 1

When Ace died his body disappeared in a flash of red fire. Years later an injured Marco stumbles across someone he thought was dead.

The Lost

Marco liked to think that, with all of his experience as a pirate and all of the battles he had seen in his life, he didn’t fall for the same trick twice. And indeed, it wasn’t the same trick. It was some new idea the Marine’s had had at some point, when they decided that they really wanted to make Marco miserable.

At first, he thought it was just a canon. Those were common on ships, and this one was no exception. There were at least 15 canons on the ship that the Marine’s had turned to face the small vessel that he sailed (Alone, these days, after the disastrous attempt on Teach’s life) towards the winter island. Marco had taken to the sky, intent on avoiding being hit, and for the most part it worked. He dodged all of the canon balls, though his ship didn’t fair as well.

He watched it sink, sad for the small skiff. It was no Moby Dick, but it carried him well.  

That was his mistake. That split second of being distracted was all it took something to come hurtling through the air at him.

He saw the glint of metal an instant before something slammed into his throat. Cold washed over him, his wings vanished and the fire went out, inside and outside of his body. Marco was sent flying, plummeting out of the sky and towards the earth.

He choked, scrabbling at the seastone wrapped around his throat. Blood slithered down his back, staining his shirt. Something pierced his chest with cold pain. More seastone.

He fell, into the dark grey clouds that covered the island. Down, through the freezing condensation, with the snow that floated so gently around him he dropped through the air with the grace of a boulder.

He twisted, trying desperately to rip the collar off of his throat. He saw white, snow piled high beneath him, coming in fast. Too fast, he ripped at the metal, tore into his own skin and shouted into the screaming wind around his ears.

He hit the ground. Everything went white.

~

It was white when he woke up. His ears were ringing, his neck burned and his chest was screaming at him. Everything hurt. Everything was cold, a cold that sunk deep into his bones, chilling his whole body.

It called to him, a deathly whisper to let go of the fire that flickered inside of him and succumb. To join his father and his fallen brothers.

On shaking legs, Marco stood.

The white snow was dyed red with his own blood, seeping steadily out of his chest. He couldn’t tell if everything was blurry because he had lost so much blood or if it was because of the snow storm he had crashed into.

He stumbled forwards, the snow up to his knees impeding him. Every step he had to take was a fight to put one foot in front of the other. He nearly collapsed at ten steps, but managed to grab a tree to hold himself up. He was breathing hard, cold air burning hard in his lungs. He could breath, but only barely.

Marco slugged another step, then another. He didn’t know where he was going but he knew he couldn’t stay where he was. He couldn't afford to stay in the snow, in the cold, out in the open where anyone might find him.

Where the Marine’s might find him.

His eyes, usually half lidded anyhow, slipped further shut. The white grew behind them. The ringing in his ears turned static. Marco pushed himself to go further. He couldn't stop. He couldn't afford to stop.

He stumbled, suddenly, away from the trees and into a clearing. There was a light, warm, yellow, flickering in the air ahead. The phoenix pushed himself towards it, too cold now to feel anything at all. The snow was lower here, even though the trees weren’t around to cover the ground.

A path, his sluggish brain supplied. I found a path.

He was beyond the point of shaking when he finally got close enough to see that the flickering yellow light was a candle set into a window. A cabin, he realized, in the middle of the snowy woods. Marco brought a hand he could no longer feel to the wooden door and knocked weakly. He couldn't even hear his own strike.

The pirate fell forwards, his head hitting the wood, his shoulder catching the door frame. Things had started to spin and blur again. The hope he felt for the little light faded into the frigid invasion of his bones.

His eyes started to close. Was this is it? Would he really freeze to death on a stranger's doorstep? What would Pops say to that?

The door opened suddenly, and Marco pitched inside. He heard a yelp, startled and strangely familiar, though he couldn't place why, before hands grabbed him by his shoulders.

“Hey! Hey! Are you okay? What are you doing out here in the storm, are you cra- oh god, is that blood?!”

Marco knew that voice. He knew he knew that voice.

The phoenix lifted his head, forcing his eyes to see beyond the black coat and the thick white scarf. Up, past the strong jaw and the freckles, splattered across the face, to the black eyes that he knew so well.

“Ace,” his voice was harsh with cold and blood that had been creeping up from his chest. The man stood before him, brows furrowed. Marco couldn't take anymore after that. It was too much for his body, too much for his aching, broken heart.

His legs gave out and the phoenix fell into white oblivion.

~

When he woke up he was warm. Warmer, in any case. The bone deep cold brought about by the seastone collar around his neck. His chest still hurt, but less now.

At first, Marco didn’t move. The pain of breathing was proof enough that he wasn’t dead. A good sign, probably. Marco opened his eyes, slowly. The white had left his vision, in its place was brown. Wooden planks cross over his head, fitted together. A lantern hung from the ceiling nearby.

Marco sat up, slowly, wincing at the pull on his chest. At least the bullet didn’t seem to be inside of him. That was a good sign. That didn’t stop his head from spinning and his stomach from trying to shove itself into his throat.

He made a face before looking to the left and finding a stone wall. They weren’t brick, they weren’t uniform. They were fitted together but the sizes were uneven. Not made by a professional. His eyes left the wall, cross the hatched quilt spread across his lap. A sun smiled at him with dark glasses. The floor was wood, same a the ceiling. There weren’t corners, the house was a circle, and only one room. He could see the front door, and the blood he had no doubt left on the floor in front of it.

There was a burning wood stove, and beside it a man with wavy black hair was stirring a pot. The owner of the house. Marco had dreamt that it had been Ace whose house he found. He could smell the food from across the room, some kind of stew. The table only had one chair. The house was surprisingly sparse for such a small home.

Marco couldn’t find any pictures or personal touches. In fact the only parts that seemed to indicate the kind of person that lives there was the quilt and the long black coat hanging by the door. The house had no memories, no personality.

Marco reached to touch his ribs, finding the hole that had been there before had been covered by thick bandages. His shirt had been taken away at some point. His fingers slid up to his neck, where the seastone still choked him. He could feel the bruise forming underneath it, the skin delicate and painful. Around it were burning scratches from Marco’s frantic attempts to free himself.

Now that his head was a little clearer and he was out of the woods Marco had the sense to feel around the collar, the metal wrong under his fingers. There was a hing for it that bumped along the front, where it had impacted his throat. Along the back he found a crack that ran its length, and a keyhole.

“Oh,” the familiar voice came back, striking Marco right between the ribs. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Footsteps crossed the room and Marco forced his eyes up, to the face he knew he’d dreamt before passing out. His breath left him again, for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

“Ace,” he barely breathed the name. He looked up at the face, freckles and dark, fathomless eyes. His hair was longer, down to his shoulders now, and whatever baby fat he’d had before was gone now. Even with two more years on him, that was a face that Marco had ached to see for two long, long years.

Perfect lips turned downwards into a frown.

“You called me that before. I’m sorry but, do you know me?”

That stopped Marco’s thoughts. Did he know him? Of course he knew him! He was Ace, the Fire Fist, the Second Division Commander. He was Marco’s brother, his lover, he was the one they had all gone to war for. He was the one they would have torn the world asunder to rescue. The one that they failed.

Instead of voicing all of these thoughts he asked, “You are Ace, aren’t?”

The man ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back out of his face. The gesture was enough to make Marco’s pulse change. Had he really missed Ace so much that such a simple gesture could do that?

“Well um, truthfully sir, I don’t know.”