#that .7 view was from shanks

[8amira8]

honestly wouldn't mind them beating me to near death

[wood-white-writer]

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” || [9/…]

— OPLA!Buggy x F!Reader

“And I know no one will save me, I just need someone to kiss.

Give me one good honest kiss and I’ll be alright.”

— Mitski, “Nobody”

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live Action) x F!Reader

Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends.  In which there is lost affections, mentions of the past, and re-bonding over a bath. Unshared thoughts and feelings of regret return from years of negligence, and whereas some aspects remain buried, others have a chance to resurface from the depths.

Warnings: fem!reader, LA!Verse, slight canon divergence, morally grey reader, mentions of violence and blood, dual-pov (though primarily Buggy's), Buggy being a simp, implications of Buggy being a horny simp

A/N: AND HERE WE ARE! FINALLY, AFTER SO MANY WEEKS, THE NEW CHAPTER IS UP! Seriously, I want to thank you all for your immense patience and support. As I mentioned in a previous post, work has been hectic as hell and I know I wrote that this chapter would hopefully be finished last week, but life took its toll. Hopefully, you'll enjoy this chapter, though I myself have mixed feelings about it.

INCLUDES SOME SELF-MADE SKETCHES AT THE BOTTOM, so you’re warned

The sun warms your face as you breathe in the fresh scent of the sea. You’re lounging on deck, hands folded behind your head and feet hanging over the railings in a rather peculiar position, but you’re perfectly content.

Luffy benched you for the rest of the voyage to Arlong Park, a decision you initially found insulting to no short degree. Well, maybe benched is not the right term to use, but more like “I don’t want you to die, and I think you need to relax this once”.

You had argued that no, you’re fine and the love bites Arlong left you are nothing compared to the marks Mihawk left on Zoro, and he’s still up and about as usual.

But Luffy is firm about his decision, and what the Captain says goes.

So, here you are, enjoying some quiet all while letting your wounds heal, and it seems that nothing can hope to put an end to this ambiance that is—

“HEY! THERE ‘YA ARE!”

…. You spoke too soon. Way too soon.

A shadow falls over your face like a curtain and blocks the view of the sun. A shadow belonging to - you make a lucky guess - a severed head that’s been talking for way longer than a severed head typically should, in your experience.

You open one lazy eye to pinpoint the exact perpetrator and see a bright red dot staring down at you from Usopp’s grip.

Buggy winks at you, making those mildly irritating clink-clink noises.

“I can’t stand it anymore,” Usopp grumbles. “You take him! He’s annoying and keeps telling me my nose is too long!”

“Because it is, you shidiot!”

“It’s average!”

“That’s what your mom said!”

“You keep my mom’s name out of your mouth, you psychotic, fucking—!”

“Be quiet.”

Both the clown and the slingshot simultaneously shut their mouths before things have a chance to escalate on a non-verbal scale, and you take this as a sign that your break is officially over and buried ten feet under.

Stretching your arms out loud enough to pop a few vertebrae, you shift to lean your back against the railing and give both boys an unimpressed look-over, like a disappointed mother having caught both of her children in the act of something. “It’s too early for you to be making a ruckus.”

“It’s 11 am,” Usopp points out.

“Still too early.” Deciding that you’d rather not deal with this with more effort than you’re willing to spend, you return to your previous position. “Leave the head, or don’t. Just let me rest.”

“Fine by me.”

With a thud and an “OW FUCK!”, Usopp unceremoniously drops the clown and forgoes his Buggy-sitting duties to do whatever he wants to do, leaving you to pick up the slack.

A string of curses flow from Buggy’s mouth, which you only vaguely pay attention to. There was something along the lines of “Long-nosed asshat,” and “Right on the nose”, but you abandon all interest in favor of feeling the sun on your cheek.

“So…” you hear him jump a little closer. “Alone at last.”

You don’t answer.

“What? Don’t give me that! I thought we were good!”

You remain selectively mute.

“Hey! Don’t ignore me! I don’t like it!”

“You survived it for twenty years. I’m sure you can stand it for a few more minutes.”

“…. Seriously?”

“Mhmm.”

You don’t know what possesses him, but he keeps quiet for most of the next thirty minutes, and you take the time to continue basking in the sun. 

It’s a luxury you can rarely afford, and you’ll be damned if it gets ruined now or all time, least of all by him. You’re not going to even open the can of worms that is last night’s events, so you lock it in a chest to be dug up for another day. 

Not now. It won't be that long until you reach Arlong Park, and shit will go down. This might be the only chance you get to replenish your strength and gods do you need it now more than ever.

"… Hey?” Buggy starts.

You let him decide whether to perceive your silence as an opening or a locked door.

“I’m bored.”

“Tough.”

“Can’t we do something else?”

“We could fish. Your head might serve as a good bait.” Despite yourself, your lip tugs a little in what is supposed to be a halfway smirk. The image of Buggy dangling above the shark-infested waters from a hook to his bandana would be an entertaining sight to behold.

He swallows audibly. “Was that a joke?”

“Keep bothering me and we’ll find out soon enough.”

“C’mon! Don’t be like that! Seriously, I’m bored! Ain’t much you can do when you’re just a head… except to give one, but that’s beside the point.”

Too much detailing, you think. He wants entertainment of any kind; you want peace and quiet. What to do and how to kill two birds with one stone? You open one eye and let it drift over to Buggy, who in turn is staring intently at you. 

In the sun, you make out every detail of his rugged face. His make-up’s almost wiped completely off the skin, with only remnants of the red lipstick and blue diamonds vaguely in place. His stubbles have grown slightly, given the lack of access to a barber, and if you get close enough, he probably stinks of—

A lightbulb goes off in your head. A devious one, blinking to every corner of your brain. 

Despite what anyone thinks, you’re not above being petty.

With a push, you sit up and glance over at him. “Anything?” 

Buggy raises his eyebrows and nods desperately. “Yeah! Anything! As long as I ain’t got to sit here doing naught-shit, I’m game!”

You turn to him, put each of your hands to the edges of his jaw, and lift him a little closer to you. Whether from the sun or just him alone, he’s warm and soft under your digits.

“Alright,” is all you say.

Buggy beams much like the bulb in your head, and a loud bark of laughter erupts from his mouth. You almost pity him, pity him for being oblivious to what’s to come.

But it needs to be done.

There’s no other way around it and he’s had it coming. He deserves this, you tell yourself. He deserves every inch of ruthlessness you can offer, and you’ll deliver.

————

Buggy blanches, lips wobbling in horror as he slowly glances up at you. Betrayal fills his bright-blue eyes and, for the first time since Orange Town, he sees you as the beast you both know you are. 

He’s afraid.

He’s afraid of you.

He knows you can be vindictive; he knows you can be brutal, but in all the time he’s known you, he’s never perceived you as cruel.

Maybe it’s time for him to reassess that thought.

“No,” he whispers softly. “No, please.”

Your face is blank, and cold, and he doesn’t know if it’s a trick of the light or not, but there’s a shadow across your face that darkens everything but your eyes. Those bright eyes he used to hold in such high regard.

“You want my forgiveness,” you state calmly as you gradually lower him to his demise. “You have to earn it.

“Please, anything but this. I’ll do anything other than this!”

But his pleas earn no mercy from you. He wiggles in your grasp like a fish out of water, and as much as he tries to beg and move and free himself, your hold is iron incarnate.

Buggy lets out an ear-curdling scream the moment he feels the water under his neck.

“NOOOOO!”

————

Honestly, how childish, you think as you begin to soak him in the basin you procured from the kitchens. He hisses like a cat as you pour the water over his head, rinsing his hair. Try as he might, he cannot escape your grasp. 

It’s not even deep enough to reach his chin, and still, he acts like it’s acid he’s been thrown into.

But you’re determined, this has to be done.

“Oh, quit whining” you chastise, getting drops of water your way with all his scuttling. “You need this.”

“You’re gonna drown me!” he accuses.

“It’s soap and water, and it’s not even that deep.”

“You say that now, sure! But the moment you let go, plop! Oh, there goes Buggy the Clown! Taken from this world too early!”

You roll your eyes. “I’m holding you up, you’re not going to drown. Now, stop acting like a child.”

Buggy is restless and continues to thrash around for a good ten seconds more before finally relenting, a look of sour disapproval on his face. It’s so caricatured and animated that it threatens to make a suppressed chuckle leave your throat.

He still looks the same when he’s mad.

Now that he’s finally calm, you lower him so that the edge of his neck finally stands on the bottom of the basin. Then, you soak a rag and raise it towards his face.

Buggy flinches. “Can you …. Eh… leave the face?”

“There’s hardly anything there anymore, and it’ll irritate your skin if you leave it on for too long.”

“I think I can tell you what irritates me or not, like this bird bath for instance, thank you very much.” He scowls and edges further away from the wet rag. “Seriously, just leave it.”

“I’ll reapply the make-up.”

“… What?”

When you first boarded the Merry, you happened to find some leftover make-up hidden away in one of the shelves. It was strange, considering how the boat was freshly built, and imagined that one of the builders had taken some personal liberty in the large space before the project was finished.

For whatever reason, you didn’t throw it out, though you didn’t use it yourself.

If it can get him to accept the fact that he needs a wash, you’re willing to do it.

“I’ll put on your make-up if I can wash off what you currently have,” you clarify. “Deal?”

Buggy goes quiet, and his eyes widen slightly, but not out of horror or dread. It’s more like … when you catch the sight of something unexpected; a delayed reaction that stirs feelings you have yet to decipher. 

Finally, after some internal debates with himself, Buggy nods. “Fuckin’ fine then,” he utters, and despite the crudeness of his words, they’re lenient.

Content, you gently place your free hand to his left to keep him stable and use the other one to carefully drag the rag across his stained cheek. 

Buggy watches you intently through the process, never taking his eyes off you unless you’re wiping off the painted diamonds on his eyes. Your hands, for once, are soft to the touch. They’re soft for him, as though a single misplaced touch might shatter him like glass.

He used to be acquainted with the soft touches long before the cold and brutal ones. Soft fingers that pinched his cheeks as you helped apply the paint over his face. 

Soft touches against his arm when he was feeling particular for some reason, whether it was good or bad.

Your fingers intertwined with his’ as you came to terms with your captain’s death, sitting by the edge of the docks as the rain poured from above. It was cold, he was freezing, and too close to the waters for his comfort, but he wanted nothing more than to sit in the rain with you and share the heat from your fingers.

Even after everything, you’re still capable of reserving those touches for him.

After wiping the makeup completely off him, you raise the cup and fill it with water. “Close your eyes.”

He doesn’t want to, but he does and feels the water rushing down like the rain on those docks.

When he’s finally finished, you fish him up from the basin and put him down atop a soft towel on the table. Like a cat, he instinctively shakes off the residue of water, only to find you already raising a new towel towards him.

He stops moving, and you takes this as your cue to continue. You’re attentive, he notices. You wipe his face first, then his ears, then his hair. You dry it and scratch his scalp at the same time through the fabric, and he instinctively leans against your touch.

This is … nice.

“When did you cut your hair?” You ask out of the blue as you continue to dry him, making sure to leave no spot too humid.

He almost failed to catch onto your words with how at ease he is. “Hmmm?”

“You used to have long hair before,” you elaborate. “Why did you cut it?”

“…. Too much of a hassle to maintain,” he answers after some thought. “It’s hard to find the time to take care of it.”

“… I see.”

The truth is, he cut it right after he left. Not particularly clean either. You know that feeling you get when you feel like you’re losing control, and ridding yourself of any additional weight seems to relieve it? 

Well, that’s what Buggy did.

He cut it with a pair of rusty scissors, severing chunks at a time — some bigger than others — until all he was left with was pieces sticking out to each side like a madman.

It didn’t help though. It didn’t make him feel any lighter from the weight on his chest. From that gnawing feeling.

Still, he maintained the habit and got better with practice. It became more of a practical thing with time; he was a busy man, and he could do well with fewer things to get in his eyes, but it never eased the pain.

But feeling the tips of your fingers lightly graze his hair, however, he feels more relieved than he’s done in the last twenty years.

After a few minutes, you remove the towel and give him a neutral one-over. It’s the first time you’ve seen him as an adult without any of that makeup, and you’re reminded of just how much he’s changed, but also how he’s not.

Even after all this time, it’s still Buggy.

Buggy sees you watching him, and he can’t help but feel slightly self-conscious now that your eyes are on him without his usual armor.

But you don’t comment on it, nor show any surprise in any sense of the word. There are times when he hates your face, not because of anything superficial, but because you make it so damn challenging for him to figure out what goes in that brain of yours. He’s reminded of how you were when you were younger, how lifeless you used to be, and it feels like you’ve regressed to that state.

Another thing to add to the shitlist of things he’s regretful about.

He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something when the door suddenly bursts open. Buggy jumps whereas you merely look over your shoulder to spot Zoro standing there, his eyes narrowed between you and the clown.

Buggy frowns.

“Zoro,” you speak plainly, as if you failed to notice his annoyance towards the spectacle presented before him. “Is there anything?”

“The hell is this?” His eyes flicker between you and Buggy like it’s the worst show on earth. “What’s going on?”

“He reeked,” you explain. “I have merely been rectifying it for the sake of our noses.”

Buggy wants to argue with the statement that No, he fucking doesn’t, but he suppresses it for the sake of figuring out where this conversation’s headed.

“Since when do we make it a habit of bathing prisoners?” Zoro asks, his hand resting on the handle of his sword.

“Since when have we had prisoners?” You counter.

The swordsman scoffs. “The clown’s needed upstairs in ten.”

“Sure.”

“I’m right here, you know?”

Zoro gives him a nasty look and nothing more before heading back out the door, shutting it with a forceful thud.

“Why do you even stick around with these nobodies?!” Buggy questions. “They can’t navigate for shit, they have no sense of preservation, and they suck at fighting!”

You shift back to raise a knowing eyebrow at him. “They defeated you, didn’t they?”

“That’s—! … I was outnumbered, it wasn’t a fair fight!”

“No fights are fair in the life of piracy,” you point out. 

He bites the inside of his cheek. “All I’m saying is, you’re too powerful to be with these losers. You could join my crew! Think about it! We’d be unstoppable!”

“You mean, join the same people who locked me up and whose asses I subsequently kicked?” 

“Exactly! Don’t worry, they’ll get over it! Once they see how awesome you are, they’ll accept you with open ar—!”

“I decline.”

Buggy pauses, his enthusiasm promptly vanishing and getting replaced with bitter disappointment. “You’re not even going to consider it?”

“Why would I?” You wipe away a descending drop from his right eye. “I have no interest in joining another crew.”

“You say that, and yet here you are with these losers.”

“I was never going to stay permanently.” 

He pauses. “You weren’t?”

“I’m here for Luffy, and once I’ve decided that he can hold his own weight above the waters, I’ll leave.”

“… Where will you go? After, then?”

It takes you a moment to answer, like you don’t know the answer yourself quite yet. Your hand stills for a moment before resuming with the task at hand.

“Who knows?” You shrug. “The sea is my home. I’ve missed it, so I will remain where the waves pull me.”

That won’t do on its own. Stay with me. Buggy wants to ask, and if he had knees, he’d ask on them. Come with me. Be with me. You won’t have to be an official member of his crew; you don’t have to bend to him. You just have to stay. 

Stay with him.

That’s all he’ll ask.

Stay with him until he has the opportunity to figure out a way to make it up to you. 

Stay with him so he can compensate for the twenty years you suffered in each other’s absences.

Just stay.

“Hey.” He’s surprised by his own initiative. “Why’d you even leave your crew and stick your feet on land if you love the sea so much?”

You raise an eyebrow in question.

“I mean, you were Captain of the Cross-Haired Pirates, for crying out loud! You used to be legendary!” He proclaims, almost saddened by your apparent dismissal of your previous title. “You had fame, berries, a reputation that preceded everyone! Everyone feared you! Why’d you ditch all of that? Because of that rubbery prick? Because of Shanks?”

“Is that really what you want to ask me?”

“Yeah!”

You sigh through your nose and put the towel down to recline in your chair. “I didn’t become a Captain because that’s what I wanted. I became a Captain because it provided an outlet.”

“An outlet? For fucking what?”

It takes you a few seconds to finally reach a suitable response. 

“Anger,” you admit calmly, your arms crossing over your chest as the words stir on your tongue. They must taste bitter. “I was angry, and it festered every day, churning into a poisonous substance in my body. Being a captain with a crew, I could take it out on whoever I wanted. Pirate, marine, unruly crew member, it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.”

It makes sense now, he thinks, the reputation you’ve garnered over the years. Beware the Beast in the East, people would chant in passing towns and harbors, like you were a ghost story. Her eyes were like swords, and her hands were twice as sharp.

There wasn’t a single place where blood didn’t paint your steps.

He never met you while you were a captain; he didn’t want to, couldn’t find it in himself to pop by even once. Still, he kept your poster hidden in the dark depths of the chest in his quarters, if only for acrimonious reminiscence. He would spend some drunken nights doing nothing but staring at it, and it was like he could feel your rage seep through the ink on the page and scorch his fingers. A reminder of what he did.

Now, looking at you and comparing you to the poster, he fails to see the resemblance. He doubts he could’ve spotted it had you reunited earlier on. Captain Cross-Hairs was sharp around the edges, with pecks of blood on her cheeks and fresh scars on her face.

He licks his lips in deliberation. “You were pissed… because of what?”

Because of me?

“I don’t know.” He watches your chest expand with your breath, mesmerized simply by watching you commit to living. There used to be a time when you didn’t. “I didn’t care about money or power. I didn’t care for much of anything, except to purge that rage from my body. I fought, and I killed. It helped, for a time; I felt satisfied, but after a while, you grow bored of eating the same meal.”

When he looked at you when you were younger, he imagined he saw the scorching sun. Burning and bright and enlightening. 

You were … everything, but he never imagined that the same fire that used to mesmerize him would burn a thousand ships in his absence. 

But he was a boy back then. He’s older now, more experienced in the ways of life, he knows better.

He knows enough.

"But the boy," you say with a certain gentleness in your voice that does not evade his notice. "He's good."

"He's weak," Buggy scoffs, feeling his belly fill with sour smoke. He recognizes the feeling. It's the feeling he got when he watched Shanks talk to you that night by the fire. The same feeling he got when he watched you stay with Shanks that day. 

"He's defeated every opponent he's come across."

"Didn't beat Arlong, though." Buggy points out with a smidgen of childish pride and smirks. "Got his ass handed to him real good if I remember correctly."

You look back at him in that narrow way you usually reserve for him when he's crossed a line, and he can already tell he fucked up.

"I watched him grow, Buggy.” You say firmly. “I was there for all of it. I watched him learn, I watched him fight, I watched him leave land. He’s not like us — he doesn’t waste time on regret. He’ll become better than we ever were.”

Buggy glowers but doesn’t say anything else, insisting on letting your words simmer in his brain until he can find the will to let them go.

You procure something from the drawers and it’s only when he looks down that he realizes it’s the make-up. With gentle hands, you lift him and place him in your lap, the brush already blue and ready.

“I’m not here to talk about what used to be,” you say. “Now hold still.”

The diamonds across his eyes come first, the brushing makes his face tickle and it’s only by sheer willpower alone that he manages to refrain from staring at you. 

“Takes us back,” he whispers and closes his eyes so that you can finish. “Doesn’t it?”

He hears something akin to a chortle that doesn’t quite reach your throat, but he considers it a small win.

“You looked a mess,” you answer. “A child could’ve done a better job than I did.”

“Wasn’t bad for your first try, though.”

Except that it was. It was pretty bad. Your hands were shaking, and you held your breath like you were afraid of making a mistake. By the time you were finished, he looked like a canvas painted by a child, but he didn’t have the heart to tell you that.

He used to think that it was strange. You were skilled at nearly everything you committed yourself to, without even trying. 

When he thinks back on it, maybe it wasn’t skill; maybe it was just an ingrained fear of failure that drove you to become the best at what you did.

Then again, your worst could never be the worst in his eyes.

You finish his eyes, and when he looks up at you, he sees the same determination and focus in your eyes as he did that day. It’s the same look you have when you’re targeting something, be it an enemy or a point of interest. It’s always the same.

And he can’t look away.

You move onto the crossbones next, and he’s happy he won’t have to close his eyes for this one. He’s not certain you can pull off his iconic look, but he’ll give you the benefit of the doubt for now.

After all, you strive for perfection. He doubts this will be an exception.

Get it? Perfection and except— You know what? Nevermind.

He can feel your attention in every stroke of the brush, feel the white paint glisten on his skin before it dries. Your warmth lingers like burning embers, he feels like getting too close will burn him, yet he wants nothing more than blisters upon his skin.

He looks at you, looks into your focused eyes, and he feels … something tightening, back where his body is. It could be his stomach, his head… other places, but he can’t tell. Arlong’s been busy abusing his body long enough that he can’t differentiate between a kick or a punch anymore.

But this isn’t Arlong.

It’s you.

He can handle a tight body if it’s because of you.

When he was young, and his body began to work in the way of a man, he would sometimes wake up and feel sweaty and … stiff. He knew enough to know what it was, to know what caused it, but he didn’t know how to approach the situation.

He knew the source of his frustrations. He knew how to alleviate them, but he didn’t. He respected you far too much to ever dare cross the threshold. He figured that simply talking to you, simply holding your hand, and being at your side would be enough. He would be content with just that.

But he watched you … develop. It didn’t seem like such a big deal at the time, but he couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. He imagined feeling your flesh under his digits. The softness across your chest and hips. The warm skin. 

He looks at you now, sees the scars peeking from under your shirt, on your face, and he wants to feel the rough edges. 

Buggy gulps and he’s rather happy now that the rest of his body is not attached to him. He’s lost enough dignity as it is.

“And now, the mouth.”

Yes, he wants to touch that t—

You take the lipstick, and in a straight line, smear it across his mouth in a way that snaps him out of his thoughts. He can feel the warmth emitting from your thumb as you finish his face, and it takes him half a mind not to—

“Done.”

Disappointment lingers in the clown’s visage, and even when you present him a mirror and see the identical likeness to his wanted posters, it does not alleviate the feeling. For what it's worth, he's impressed with how far your make-up-applying skills have reached since last time. 

It's perfect.

But it means you’re done, and the nobodies require his flashy expertise to get Miss Ginger back. 

You dump the discolored water out and put the rest of the equipment away, and he feels his head weigh another ten pounds at so. He somewhat hopes it would; maybe it would be heavy enough that you wouldn’t bother carrying him up the deck?

… Oh, who is he kidding? It’s you. You won’t have any trouble in that department even if he were to weigh as much as a boulder. Ten boulders, even.

To his surprise, instead of reaching for him, you lounge back into your seat and nonchalantly cross your arms and ankles. He’s confused. Weren’t you going to go up with him already?

“If Zoro needs you, he can get you himself.”

That’s what you’ll leave it be like. He, freshly washed, dried, and painted. You, just casually sitting like you have no urgency to get back to the world.

“He’ll be pissed at you,” Buggy warns. “And probably threaten to throw you into the sea.”

You shrug, your eyes already closed, giving him no indication whatsoever that you’re particularly concerned with the veryscary swordsman. He grins with all his teeth on show.

Unfortunately, the green-haired asshole turns up not even five minutes later. All but ripping the clown by the roots of his hair and taking him away like a sack of flour. Buggy spews curses and threats, but they all fall on deaf ears.

It’s only when he’s positioned on deck that he’s finally free of his torment, if only for an hour or two. He begrudgingly instructs the long-nosed slingshot where to sail, adding a few creative insults along the way. Hey, it’s not Buggy’s fault they’re too easy to rile up.

“Is that long nose compensating for something?”

To which he earned a slap to the back of his head. From whom, he doesn’t know, but he’ll take his victories in whatever light weight they come in.

After a while, he shifts his head to eject another insult to the slingshot when he sees that you’re standing a few feet away, your arms crossed while leaning against the railing; eyes closed but face focused and attentive.

He cuts his verbal daggers down a notch.

It gets late, the sky darkens, and one after another, the crew members resign to their chambers save for the slingshot, who still insists on going for a while longer. Him, and you, surprisingly enough. 

You stay, for all of it; neither complaining nor muttering a sound. 

You're stoically positioned on the sidelines, hardly moving at all. He would've died if he'd been standing in the same position for more than one hour, but you endured a total of six without a shiver or a strain. Like a soldier in the rain. A monk in a temple of thorns. 

A beast in an empty forest, lonesome in its hunger, yet content with what content remains buried in its stomach for the time being.

Long-nosed slingshot finally calls it a night and withdraws from the steering wheel with his hands outreached for the head. Before his dirty fingers can hope to graze the magnificent head that is Buggy's, you stretch your arm out like a shield between them.

"I'll take him."

Slingshot snorts. "Really? You want to?"

"Do you want to?"

With his hands raised in mock surrender, Slingshot relents. "... Fine, be my guest."

With a nod, you take the head and retire back to your chamber on the ship. Buggy yawns in your arms, tired, but satisfied with the warmth embracing him. Your steps feel like waves with each one you take, nudging him further and further toward the edge of sleep. Only unadulterated stubbornness keeps him awake.

It darkens for a moment. When he rouses back, he feels softness underneath him. A pillow of sorts, not comforting enough to offer him sleep, but enough to keep him relaxed.

He nudges around, like a fish in a small bowl, only to find that he's not on the table, nor in a barrel, nor a bag. The surface beneath him is made of fabric, and swings with his movements. 

He's in a hammock.

More precisely, your hammock.

“Sleep.” He hears your command. 

He finally locates you, seated by the window of your cabin with your palm under your chin, staring out into the darkened ocean.

He turns, voice diluted with drowsiness. “You too…”

“Soon.”

“Now," he almost whines.

The look you give him is not any different from the kind you usually provide, but it lacks the usual undertone of annoyance. He can tell you're tired, even if you're refusing to show it. The shadows under your eyes stand out more prominently, even in the dimmed candlelight. 

With an inaudible sigh, you stand and while he expects you to move towards the hammock, he's disappointed to see you aiming towards the door instead.

"H-Hey, where are you going?"

"The kitchens," you respond. "You can sleep here for the night; I'll take the couch."

"That's not necessary!" He wiggles so that he can look at you from over the edge of the hammock, careful as not to fall from the height. A thought dawns over him, one that makes his cheeks feel warm. "We- We can share! I don't take a lot of space!"

"You still take up too much of it."

"Are you calling me fat?!"

He's almost insulted when you don't answer to contradict his assumption, yet despite the innate urge to defend his honor and spew shit at you, he decides to let it slide.

"C'mon! I promise I'll behave," he tries again. "You'll hardly notice me. Those couches suck balls anyway, so why not?"

He watches you give it some thought for probably a good two minutes. He expects you'll decline his proposition, finding that your own pride weighs more than the need for decent sleep. 

Then, you lower your shoulders in defeat and make your way over to the hammock. "Scoot over."

He obliges rather excitedly, and when he wiggles back a bit too much to make space, he can feel gravity threaten to drop him on the other side of the hammock. Before it gets to that point, you grab him by the side of his face and hold him until you can lift yourself and lay down. 

Only then do you lay him down, on the right side of your abdomen. He's mindful of the wounds that have yet to heal there, so he tries not to invade too much. Still, he can't deny, he's quite comfortable. Very comfortable. 

He's the most comfortable he's been in a long time - twenty years.

He surpasses the urge to push closer to you, share your warmth, and elects to look up at the ceiling instead.

"Hope you don't snore," he jokes, only to have a yawn follow promptly behind.

"I don't snore," you answer, deadpan. "Now go to sleep."

He's not convinced, but he doesn't comment on it. This peace hangs by a thread, and he'll be damned if it's cut short now of all times. He shuts his eyes, and in his dreams, he's presented with the sun on the blue skies above.

He feels warm all over.

----

Taglist: @kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku, @ay0nha, @teh-vampire-bunny, @lokiscure, @internationalsuper-spy, @detectivesparrow , @yuriwk , @notyuralycat, @angeli-fucking-cat, @machinema7k , @shuujin, @avatar-lover, @gingernut1314, @autumn-slaves. @marvelouskatie, @floristoflillys, @dizzyenby, @redpool, @deliri-yum22, @aemondsb1tch, @ackroxia, @gayandfairycore, @knightsfavoriteprincess, @asterizee, @aamethyst23, @lizzie1107, @cyberwears, @heylookliisten, @f41k47, @beep-beep1, @crimsonflameproxy, @unpopular-sober-thoughts, @rayleeya, @timeladyrikaofgallifrey, @fanshavegottensotoxic, @fluffybunnyu, @sirenmelody23

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(Additionally, some sketches of how I imagine Cross-Hairs to look like while I’m writing.)

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 26 - Lavender 7

Okay. Another update! This chapter has been in the works for a bit. Working on it on and off when I can between other parts.

Shanks gets his turn with our lovely devil fruit user. This is filthy, and I introduce some kinks I've never written for.

Warnings! SMUT! SMUT! Shanks is kinda rough. A little mean? Spit kink. Face fucking. Alcohol. Cum eating

Masterlist

Two days after he calls the cottage, Shanks arrives at your island. He relaxes the moment his chocolate eyes land on the white beaches and the familiar mountains to the west. Benn rolls his eyes at his Captain but can't find it in himself to be too upset with the other man. The first mate enjoyed your island, too. Its peacefulness was unparalleled.

A smile curls his lips when Shanks spots a ship in the shape of a coffin moored at the end of the white sands. He knew that Mihawk would be here. The other man had been the one to answer his call the other day, after all. It wasn’t often that the three of them had the chance to spend time together. Mihawk, while aloof and sarcastic about it all, still had his duties as a warlord.

He had explained to Shanks that the position kept him in the know-how but still allowed him the freedom he desired. The redhead had shrugged and nodded, assuring Mihawk that it was a smart choice, but he wasn’t about to let something like the World Government get in his way if it became a problem. Dracule had blushed and spluttered that He did what he wanted, regardless of what those pigs said, and then stormed off to find you and soothe his irritation with the Emperor.

Shanks smirks at the memory, coming back to himself in time to help his crew unload before Benn waves him off, a fond look on the older man’s face. The redhead doesn’t need to be told twice and quickly disappears up the well-worn footpath, shoulders slumping, and an invisible weight lifting when your cottage comes into sight. A delighted laugh breaks from him when he catches sight of what greets him.

You and Mihawk are elbow-deep in the front garden, dirt staining both of their hands. Hank jumps up the moment he spots the redhead, running over to greet his second favorite human with a happy woof. Shanks pets the shaggy dog, greeting him with a little bit of baby talk and telling Hank how good of a boy he is. When Hank is happy, he flops back to the ground with a long sigh, and the Emperor continues to the garden.

Shanks is careful where he steps, not wanting to have both of his treasures on his ass if he were to trample the garden. You stand and greet him, smile wide and radiant, and Shanks doesn't waste any time in pulling you in for a kiss. Your lips welcome him, and the Emperor sags, invisible weight leaving his shoulders as you kiss him back.

Mihawk is next, facial hair scratching against the other man's for but a second before the bird pulls away far too soon. Shanks pouts a bit and gets flicked in the forehead for his troubles.

“Welcome home, trouble,” Mihawk murmurs, and despite his uninterested tone, Shanks can see the pleased look in the hawk’s golden eyes.

“How was your trip?” You chime in and press yourself into his side, and Shanks’ heart could explode from how adorable you look.

“Not bad. Good weather, and the sea must be in a pleasant mood,” He comments and looks down at you. He takes in your appearance, brows notching up when he realizes that you aren't as cold, and you have less on than usual. Actually, “Is that my shirt?”

“Yup. It's very breathable,” you pop the p, but your admission just makes him grin, greed shining in his eyes as he gently tugs you away to get a better look. His shirt swallows you, the front dripping low and giving Shanks an excellent view of your perky tits. You look different, but in a good way as if a light was shining from within. He glances at Mihawk, curious if the other man had noticed the change, and relaxes when the warlord comes to his side, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

“She's been practicing like we said to. How did you explain it to me, Angel?” Mihawk says, and you blush at having both of their attention on you.

You tell Shanks about practicing your devil fruit and how you began to feel better once you started to use it more often. You explain how your body evened out, as you liked to put it, and Shanks could hear the excitement lining your voice. It makes him happy to know that you had practiced your powers and seemed to be better than ever.

“That’s great, sweetheart,” Shanks grins down at you, reaching out to slide his hand along your neck, gently cradling your jaw. His grin grows when you nuzzle into him, and he strokes his thumb over the line of your jaw, “How about you finish up here, and then you can show me what you can do?”

You nod, joy erupting inside of you at the suggestion, “It won’t take too long, we are almost done,” you assure him, and Shanks nods then carefully steps out of the garden to mosey inside the cottage.

It doesn't take long for Mihawk to join him in the house. He goes straight to the kitchen, washing his hands of any dirt before he puts the kettle on. Shanks steps into the kitchen, coming up behind the older man, reaching out to curl his hand around Dracule's hip. He molds himself along the warlord’s back, tucking his face in the crook of his neck.

“She really okay?” Shanks murmurs, and busies himself with pressing kisses to the back of Mihawk's neck while he waits.

Mihawk slowly relaxes against the other man, still getting used to being able to do this with the other man after so many years apart. His hand finds the one his hip, and he gently squeezes his wrist in reassurance, “She is. She's gotten stronger and would be formidable with real training.”

Shanks hums, disliking the thought of you having to fight. Dracule tightens his grip around his wrist, and Shanks knows that the warlord agrees with him. Mihawk sighs softly, head tilting back to rest against Shanks as he continues, “Mhm. I'd rather not, but if she wants to learn, then I won't hinder her progress.”

“You? A teacher?” Shanks teases gently and pinches his waist with a smirk, “Couldn't imagine it.”

Mihawk scoffs at the redhead, eyes rolling skyward, “Considering Roronoa is well on his way to being second to only, Me. I think that already proves that I can be one.”

Shanks snickers at the miffed pride that laces his treasures’ voice. Mihawk was always so fun to rile up. He gently turns the other man, he reaches up, tucking his knuckle under that perfect beard, and kisses the other man, a gentle push and pull that had Mihawk sighing and sliding one hand into Shanks’ hair.

He has missed the warlord. How had he allowed so much time to pass without finding the other man, Shanks didn't know, but now that he had him? Shanks would never let him go again.

Dracule rests his brow against the Emperor’s, breath mingling with the other man's. He licks his lips and catches the taste of sweet sake. He searches the other's dark eyes, and Shanks catches sight of the devious, smug look that swims in Mihawk's own.

“What's that look for, Baby?” Shanks murmurs curiously, brow ticking up at the other man.

Mihawk leans in, kissing the redhead again, and Shanks can feel the smirk that lingers on his lips. The redhead feels like he is missing something here, especially when you appear in the kitchen, a mischievous grin playing on your face. He watches you wash your hands and then takes the kettle from the stove when it begins to whistle, eyes following you even as he continues the kiss with his warlord.

And then Dracule is pulling away, and leaving Shanks standing there like a knot on a log as his treasures dither about, moving past one another with a close familiarity that the redhead silently envies. He does get the chance to pout about it, not when you step in front of him and grab his lonely hand, “Come sit, Shanks. Mihawk brought your favorite while he was out.”

Shanks allows himself to be pulled to the table, and he sits, eyebrows shooting up when you follow him, sitting on his lap and leaning into his chest. Mihawk comes around and places a steaming cup of sweet chamomile beside the shallow bowl full of sake. You help yourself to your tea and then sit back again, head pillowed against The redhead’s pecs.

“Alright you two. What is this about?” Shanks rumbles, and he reaches for his sake, sipping most of it down in one go, “I'm being left out here.”

Dracule shares a look with his angel, and you look so excited that he dips his head, and you say, softer with a voice so full of affection that it makes Mihawk blush.

“Mihawk and I had sex.”

Shanks looks at Dracule and now realizes why the man had looked so smug earlier. In fact. He looked even more so now, those beautiful ringed eyes glowing with it. A slow smile begins to form, sharp white teeth gleaming in the light of your kitchen. His sake dish is sat down with a click that seems to echo in the room, and Shanks curls his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to grind his already hardening dick into the soft cheeks of your ass.

He presses his face against yours, lips finding your cheek, and Mihawk speaks up, making the grin on the Emperor’s lips grow, “It's only fair you have your turn, Red.”

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

“Suck my cock, treasure, and I'll give you exactly what you want,” Shanks orders, voice rough and dangerous. He grabs your chin with two fingers, pulling your mouth open, “I'll even help you out, Sweetheart. Stick out your tongue for me.”

Mihawk watches from where he sits in his armchair in the corner of the room. He sips his red wine, the alcohol staining his lips. His golden gaze never once leaves his two angels, and despite his cock hard and aching in his pants, he does not touch it.

You are hesitant to do as ordered, cheeks darkening, but you see the expectation lingering in his dark gaze. You do as ordered, jaw clicking as you stick your tongue out for him. You blush furiously when Shanks leans closer and opens his mouth, pink muscle lolling out and dribbling an obscene amount of saliva onto your tongue, “Don't swallow that.”

You breathe heavily through your nose, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, and focus on not gagging.

“Take my dick outta my pants, Baby,” Shanks instructs quietly and licks his lips, enjoying the way that you are struggling with his orders. Your hands are shaking when they land on his pants, you feel your way up to the elastic and then pull them down, whining when his cock slips out and smacks you in the cheek.

“Shanks,” Mihawk warns quietly from his corner. He had given his word that he wouldn't step in, but that wouldn't stop him from speaking up if he deemed the redhead being too rough.

“She's fine, Hawkeye. She can do it,” Shanks dismisses easily when he glances down to see a new light of determination in your eyes, “Right, sweetheart?”

Shanks moves your head down in a nod before tipping your face towards his length. He groans when you grab the base, and then you are leading his cock past your lips, tongue sliding wonderfully alongside the bottom of his shaft. You take him down to about halfway before you start to choke. Shanks is thicker than Mihawk, making your jaw ache already.

“Relax your throat, Angel,” Mihawk speaks up from his spot and you flick your eyes over to see him uncrossing his legs, and it gives you a good view of the tent in the seat of his pants.

You work to do as he says, glassy eyes closing as you concentrate on your task. Shanks slips another inch down, and then another until the tip of his cock slips past the muscles at the back of your mouth and into your throat. A muffled whine leaves you at the painful stretch and the ache in your jaw gets worse, but your free hand grabs the fabric of his pants to keep him from pulling away.

“Fuck, Treasure,” Shanks snarls lowly, and his hand find the back of your head, And he tangles his long fingers in your hair, “Doing so good for us, listening to Mihawk so well.”

The praise feels good, and you feel yourself growing wet, slick clinging to your exposed folds. You swallow around Shanks, sucking in a sharp break when he humps forward, pressing your face to his pelvis. You work your tongue along the bottom, and Shanks pulses in your mouth when you hollow your cheeks and suck as best you can being so stuffed full.

Spit and precum leak and bubble past your lips, and soon your tears mingle with the mess when the Emperor grows impatient with your slow pace. You can do nothing but relax your jaw and breathe through your nose as Shanks fucks your face. He moans and groans above you, the sounds that leave him are lewd, and listening to him has your cunt clenching longingly around nothing.

Dracule watches, golden eyes heavy lidded, and swirling with lust and want. He wants to step in. Wants to stand behind Shanks and wrap his hand around the base of his cock, and help the redhead paint you with his seed. His hands ache, and he occupies himself by playing with the stem of his wine glass.

Your eyes flutter, jaw on fire, and time seems lost to you. Shanks uses you for his own gain, seeking his pleasure until that coil snaps low in his stomach. The sound he makes is more animalistic than human, and you aren't expecting him to pull out so suddenly and angle your face up. You gasp when you feel the first splash of hot cum on your cheek, and quickly close your eyes when more rushes toward you.

Shanks never looks away, dark eyes full of adoration for you. You look beautiful like this, all painted up and dripping with his cum. He milks himself, not wanting any of it to go to waste. He presses the head of his cock to your lips, and you automatically open your mouth for him, “Clean me up, Sweetheart.”

You flush as you do as ordered, cleaning his softening member until nothing but your spit remains. Shanks watches with a smirk, and then glances over at Mihawk, expression turning greedy once more, and he crooks a finger at the other man, “Come clean her up, Baby I know you want to.”

Dracule licks his lips, tempted by the offer. He sets his glass aside and then stands to lope closer, taking in the delightful sight of you covered in the other man's semen. Mihawk leans down to help you stand, and then he takes your face in both hands, holding you still.

“Keep your eyes closed, Angel,” Mihawk murmurs, and then he is leaning in. The wet drag of his tongue makes you jump, and you hear the warlord hum at the taste of cooling cum. Dracule takes his time, hot tongue lapping at the cloudy fluid, until nothing remains. The act is lewd and intimate, and it's enough to have you whining and clutching at Dracule's loose shirt. When he is finished, Mihawk seals his lips to yours, and you moan at the taste of the wine and Shanks that still clings to his tongue.

Shanks moves behind you, hand sliding between your legs and fingertips finding your clit. He massages the sensitive nub, smirking when he hears a muffled moan leave you. He slides past your clit, calloused digits gliding through your folds and slicking them with your juices. He finds your entrance, and slides in one soaked finger to the knuckle.

“Can't believe that you let Mihawk fuck you without me here, Snowflake,” Shanks croons, tone full of disappointment, “Couldn't let me be here to watch him take you for the first time.

He slips another finger in beside the first, stroking and rubbing your velvety walls. Your hands tighten, nails digging into the thick muscles of Dracule's abdomen. Those skilled, sinful digits find your sweet spot, and Shanks proceeds to bully that spot, making you cry out and bow forward. The pleasure is immense, almost too much. His thumb catches your clit, and that heat winds and winds until it breaks and you gush all over his hand.

It's an embarrassing amount, but this isn't the first time that Shanks had shoved his fingers inside you this evening and ripped an orgasam from your body. Your body is overworked, cunt sore, and you are so glad that Mihawk is there to hold you up. His hands support you, and he pets your hair as he leans in to kiss the top of your head.

“Look at that. At least your body knows how to tell me how sorry it is for not letting me watch,” Shanks croons, tone still cruel, but the way he removes his fingers is nothing but gentle.

The Emperor gathers you close, and Mihawk steps away when he is sure that you are able to stand without help. Your legs still shake, tremors make your thighs gently jiggle, and it only gets worse when Shanks carefully leads you over to the bed and then bends you over the side of it. He shucks his pants off and kicks them to the side before draping himself over your sweat slick body.

“I'm going to fuck you now, okay, Sweetheart,” Shanks coos in your ear and nudges your legs apart, spreading you nicely for him. He takes his cock in hand, rubbing it though your puffy folds before he begins to push forward. You whine at the intrusion, walls stretching more than they are used to as Shanks presses in.

“Slower, Shanks,” Mihawk rumbles from his seat. His eyes track the way the other man's cock slips inside your heat.

For once, the redhead listens to the other man and slows to a crawl, Shanks doesn't want to hurt you, and he is thicker than the average man.

“She's like a vice, Mihawk,” Shanks grunts above you and sinks another two inches, and you feel like you're being split open for half a second before the pain bleeds into pleasure. The Emperor groans when he bottoms out, brow pressed to the middle of your back as he rocks back and forth. He is already so fucking close, having edged himself twice when you'd been on your knees, so Shanks knows that he isn't going to last long, but he will feel you come on his cock.

A shout tears out of your throat when your Emperor suddenly ruts forward, and pleasure zings up your spine at his brutal pace. His hand finds your hair, tangling in the stands and forcing your face down into the mattress.

“Gonna fill you up, baby,” Shanks snarls against your back, and his pace falters, going erratic. The tip of his cock drags against your sweet spot, and it sends you over once again, dragging Shanks with you.

Shanks swears as he comes, sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder blade, hips stuttering as he empties his load. He stays there for a long time, breathing in the scent of sweat and sex before he rises and carefully pulls out. You hiss at the feeling, feeling sticky and fucked out. You don't have the energy to say much of anything as Shanks lifts you the rest of the way onto the bed.

“You okay, baby?” Shanks murmurs, and you muster up enough willpower to nod before your turn to snuggle into the closest pillow. He smiles and gently strokes your hair, pushing it away from your face and admiring your tired beauty.

Mihawk stands, stepping behind Shanks and grabbing the edge of his loose gray shirt and pulling it up and off the other man. He pushes his redhead to the bed and then swiftly undresses himself. Now that Shanks had gotten his fill, Dracule was feeling just a little left out, and he intended to rectify that right now.

You open your eyes enough to see Mihawk pressing Shanks down, long fingers wrapped around the other man's tan throat. Interested, you roll to your side, grabbing the sheets and pulling them around you, a soft smile playing on your lips as you enjoy the show that your boys put on for you. You are noticed eventually and are dragged between them, but no one would ever find you complaining.

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat

[zirobitches]

One Piece: Soulmate AU pt. 2

Always in this twilight - Sir Crocodile x GN!Reader

here's pt. 1

Summary: In a world where soulmates are incapable of harming each other, you just found out your captain is your soulmate because he attempted to kill you. Sadness ensues

Tags: angst no comfort, Original characters bc I needed a crew for Croc, no beta we die like Roger, reader is former's Roger pirate raised alongside Shanks & Buggy, also reader is a former slave, the Vice Admiral is Sakazuki but it is not formally mentioned, Tom's Workers are the best

word count : almost 5600. damn.

Notice: this is not a croc/reader centric plot!!!! if you wanted to make out with croc im sorry this aint it. hop over to my ao3 if you want spoilers for this universes timeline: ao3 - im sorry in advance

You evade the Navy and Crocodile for a while into the night.

Back when you had helped your crew settle into the hotel you all had noticed some individuals dressed in robes and masks - some sort of festival they had going on in Water 7.

May as well participate.

You manage to swipe a black robe and nondescript mask from a local vendor. Normally you would have paid, but you had a feeling that the Navy may have spread word to locals to keep an eye out for you.

Even with your new disguise you still didn’t feel at ease walking through the canals, so you went up.

Up the levels of Water 7 towards the top. You found a fire escape that allowed you to get to the rooftop of some hotel. You stopped and took off your mask for a moment; there were no buildings nearby taller than yours, so you felt as though no one would see you. 

A warm gentle breeze brushed against your face. The view of the city at night was wondrous- warm lights glowed all across the spire city, gently illuminating the pale buildings, the midnight blue sky filled with stars and the dark seas blended with the sky on the horizon. The sight would have put a smile on your face if you could have seen it in a better situation. You replace your mask and keep moving, hopping from building to building. There was no final destination in mind, just wandering atop the city. The only thing on your mind was to keep running. Thinking about anything else would make you distracted; distractions could get you in hot water.

But you couldn’t forget your crew. They were in danger - Crocodile wanted to take them to fight Whitebeard. To be killed by Whitebeard.

You and Crocodile had planned for the crew to stay in Water 7 for three nights. You weren’t sure if that was still his plan, but it’s not as though the Marines were going to chase him out of Water 7.

You stood at the top of a building overlooking a large square, one of the first open spaces you’ve seen in Water 7 that isn’t by the shore or occupied by multiple canals. You observed the space watching as some locals walked through going about their day.

Running errands, taking leisurely strolls, leaving their day job.

Why did you choose this life?

You could have settled down - Dressrosa was always your favorite place if you ever ‘retired’ like you joked you would. 

A quaint, beautiful kingdom with a fair ruler. Fairies and flowers. It’s literally the place of your dreams, the kind you dreamed of when you ran out of reasons to keep going, back when you were in chains.

Why did you stay on the seas after Roger left?

Because you loved being a pirate? 

Or because you didn’t have the strength to live alone?

A voice takes you out of your contemplation. Your eyes that had been gazing upon the locals' little lives now locked onto a silhouette you could never mistake.

Crocodile had entered the square.

And he carried something in his arms.

How you had tried to run away from your captain and ended up running into him anyway made you feel stupid. Without a doubt, it was odd that Croc was in the middle of Water 7. There should have been no inclination that you went this direction. So what was he doing here?

Crocodile was calling out to a group of Marines in the square that you hadn’t noticed. Even from your high vantage point you recognized the same Vice Admiral from before among them. Your position made it hard to make out what they were saying, so as quickly and quietly as you could, you jumped onto the lower building next to yours.

It was dark enough that with your black robe you shouldn’t be easily seen. By the time you had yourself better positioned, Crocodile had met in the middle of the square with the Marines. During your move, Marines had closed off the square, forcing local residents to evacuate the premises. God forbid they acknowledge their cooperation with pirates.

But then from your new vantage point you finally saw what your captain was carrying.

It was a dead body.

It was certainly not the first time you had seen him kill someone - and you knew he had killed this person because of their desiccated corpse; dried out in his signature fashion.

But it was the first time you had seen him carry a body so tenderly. 

And the first time you had seen a dead body wear your clothes.

“I found them.” Crocodile’s deep voice clearly reached your ears. A chill went down your spine at his implication.

The body was supposed to be you. At closer inspection, the body he had had a similar skin tone and hair color as yours - if you had been dried out maybe. You’re not sure how he planned to explain the change of clothes - the body wore some clothes you had planned to wear during your stay here and had brought to the hotel.

But then again, Marines weren’t very clever.

Your captain dropped the corpse at their feet. Some of them backed away in disgust as parts of the corpse crumbled away at the impact. The Vice Admiral simply looked down with disdain.

“You were supposed to bring them in alive. No pirate affiliated with Gold Roger should be allowed to evade proper judgment.” The Vice Admiral’s words were laced with poison. You could feel his hatred from your hiding place.

Your hands clenched at his mention of the Roger pirates. Your old crew weren’t bad people - you had encountered plenty of truly evil pirates, and the crew of the Oro Jackson were far from evil.

Crocodile ignored the Vice Admiral. “You got what you wanted in the end though. A dead Roger pirate, courtesy of your new Pirate Warlord. Put that in the papers and you’ll have a field day with the celebrations. They might even give you a medal.”

You flinched at memories stirred up by the newspaper comment. For the past three years since Roger’s death you’ve seen some of your former crewmates names end up in the paper - articles about their capture and subsequent execution. Crocodile was very aware of your history, of how close you were to your old crew.

He had seen your sorrow once when you happened to be in a civil town when the news of one such loss hit the papers. How you had struggled to hold back tears while civilians laughed and celebrated ‘one less dangerous pirate’. How you shut yourself away that night. How you kept your distance from your new crew for weeks after.

And now here you two were.

Still the older Marine was not pleased. “I’m surprised you killed your first mate. Aren’t you pirates supposed to have a code that prevents you from doing so? How am I supposed to know this is actually their body?” The Vice Admiral did have a good point. A mummified corpse was hard to identify, it could be anyone. Apparently the Marines were more clever than you gave them credit for.

But before Crocodile could defend himself, there was a small commotion at one end of the square.

“Hey, no civilians allowed!” A marine was blocking someone from entering. A familiar someone. You felt your heart sink like a stone.

It was Tink.

Tink, one of the four that was part of Croc’s crew before you joined. Tink, the Neverland pirates' loyal shipwright. Tink, who was so young, a teenager that you had grown to see like your little sister.

She shouldn’t be a pirate. And she shouldn’t be here now.

“Let me through! That’s my captain!” She cried out. Crocodile looked back at her. You saw him clench his jaw - in anger? Or in dread?

You knew Crocodile was always more gentle with Tink. She was the kid of the crew, everyone loved her. And now she was caught in the middle of negotiations with him and the Navy. And she was about to see a dead body that was supposed to be you.

“Tink,” you whispered, unable to keep the words inside. “Tink, please go. It can’t be you, anyone but you, please.”

But Crocodile was in need of someone who could back his claim that the dead body was yours.

You didn’t know if he had told the crew about what had happened - his acceptance of the Warlord title, his offering you to the Navy, about you two being…

You two being-

He didn’t tell them. Sir Crocodile would certainly have taken this burden alone. He always kept secrets from you, and this was not something he would have shared with them. There was a possibility he ran into the crew when he went to retrieve your clothes from the hotel. But you imagined he snuck in and out - being able to turn into sand made things like that a breeze.

So in short, Tink was about to walk into this square surrounded by Marines, see a corpse that could only have been killed by Crocodile, dressed in your clothes.

You were frozen in place as you watched Crocodile beckon Tink towards him.

It felt like an out of body experience. Maybe you had died. Maybe he did kill you and this was your soul punished to not be able to do anything but stand by and watch your family fall apart again.

She walked past the Marines to him - gods, she looked so small from this height. Tink has never looked younger in your eyes than she did now.

Tink paused.

She had finally caught sight of the body on the ground.

A whisper of your name passed her lips.

You had to cover your mouth to hide the sob that threatened to escape.

A louder question of your name now. Then she ran past Crocodile who stood motionless. He didn’t watch.

Tink fell to her knees beside the body. Her eyes ran up and down and then carefully, so very carefully, touched the arm of the body. It fell apart in her hands.

She gasped a sob out, then started crying fully. She kept reaching out to grab the body - your body - but would then flinch back in fear of it crumbling away. Tink ended up wrapping her arms around herself to prevent from touching ‘you’ and just wailed.

This clear display of grief seemed to satisfy the Vice Admiral.

“Hmmm. I knew you wanted this title badly Sir Crocodile, but I’m still surprised at how far you were willing to go.” Crocodile still had not turned to face Tink and the body and had instead pulled out one of his cigars and set it alight. The smoke hid his face from your sight.

Tink’s grief stuttered in response to the Marine’s words.

“W-What?” She looked up at the Vice Admiral who only met her tear stained face with contempt and a small smirk. Tink then turned her head to Crocodile, who had finally mustered the decency to face what he had done.

“Captain, it can’t be true.” Her voice, broken though it was, still carried through the square. You saw some of the Marines forming the barricade uncomfortably shifting in place. Some just stared at the ground.

“Did you do this?” It could not have been clearer that it was his handiwork, but you understood denial very well. It was a strange feeling to see grief from the outside like this.

“Did you really kill our first mate? After everything?” She cried up at him, still on her knees on the ground, but now she sat in between your body and him as though she was trying to prevent him from getting closer to you.

“And for what?! A fucking title? A little more power?” Tink was yelling now, screaming even with tears and snot still running down her face.

“They loved you more than anyone else on our ship!”

You gasped at that, tears freely falling now behind your mask, hands tight against it to prevent the crowd below from hearing. You never thought your admiration was noticeable - hell, you hadn’t even fully realized you were in love with Crocodile till today.

But Tink did. The crew had known.

The force of Tink’s words hit Crocodile the hardest. He flinched back at Tink’s scream, a small step back as though she had actually hit him.

“They would have given you the world! Why couldn’t that have been enough?”

“Why aren’t we enough for you?” 

These last gut wrenching words seemed to drain Tink’s strength. She fully fell to the ground now, head to the ground, entire body shaking with her grief.

Crocodile could do nothing but stand and stare at the mess at his feet.

Through your tears you noticed movement near where Tink had entered the square. You looked, and let out a quiet sob.

It was the crew. Not the whole crew, but your original crew.

There were four people who accompanied Crocodile before you: Tink the child shipwright, Diat the purple-haired helmsman, Kalmia the mute sharpshooter, and Rutako the fishman navigator. It was an odd crew to begin with, a group of individuals you would not have assumed were related in any fashion, but quickly grew to see their friendship.

You grew to love them.

They were the first family you found outside of the Roger pirates, and you had wanted to run from them. Wanted to run so if things fell apart as they did in front of you now, you wouldn’t have to feel the pain.

Was that really just last night you had wished for that?

Now all you want is to run to them.

But you had just been declared dead - Crocodile has gone and killed a random civilian to fake your death. If you ran out now you could prevent him from becoming a Warlord. Rejoin with your crew. It's not as though Crocodile could kill you - but the Marines could.

To reveal Crocodile’s deception would be to risk the safety of everyone you loved. It would begin an instant fight to the death, one your crew was heavily outnumbered for. No party would walk away without losses.

As it stands now, the only thing that will be hurt tonight would be the Neverland pirates. The crew would certainly fall apart with you, their beloved first mate, dead; killed by your own captain no less. Maybe this is how your crew would be saved from Whitebeard. As foolish as Sir Crocodile may be, even he surely wouldn’t fight Whitebeard without an entire crew to back him.

And this was your chance to escape. Leave it all behind, get rid of all attachments so you could never feel this pain again.

You watch as your original crew find Tink and the body. Watch as Rutako gently takes Tink into his arms. Watch as Diat starts to interrogate his captain for answers. Watch as Kalmia tries to keep their composure since they know the danger of being surrounded by the Navy, but still notice the way they begin to shake.

Diat was furious. “I’m not an idiot Captain, it is clear as day that you did this, but I just can’t figure why in the hell you would kill your own first mate.”

Crocodile is now appearing unfazed by it all, seemingly detached from the world around him. “They were going to try a mutiny in response to my new title as Warlord. They were the one who instigated a fight between us. I had no choice in the matter: it was me or them.”

Tink, who had been crying into Rutako’s shoulder, looked up at this. “That Marine said you killed them, in order to become a Warlord!”

The Vice Admiral who had been watching the scene as if it was normal to him, snorted at Tink’s call out. But Crocodile continued to back his lie. “They were going to betray me because I’ve already accepted that title. And now they are dead. There’s no way to change what’s been done.” He fixed Tink with an icy glare.

“Now get over it.”

Diat would never let anyone talk to your crew like that, not even Crocodile. You had seen him angry before, but now he was truly incensed. “They were our family! How fucking dare you tell us that!” 

During all this commotion, a couple Marines walk up and begin to carry away the body. Rutako attempts to stop them, but guns are drawn on him in response. Diat points to the corpse. “Look at what you did to them. Look, you bastard! And now you’re letting them be taken by the Navy? You know what the Navy did to them! And to the people they loved!”

You can only watch as Diat finally also breaks down. “They belonged with us! Us, damnit!” Finally Kalmia interferes, setting a hand on Diat’s shoulder to pull him back. Kalmia guides him to where Tink and Rutako sat, regrouping the four of them.

Of course Sir Crocodile couldn’t allow them to grieve in peace for even a minute. “Listen up. From here on out things will be different. If I’m going to achieve my goals I need a loyal crew, not people who try to stab me in the back at the slightest thing.”

The four look up, still crying but managing to glare at their captain as well. He continues anyway,  “However, if you are only going to follow me out of fear that I’ll kill you as well then I have no want for you. I need unwavering loyalty if I’m to rule the seas. This is your one chance to leave my crew without any consequence.”

The four are startled - and you as well. Mercy, after such cruelty? This was out of character for your captain, but you think you understood why.

You’re very familiar with cutting off the people you love because you love them.

They seem at a loss for an immediate response, but the Vice Admiral finally chimes in again. “Can you pirates figure out your problems elsewhere? I have better things to do tonight than listen to you all whine about some criminal getting what they deserve.”

The crew is clearly set off by this, words yelled immediately, but Crocodile steps between them and the Marine. “It’s time to go. Get up,” he commands to his crew who slowly and begrudgingly listen to him. The five walk out of the square in single file, Crocodile taking up the rear.

As they pass through the Navy barricade, Crocodile pauses, then turns and takes a glance in your direction. You duck back before he sees you, and take that as your cue to leave before anyone else notices your presence.

- 

You don’t know how long you wandered. You recall wandering down the city, back to the shoreline. You found a small, dimly lit corner you deemed good enough for sitting in, and plopped yourself down. The adrenaline had worn off and the tears of the day had left you an empty shell of exhaustion.

You had only meant to close your eyes for a moment, have a chance to catch your breath, but you fell unconscious.

Eventually the early morning sun wakes you. It is the dawn of a new day, and you have no idea what you are going to do. Your body and heart still ache and your head pounds from dehydration. 

You keep thinking about Tink and Diat.

 Kalmia and Rutako.

Shanks and Buggy.

Rayleigh.

Crocodile.

The vivre cards.

That finally clicks. You can't let anyone else find those. Ditching your clothes on the ship would've been fine, but you can't leave the vivre cards. If Crocodile wants to turn in Roger pirates he has a whole free list to steal, one that'll lead him straight to them.

You have to get back to your ship.

Head pounding and vision fading temporarily as you stand, you try to orient yourself. Based on the sun’s position, you are on the north eastern side of Water 7. If you remember correctly, and if the ship hasn't been moved, your ship should be on the north western side. So not too far, but still not as close as you'd like.

So with a dry mouth and your disguise from last night still on, you make your way to your ship.

You find it docked where you left it. Sails tied up, anchored down, in pristine condition. And hopefully, empty.

You still didn't know what happened after your crewmates left the square last night. If any of the crew was still intact. If they were still alive.

When the ship docks most of the crew are typically thrilled to sleep in some fancy hotel with their own beds, but after the events of last night some may have left the hotel to stay on the ship.

The only way to find out was to look. You walked up the plank to the deck.

It was empty. Just as you had left it. No one at the crow’s nest, no one at the bow.

Then you went below deck to the cabins. No snores were behind any doors, and no sounds of pots and pans from the kitchen.

You finally arrived at your quarters and quietly opened your door.

There, on your bed, was a curled up tiny Tink.

You immediately went still, freezing every muscle, holding your breath.

She was out cold.

You slowly walked towards her. She clutched your pillow, burying her face into it. Short blonde hair stuck up on her head, tussled from her slumber. You wanted to reach out and fix it, but you had your priorities.

You walked to your dresser. Middle drawer, back left side, under some old t-shirts. The vivre box.

You grabbed it then began to quietly look around your old room. You spotted an old backpack of yours. You decided to take just a couple things, not too much so Tink wouldn't notice, but a couple old things that wouldn't be missed.

A couple of those old shirts, some pants that hadn't been worn in a while. Other little mementos and old knick knacks.

You paused after almost filling the bag and stared at a sword hanging by your door. It was your main weapon, gifted to you by the man who taught you to use it.

It was one of the few things you still had from your time on the Oro Jackson after Roger left.

You grabbed it, hoped Tink wasn't planning on taking it as a keepsake, and holstered it.

While doing a last sweep for things as Tink slept, you paused in front of your mirror. It was the first time you had looked at yourself wearing the mask since you grabbed it. The cloak hid your body entirely. You would never have recognized yourself.

In the mirror you notice it. It had been hanging around your neck for so long you hardly noticed its presence, its absence was more noticeable to you - it had been there that long. A necklace that matched ones around the necks of the other original five crewmates. A chain that hung a ring, a ring far too big for anyones hands.  Except for your captains. 

Years ago there had been a challenge to steal one of your captains rings. You at first claimed it was a stupid endeavor. Then when Diat showed off the ring he snagged, your old competitive streak came back. You managed to sneak one off Croc’s hands - no one was sure how you managed it, not even yourself. Then Kalmia got one, then Rutako, and finally, Tink. You all had succeeded and ended up keeping them as mementos. It became a symbol of the “first five” as other crewmates like to call you. Crocodile never asked for them back.

Now you stared at it hanging from your neck. Your hand clutched it, the cool metal burning your palm now. You wanted to tear it off, maybe leave it with Tink. But then you turned to look at her, still asleep on your bunk.

The rings no longer belonged to the captain. They belonged to you.

But you couldn’t leave your crew like this. You needed a way to say goodbye to your family.

You left your room, quietly closing the door behind you. You snuck into the captain's office - also empty - and grabbed a blank paper and pen. A letter would work. A letter that allowed you to say goodbye to your crew and warn them about battling Whitebeard.

After trying to compose your thoughts, and a couple discarded drafts, you ended up with this:

Dear Tink,

If you are reading this it means I have left the crew. I am sorry that it happened like this, but I simply cannot stand by Sir Crocodile any longer if this is the path he has chosen. I imagine my departure may cause some of the crew to want to leave as well, but do not be mistaken, I have no aspirations of being a captain myself.

This letter is a goodbye and a warning. The captain believes he can defeat Whitebeard. Apparently that’s part of his deal as a Warlord with the Navy. Let me clear: he has no chance of winning. Please don’t let him drag you and the rest of the crew to their deaths; it will be a massacre of the Neverland Pirates. whitebeard and my Captain Roger were lifelong rivals, I witnessed several of their battles last days on end. Whitebeard is the strongest man alive, with a fleet to match. Sir Crocodile has become delusional. If you hope to keep this letter at all, best not to tell him I said that.

If you ever reach the New World you might find me in Dressrosa. I’m not sure if I ever told you about it, but it is one of my favorite kingdoms I’ve ever been to. I believe it will be a nice retirement home for an old pirate such as myself.

I wish I had the courage to say goodbye to you and the others in person, but the truth of the matter is, I am a coward. I run when I get attached so others cannot hurt me. I understand the irony of hurting the ones I care about, but unfortunately this is my true nature.

I love you Tink. Thank you for being my family the past few years.

Your former first mate,

And then you signed your name on the letter with a shaky hand. It’s hard to write legibly with watery eyes.

You felt bad for not leaving a note for the others, but you knew that Tink would need this the most. You walked to Tink’s usual sleeping quarters, folded up the paper and stuck it under her pillow with just a corner peeking out with the hope she will find it.

And then, for the last time in your life, you walked off of Crocodile’s ship.

-

You wandered back into the streets of Water 7. You had taken your wallet from the ship as well - thanks to your years on the ship, you were pretty well off financially. 

You found a street vendor in a market and grabbed something for breakfast. Eating in public didn't feel right especially with your crew still in town, so you scaled the buildings once again. Eating with a rooftop view was fun. Watching the city wake up and come to life.

You remembered visiting here before as a kid on the Oro Jackson. Apparently the man who built your ship lived on Water 7. He was a large fishman by the name of Tom.

You wondered if he still lived there.

As you pondered your situation with empty exhaustion, you noticed a news coo fly overhead. 24 hours ago it was the newspaper that started you on the path of your fabricated demise and subsequent departure from the crew.

Time to test your luck again.

You waved the bird down and it landed on the ledge in front of you. You aren't very good with animals, but if you've ever seen a bird look shocked, this was it.

You handed it the fee for the paper and it apprehensively handed you a copy, then took off with haste.

Confused, you open the paper. Then you understood the bird's reaction.

On the front of the paper was Crocodile’s face and your own. It announced the official instatement of Crocodile was one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, and your death as a former Roger’s Pirate.

Your apathy disappeared as it all sunk in again.

Sitting on the roof, you cried as you ate your food because you knew: you were alone and no one except the man you loved and the man who tried to kill you knew you were alive.

-

After a couple hours of walking through town and asking locals, you found Tom’s Workers.

During your search you learned that Tom was in hot water for building the Oro Jackson and he was now building a… water train? For the government. You knew this meant he may no longer have any sympathy for Roger and his old crew, but you had no other friends in Water 7, and no plausible means of leaving. Not when your face was in the morning’s paper, announcing your death to the world.

You stood on a nearby building, the roofs of Water 7 your new temporary home, and watched the workers from a distance. Tom is hard to miss - a giant yellow fishman, hoisting and tossing heavy materials as though they were light as a feather. Working alongside him was a tall teenage boy with dark purple hair who kept yelling at a younger boy with bright blue hair.

Their quarrels only made Tom laugh, mixed in with the occasional reminder to keep on task.

You didn't really understand what they were building or how it would work, but watching them made you feel as though you were watching a scene from your childhood.

It made you miss your brothers.

-

You waited till nightfall to approach them. The boys had left around sunset when an older woman came by to tell them to go have dinner. You followed them at a distance and planned to wait for at least two more hours, hoping the boys would go to sleep, so you could have the chance to talk to Tom alone. But only ten minutes passed when the door opened.

You hopped back from where you had been loitering, trying to hide from the light that poured from the doorway. However the woman who opened the door only looked amused.

“Tom says to come join us for dinner.”

You stood in the shadow for a minute trying to process what she said. But knowing you were going to approach them anyways, you gave up hiding and stepped into the light.

“I don't mean to intrude. I just hoped to ask Tom for a favor.”

The woman smiled and waved you in. “Why don’t you ask him over a warm meal?”

You walked inside. It was a small space, clearly the living space of shipwrights with papers, drafts and other craftsmans things scattered about. Tom and the boys sat around a dinner table, the boys giving you an odd look - you figured your mask and robes would lift eyebrows. The woman also noticed you made no motion to take off your disguise.

“It’ll be hard to eat with a mask on.” She smiled, still trying to coerce you to the table.

“Thank you, but I already ate.” You replied, choosing to awkwardly stand in the entryway instead.

“Kokoro’s food isn’t that great but it’s warm!” The blue haired boy piped up, a goofy grin on his face. His smartass comment however earned him a smack on the back of the head by the older boy who sat beside him.

“Franky, you can’t say things like that! Have you no respect for adults?” The purple haired boy reprimanded him.

“That’s enough you two, we have a guest.” Kokoro interjected, seemingly unfazed by Franky’s insult to her cooking. “Even if you aren't hungry, you can sit beside me as they finish if you’d like.” She turned to you as she rejoined the table offering the seat next to her.

You looked at the table; Tom took up the majority of one side with Kokoro next to him, and the boys sat across from them. You would end up sitting at the end of the table Between Kokoro and Franky. You cast a glance around the home and found no other space you could possibly stay in instead as you waited, so you ended up taking her offer at the table.

Dinner resumed as it had been before you joined. The boys bickered, but both would go silent to listen as Tom told stories. He had several, all about ships he had built or pirates he had encountered. The older boy, Iceberg, would discuss schematics and plans with Tom for projects beside the Sea Train. The younger boy Franky pulled out his own plans for small warships - meant to bring down Sea Kings apparently.

Kokoro just seemed to enjoy some booze and the company at the table.

Eventually, after some odd looks from Iceberg and invasive questions from Franky, the boys went to bed, Kokoro and Tom sending them off. Kokoro ended up leaving as well, and then it was you and Tom.

“Kokoro mentioned you wanted a favor from me? Just know I’m awfully busy with the Sea Train and I don’t have time for much else.” Tom had a friendly demeanor, but you could tell your insistence on hiding your appearance from them had bothered him.

You glanced at the door to the boys’ room. “Is it okay if we stepped outside? I think it may be best to leave others out of my problems if possible.”

Tom again seemed to question what was going on, but he stepped outside anyway. A couple yards from the house you handed him this morning’s paper. You braced yourself, then asked him, “How do you feel about the news of another Roger Pirates dying?”

Tom bristled, “Look, I’ve been welcoming but I have to know who you are. If you’re another CP agent I’ve told you I-” But before he could finish you pulled off your mask.

Tom froze.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Tom. I didn’t want to come here and endanger you and your family but I’m out of options. If there’s anything you know about a way I can escape Water 7 I would be grateful.” You rambled, trying to explain you knew his situation and that you could pay him for just a schedule, someway he might know of that could help you sneak off this island, but you didn’t quite finish your thoughts.

Tom reached out to you, and you flinched, preparing for the worst. Instead, he crouched down to eye level and rested the hand on your shoulder. His eyes were sad, mouth pressed into a hard line.

“If there’s anything I can do for one of Roger’s kids, I will do it without hesitation.”

You crumpled beneath the weight of his words. The smile that stretched across Tom’s face gave you the same feeling when Roger smiled at you after he told you you were no longer a slave.

For the first time since you got to Water 7, you felt safe.

More Notes: tysm for reading!! never expected so many people to want a continuation - i knew this is where it would go when i wrote pt 1, but im sure this is a surprise for some of you. i really appreciate comments and might write a non-canon compliant au of this soulmates fic - MAYBE, do not expect anything. also i cant write smut so it would just be fluff/ angst w comfort kind of thing. get dicked down by croc elsewhere

ily all, ty again - Ziro(Bitches)

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

in which this story comes to an end. (fucking finally.)

part eight of the post-marineford portion of the near miss fics! (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7) if you have no idea what i’m talking about but would like to read a shanks/buggy story about kissing in disguise and then having to deal with the emotional fallout of doing that, click on this link, that’s the tag for the whole thing in chronological order. (plus a fair bit of complaining about writing, one inspirational improvised musical number, and a snippet of shanks pov) if you do know what i’m talking about: it’s done! it’s done!! i wish i could say i planned to end this on 3/8 but lmao, did not know the significance of the day until, like, this tuesday. but it’s done. i’m taking a break from the world of this story to work on some gift exchange fics, but i will be uploading the first few fics to ao3 soon, and should start posting the shanks POV post-marineford story in late april. if there are scenes you’d especially like his POV on, let me know! i’ll do my best to incorporate them.

Buggy spent a very cathartic half-hour shouting at a bunch of guys who ate up his words with a spoon.  Always eager to please, the men obediently found themselves disembarkation buddies, cleaned up the messes they’d made, and started gathering their things (mostly weapons they’d stolen off the guards at Impel Down).

It was nice to be respected, Buggy thought as he watched them scurry around the ship.  However misplaced the respect, it made people listen to him, something Buggy had wanted for as long as he could remember.  He’d never been able to get enough.  Probably never would, if the hunger that grew every time these men cheered his name was anything to go by.

He wandered up to the room he shared with Galdino—thankfully empty, he didn’t want to end up in another slap fight over details—and took care of his own possessions. (It wouldn’t do to have any excuses to delay or hang back when they got to the meeting point.) With the modified Marine jacket and hat back on, Buggy could fit everything else in a small satchel that he strapped around his waist, neatly hidden by a twist in a sash and the way the jacket fell.  He left the room… more or less the way it had been when he arrived—there was no way to hide that dent in the wall, and Galdino would have to be the one to deal with the smear of wax across half the bed—and exited the room for the last time, taking in the view of the deck below with a contented sigh.

The Red Force was a well-run ship—a compliment Buggy would never voice aloud, but in the privacy of his own mind he allowed himself to think it.  Even with hundreds of strangers aboard who couldn’t help but get in the way, she was clean, well-equipped, and sailing smoothly.  Buggy didn’t know if he’d be able to say the same in a few hours, when all these men would be trying to squeeze onto the somewhat smaller Big Top.  Buggy rubbed a hand across his mouth to hide his involuntary grimace at the thought.  Maybe the island they were meeting up on had some industry he could put them to work at?  A farm would be fantastic, if he could get paid for their labor and get the produce at a discount as well… 

Buggy looked over the deck in search of one of Shanks’ senior officers.  He didn’t know most of them by name, but those cloaks and capes they wore were distinctive enough that he thought he should be able to identify them on sight, and surely if the one he found didn’t know anything about the island, they could point him to someone who did.  The navigator?  Roux, who seemed to know a little about everything?  Beckman, whose job it was to know something about everything?

And, think of the devil, one of the doors to the interior of the ship opened to reveal Beckman, speaking with a few of those cloaked men.  They each went their own way, and Beckman crossed to the railing, taking up a pose not dissimilar from Buggy’s a few levels above him.  That was a first mate for you, always keeping an eye on things, one way or another.

Buggy sent his feet down the stairs and the rest of him took the shorter path, swooping down to Beckman’s side like a giant white bat.  To his credit, Beckman didn’t react to this unusual approach. Instead, calm as anything, he said, “Whatever you said to those men, it seems to be doing the trick.  Thanks.”

Buggy waved the praise off.  “If they’re so eager to be under my command, they’ve got to start learning to behave themselves sooner or later.  Might as well be now.”  Leaning an elbow against the railing, Buggy looked Beckman over.  He sure did seem a lot more relaxed now than he’d been outside Shanks’ rooms.  Relaxed enough to share intel?  “Tell me something.”

Beckman glanced sideways at Buggy.  “Hm?”

“What do you know about this island where we’re meeting up with my crew?  Is it populated?”

“Ah, I don’t think so, no,” Beckman said, tilting his head back, recalling the facts.  “Snake picked a jungle island that’s a bit out of the way of normal trade routes.  There’s some ruins, but no signs of recent habitation.”

Buggy tried not to visibly wilt.  “Ah.”

Beckman’s eyes lingered on Buggy.  “We didn’t want to risk a naval presence on the island getting word out to the rest of the Marines.”

“No, no, it makes sense.”  Buggy sighed, shoving a hand under his hat to scrub at his hair.  “Just trying to figure out how the hell I’m gonna feed all these guys in that case.”  No way had anyone thought to tell Alvida that Buggy was bringing new guys with him, let alone a lot of new guys.  She’d have gotten the ship supplied with their normal numbers in mind.

Well, the new guys were a tough bunch, maybe they’d see hunting for their dinner as a fun challenge.  Assuming there was anything safe to hunt and eat on this island… Buggy dug his fingers into his scalp, biting back a frustrated groan.

Beckman laughed.  “Yeah, I don’t envy you that job. At least we were expecting to take on passengers.”  He whistled to get the attention of someone up in the crow’s nest and flashed a hand sign at them.  After a few exchanges, he stopped signing and rolled his eyes.  “Stubborn, overworking little—” He cut himself off and glanced at Buggy.  “Was that all you wanted from me?”  Buggy nodded.  “Then I’ll see you when Shanks finally gets up the nerve to talk to you… or when we land.  Whichever comes first.”  With that, he walked over to the mast, got the attention of a young man who’d been leaning against it, and grabbed onto a low-hanging rope.  The two of them pulled themselves up into the rigging—to harass whoever was up in the crow’s nest into taking a break, probably.

Buggy watched them climb for a minute, a frown crawling its way across his face.  When Shanks finally gets up the nerve to talk to you… so there was something Shanks was hiding that he didn’t think he should, huh?  Buggy had figured the feeling he was getting off Shanks was about one of those topics he’d had private conversations with Roger about way back when, not something that Shanks would consider any of Buggy’s business.  But apparently that wasn’t the case.

Buggy’s frown deepened.  He could come up with a list of topics Shanks wouldn’t want to broach but would still feel obligated to bring up, no problem.  But that list was short, and Buggy didn’t like the thought of discussing anything on it.

Unsettled, Buggy leaned back against the mast, arms crossed.

“Look out below!!!”

Buggy looked up and shrieked at the sight of a man falling head-first out of the crow’s nest.  He scattered—it wasn’t like his body would soften the blow enough that the guy would live—and then blinked, as a rope he hadn’t noticed went taut, and the falling slowed to a gentle, somehow mechanical motion.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” he demanded, floating up to be eye-level with the slowly descending man.  This was, if Buggy remembered correctly, Shanks’ sniper, Yasopp, of the infamous years-long tempting out to sea.  Someone with good aim, and a keen eye, but not particularly decisive—or, at least, he hadn’t been back then.  He was also apparently someone with a shitty sense of humor; he wasn’t answering Buggy’s question because he was too busy laughing and pointing at Buggy.

“Your face!  Oh, my stomach hurts,” he said, clutching at his waist.  “Oh man, that was almost worth getting kicked out of the nest.”  As they approached the ground, he shifted his weight so his feet would touch down first, and untangled himself from the rope with practiced ease.  “Phew.  Sorry, uh—Buggy, right?  Yeah, sorry about that.  The crew knows better than to stand so close to the mast when the watch changes, and I didn’t think to check before I jumped.”

“Jumping from the crow’s nest for fun.”  Buggy shook his head.  “And here I thought you people were almost respectable.”  Yasopp, the maniac, cackled.  Beckman, drifting down to the deck on his own rope mechanism, in a much more orderly fashion, chuckled a little.

“It’s possible we’ve been on… well, not our best behavior.  Let’s call it better behavior than usual, these last few days,” Beckman admitted.  “Except for Yasopp, who doesn’t know the meaning of the concept and so stays up in his nest.”

“You haven’t been on your best behavior, you’re as mean as ever,” Yasopp said, putting on an over-the-top pout.

Beckman rolled his eyes.  “Because I need to be, to get anything done around here,” he said.  “And you need a break.  Drink, talk to someone, tinker with one of your ridiculous trick bullets, I don’t care, just—let someone else keep an eye on things for a few hours, okay?”  He nudged Yasopp in the side with an elbow.  “Or are you gonna say you didn’t train your juniors well enough at their job?”

Yasopp crossed his arms, sulky.  “No,” he conceded.

“Good,” Beckman said.  Giving Buggy an apologetic grimace as he untied himself, he said, “I trust he’s apologized to you already?”  His tone suggested that if he hadn’t, Yasopp would soon regret it.

What a mother hen of a first mate, Buggy thought, fighting down a smile. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” he said, shrugging off the incident like it hadn’t carved a decade off his lifespan.  “I should’ve known you people had to be at least a little crazy, since you run around with Shanks.”

A small smile crossed Beckman’s face, and Yasopp muffled a snort of laughter in a fist.

Someone called out in a panicky tone for Beckman from a far corner of the ship, and the smile fell off his face.  “If you’ll excuse me?”  Not waiting for a reply from either of them, Beckman walked off.

“So mean,” Yasopp said, fondness creeping into his voice.

“That’s first mates for you,” Buggy said, unable to keep a similar fondness out of his own voice.  Shanks had done a good job finding this guy.  When you grew up with the gold standard first mate (or, heh, the Silvers standard?), it was hard to find someone who could measure up.  “Keeping things in order when your captain’s lost his head.”

Yasopp chuckled.  “Ah, the boss isn’t that bad off.”  When Buggy gave him a skeptical look, he smirked.  “Lost his heart, maybe, but he knows where his head’s at.”

“I—uh.”  Flustered, Buggy cleared his throat.  He’d really just gone and said it.  “You’re a lot less subtle than your crewmates.”

Yasopp shrugged.  “I leave subtlety to subtle men.  I’m not built for it; I’m built for getting to the heart of the matter, and doing it fast.”  He extended two fingers towards Buggy, lifted his thumb into the air, and twitched his hand like it was a gun recoiling.  “We both know where things stand.  What’s the use in dancing around it?”

“Sure,” Buggy muttered, his thoughts going back to what Beckman had said.  What was it Shanks both didn’t want to tell him and needed to tell him?  What was there left unsaid, besides the sort of thing Buggy had already decided didn’t need saying?  He crossed his arms.  Damn it, he’d been trying to avoid thinking about this shit!

“Hey,” Yasopp said, snapping his fingers to draw Buggy’s attention.  “You work with bombs, right?  You make them yourself?”

Welcoming the change in topic, Buggy scoffed.  “Of course,” he said, “only an idiot trusts the kind of weapons manufacturers who are willing to sell to pirates to make explosives that are good, reliable, and cheap, and I have better things to spend my money on.”  He narrowed his eyes at Yasopp.  “Why?”

“Because Beck just gave me permission to tinker with my trick bullets, and if you make your own explosives you might be able to figure out what I’m doing wrong with this one.”  Digging around in one of his oversized ammunition pouches, Yasopp presented Buggy with an unusually lightweight cartridge.  “Here, what do you think?”

Buggy cracked the cartridge open, curious.  Inside was a pool of silvery-black gunpowder and a thin-walled hollow bullet, which proved to have some other kind of powder inside.  Buggy pinched that powder between two fingers, rubbing them together to feel the grit and then sniffing at the residue left behind.  He stared at his fingers, baffled, and smelled them again.  “What is that, aluminum and an ammonium salt?”  Yasopp nodded.  “Are you trying to make a cartridge that explodes in the barrel?”

Yasopp sighed, running a hand through his locs.  “What I want is a smoke bomb I can fire out of a gun.  What I’m getting is… that, more or less.”

“Yeah, of course you are, a big velocity change ignites this stuff easily.  With a different catalyst, though, or maybe a better sealed chamber…” Buggy trailed off, considering the bullet.  A miniature smoke bomb, huh?  Something that could stand up to the initial shock of gunfire, and turns to noise and powder on impact… “Do you have a chem lab around here somewhere?”

Yasopp grinned.

The two of them didn’t emerge from Yasopp’s workroom until the bell rang out announcing last call for lunch.  Buggy wasn’t sure he’d ever get the metallic burnt smell out of these clothes, but he didn’t care; this had been fun, the kind of idle experimenting with explosives that he hadn’t had time to do in years.  Buggy hadn’t realized how much of a man’s free time it ate up, captaining even a smallish crew, until he’d gotten a fraction of that time back.

“Too bad we didn’t figure out a solution for your smoke bullet problem,” he said, dusting the last of the gunpowder off his shirt sleeves.

“Eh, I’ve been working on this on and off for months, it wasn’t gonna be an easy fix,” Yasopp said, shrugging his star-spangled cloak back on.  “But it got both of us out of our heads for a few hours, so I’d hardly call it a waste.”

Buggy blinked at him, frozen with one arm in his jacket.  “Both of us?”

“You were fretting, I don’t know what about.  Shanks, at a guess.  And I’m… not good at letting other people take on my responsibilities.”  Yasopp grimaced.  “Beck doesn’t always have to toss me out of the nest, but…”

Buggy frowned, sliding the jacket up his other arm.  “I wasn’t fretting.”

Yasopp gave him an unimpressed look.  “Sure.  And what kind of concealer do you use to hide the frown lines you must have, if you make that face every hour of the day?”  When Buggy scowled at him, Yasopp said, “I’m not a subtle man, remember?  If you want somebody to pretend to believe your lies, you’re looking at the wrong guy.”

Buggy sighed.  As Yasopp locked the workroom up behind them, he admitted, “It… was good to get out of my head for a while.”  Yasopp gave him a squeeze on the shoulder, and they left it at that.

Lunch was a bit less exciting than the past few days had led Buggy to expect: the fried rice with pickled cabbage and ham that had been served with Shanks’ breakfast was the main dish on offer, with other repurposed leftovers making up the rest of the meal.  When Roux wasn’t looking, Buggy gave him a curious look.  The rest of the crew had been on their best behavior, according to Beckman… so, had Lucky Roux been showing off?  If he had, it had worked on Buggy; he still wanted to poach Roux for his own crew, even if this less impressive offering was his usual fare.

Eating his bowl of rice with a couple promising-looking toppings—all well-spiced and delicious, of course—Buggy made his way out onto the main deck.  A few Red-Haired and Whitebeard Pirates glanced Buggy’s way, but most of them had gotten used to Buggy over the last few days and returned to their meals without paying him any mind.  He peered down at the lower deck, crowded with men in worn prison uniforms standing in surprisingly well-organized clusters of twos and fours, finishing their lunch.

“Afternoon, men!” he called.

“Captain Buggy!” they cheered.

“Let’s see,” Buggy said, and on a whim set aside his bowl to chop off his feet and swoop down, close enough to excite his men but just out of reach.  “Aren’t you arranged all nice and orderly?  It looks like you did as I asked.”

“Of course!”

“We’d do anything you asked, Captain Buggy!”

Buggy grinned.  Music to his ears.  “Then I suppose I should reward you, shouldn’t I?”  A few excited sounds rose from the crowd as Buggy returned to his spot on the deck above them.  “Hm… I’ve told you a few stories of the old days with Captain Roger, and a few more adventures of the great Captain Buggy’s crew.  But there’s someone I’ve yet to introduce you to, a captain who’s been allied with me and mine these last few months.”  Someone who might need some convincing to cooperate with the sudden appearance of all these guys… and who was more eager for praise than even Buggy.  “Let me tell you how the strong, beautiful Iron Mace Alvida saved my life.”

A hush fell over the crowd.

“Yes, I know what you’re thinking: the great Captain Buggy, in need of rescue?!”  The wide-eyed stares Buggy received confirmed this.  And by the look of it, some of the men were mentally tacking on the phrase by a woman? to that question, as he’d suspected they would.  Yeah, best to nip that potential problem in the bud.  “Well, I’d been through a terrible trial in the days leading up to our first meeting.  Separated from my crew, from my body, alone on a half-wrecked ship, starving, a vicious sea monster rising out of the waves before me, his many-toothed maw dripping with drool, eager to eat me—when suddenly!  A great iron mace came down on his skull!”  Buggy slammed his lunch bowl against the railing, the crash of metal on wood drawing the eye of every man below.

Buggy grinned.  If they hadn’t been hooked before, they sure were now.

He fudged some of the details, of course—no need to reveal exactly who had put him through that terrible trial, or how his crew had behaved in his absence.  But the broad strokes were true enough, and the changes he made were in support of his reason for telling the story: to convince these guys to respect Alvida, to flatter her as they did him, to make this joining of forces go as smoothly as possible.  Sure, it didn’t put Buggy in the best light, at least not at first, but he didn’t want Alvida taking a perceived slight out on a man who might be able to stand up to her mace.  If revealing one of his weaknesses was how he avoided that disaster, so be it.

He was just reaching the ‘rescuing his crew from cannibals’ climax of the story when a cry rang out from above: “Land ho!”

Finally.  The relief that rushed through Buggy nearly made him cry.  After all the many hells he’d been through since being arrested… things could finally start getting back to normal.

“We’ll continue this story after we disembark,” Buggy announced, to a few disappointed groans from his men.  “Find your buddy if you lost track of him during lunch!  Make sure you both have everything you’re taking with you!  Stay out of the way of the Red-Haired Pirates while they’re get us to shore, but be ready to leave the second we’re docked!”

“Aye, Captain!”

But of course, it wasn’t quite that simple.

Buggy found Galdino sitting in the empty mess with Lucky Roux, making polite conversation over a pot of tea.  Though, with these two, it might not actually be the conversation it seemed to be—something about the island Roux sourced his tea from?  Apparently it was a distinctive blend, and hard to acquire.

“Did you need something, Buggy?” Galdino asked, an undertone of irritation to his voice.  Because of course Buggy needed something, why else did he ever seek Galdino out?

Well, if Galdino didn’t want to be used, he shouldn’t have made himself so useful.

“The dock’s gone,” Buggy said.  “Either rotted through or swept away in a storm.”

Galdino glanced up at him, and set down his teacup.  “Well, at least it’ll be a challenge.  Lucky Roux, it’s been a pleasure.”

“It’s sure been something, having you people aboard,” Roux said with a wide smile.  “Hopefully not for the last time.”

Buggy snorted.  “In your captain’s dreams.”

Galdino muffled a laugh in his fist; Roux didn’t bother concealing his amusement.  Buggy realized how his words had come off, scowled, and stormed out of the mess with a mutter of, “Come on, Galdino.”

The two of them joined Beckman and the Red-Haired Pirates’ navigator at the bow of the ship, and considered the space where a dock clearly used to be.  A ship this big, an island with such a sharp drop from shore to sea?  They wouldn’t be able to land without a dock. 

“Can you do it?” Beckman asked.

“I’ll need to begin from the shore,” Galdino said, thoughtful.  “If it isn’t well anchored from the start it’ll drift away.”

“That’s no problem.” Buggy chopped his feet off and leaned forward, letting Galdino sit cross-legged on his back.  He flew them to shore, where Galdino made some long wax spears that Buggy wedged into place.  When they were securely dug in, Galdino melted the tops of the spears and, starting from that spot, created more wax to mold into a floating dock.  Nothing that would be any good at anchoring a ship the size of the Red Force long-term, but they didn’t intend to be here any longer than necessary.  So long as it could hold firm while the men disembarked, that was all they needed.

While Galdino worked, Buggy hovered above the canopy, looking for any kind of promising location to settle his men.  He quickly spotted the ruins Beckman had mentioned—several of the old buildings were tall enough to be seen well above the treetops, the gray of the stone standing out against all the greenery of the jungle.  There was one with a large paved area around it, not far from the shore, which seemed promising.  Buggy took a moment to fix the spot in his memory, then went back to tell Galdino about it.

Galdino barely paid him any mind. He was focused on his work, and confident enough in it to stand on the dock as he was building it, a foot or two of wax all that separated him from the awful, helpless death that awaited any Devil Fruit user in the ocean.  It was bold of him; Buggy preferred a nice, reliable boat any day.

“Any messages to pass on to the men?” he asked, hovering at Galdino’s shoulder.

“They’ll need to be light on their feet, and should stick to the center of the dock,” Galdino said.  He was starting to sweat; extruding this much wax in one go must take a lot of effort.  “If their weight isn’t balanced right, one wrong move could capsize this whole thing.”

Buggy blanched.  Yeah, he could never.  “Noted,” he squeaked, and flew back to the Red Force to convey these instructions.

Despite Galdino’s warnings, the disembarkation went well.  Buggy watched with no small amount of pride as the buddy system worked beautifully, each pair of men walking down the gangplank, across the waxen dock, and onto the shore without any signs of a bottleneck developing.  Being listened to was nice—it was very nice—but being listened to, having your orders followed, and seeing them work exactly as you imagined, now that was heaven.  Buggy might not be the strongest pirate the world had ever seen, but damn it, he was good at this shit.

As the last dozen pairs prepared to leave the Red Force, Buggy felt a gentle weight press down on his foot.  He frowned, tried to remember where he’d left his feet, and only then noticed a presence on the main deck that made his hackles rise.

Shanks.

“Are you holding my feet hostage?”

“That depends,” Shanks said, giving Buggy an unreadable look.  “Are you leaving without saying goodbye?”

Oh, this guy.  On his own ship, surrounded on all sides by his most trusted officers, and still managing to look like some kind of miserable wet cat, terrified of being left alone.

“And how was I supposed to say goodbye to someone who’s been hiding from me?” Buggy asked, instead of the dozen meaner things he wanted to say.

Shanks glanced away, suddenly awkward, and Buggy took the opportunity to look him over.  The shower had done him good, gotten him clean of all that secondhand makeup—though it had not, Buggy noticed with a quiet little thrill, removed the bruises that had apparently been hiding underneath some of that makeup.  His hair looked nicer, almost healthy, even pinned back by the sunglasses Shanks had propped up high on his forehead.  “Are these the shame glasses I’ve heard so much about?”

Shanks’ hand rose to fiddle with the temple of the glasses.  “Ah, yeah.”

“I thought your crew was supposed to laugh at you while you were wearing them?”

“They’ve been laughing at me, all day,” Shanks said, tired.  “And they’ve been right to, given… everything.”

Well, that was ominous.

With a sigh, Shanks said, “There’s something I should have told you earlier, Buggy, but there never seemed to be a good time, and… I didn’t know how to say it.”  A sheepish smile pulling at the corner of his lip, he said, “I still don’t, to be honest,” and pulled the sunglasses down over his eyes.

It took Buggy a moment to put it together.  Shanks’ discomfort, the way the large mirrored lenses took up so much space on his face, the nervous twist of his lips… then Shanks ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and it clicked.  All the blood draining out of his face, Buggy caught Beckman’s eye; he nodded, ever so slightly.

(Fuck.)

Buggy got up in Shanks’ face, looking past his own wide-eyed reflection to confirm that spark of recognition.  Shanks leaned back, Buggy reconnected to his own feet, and at this angle… yeah, he knew that face.  He’d kissed it, once.

(Oh fuck, he’d pickpocketed that guy, too.)

Fighting down a hysterical burst of laughter, Buggy said, voice high-pitched from the strain, “Well, uh, thanks for the ride, Shanks!  I’d say I owe you one, but I’m pretty sure you still owe me another two or three dozen favors before we’re even.”  He backed up, hands brushing along the railing as he inched towards the stairs, and beyond them the gangplank, the dock, the island, freedom.

(Somewhere he could have a little breakdown about this revelation in private.)

“Buggy…” Shanks cautiously held out a hand.

Buggy pulled back out of reach.  “I’m not saying goodbye to you, Shanks!” he snapped.  Shanks faltered, his hurt visible even past those ridiculous sunglasses, and Buggy sighed.  Did he have to spell it out?  “Stupid.  I already told you.”

Confusion wasn’t a much better look on Shanks.  Well, either he’d figure out or he wouldn’t.

Buggy rolled his eyes, spun around, and ran off.  Over his shoulder, he promised, “Until next time, Red-Hair!”

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Lizard 100% somehow using her connections that she gained while training under Rob Lucci to find Doll's mother and reunite them because she never got to know her mom. (and Lizard never tells anyone this but she views Robin as her mom and when they first see each other after the time skip she cries and calls her mombin)

Doll has up to this point believed that her mother was deceased. Shanks lied and said that she got really sick a couple of months after Doll was born and passed away, and she never considered that that might not be true.

Finding out that he not only lied about her mother dying, but also pretty much ruined her life by kidnapping Doll might be the start of her villain era. Holding her on the ship like a prisoner for her whole life is one thing, pretending like Uta didn't exist was another, but what he put Kailani through actually sends her over the edge. She goes from simply being fearful of him to actively hating him, she wants to see him suffer for what he's done.

A reunion between the two would be messy but heartfelt. Kailani hasn't been in a good state of mind since Doll was taken away, and she's drunk basically 24/7. It would take some time and effort, but once she realizes who Doll is, she's holding onto her for dear life and sobbing hysterically. Kailani has a large extended family so they're all going to be getting in on this, too.

The extremely unfortunate part is that Doll can't stay. She knows that if she does, Shanks will show up eventually and she wouldn't put it past him to hurt Kailani again. Leaving her after finally getting to properly meet the woman is excruciating, but she promises she'll be back.

She'll return as soon as she can guarantee that Shanks won't be able to hurt her mother ever again.

As for Lizard and Robin, I personally think she sees her more like a cool aunt than anything. She thinks it would be disrespectful to her mother to call anyone else that title after she died giving birth to her.

[littlefankingdom]

I watched the One Piece live action and here are some notes I took.

I'm a huge One Piece fan since I was like 10-ish? And so, I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about it. It had a lot of impact on my personality (Nico Robin is my role model). This live action adaptation matters to me and I'm going to rant. Spoilers ahead.

The director is a woman, and one of the two writers is a woman. Manga and anime are male dominated hobby (and the comic's world is sexist), so the live action of the most popular shōnen being run by women is so great, imo. Also, it's pretty successful, in contrary to other attempts, so it's a win for women.

Garp's actor is a very handsome man. Wtf, they made Garp hot. He also has a beautiful Welsh accent, which is great because it's an accent that gives a "tough guy" impression. At least, it does for me.

Luffy's actor is perfect. This Luffy is slightly different from the original one, but he's perfect in his own way. I will die and kill for him. Also, him being brown with a white grandpa is so good, it had a racial gap between the two of them, where there are already a generational one and a moral one. Like, the white grandpa in the army do not understand how his brown grandson do not like the gov, because he doesn't see it from where he is when the kid does.

Alvida's actress is so beautiful, she's so pretty. I suddenly support women's wrongs.

Damn, the violence is going up a notch (Roger executed on screen, Mr 7's body cut in half, MERRY IS FUCKING KILLED,...)

The actors for Koby and Helmeppo are queer (They/Them pals) Oda is, once again, showing his support to the trans community.

I do not like the colors. It's too dark for One Piece, imo. Look at how saturated the colored pages are, I would have preferred it to be more saturated. I know, this is because of the CGI (issues are less perceptible this way), I'm going to need to make some edits. But, they didn't have to do it to the costumes too. Like, Buggy, except from his hat, his outfit is not flashy like it should be. Would help with the colored hair if it was more colorful and flashy.

Young Luffy wear the same shirt as in the manga is a nice touch.

THERE'S A CAVENDISH'S WANTED POSTER IN SHELLS TOWN!

Dead bodies smell strongly, and Zoro is bringing half of one in a bar???

Episode 2 is pure art. I love it so much.

Buggy is attractive, wtf. I find him more pretty than Shanks.

Bogard is so cool looking. I'm gonna die if Hina is introduced one day (she's going to be so cool)

They changed the "If you’re gonna point your gun toward someone, you better use it" scene. The new one is cool, but the original is iconic.

THE MUSIC WHEN LUFFY REALIZES THAT SHANKS LOST HIS ARM! It's like the orchestra is interrupted, incredible, love it.

Nami and Zoro's siblings' energy is so strong.

Kaya and Nami interraction about the dress "it belonged to my mother" is so good, Nami gets uncomfortable because she also lost her mother and knows how it is to cherish her memory. But Kaya is nice and share it with her, which break her view of rich folks.

The decor's department must have had the time of their life for this show. It's a great job.

Zoro wanting to wear black and drink wine in the 3 episode, he's already embodying being Mihawk's adopted brat.

Kaya makes the oof roblox sounds when she slapped Usopp.

Usopp x Kaya let's gooooooooooo my boy deserves the best (Oda confirming a romance with one of his protagonists is huge)

Zoro IMMEDIATELY trying to look at something else the moment Kaya kisses Usopp.

Luffy sitting on Going Merry with "We Are" playing... Art.

Without a cook, they are eating pasta, with some fruit and drink (just like me, fr).

Garp is wrecking a brand new ship!

Episode 5 Title Card, my beloved.

Mihawk music, and voice, and character: beautiful.

"Oh, I do like your hat." Mihawk to Luffy upon meeting him, great.

Sanji needs to stop talking about food, I'm getting hungry but I'm broke and a terrible cook.

"Oregano is for savages!" 😂 ok kiddo.

Me watching Zoro nap for a whole episode because of 1 cut: "Bro, you’re going to go through so much worse, you better stop whining rn"

The "YES, YES WE DO" after Sanji says "heard you guys need a cook" is so good.

Sanji is, like, the only one after Nami to have the most experience sailing, they fucking need him.

Buggy coming back all the time is perfect. Love him.

Having Bell-Mere slaps Nami was not ok. Y'all are ruining a character I loved.

Sanji knows a man that can cook well is attractive.

Usopp and Luffy are 17 and drinking, and Koby is 16. Underage drinking baby 🍻

Garp is already having the crisis he has during Marine Fort Arc, it’s going to be difficult for him.

Buggy be swinging being carried by Sanji, who's fighting.

Luffy breaking Arlong's sword axe thingy is badass.

The fishmen are so ugly and weird looking

Buggy saying "I'm gonna get out of here" with 🖕🤡🖕(If we ever get young Ace, I expect so much vulgarity from his little shit mouth)

Usopp exploding star was badass.

Sanji's ass after Mouton Shot.

Zoro "Yeah, you're gonna fit in just fine" means you're as crazy as all of us

Sanji opening is arms for Nami and Nami ignoring him to hug her bros, lol.

Arlong Park destruction be crazy.

Sanji little laugh.

Luffy is a true bestie to Usopp.

It’s the confrontation from after Seven Arc

It's Logue town after right? Like, where Luffy's father is introduced? With the comparison to Roger? But they just compared them, are they going to do it again?

The wanted poster is the exact same, with usopp in the background.

Employee of the month lol.

Alvida and Buggy meeting, the bad bitches.

Mihawk and Shanks!!! (Shanks gave him the "ableist pos" look, lol)

Smoker introduced -> Logue Town

[thepaintpirate]

IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED EP 1, SCROLL NOW.

Live action review -

One Piece: Romance Dawn

Episode one of the One piece live action... This is only my opinions and views, if you aren't interested in that then cool but I need somewhere to talk. This will be bullet points.

Introduction with Roger's execution and a narrator? A fantastic choice

Roger's casting is actually spot on though?? Why were people complaining he's great for the role, Roger is in his 50s here are you he's sick of course he's not gonna be a super model but he's still stoic looking and I like it

Scottish Garp I shouldn't expect anything less (if they ever get to Sabaody I hope Kidd and Killer are Scottish too lmao)

I like that you can see who's in the crowd too because for the anime/manga people it's like a lil treat (Dragon I see you stop hiding)

Iñaki is perfect. I don't think anyone else would have suited Luffy more, the more the episode continued the more convinced I became

Line delivery is... It could be improved. It's quite theatrical? Like stage place or musical type acting sometimes. Maybe it's what they were going for I don't know, I don't hate it but it made me pause for a few moments because I get really bad second hand embarrassment

Coby and Luffy moments are great, they're dynamic and it's a lovely relationship they have going and you can tell the actors work well together

Shanks and his crew? Absolutely phenomenal. Peter Gadiot is perfect but the trailer did him dirty. My only complaint is I don't think Benn's casting was the best, sorry to the actor but he just doesn't fit quite like the others.

Baby Luffy... Oh my heart is melting

Zoro's intro and choreography was great, lil hint to Baroque Works if we get a S2 hehehe

Nami slayed as per usual, trust in Emily is at it's peak. She isn't just playing Nami, she is Nami

"No, more is better. More is better". I'm sold.

Zoro lugging around the severed torso of Mr 7.

Again, great bar fight scene. I got some second hand embarrassment again from the line delivery but I recover fast and move on

Morgans is... Yh he's there.

Omg they're looking at the sky together, they're such sweeties I'm kicking my legs

Zoro and Luffy's lil talk is so on brand

Nami absolutely eating up every single one of her scenes yet again

Emily and Iñaki work so well omggg

I DIDN'T NEED TO SEE THAT MF BUTT ASS NAKED PLEASE GIVE ME A WARNING MY GOD.

The courtyard fight scene. The courtyard fight scene. Great direction, it's smooth and really well done.

If I'm repulsed when an antagonist has come onto screen then you know they've done the job right.

Coby slayed.

Jeepers creepers those snail phones make me flinch. Anyway, Garp and Bogard eeeee. I just know the Tiktok Bogard guy is happy.

BUGGY!? THE POSE!? THE BUILD UP AND SUSPENCE!? THE MUSIC!? THE SLUTTY LEGS ON THE CHAIR AND HEAD IN THE PALM!? THE VOICE!?

Honestly, 200/10 casting for him and Cabaji

In my most honest opinion, this episode was good. It wasn't the greatest, there's definitely more to come and it's a lovely scene setter and build up. The cast are great, I have a few comments about how they've been directed to deliver lines because it's honestly not the best.

The CGI even now, where there wasn't much needed, is really promising. My favourites so far? Definitely Shanks, Luffy (both mini and big) and Nami. They honestly made the first episode for me. It's got the fun feel of the show, and for a live action it's quite good. I do agree it's not to everyone's taste, my brother watched one scene and didn't like it but that's because he's a skeptic. I have high hopes, let's just hope incels and chronically online shit wipes don't ruin this for me or others... Don't listen to them, it's worth a watch.

[botan-kiri]

Okay, but what if Luffy had his own room on Shanks' ship in the "original" universe even in One Piece. Like luffy lived very far from patys bar, shanks was already attached to luffy so why not unite the useful with the pleasant? And that's enough to pack the headcanon that shanks took Luffy for a walk on the boar (Never in the big line, only in the blues) Like in baratie, the island of ussop things like that. Would you write a one shot?

I would love too, ORDER UP!

Shanks had a surprise for Luffy, he and the crew set up a room for the 6 year old a room on the ship (he had to be 6 when they met and turn 7 during the year they stayed). Luffy lived some what far from the village and mostly stayed in the bar or on the ship in shanks' room on occasion, so why not give the kid his own room. Luffy was ecstatic about his new room. He did ask if he was now part of the crew but Shanks shot him down "sorry anchor but no, this is so it's easier for you to stay in the village and MAYBE, and I mean maybe take you on a trip around the east blue or another blue when we know your grandpa will not be around for a bit." Luffy pouted for a second and quickly hugged shanks "thanks for the room! The one at my home is too empty" Luffy said with a bit of sadness.

The room was filled with toys, books, and posters that Luffy loved. The first place that Luffy ever went with the Red haired pirates was a village that has a dojo for swordsman. Luffy met a green haired kid and the two became friends fast. The next place Luffy went was a floating restaurant and met sanji, sanji would have Luffy be his taste tester for recipes he wanted to try out. Luffy convinced yassop to visit his kid and then met Ussop, thankfully the doctor of the ship cured his mom.

One time Luffy went to the north blue and met a older kid named law and became friends (from Luffy's point of view).

Even after the shanks left the pirates left Luffy's room untouched. When Ace met shanks they swapped stories about there favorite rubber kid, Ace even saw Luffy's old room and loved seeing how well loved it was. Ace also found out the extent on how lonely Luffy was before they met.

Shanks and Luffy kept in touch with a denden even tho they wouldn't see each other for years.

Let me know if you want me to expand on this and if you want me to write a interaction in more detail. I hope you enjoyed /^°^√♥

[headspacedad]

One Piece: ep 7-8 spoilers

completely recommend this series! Go watch it and have fun

I was going to finish the show last night but Sam came and got me and you don't tell a bunny no when he says its time for bed. So!

watched these last two episodes together so Imma review them together.

The series really did a great job of raising the stakes and making you care about the outcome. I was invested in seeing what happened with Luffy's grandfather and just as invested in seeing Arlo get his fishy ass kicked. They wound the tension in both tight without making it uncomfortable for me to sit through to the completion and I never felt like I needed to jump ahead to make sure things worked out so I got to just sit and enjoy the entire ride.

God. I miss being able to trust series or movies to fulfill their ending in a satisfying way that wouldn't leave me feeling disappointed.

But this one did and it had built the story and treated the characters well enough previously that I felt safe just letting myself enjoy the story. And it paid me off for that beautifully.

The last long running manga I was involved in reading was Naruto and let me just tell you what a breath of fresh air it was seeing the female lead treated so well in One Piece. Nami got to be flawed and human and also noble and brave and true. She got to ask for help but not because she was weak but because she'd been betrayed and what she had pulled off was cheated away from her. I enjoyed that we got to learn about her from her sister and then that her and her sister were the first to reconcile. Nami's backstory was heartbreaking and she was so easy to sympathize with as a character as well as her actions. I also appreciated that she didn't have to 'make up' for her past actions. She was simply accepted and welcomed back.

I enjoyed the two final fights. The fight with Grandpa was brutal emotionally and, as someone who's father was one of those fuckers who believed in 'toughen you up 'love' via being a nightmare' - I was surprised that I still liked the grandfather at the end. But I did. Because he backed off even after he'd - physically - won. The hint about Gold Roger with that laugh was wild though. I liked Koby and the Blond guy standing up to his orders, Koby because they were wrong and the Blond guy because he had Koby's back. I really hope we get to see more of them growing and getting better together in later seasons.

The fight with the fish people was violent and well done. Everyone got to shine, even Ussop and I liked the banter between Sanji and Zoro. Also Luffy using his brains to realize he couldn't physically beat Arlo but he could bring down the house around him was new and I liked the sideways approach. Arlo was a conflict of a villain for me. I understood exactly where he was coming from and got why he was the way he was in response. But he was so cruel and determined to burn half the universe down that I couldn't give him any sympathy or hope he 'learned better'. I just wanted him removed entirely from the story, hopefully in a violent and satisfactory kind of way. And the story gave me that.

The payoff at the end of the story was top notch! It didn't cut and run too soon, it really let us sit and enjoy our victory. Shanks and team was a surprise and very heartening and I love who brought them the news. Seeing Kayla spot Ussop was perfect. The pledge with their feet at the end where it flashed back to the kids saying their dreams was perfect. And Koby and Blondie getting to get specialized training was as well. It was nice to be able to soak in the good feelings of the win at the end of the ride and I'm even kind of interested in Clown boy and Pink lady teaming up to be double flamboyant in later seasons.

On the the Line!

Double thumbs up recommendation for the series. Had fun. Will watch again soon just to enjoy everything I might have missed (and to bump Netflix viewing numbers)

[charkyzombicorn]

Okay so eeveryone is getting a turn with babe luffy hell yea how about Jimbe, pappa shark

Jimbe? The one with the sun pirates? Adopting Luffy? The kid 4 year's younger than Koala?

Koala is 11 when she gets brought back to Bastard Village, so Luffy is around 7 when Fish Tiger gets killed and the sun pirates get disbanded. Jimbe is a bit extra questioning of Arlong so he and Hachi both follow Arlong to the east blue, though Jimbe without them knowing. Jimbe hears about a celestial dragon in the east blue, and decides to follow them from underwater to supervise

Meanwhile Outlook has seen the way Ace and Luffy fight And Luffy's devil fruit and thinks he could get a little more esteem with the celestial dragons and a pretty penny if he sells them to the one visiting - who has a cousin well-known for liking dog fights. Bluejam takes them, breaks Ace's arm and uses Luffy's arms to tie them up.

The celestial dragon is in a pissy mood tho, so shoots Ace on his deck (who's standing in front of Luffy protectively) and they both get sent into the sea. Jimbe catches them and puts them on a beach out of view (both unconscious) before going back in time to catch Sabo too.

He's got all three of them, and Luffy wakes up and very openly explains that Sabo and Luffy are his brothers and Sabo's father (which Jimbe understood as their shared father) did this to them. Jimbe is already dubious of adult humans but this takes the cake, so he puts them on a dinghy and takes them to the nearest doctor (Kaya's parents but that's not important) to tend to Ace and Sabo while Luffy answers every question Jimbe asks honestly - Yes, there's more than Outlook, they've got a grandpa that beats them for not wanting to be marines and a group of mountain bandits that Feed Them a Whole Meal a day (he's sure Jimbe understands how awesome this is), and about how he Had Shanks but he was a pirate and Gramps made him go away, and that Ace and Sabo lived in that flaming dump back there to hide from Outlook for Years

Ace and Sabo wake up and are adopted before they can ask Jimbe's name

[empty-dream]

Just watched One Piece: Red

Idol concert, One Piece edition

I mean, I did know about that before I watched it but I didn't expect it'd be as accurate as that phrase.

I'm still amazed that I could go so long seeing Uta fanarts everywhere and still not getting spoiler whatsoever until I actually watched it.

Around 30 minutes into the movie, that's when it interests me.

This is a movie for you Bepo fans. Fucking finally.

And for you Koby fans as well.

And for Shanks and the Red-Haired Pirates well. But ngl when Red was first teased, I really wished it was Shanks-centric, as impossible as it sounded. He is still a very important figure tho in the movie. Probably the movie is to hype Shanks and his crew's role in the new era for the final arc.

Uta and Luffy's friendship is so cute! Her teasing him whenever he loses.

I joke a lot about Law's fashionable styles but here I was like "Law what the hell are you wearing lmaoo are you trying to be Sunny Go 2.0"

Uta's design is adorable! Truly idol-like.

I enjoy the songs too. Especially the ones on the crazier side, if you get what I mean.

Spoilers below

I could smell that Uta is some kind of messiah-wannabe from her first appearance and performance. But about being batshit crazy about it, I really didn't see it coming. I didn't know that she's essentially the villain of the movie, a stark contrast to previous movies' middle aged male villains.

Like I said, after the first 30 mins, the vibe starts to change, the song starts to shift its tone, the animation gets trippier, and everyone's initial perception of Uta is smashed into pieces.

Her plan is basically pull an isekai on the entire world and put them in her dream world where her concert and free food are 24/7. Only that her isekai version is the one where the transported people go into coma first. Then die, if-when- she dies as well.

But as warped as she is, she really doesn't want anyone to die. See how desperate she is to heal people who get shot right in front her eyes.

Juxtaposed with her own plan, she doesn't seem to realize that her own plan also involves depriving her viewers of their daily life and in the end, their actual life because nobody runs the world when everyone's asleep.

Does she even know that the mushrooms aren't gonna keep her awake forever? At this point I’m assuming that she is incapable to spot the flaws and hypocrisy in her ambition, either due to self-centered idealism or simple but deadly ignorance. As far as she is concerned, she is just moving people from point A to point B, the version of them in front of her still alive.

Well, girl is raised all alone for like a decade in a razed country and forms her own opinion after binge-watching the Youtube equivalent of One Piece without adult supervision or another point of view. No wonder she becomes like that.

I know Gordon did his best but man, he could have supervise Uta more. There is the huge burden from the incident and hiding the truth from her so maybe that's why. But you have the voice of THE Kenjiro Tsuda so that's a plus.

The Red-Haired Pirates are the MVP. Not gonna lie.

The Tot Musica scene really reminds me of Madoka Magica for some reason. Actually, when Uta starts to slip, that's some Madoka Magica shit already for me.

The last scene of Uta and Luffy. :'''((( IIRC he didn't smile did he...

No, the movie doesn't answer whether or not Shanks and Makino are in a relationship, or if her child's father is possibly him.

In terms of overall hype and execution, this movie isn't better than its direct predecessor Stampede (which is the best OP movie imo and I never put any expectation that Red can best it), Strong World or Z. But in terms of trippy, darker-ish tone, it brings a fresh air as it reminds me of Baron Omatsuri (which is still way more fucked up tho).

TL:DR Maybe if I have a voice like Ado, I too would be convinced I could save the world with it.

[mybrainproblems]

Hello Alex, I hope you're having a good day. I want to keep an open mind here and I'm hoping you could please explain your dislike for the oxford comma. From your other posts and prior conversations, your strong critical thinking skills are more than evident and it is a primary reason I admire you. I'm hoping that this can be a chance to understand your perspective and perhaps open my eyes to a new point of view. Thank you for your time. Best, Renu

first off, i am a little crosswired on perception of visual stuff like writing or images. chartreuse sounds like a trombone. 5 is a friendly number but 3 is an annoying sibling and 7 is ready to shank me at all times. looking at the number 7 or numbers divisible by 7 makes me skittish. my teachers literally gave up on getting me to memorize my times tables for the number. basically, sometimes i have a weirdly visceral reaction to the way some things are presented visually.

dos! a thing to know about me is that i'm extremely claustrophobic. if it's less than 4 floors, i will walk up those stairs. i've walked up more than that if the elevator looked too small.

So: punctuation is maybe a bit more emotional and personal to me like it's not nuts and bolts it's about Feelings. the em dash is cuddly and the semi-colon is friendly and the comma is a warm hand on your shoulder. however! if someone puts a hand on your shoulder too many times maybe you get uncomfy! maybe it triggers my claustrophobia to see all these letters and words TRAPPED by hands and held in place. WHERE IS THE EMERGENCY EXIT. MAYBE I WILL TRIP OVER A COMMA SOMEONE LEFT IN THE WAY AND BURN TO DEATH.

THREE. i was left unsupervised with david foster wallace's non-fiction essays while in elementary school. nothing makes you want to break the english language like reading DFW while you're also learning how to write a five paragraph essay.

when a teacher fiiiiiinally told us we could stop doing five paragraph format essays i was in heaven.... i still got docked a lot of points for things like "run on sentences" and "overuse of semi-colons" but i was FREE to write one sentence paragraphs to punctuate my thoughts.

F O U R TH... i grew up reading the nytimes which meant also reading the nytimes style guide bc i was a little weirdo and they say not to use an oxford comma. literally i was in middle school and loved reading william safire's 'on language' column.

Cinq du soleil: ezra koenig was my tutor for a bit

VI: something about it having a special name just raises my hackles. oh, you're a comma with a special use? no. we are all commarades here. now stop trying to trip me while i make my way to the emergency exit.

[🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪] i like the little mystery of omitting the oxford comma! it adds a bit of flair! am i saying nelson mandela is an 800 year old demi-god and a dildo collector? didn't i just introduce a little intrigue into your day making you think about it? (also here's how to fix that headline without using an oxford comma)

8. idk man. the oxford comma? the serial comma? are we talking punctuation or jack the ripper?

[itsrattysworld]

Without Prejudice Mervelee Myers Name HMCTS ET/EAT Freer Simler Jones Kernaghan Doyle Parfitt Shanks Dight Booth Baron CCMCC Bell Stockdale Zimmel Sterlini Rand Hayes Naidoo Bastin Some Will Come Acting Professionally Most Exposed Put Children At Risk Of Safeguarding Miscarriages Of Justice Kings College Hospital NHS Foundation Trust 2003-08 LEYF 2009-15 Housing For Women 2000-24 Legal Entities Party To Hate Crimes Target Vulnerable For Landlords Against Tenants Richard Blakeway Will Be Example Lying About Complaints Samantha Gibbs Coerced Deborah Agnes Gilchrist To Target Me Join H4W April 22 Long Term Sick Leave Husband Traumatised Admitted To Hospital 7/2/24 Days Father Died 44 Years Parkinson's 10 Wrote To Dilys Epton DEPRESSED Dying Slowly Of Torture Criminals Need ERT Violent Nuisances Online Via Social Media Please Subscribe YouTube Break Barriers Exclusion Expose Richard Harty MIC June O'Sullivan Mastermind Drag Queen Storytellers Jump Ship Early Years Sectors UK Scotland Face Windrush 70 Composer Brixton Market Jessie Lloyd Raw Material Studio Get Ready For Those Peeping From Behind Fingers Refuse To Mediate County Court Clerkenwell Shoreditch Must Not Get Away Charge Ms Presley £30,000.00 Left Feeling Suicidal Her Son Suffering PTSD Seeing His Mother Suffer 7/2/24

refer hope you enjoy looking back and sharing your memories on Facebook, https://www.facebook.com/100000722790256/videos/1821641874536555/ from the most recent to those long ago. https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=885757284934362 hope you enjoy looking back and sharing your memories on Facebook, https://youtube.com/live/asVzMqmDcTc?feature=share from the most recent to those long ago.…

[dansnaturepictures]

26th August 2023: Hook-with-Warsash, Hill Head and home

Photos taken in this set: 1. Bramble at Hook-with-Warsash. 2. Woodpigeon out the back today, I enjoyed reflecting on how their call sounds like they are saying "The world is crazy" earlier. 3 and 4. Wonderful Swallows that we enjoyed some splendid views of sat on wires when walking along at Workman's Lane, Hook-with-Warsash. Fine views of these precious and richly coloured birds as they were caressed by the sunlight. 5. A hoverfly possible Yellow-haired sunfly on a nice bit of hogweed at Hook-with-Warsash. 6. A view at Hook-with-Warsash. 7. Wild carrot at Hill Head. 8, 9 and 10. Beautiful blue sea views on some nice time spent at Hill Head on a fine evening of a changeable day for weather.

Also amazing to see at Hook-with-Warsash was my first Fox of the year, a really powerful moment seeing this handsome mammal walk around far back in a field and take in its surroundings. It's one of my favourite mammals and I was hoping to see one in this my best mammal year if I had to chose with so many seen. Stock Dove, Whitethroat, two other birds on the wires Starling and young Goldfinch, a great group of Rooks, Raven, Linnets again here, gorgeous Wheatears seen well, Pied Wagtail, Small Heath a nice re-emerging butterfly in the year of late, Meadow Brown, Common Darter, hornet and rabbit were other highlights at Hook-with-Warsash. At Hill Head Turnstone, a duck coming off the sea and over into Titchfield Haven a possible Teal, Canada Geese, Great Black-backed Gull, Moorhen seen from the bridge, Common Tern and Cormorant were good to see with Starling heard there. Yellow-horned poppy in flower, delightful to see another this year, was a great flower to see on the beach at Hill Head. Other plant highlights were chamomile at both sites, bindweed, nightshade, red bartsia, lady’s thumb aka red shank mixing well with the chamomile at Hook-with-Warsash, thistle, old man's beard, cuckoo-pint and blackberries. Goldfinch including young, Collared Dove and geraniums and other flowers were other at home highlights today.

[marcoroofingau]

Rib Panels | Marco Roofing

Ribs are long, curved bones that form the rib cage, part of the axial skeleton. They enclose the lungs and heart and lend support to the trunk musculature.

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Pro-Rib(r)

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Classic Rib(r)

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Berridge Double-Rib(r)

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