#BLOODY MOON| |Maveric

[thesealovesme]

@tctidem​ HOWLED CHIRPED: ❝ Don't like your beast forms very much, do you? Don't think I've seen it. You are a /Zoan/, right? ❞ Lulubelle flicks a stray feather off the table from the collar of them currently formed fashionably around the neck rather than the bundles of a cape. ❝ Mmm. Must be a terrifying one. I was terrified of mine, once... ❞ A dejected look at the memories, flipped up for a bit of lighthearted humor instead, ❝ Or maybe you're just a little Pomeranian or something and I just don't know that yet. ❞

| |The sea I so loved, she rejects me, she rejects me!:;

Warm and idle were the lazy days spent so simply with a fond companion, endless alcohol and socializing that always seemed far too easy when in response to the chirping beauty. An entertainer at her finest, communication would flow naturally, and while he wasn’t exactly one to pry at anyone’s past, or recall a damn thing about.. anything, really, her picture came to mind when scanning newspapers that he had no ability(Not anymore) to read.     A question came to pinpoints of gold as a calloused hand extended, a bit too quickly for his size to boast, to catch the wayward plumage and add it ceremoniously to the large barrel resting beside his calf.         ... a zoan... not being fond of the form was only the tip of the iceberg.. avoiding her stalwart gaze was no great feat, but training his eyes on the small haul of offerings he had managed to collect was a gift of a distraction.

                          “Aye, I’m cursed, as is - ‘terrifying’ is a true way te’ describe it,                  but it’s more the shape. I hate wolves, ye’ see, and the sea?      She hates those forms right as much as I.                  I ain’t got a hint ah’ love to spare for it, but you, Lass?       Was it fear ah’ form or how it was seen? Because yer’ a right star in the sky,                    even as the ‘beast’, I wouldn’t worry yerself over it, aye?”

A distant amusement played at scarred features, as a display of ivory was finally granted towards the colorful gryphon, reassurance between monsters seeming to be a strong suit of his.

                      “I could go wishin’ it was a size as convenient as a pup,                                 but the damn thing won’t fit in most pubs!            I kin’ go standing taller than this building we’re in, an’ what would that get me? Less booze, as it were!”

[spiral-chronicler]

sentence prompts ➝  poetry starters

thesealovesme said: ‘  some are made of witchcraft and wolf and a little bit of vice.  ’

💫 —❝Some, hn?❞

  His curious expression lingered upon the pirate’s visage for a moment. Maveric was talking about himself with that, wasn’t he? Though, if that were the case, then it might have been more accurate to say “a whole lot of vice”. If Maveric was conscious, he was drunk. If he was drunk, then he was also leering at the eligible parties within the Engann’s crew - if not outright propositioning them. Viral didn’t pry; he outright did not wish to know. But he did recall the broad pirate mentioning a distaste for wolves.... Tiris was the exception, for some reason. And how did witchcraft apply? His devil fruit, for which he was known as ‘Bloody Moon‘? The Beastman frowned; maybe Maveric wasn’t referring to himself at all. ....did he mean... the Wraith?        

   ❝What comprises a being is less meaningful to me, than what they choose to do with the sum of their parts, and the steps on their journey.

   It might be because I have no precursor, no predecessor from which to glean the meaning or rebellion inherent to my components.

  “My father was this and that, so I’ll do this and the other,” or, “my mother’s people are known for their qualities of such and such,” not to any degree. There’s no connective tissue between myself, and anyone.

     At the very least, it makes it a simple thing to see and accept a person directly - for who they choose to be, without bias or fear for the bits of wolves, witchcraft, and vice that composes their being.❞

   Whatever invited Maveric to mention the subject -- it could have merely been the flavor of his liquor, Viral couldn’t aptly guess -- he hoped he may have quelled any misgivings he may have had. ...particularly if the words did pertain to the Deathlord and the unique circumstances of her heritage.    

   ❝What about you?

   What three fated words would you say you were made of?❞

  Curiosity colored the question upon his tongue before he could think better of it; there was a high probability that Maveric would laugh him off; the bulky blond was so reticent when it came to himself. If that were the case, Viral didn’t intend to pry. ...but he did sink his claws into a ready opportunity to learn a bit more about the rugged, rum-tongued pirate who sang for sea.      

[imherebecauseyourehere]

★★—.@thesealovesme in return for this.

🚀—“Jｏｉｎ ｗｉｔｈ ｙｅｓｔｅｒｄａｙ'ｓ ｆｏｅ ｔｏ ｓｍａｓｈ ｆａｔｅ,

                                                    💫 — ａｎｄ ｇｒａｂ ｔｏｍｏｒｒｏｗ'ｓ ｐａｔｈ

                                                                             ｗｉｔｈ ｏｕｒ ｏｗｎ ｈａｎｄｓ!”

   The response he received after he engaged the pirate, jarred his defenses. The fine, golden hairs along his nape stood on end, from the moment that both feral gazes locked upon one another. The fellow he was bid to regard so closely... he looked Human. But Viral’s instincts rallied as though otherwise. The tactless advances aside ...the seawolf drove forth one further impression: barely caged within mortal flesh and obedient bone, prowled a beast.

        - an irreverent beast, with loose morals and a forward nature, apparently. 

                        Was this bastard really soliciting him for no good damned reason?  

 He was slow to speak initially, as the ghost-maned outlaw took a dozen liberties with his inquiry, and the proximity between them, too. He was distracted by vulgar gestures, an assumption that his interest was male, and the unexpected weight upon his shoulder that drew him nearer with raw, drunken strength. When he did formulate a cohesive thought, it was understandably vexed. 

                             He was given advice, though, all things considered.  

❝Tch, you assume too much, Bloody Moon.

    I came for information, that’s all.

   You have my gratitude - even for this.

  I'll try to do something with that carnal dissertation of yours, but I suspect that our interests lie in conflict with one another.❞

  His eyes and voice held steadfast, even as he inwardly reproached the facet of himself that watched the pirate with audacious curiosity. He’d never been on this side of such unbridled lasciviousness, and as such, there was a sense of incredulity that drifted through his thoughts. 

     Did Bloody Moon not realize that he wasn’t speaking to a Human? Did he care?

     Was this fellow habitually attracted to his own sex? He was unabashedly casual.

     They had known each other for exactly two hundred and forty seconds; ...was he really propositioning him for illicit interactions without even asking his name?

     And, did he know how lonely and fearful it sounded - to admit that he satisfied himself with fleeting indulgence, over intimate connectivity to his partner - whoever it was?   

❝…you’re drunk. Even more drunk than they said you would be.

 Even with as much shark as I have in my blood, I doubt I’d be able to survive, with my head swimming that deep in a glass.❞

  Viral murmured, and set a clawed hand atop Maveric’s forearm, the touch was firm, but not violent. He was simply going to dislodge the grasp on his shoulder, having deemed further conversing with the sailor to be a folly of judgement.

                                      🐾—ɪ'ᴍ ʜᴇʀᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ ,                                           ‘ǝɹǝɥ ǝɹ'noʎ ǝsnɐɔǝb ǝɹǝɥ ɯ'I

                                             ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ ɴᴏᴡ!”                                              “!ʍon ɯǝןboɹd ɐ ʇoƃ ǝʌ'noʎ

[watashi-ga-kita]

An assignment - rough and loud, even in text, and signed via a magma-induced fist, handed to the newly appointed Admiral by a Marine member donning a metal facemask, gloves and tongs. It was fairly simple, if not at all - there had been an incident prior of a devious and highly wanted pirate captain causing a scene in an innocent village within the New World, and also claiming ties with the Celestial Dragons. Four counts of murder, several threats, 'Bloody Moon Maveric'.

“Iｔ'ｓ  ａｌｌ ｒｉｇｈｔ, ｎｏｗ!                              “¡ʍou ʇɥƃᴉɹ llɐ s,ʇI”

★—All Might’s broad, golden-gloved hand accepted the document. His orders were replete with written violence and official seals. The characteristic aggression of the Fleet Admiral invited a wry chuckle while he perused the mission’s details. Sakazuki was a heavy-handed man,yet there were aspects of him that All Might liked very much. There were also aspects of him that All Might very much opposed. They argued at times, both great, stubborn men - but at each end they could at least agree on the pursuit of justice, of peace. Their methods came to odds on occasion, but thus far the magma-logia hadn’t taken drastic opposition to the ways that All Might amended his orders to suit his own sense of justice. Sakazuki reminded him of another hot-headed individual, and perhaps that was why he had a sense of forbearance and nostalgia when it came to the Fleet Admiral’s fiery disposition.  

   He glanced down, towards the Marine official who ferried his orders, and gave an encouraging nod. In contrast to the document’s grim contents, the blond’s gutsy grin never faltered,      

  ❝GOOD WORK!

         LET SAKAZUKI-SAN KNOW THAT I’LL DEPART PRESENTLY.❞

 Pirates causing trouble was not an uncommon complaint. A village imploring for aid after a pirate attack was no novel crisis. But he was impatient to get the mission underway - four counts of murder were four too many. The admiral’s jaw worked against a righteous temper, as he turned the rest of the report over in his mind… the claimed connection to the Celestial Dragons, for one… he wouldn’t have thought that such a madman existed. Of all of the evils he’d met in his lifetime, no comparison could be made to those who considered themselves the descendants of the gods of this world. The Celestial Dragons were more savage than the worst of beasts. They were more cruel than the worst of men. And by their will, the gears of civilization turned.  

  Their malice soaked the world’s history, and countless tragedies transpired at even the most flippant of a Noble’s word. They were worth being uprooted entirely, but it was a complex situation, and he was an outsider. He worked closely with the White Eagle, another outsider, from within the law - pursuing the knowledge necessary for tides of change. His hands could not be devoted to destruction. There was good do be done, as well. He would subdue this pirate captain, but not as a result of this madman claiming a connection to the Celestial Dragons - he didn’t care a bit about serving the Nobles’ hubris. The preparations for departure were being finalized, and his personal vessel would soon set sail for the coordinates his officers provided.

   Admittedly, he did with to know what would prompt someone to invoke such a dangerous gambit.

                 But first, he would admonish him, this “Bloody Moon Maveric.”

                                                                         —Ｗ ｈｙ?                                                                        ¿ʎɥM—                                                                                 — ｂｅｃａｕｓｅ Ｉ ａｍ ｈｅｒｅ!!”                                                                                        ¡¡ǝɹǝɥ ɯɐ I ǝsnɐɔǝq —

[l-promised-him]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔉𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔬𝔪: Freedom Isn’t Free

    @augenbrauefreiheit in response to 🦅

☕—“And what are your wings for…?

              ¿˙˙˙ɹoɟ sƃuᴉʍ ɹnoʎ ǝɹɐ ʇɐɥʍ pu∀

           “Levi.                      I have another proposition for you.        I left my glasses back within Paradise,                     and I believe I’ll need them for the upcoming events, my vision is failing me, ever since my bloodhound passed away.   I’ve lost my map, so it is up to you to find another way,                       retrieve them for me, if you can.“

 For the ‘White Eagle’ to mention the both of them - he was practically being blackmailed right now.   

  Mike Zacharias. He had been one of the few who could boast having bested Levi in a confrontation. In his memories, existed the wretched hour when that behemoth with an uncanny sense of smell had gripped the back of his head, and soaked his gaze with the filth of the Underground. In his memories, existed the countless hours afterwards, when his blades had flashed beside Zacharias’, as their speed and power had flexed in vicious tandem against the enemy. And, in Levi’s memories, existed the names upon a certain report. In that hour, he’d realized that Mike was never coming back. The space beside Erwin’s shoulder would remain achingly empty - and Levi knew, for all his dedication, that Erwin had lost something more pivotal than his right arm that day.

        ‘Bloodhound.’ 

              It was Levi’s old, familiar taunt between them, at Mike’s tendency to navigate through scents as easily as another person might peruse a map. Life had made the word a grave. Erwin had made it into code. Levi interpreted it as impetus.

    ❝I get it, I get it. I’ll drag back your Shitty Glasses for you, Erwin.

   You’re being a real pain right now, I hope you know. ...sending me off to run your damn errands like I don’t have my own affairs to deal with.  These brats are nearly as troublesome as you. Are you listening?

    No more acting like a careless child here on out.

          You’d better keep up with your shit, this time.❞

  Hange Zoe. What a nostalgic mission. How many times had he grasped reins and set out, under the directive of collecting the excitable veteran? Ah, but this time was different. He wasn’t out to chase Hange down  - but rather, to bring her forward. The edges of his mouth played upwards faintly, in amusement.

 Levi just knew that she was going to flip her shit over the novel technology placed at her fingertips.

        There would be no living with her, then, but he would gratefully endure it, regardless.    

    ❝While you’ve entrapped me on this stupid snail, I’ll give my report.

 The effort to rescue the mutt was a success, as you might’ve assumed. He’s fine. But the pound failed to reach my standards in any respect, and so Braun gave them a stern once-over until they were kissing their own asses goodbye.

     The proceeds illegally obtained from mistreating the occupants have already been forwarded to you. It’s rotten blood-money, but I trust you to do something decent with it. I, of course, reimbursed myself from that amount, the cost it would have taken to re-claim the dumb dog.

    For the trouble of having to walk through such a filthy structure.❞

     Ought he mention ‘Bloody Moon Maveric?’ A vague pause, almost awkward, transpired over a moment’s course, as the divergence between a bond more solid and well-designed than his own skeleton, and the haphazard friendship he had forged with some rough-spoken, weary-eyed ruffian, came into focus.

   Erwin was sunlight; clean and scalding - abolishing that which was unclear, illuminating truths, facts, and structures. He was warmth from the cold, respite from the unknown. Bright. Youthful. Harsh. Sharp appearance, passion wrought into progress, single-minded and silver-tongued. Erwin was always gazing far ahead, his mind’s eye affixed in a high, distant goal.  

  Maveric was nightfall. Music, mystery, a cool indifference for the rigidity of the world, beyond. He was irreverent, self-indulgent, and candid. He soothed at tragedy, obscured the abrasive effects of the day with meaningless, mystical faith. Maveric was enthralled by the moment at hand. Did he even entertain a ‘bigger picture’? What the hell was his goal, anyway?  

   And Myrundiel Mourningale - should he bother naming the individuals who called the Freiheit their home? ...it was such a sullen feeling, to exist in a hesitation when Erwin was still poised to hear his words.

                “My world is getting fuller by the day, Erwin.

                               Are you, too, filling empty spaces with faces I don’t know, either?” 

    ❝We're doing well, here. Don’t worry about the map.

            I’ll get a course charted some-fucking-how.

                                 ...oi, Erwin.

      You know what a real good use of that money that doesn’t yet exist in the books would be?

    ...you should let me take you to this island we found a little while ago. It’s made of hundreds of tiny islands, like the arils in a pomegranate. They float on top of permanent geysers.

  ‘A natural wonder’ that eggheads like you really enjoy.

      There’s a shitty festival, and scenic restaurants. Classy shit.

     Don’t give me tired excuses, either. I know you’re busy waving the geriatric stink of the the Gorosei’s collective farts from over your shoulder, but doesn’t that just mean you need a leave, all the more?

   I can...make the arrangements. So just make some fucking time.❞

   He then immediately hung up.

    Rather, his cold sweat had.

    His report had become some sort of a flippant proposition for a weekend reverie.

    Was this why he didn’t often venture often into verbal, long-distance communication?

    Was it some sort of mind-altering effect that the Den Den Mushi produced at proximity? 

     No, the mystery that held the highest priority in solving here, was the challenge of how to reach Paradis, again. ...an island that did not exist according to maps, Log Poses, or sight... It would perhaps take an eager, incomprehensible mind to map out the island where an eager, incomprehensible mind - waited. 

          —Isn’t the sky within your cage,                                     ‘ǝƃɐɔ ɹnoʎ uᴉɥʇᴉʍ ʎʞs ǝɥʇ ʇ,usI

                                            too narrow for you?.”                                                      “¿noʎ ɹoɟ ʍoɹɹɐu ooʇ

[thesealovesme]

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚅𝙸𝙴𝚆. ( repost, don’t reblog )

   basics

NAME: Maveric Unelanvhi NICKNAME: Mav, Mavvy, Dumb Mutt, Mavvy-poo, Sea Hobo, Old Man. AGE: Twenty Seven SPECIES: Nouryokusha - Zoan, Human -Tenryuubito.

   personal

MORALITY: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / grey / evil. RELIGION:  Worships the Sea God of the Grand Line. SINS: greed  /  gluttony  / sloth  / lust /  pride  /  envy  /  wrath. VIRTUES: chastity  /  charity  /  diligence  /  humility  /  kindness  /  patience  /  justice PRIMARY GOALS IN LIFE: To survive and live so as to prove his love to the sea for saving his life many years ago, possessed prior goals of protecting and guarding Zoen, and has many short term plans of providing companionship to various people. KNOWN  LANGUAGES:   Common tongue of the Grand Line, can speak the language of beasts.

   physical

BUILD: scrawny  /  bony  / slender /  fit /  athletic  /  curvy  /  herculean  /  pudgy  /  average. HEIGHT: 6′6′‘, 201cm. WEIGHT: Around 300lbs, about 136kg. SCARS  /  BIRTHMARKS: He’s covered in scars from the various injuries suffered on the prehistoric island he survived at a young age, ranging from lacerations from dinosaurs and dire wolves to burns from acidic toxins from hostile plantlife. His signature lip scar was gained from cutting his mouth open on Yarou’s spines after falling from the ship as a child, and was the first injury he had ever suffered in his life. Other scarring was likely gained just from being a stupid pirate. ABILITIES  /  POWERS: Extreme strength and durability, is in possession of the Okami Okami no Mi; Model: Dire Wolf, which gives the user the ability to transform into varying degrees of a massive warg. Maveric is also a master of Busoshoku Haki, to the point where he can even coat a very close living creature(Yarou) as one would their weapon. This mastery of Armament also allows him to coat his vocal chords in Haki, giving him his signature move ‘Hangman’s Howl’, which is akin to a destructive soundblast.   RESTRICTIONS: Seastone cancels out Devil Fruit capabilities, and Maveric is EXTREMELY susceptible to it, even getting tired merely from the smell. He cannot swim, and will be unconscious the moment he touches the ocean.  

   favorites

FOOD: Anything you can grill over an open fire. DRINK: Alcohol, he prefers the sweeter varieties, like rum, also floral teas. PIZZA  TOPPING: I can imagine he’d probably like something horrible like anchovies or pineapple. COLOR: Red, pink, and the color of wheat. MUSIC  GENRE: Shanties, classical, anything with vocal, and piano. BOOK GENRE: bitch can’t read MOVIE  GENRE: he doesn’t. know what movies are. SEASON: likes winter and autumn islands. CURSE  WORD: Fuck. SCENTS: Sea breezes, florals, sweet scents.

   fun stuff

BOTTOM  OR  TOP:   mostly tops, wouldn’t really care either way. SINGS  IN  THE  SHOWER: he’ll sing anywhere, he doesn’t have to be wet LIKES  PUNS: iF HE FUCKIN UNDERSTANDS THEM

TAGGED BY:  Grand larceny from myself TAGGING: @acherys​ @kanashii-na @maljefe @ryuukenshi @samsmulti (anyone! ) @tctidem (lulu!) @bucketfullofocs (anyone!) @logpcse (anyone!) @glxtzy​ AND ANYONE WHO SEES THIS!! please steal I want to see u _ u

[thesealovesme]

    Carefully balances an empty sake bottle on the nearest person’s head.              There’s likely no reason for it,                                but he certainly seems to be concentrating.

[thesealovesme]

Saw it on the dash, thought it was a cute one. Do ya’lls, let’s see them.

[thesealovesme]

Continued from - [ X ] @maljefe​

| |The sea I so loved, she rejects me, she rejects me!:;

Idle was the expression that reflected such blatant and flagrant suffering, after having completely defied any warnings prior to not disturb the cursed Queen in her time of bestial wrath.   Suppressed superiority was one of his less redeeming qualities, the inclination to lead and to gather close individuals around him having been beaten, bit and bled out of the ashen beast by trial of rejection after rejection - he would never challenge her, but she could certainly smell the potential on him, couldn’t she? Because he wasn’t actually a part of her pack, was it? A loner by default, only allowed into the innermost sanctum because of his bond to the alpha... from what he had heard about the bastard who had died on her, he had been the same.      He watched without much emotion, the monstrosity haul itself over to confront him, and a grin split his expression at the seams - what an ugly transformation, his was such a simple thing, barely even agonizing. (For some reason, he was aware that his natural-born other self had been similar, the shift to a monster being far less traumatic.)  Even while the hair at his nape rose inelegantly, every feral fiber of muscle tensing in order to rise to a very obvious challenge, he simply shrugged.        I wasn’t there for you before,                     so my Beloved be damned if I’m going to leave you alone now.

                     “Eh, do what ye’ will, Little Queen, but I ain’t budging an inch.                I’m willin’ to bet ye’ don’t like being on yer’ lonesome even like this,                                an’ we know I can take a bite or two.”

[thesealovesme]

@bloominghands​ HOWLED: Offers himb;; a soft hug 🥺🌸

| |The sea I so loved, she rejects me, she rejects me!:;

Easy company was sometimes as much a curse as it was a boon, allowing for a little too much honesty to slip between the cracks of conversations - the ashen behemoth wasn’t exactly the best to discuss the more heavy topics, but he did excel in listening without fuss... and at times, mentioning his own experiences just in case it seemed like a subject was a touchy thing.     The nature goddess carried herself with such an elegant dignity, quiet and morose yet incredibly kind - he had killed those slandering her name, once, even without really knowing the exact details behind her bounty... whatever it was, the flowering beauty deserved better than a few drunk punks in a bar defacing her divine rights.   ... at least, she showed him kindness, and that was enough. A glance askance, noting the beckoning stance, an obvious offer for closeness, and the hound tilted his head in unspoken inquiry - had he misspoken? Perhaps something he had let slip had hit somewhere deep...?        ... .. hesitation was always ugly on him, but an embrace from her might be too much, for he was so very susceptible to that all-encompassing, safe feeling that he had lost so long ago. 

Finally, a sigh escaped from deep within a barrel chest, and he’d lean just a bit, scratchy chin resting tenderly on her shoulder, essentially going inert as warmth pressed against him.            If nothing was done, he would definitely fall asleep.      He was incredibly heavy, but he knew she was capable of handling that much.

[thesealovesme]

@necroarchy​ HOWLED: How much more must you lose due to your weakness before you do something about it.

| |The sea I so loved, she rejects me, she rejects me!:; 

OH, STUPID CHILD,                 DID YOU EVER STOP TO CONSIDER YOU DESERVE REJECTION?     Of course he had - and survival was his penance. For all those foolish enough to save his worthless hide, he had brought naught but disappointment, despair and death.    For his Beloved, he proved an ungrateful, selfish brat, cursing her name until she finally CURSED HIM BACK.   And for his benefactor, he that took in a feral stray, he had first left and proved NOTHING, only to return and fail utterly in the single task given to him. He was no guardian, so why pretend as such? Those he had tried to protect, those whose past bumped hard against his, all he had managed to do for them was sink a few boats. For her who brought his mind back from the brink, well, the depths had taken her just the same, the dangling charm at his throat his only parting gift.         He still couldn’t read, and in his haste to defend she that smelled so like the sea, she had witnessed the cause for his epithet. There was a break in the film reel, and his expression shredded itself into frame, razor gold sinking into an ocean of white as jaws parted, a sudden swell of rage drizzling out just as soon as it reared.

                     “.. what... what th’ hell am I supposed te’ go an’ do about it?            Get stronger? That what ye’ want me to say?                   Ain’t this what bein’ a pirate is about?      The freedom ta’ fuck up whenever ye’ want? ..hau hau hau.... HAAUU HAU HAU!!                                                  THAT’S RIGHT, THAT’S HOW IT BE!          Everything, then! How about that for an answer?                      Until the tide takes me and returns me to my Beloved,                                          I don’t feel like changing a thing!“

[thesealovesme]

muse fears

BOLD any fears which apply to your muse. italicize what makes them uncomfortable.

the dark   ⋆   fire   ⋆   open water   ⋆   deep water   ⋆   freezing  ⋆   being alone   ⋆  crowded spaces   ⋆   confined spaces  ⋆   change   ⋆   failure   ⋆   war   ⋆   loss of control   ⋆   powerlessness  ⋆   prison   ⋆   blood   ⋆   drowning   ⋆   suffocation  ⋆   public speaking   ⋆   natural animals   ⋆   the supernatural   ⋆   heights   ⋆   death   ⋆   dying   ⋆   intimacy  ⋆   rejection  ⋆   abandonment   ⋆   loss   ⋆   the unknown   ⋆   the future  ⋆    not being good enough   ⋆   scary stories   ⋆   speaking to new people   ⋆   poverty   ⋆   loud noises   ⋆   being touched   ⋆   forgetting   ⋆   being forgotten

tagged by:  MYSELF ACTUALLY. tagging: @spiral-chronicler @necroarchy @acherys @luazasvogel @bloominghands @bucketfullofocs @maljefe @seraphiixa @velociixa @tenyxshx​ @auriferous-flare @headlesstraitor @zahraalgernon @glxtzy @mcnypieces​ (BEE) @feliidae​ AND ANYONE ELSE WHO SEES THIS DFKLSGF

[thesealovesme]

Maveric’s bounty is pretty substantial, but that’s basically because he keeps getting dragged into bullshit that makes the world government go “AND ALSO THIS FUCKIGN DUDE!!!”

[thesealovesme]

No face HOWLED: Does Mav knot

   thanks! I hate this question! but I’M GOING TO ANSWER IT ANYWAY. For all you monstefuckers in the audience, this is for you. While I’m absolutely not going to recommend an attempt to figure out your bodily limitations by engaging with a twenty four foot tall werewolf, please know that yes, you will in fact be further tested by his anatomy in both Bloody Crescent and Bloody Wax.   While not completely canine in nature, it is reminiscent of a beast’s, and does function as such.

[thesealovesme]

I’m like literally seven hours late here but just know that Maveric is 6′6′‘ and this is so incredibly average in the One Piece world that he doesn’t even think he’s tall.

[thesealovesme]

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚅𝙸𝙴𝚆. ( repost, don’t reblog )

   basics

NAME: Maveric Unelanvhi NICKNAME: Mav, Mavvy, Dumb Mutt, Mavvy-poo, Sea Hobo, Old Man. AGE: Twenty Seven SPECIES: Nouryokusha - Zoan, Human -Tenryuubito.

   personal

MORALITY: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / grey / evil. RELIGION:  Worships the Sea God of the Grand Line. SINS: greed  /  gluttony  / sloth  / lust /  pride  /  envy  /  wrath. VIRTUES: chastity  /  charity  /  diligence  /  humility  /  kindness  /  patience  /  justice PRIMARY GOALS IN LIFE: To survive and live so as to prove his love to the sea for saving his life many years ago, possessed prior goals of protecting and guarding Zoen, and has many short term plans of providing companionship to various people. KNOWN  LANGUAGES:   Common tongue of the Grand Line, can speak the language of beasts.

   physical

BUILD: scrawny  /  bony  / slender /  fit /  athletic  /  curvy  /  herculean  /  pudgy  /  average. HEIGHT: 6′6′‘, 201cm. WEIGHT: Around 300lbs, about 136kg. SCARS  /  BIRTHMARKS: He’s covered in scars from the various injuries suffered on the prehistoric island he survived at a young age, ranging from lacerations from dinosaurs and dire wolves to burns from acidic toxins from hostile plantlife. His signature lip scar was gained from cutting his mouth open on Yarou’s spines after falling from the ship as a child, and was the first injury he had ever suffered in his life. Other scarring was likely gained just from being a stupid pirate. ABILITIES  /  POWERS: Extreme strength and durability, is in possession of the Okami Okami no Mi; Model: Dire Wolf, which gives the user the ability to transform into varying degrees of a massive warg. Maveric is also a master of Busoshoku Haki, to the point where he can even coat a very close living creature(Yarou) as one would their weapon. This mastery of Armament also allows him to coat his vocal chords in Haki, giving him his signature move ‘Hangman’s Howl’, which is akin to a destructive soundblast.  RESTRICTIONS: Seastone cancels out Devil Fruit capabilities, and Maveric is EXTREMELY susceptible to it, even getting tired merely from the smell. He cannot swim, and will be unconscious the moment he touches the ocean. 

   favorites

FOOD: Anything you can grill over an open fire. DRINK: Alcohol, he prefers the sweeter varieties, like rum, also floral teas. PIZZA  TOPPING: I can imagine he’d probably like something horrible like anchovies or pineapple. COLOR: Red, pink, and the color of wheat. MUSIC  GENRE: Shanties, classical, anything with vocal, and piano. BOOK GENRE: bitch can’t read MOVIE  GENRE: he doesn’t. know what movies are. SEASON: likes winter and autumn islands. CURSE  WORD: Fuck. SCENTS: Sea breezes, florals, sweet scents.

   fun stuff

BOTTOM  OR  TOP:   mostly tops, wouldn’t really care either way. SINGS  IN  THE  SHOWER: he’ll sing anywhere, he doesn’t have to be wet LIKES  PUNS: iF HE FUCKIN UNDERSTANDS THEM

TAGGED BY: @maljefe TY LITTLE QUEEN TAGGING: @acherys​ @spiral-chronicler @bloominghands​ @bucketfullofocs @necroarchy @heavenly-grievance @headlesstraitor @glxtzy @velociixa @whatliveson @auriferous-flare​ @seraphiixa​ @feliidae​ @priszma​ @zahraalgernon​ AND ANYONE ELSE THAT SEES THIS!!