#Common-Law Cabin

[innerfare]

Blue Balls - Law: Part 1

Summary: Law ends up with a case of blue balls; text below the cut

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Afab!Reader

Genre: smut

CW: dirty talk

Word Count: 954

———

In a rare moment alone aboard the Polar Tang, Law had you pinned to the metal wall. He hadn’t had the patience to drag you back to his quarters, coming on to you right there in the hallway and caging you with his larger body, a muscular thigh between your legs. Looking down at you, at your pretty face and the swell of your breasts, he couldn’t figure out how he had gone so long without his sweet, sweet girl. 

You’d been gone for three weeks, and in the seven days you had been back, almost every night there had been something keeping you from his cabin- an extra late night at the tavern with the crew, falling asleep with some of the others in a common area- and by extension, something keeping you from his bed. 

The days were no better. 

The crew had missed you as much as he had, and it showed in the way they were clinging to you. Anytime he thought you might get a moment alone, even to exchange a few soft, private, intimate words, a crew member interrupted with a dumb question or an even dumber joke, asked you to once again regale them with a story from your time away, or insisted you sit beside them rather than him. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Come on, y/n-ah,” he said in that deep voice of his, soft but firm. “We don’t have time to fool around.” He wanted you to unbutton his black shirt. He wanted you to run your cold little hands up and down his tanned abdomen, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth and getting a little shy as you admired his muscles. He wanted you to do what you always did, but you were toying with him, playing with his earrings and tapping his nose. 

“What’s the rush?” You asked, looking up at him with innocent eyes. “I won’t be leaving again anytime soon. Besides, I thought you wanted to fool around.” You had been only a little bit aware of the burning looks your boyfriend had been shooting you from across the room, teasing him a little but ultimately too caught up in the chaos of your return to do much about it. 

Law let out a heavy sigh. Arm braced against the wall, he leaned his forehead against it and screwed his eyes shut, the tension in his body almost too much to bear, the only thing worse than that the embarrassment of it. “I can’t believe I have to explain this to you.” 

“Explain what to me?” 

“It’s been four weeks, y/n-ah. Four weeks.” 

“I know that, Law. I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, y/n. But that’s not the point.” The strain in his voice made him sound almost as pathetic as he felt, the vein in his neck twitching. 

You wanted to reach up and kiss that vein, then bite down on it while your fingers undid the buttons of his black shirt- your favorite on him. But the only thing you enjoyed more than doing that was watching him unbutton the shirt himself, absolutely pissed that you made him beg like some sort of slave. 

He was a man, he would snap at you, not a dog. 

And yet, he came when called. 

“I can tell you missed me, Law.” You shifted, pushing yourself down on the leg he had between your thighs. 

Law made a sound he tried to swallow, but you knew that sound all too well. 

“What’s wrong? Couldn’t get yourself off while I was gone? Surely you’re a little more capable than that, Dr. Law.” 

He peeled his eyes open and lifted his head from his arm, glaring down at you. “Do not call me that.” 

“What?” You pouted. “You love it when I call you doctor.” 

“That’s why you shouldn’t do it.” His eyes almost burned a hole in you. 

You could feel the heat rolling off of him. When he pushed his erection into you, you swore you felt it pulsing. 

“Semen retention is-” 

“Please,” you interrupted, “spare me the lecture on semen retention, Law. I’ve only had to listen to it a thousand times.” 

“Three times,” he argued. “You’ve had to listen to it three times. Each time because you thought it was funny to get me to the edge and then leave me hanging.” 

“It’s called teasing, Dr. Law, and it’s half the fun.” 

“Well, I don’t think it’s fun.” 

“You don’t think anything’s fun.” 

“That’s not true.” He actually pouted a little bit, and it was that expression on his face that had you wracked with guilt. Your poor captain had spent four weeks alone. Twenty-eight full nights without the woman he called his secret medicine- emphasis on secret. 

Just then, the sound of voices drifted around the corner. Two of the crew members were approaching- Penguin and Shachi, from the sounds of it. 

Law went tense, his body as hard and rigid as the walls of the submarine. 

He was supposed to pull away. He was supposed to jump back and straighten his clothes. He was supposed to start a casual conversation with you and hope neither Penguin nor Shachi noticed his raging hard on. But that raging hard on made it impossible. He couldn’t pry himself off of you, not when he was so close, not when he could smell your apple-flavored shampoo and feel your skin, soft like rose petals, and press his throbbing cock into your body. 

“Come on,” you conceded. “Let’s go to your cabin.” 

He melted. “Really?” 

“Yes, really.” You pushed him off, sliding your hand into his. “But be quick about it. You’re not the only one who’s gone four weeks without sex.” 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! You can read Part 2 here! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[writers-potion]

The Pirate's Glossary

Ahoy - an interjection used to hail a ship or a person, or to attract attention.

Arr! - an exclamation

Avast! - a command meaning stop or desist

Aye (or ay) - yes; an affirmation

Becalmed - the state of a sailing vessel which cannot move due to a lack of wind

Belay - (1) to secure or make dast by winding on a cleat or pin (2) to stop, most often used as a command

Bilged on her anchor - a ship holed or pierced by its own anchor

Bilmey! - an exclamation of surprise, short for "God blind me!"

Blow the man down - to kill someone

Boom about - when a ship turns in the wind the boom can swing violently enough to injure or kill a person on board. "Boom about" may be shouted to warn others the boom is about to move.

Bring a spring upon her cable - to come around in a different direction, oftentimes as a surprise maneuver.

Careen - to take a ship into shallower waters or out of the water altogether and remove barnacles and pests such as mollusks, shells and plant growth from the bottom.

Chase - a ship being pursued, or the act of pursuing a ship.

Code of conduct - a set of rules which govern pirates behavior on a vessel.

Come about - to bring the ship full way around in the wind. Used in general while sailing into the wind, but also used to indicate a swing back into the enemy in combat.

Crack Jenny's teacup - to spend the night in a house of ill repute.

Crimp - to procure (sailors or soldiers) by trickery or coercion, or one who crimps.

Dance the Hempen jig - to hang

Davy Jones' locker - a fictional place at the bottom of the ocean. In short, a term meaning death.

Dead men tell no tales - standard pirate excuse for leaving no survivors.

Deadlights - (1) strong shutters or plates fastened over a ship's porthole or cabin window in stormy weather. (2) Thick windows set in a ship's side or deck. (3) eyes.

Fire in the hole - a warning issued before a cannon is fired.

Furl - to roll up and secure, especially a ship’s sail.

Give no quarter - the refusal to spare lives of an opponent. Pirates raise a red flag to threaten no quarter will be given.

Handsomely - quickly or carefully; in a shipshape style.

Haul wind - to direct a ship into the wind.

Heave down - to turn a vessel on its side for cleaning.

Heave - an interjection meaning to come to a halt.

Ho - used to express surprise or joy, to attract attention to something sighted, or to urge onward.

Letter of marque - a document given to a sailor (privateer) giving him amnesty from piracy laws as long as the ships plunders are of an enemy nation.

List - to lean to one side

Long clothes - a style of clothing best suited to land. A pirate, or any sailor, doesn't have the luxury of wearing anything loose that might get in the way while climbing up riggings.

Marooned - to be stranded, particularly on a desert isle.

Me - My

No prey, no pay - a common pirate law meaning a crew received no wages, but rather shared whatever loot was taken.

Overhaul - (1) to slacken a line (2) to gain upon in a chase; to overtake

Parely - a conference or discussion between opposing sides during a dispute, especially when attempting a truce, originating from the French, "parler," meaning "to speak." The term was used in "Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl" as part of Pirate law.

Piracy - robbery committed at sea.

Quarter - derived from the idea of "shelter", quarter is given when mercy is offered by pirates. Quarter is often the prize given to an honorable loser in a pirate fight.

Reef sails - to shorten the sails by partially tying them up, either to slow the ship or to keep a strong wind from putting too much strain on the masts.

Run a shot across the bow - a command to fire a warning shot.

Sail ho! - an exclamation meaning another ship is in view. The sail, of course, is the first part of a ship visible over the horizon.

Scupper that! - an expression of anger or derision meaning "Throw that overboard!"

Sea legs - The ability to adjust one's balance to the motion of a ship, especially in rough seas. After walking on a ship for long periods of time, sailors became accustomed to the rocking of the ship in the water. Early in a voyage a sailor was said to be lacking his "sea legs" when the ship motion was still foreign to him. After a cruise, a sailor would often have trouble regaining his "land legs" and would swagger on land.

Shiver me timbers! - An expression of surprise or strong emotion. In stormy weather and rough seas, the support timbers of a ship would "shiver" which might startle the crew. The phrase may have been less common during the Golden Age of Piracy than it had become later in fictional works.

Show a leg! - A phrase used to wake up a sleeping pirate.

Sink me! - An expression of surprise. Many pirate exclamations used exaggerated imagery to highten a point. Ye might say the sailors were punchy or a bit melodramatic after a lengthy stay at sea.  

Smartly - quickly

Take a caulk - To take a nap. On the deck of a ship, between planks, was a thick caulk of black tar and rope to keep water from between decks. This term came about either because sailors who slept on deck ended up with black lines across their backs or simply because sailors laying down on deck were as horizontal as the caulk of the deck itself.

To go on account - A pleasant term used by pirates to describe the act of turning pirate. The basic idea was that a pirate was more "free lance" and thus was, more or less, going into business for himself.

Warp - To move (a vessel) by hauling on a line that is fastened to or around a piling, anchor, or pier.

Weigh anchor - To haul the anchor up; more generally, to leave port.

Ye - you

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

Reference:

https://www.pirateglossary.com/

[nina-ya]

Hey! It's my birthday and I was wondering if you write for Shanks? If you do, could you do a Ways That Law Wordlessly Says "I Love You"? thanks

Ways That Shanks Wordlessly Says "I Love You"

A/N: HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO YOU NONNIE <3<3 I hope your birthday went well!! Luffy Zoro Sanji Law Kid Shanks Pairing: Shanks x reader CW: None. WC: 1.4k

Shanks had a talent for picking up on the smallest of details, especially when it came to you. He always seemed to know what you wanted, even before you had a chance to verbalize it. It was one of the many things that made being with him so special– his ability to read you like an open book.

One day, you two would be wandering through a market on a smaller island. The stalls are filled with various goods and trinkets, each one tempting you in their own way. You walked besides Shanks, taking in the atmosphere of the market. 

As you passed a stall filled with jewelry, a particular piece caught your eye. The craftsmanship was absolutely perfect and you just couldn’t help but admire it. You did not say anything, however, and you moved on from the stall to browse the other vendors. Shanks, though, stayed behind for just a moment, seemingly engrossed in the jewelry himself. Later, the sun began to set, and the market started to close. Shanks led you two back to the ship, and as you were settling down in your cabin, he pulled out a box, handing it to you.

“Got you something,” Shanks said, holding the box out to you with a grin. “Thought you might like it.” You opened the box and found the very piece of jewelry that you’d been eyeing earlier. The piece glimmered against the light, painting soft reflections of the room's light against the walls. You were taken aback, surprised that Shanks had gotten the very thing that you had shown interest in. 

“Shanks, you didn’t have to–” you began, but he interrupted your thoughts with a gentle laugh. 

“I wanted to,” he replied. “I saw the way you were looking at that thing earlier, and I couldn’t resist. Besides, if you really feel bad, I can think of a few ways that you could pay me back.” He said with a playful wink at the last comment. You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, feeling lucky that you fell for someone as amazing as Shanks. He always had a way of making you feel special, spoiling you in the most thoughtful ways. You know Shanks loves you when he pays attention to all your wants and needs. - - -

It’s common for the crew to always seek out some sort of tavern when they make landfall. It’s a fun way to down booze while also getting to try the island's local cuisine. You sat at the bar, watching the red haired man on the other side of the bar as he chatted with the other crew members. He naturally stood out amongst the bunch, his voice projecting across the building. You could practically feel the charisma dripping from his words. It’s one of the reasons you fell for him. 

Shanks approached you with a grin, ordering a round of drinks for everyone. He leaned against the counter, elbows propped up casually, turning to you. “Thirsty?” he asked, his voice projecting over the noise of the tavern. 

You nodded, and he motioned for the bartender to bring some drinks over to you two. Shanks picked up the drinks and motioned for you to follow him. He led you to a table in the corner, the seats being somewhat secluded from the rest of the tavern. While the crew was busy celebrating, Shanks was more than happy to hang out with you away from the rest of them

He slid your drink over to you and tapped the two glasses with a satisfying clink that rang throughout the room. While the others in the crew were being rowdy and singing sea shanties, Shanks sat beside you, close enough that you could feel his body heat radiating off of him. He keeps you engaged in a conversation, pointing out small things around the tavern and telling you interesting places he wants to visit while you guys are visiting the island. He had a way of making everything sound exciting, even if they are the most mundane things.

He would laugh at your jokes, eyes sparkling with amusement, and he would slightly lean closer to you as the noise grew louder to make sure he did not miss a word you said. It was as if you two were in your own bubble. You know Shanks loves you when he values spending alone time with you. - - - Shanks’ lap is always the best seat in the house during all the parties you two found yourselves in. His arm seemed to always find itself wrapped firmly around you, holding you close. You held a mug of rum, sharing sips with him, because he’d much rather use his one arm to hold you and keep you securely against him. Even when he is telling stories or engaging in conversation with others, his grip never loosens and you often could feel his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your waist, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

Tonight, the crew is gathered around a bonfire on the beach, the hot amber flames flickering, giving light to the celebration and filling the air with the sound of the occasional crackle and pop of the firewood. Shanks is right at home, reciting stories, full body boisterous laughter spilling from his lips. Even when his focus is not on you, you know that you are constantly lingering in his mind with the way he pulls you in just a little closer, whispering an inside joke that has you reeling over in laughter. As always you are the carrier of food and drinks, offering it to him every so often.  As the party winds down, Shanks stands, helping you to your feet, his arm still attached to you. It’s as if the world would crumble if he let go. Even as he guides you back to your shared quarters and into your bed, he still cannot seem to let go of you. There is just something about being in Shanks’ embrace that makes you feel so safe and so loved. As you drift off to sleep every night with his strong embrace cradling you to his chest, you know he will be right beside you when you wake up. You know Shanks loves you when he never lets go.

[billcyphersballsack]

Actually no joke I need to see more slay the monster (or whatever the reverse au is called) content.

I need to see the princesses perspectives translated into voices I need to hear how they think how they process. So much of (some of) the perspectives power comes from their control over their situations and I wanna know what they’d do with that partially taken away

I need to see the voices translated into perspectives I need to see how their forms are twisted and shaped by the princesses interactions with them.

I NEED to see how the narrator would respond to the shift. The entire reason the voice of the hero initially puts doubt in the player and hints that the narrators word might not be law is by pointing out the obvious tonal dissonance of a hero SLAYING a princess rather than SAVING her. But that doesn’t exist with slay the monster. The narrator wouldn’t need to work as hard to convince the player that they’re doing “the right thing” cuz it’s a monster! It’s chained up and dangerous and going to hurt a lot of people if you don’t kill it! The voice of the princess (my decided title for the VOT Hero in this au cuz obviously the actual Princess would be called the shifting mound the same way we’re the long quiet) would then have to take an angle of “we’re supposed to protect our subjects and our people. Monster or not, isn’t that what this creature is?” Which is still an appeal to the common trope as well as your morality. The narrator would play into your role as a princess like crazy going on about your duty to protect the world you rule over and to save innocent people who’s lives are in your hands, basically what he does to the long quiet but more

Mostly though I just think an inverse of their situations in the cabin would be fun. The chapter one princess is such an interesting character because she’s not the perfect victim. Her honey sweet voice and her doe eyes and her innocent scared demeanour aren’t necessarily fabricated just overplayed. She is genuinely scared, that’s the part that’s true, everything else is a desperate appeal to your humanity that you’ll let her go. It becomes somewhat real in the damsel rout when you free her and warn her and fight tooth and nail to save her, but for the most part it’s for show. If you come down there with a knife or decide mid convo you’re actually gonna kill her for real she drops it. She’s harsh and cold and keeps you at arms length, she acts bored and above it all when she speaks to you picking at her nails and glaring at you. GRANTED THAT COULD ALL BE WRONG! Maybe the harsh and cold personality is the fictitious one, a front built up to protect herself from danger, and really the frightened and desperate personality is the real one. MAYBE THEY’RE BOTH REAL! OR MAYBE THEY’RE BOTH MADE UP. It’s probably that last one but for the sake of my bit we’re going with the first one.

The point is the princess tries to appear put together and composed in both these versions of her personality, but deep down she’s like a caged wild animal and isn’t afraid to act like a caged wild animal if she has to

Now imagine the inverse of that, for The Monster

Outwardly a beast who smarls and claws at every surface trying to break free from its prison. If you bring the blade it slinks into the far corner of the room and hisses and spits while you trying and communicate with it but if you go unarmed it will lunge at you held back by its chains just barely. It’s frightening it’s threatening there is no attempt to appeal to any morality or present a domineering front to strong arm you into doing what it wants, it’s just pure violence and fear, a creature who wears its emotions on its sleeve. Depending on what you do it’s iterations become more or less beastly (I’d imagine guys like Stubborn or Broken or Hunted or Cold would get even more violent or reactive but guys like Paranoid or Opportunist or Cheated or Contrarian would have a more pensive and thoughtful approach, you can decide for the rest) but as you play and as you try and speak with it you discover actually there’s a lot more complex thought behind its eyes, and once the fear subsides there’s a person with throught and feelings hiding under all those feathers and teeth. Also not the perfect victim, they also bite the hand that feeds, but like a little to the left you know

Can you tell? Can you tell it’s like a worm digging into my frontal lobe and eating away at my brain? Huh? Can you tell???

[blacklegsanjiii]

@alazycrab00 ASL+S where the jungle children speak Northern much to everyone's confusion and displeasure.

When Law first hears Luffy, Ace, and Sanji speaking it after Punk Hazard he asks why they would know it and Zoro is confused that Law speaks jungle child which makes Law rub his temples. This crew, this god damned crew, it's been a day. He has a migraine already. Law asks about it at some point and Luffy says Sanji taught it to them. Law looks at the cook who is smoking with a cocked eyebrow.

Then he checks their injuries from Marineford and admires Sanji's leg courtesy of Franky and deems them all fine, why wouldn't they be? The three of them are monsters. They're feral as well he finds and they almost exclusively talk to each other in Northern. Robin will occasionally chime into the conversation with common but none of the other crew speak it or understand it.

In Dressrosa as the half of the crew is resting in the cabin Law is shocked to find another feral brother, who is the Chief of Staff in the Revolutionary Army and Robin knows him and Fire Fist and him are speaking in fluent Northern but Sabo's accent sounds almost as naturals as Sanji's. Sabo asks where Sanji is and Ace says he went to Zou under Law's orders. Also they know Law has been allowed in the galley when he and Luffy aren't and Robin is giggling as Law is flushing. He is so red and Sabo is losing it as he gives Law approval as long as the other two do. Robin responds that's very sweet of him in common and everyone asks what that means.

After whatever arc, when the brothers are all together and they're laying on the grassy lawn of the Sunny. They're pointing at constellations and talking of their dreams, that Luffy is a god now, the Northern falling from their mouths like a gentle rain in the jungle. They talk about their memories of Foosha and Windmill Village and Dadan and how Sanji is going to bring her to the All Blue and how Ace talks about each one of them joining the family of bandits. Zoro, who is on watch, listens to the brothers talk in a language he doesn't understand but he can hear the hope and will and freedom of their voices and dreams.

[shinjisdone]

Having Barok van Zieks be fond of you means...

[okay, so I bought TGAAC and TGAAC2 like, late spring and finished it in September and the WAY that this totally mentally okay gentleman has been living in my mind and popping in again and again like - HE IS BECOMING A PART OF MY FRONTAL LOBE, HE KEEPS COMING IN AND TAKING OVER MY MIND

so before the end of the year comes, have my brainrot because character ai is not enough anymore - GO PLAY TGAAC]

SPOILERS FOR TGAAC AND TGAAC 2 - brainrot in no order whatsoever

...having a cold Reaper be near - unwantingly so. Whether it is through glimpses of him in the streets of London, to be on the witnesses' stand in court or to work with him in the Prosecutor's office. The man is like a cold spot in a room but ever so...harmless. He means to come off as harmless, not neccesarily friendly but he wants to let you know that he doesn't...dislike you. There is no need to fear, the Reaper of the Bailey is not out to get you. He himself does not have any control over this curse...yet still, he keeps his distance in a way. Not rejecting you but keeping conversations brief and productive. Greetings ever so gentlemanly but never that of a friend. Barok fears what might happen if gets too close...

...he still wishes for your companionship, however. It's hard to stay away but he knows he must. There is a bit of relief if you are not someone who will or has been prosecuted by him but its not enough to suppress his fears. If he does get too close...you might die. Be affected by his curse and begone from this earth. He cannot let that happen. Barok only hopes you will not misunderstand his distance as hatred. It's far from it.

...if he, however, came to the truth of the Reaper, of his part of the decade-long play, he feels so much more at ease knowing he does not need to keep you at bay. It also helps if you have known each other for years and nothing has happened...as of yet. It means you are safe and while that is his first priority, he does indulge in the thought of being...closer to you. Barok van Zieks finally finding a connection with another...its sounds like a dream.

...you do get the priviledge of his protection as a highly respected (and feared) prosecutor. Any colleagues having a problem with you or you not getting something that rightfully belongs to you, he can have a quick talk to this other lawyer, secretary or inspector from Scotland Yard to respect the law, justice AND you and finally do the courtesy of their job. All it needs are some stern words and they bend over backwards for him. Barok will then inform you that all is handled - no need to question of how he did it or if it was hard (certainly it wasn't) simply take what you earned.

...not only getting protected by other lawyers but also from the common, everyday folk. Barok is scary - if it isn't for his power, then it is because he is a noble. And if it isn't that, then it is because of his reputation as the Reaper of the Bailey. And if it isn't that, then it is just for the scary look in his eyes. He knows he makes people tremble so all you need to do is call him over and he will be there, striding forward in his usual gait and looking down on whoever decided to mess with you. He will be especially aggrivated if some bafoon troubled a lady. Does this fool not have any class?

...Barok is also generally very protective. He has lost many, his entire family and if you are now so close to his heart...then well, he does get overprotective. Insisting on accompanying you everywhere, bringing his sword with him (and not forgetting his revolver again!), getting you a carriage and paying a very generous sum in order to have you be brought straight home without anyone else enter the cabin. Who knows who might enter and be in a closed off space with you when London has so many criminals? No, he won't let that happen. Barok will not lose you too and is adamant on keeping you safe as long as he gets a say in it.

...he does play the part of a gentleman very well - so well that it is hard to see his antics as 'overprotective'. He offers his arm to you when out in town, walks on the outer side of a sidewalk or staircase to keep you safe and balanced, gets between you and a stranger, helps you off a carriage, shelters you with his very expensive umbrella while getting a part of himself wet and so much more. Barok is a noble so all of this is second-nature but he also wishes to not be anything less to you. You are...precious and therefore deserve to be treated with respect and be spoiled. So its also natural for him to bow with every greeting and farewell you share, to lend you his coat in cool winters, to open and hold doors, shield you in the rain even as he gets wet to the bones. He also does not mind kissing a lady's hand though it does fluster him ever so slightly.

...he shares things with you. Trivial information about him are scarce in the beginning but as time goes on, he is fine on answering any question you have about him. He even tells you more and no longer gives short, stoic answers! It's not that he is shy...he hesitates. Having someone close is dangerous and even as the truth is revealed and he feels safer to have someone be close, Barok is not used to have someone like that. He especially hesitates about telling stories of his childhood. His family consisted only of his brother, after all.

...he shares his treasures - and by that I mean his wine. Since this act is so unusual for him to do, the great and terrifying Reaper sharing a droplet of his hallowed chalice's blood wine, it is the ULTIMATE sign that he is at least, quite, quite, quiiiiiite fond of you. He'd casually ask you one day if you'd like a glass as well as he is pouring one himself. The taste is divine and too superiour for your common folk taste buds. Additionally, he shares everyday consumption items (tea, pastries, biscuits, etc.) with you no problem. All of them are of the highest quality and it is baffling every time you taste them. In what fortune is this guy swimming in to afford such good food?! You're eating like royalty here and this is daily bread for him?! However, Barok admits that seeing you so flabbergasted at the sight and smells of his every day items is more than amusing. He hides a smirk, lets chuckles escape here and there and might tease you for a bit. Never maliciously of course. It's just...fun to see you so flustered.

...Barok has no problem to spare small fortunes for you. No matter if it is for accomadations, needs or even gifts. If you need a ride home, he will pay for a carriage. Haven't eaten yet? Do join him for lunch. He likes that one fancy restaurant and their steaks quite a bit. He sees you with a bent umbrella and a few holes on it? What on earth - hold on, just wait here. Allow him to share his umbrella with you as you go straight to a shop to get you a better, bigger and newer one. You can't be walking like this in London and its often moody weather. He will never ask for repayment but if you do insist, he is fine with getting payback through other transactional means. (No, not like that) Want to express your gratitude for the umbrella? Finish a report for him if you please. You admit you can't cover the cost for a fancy meal? Just eat each crumb off your plate and he is happy. The carriage rides' prices has increased and getting on is a luxury for you now? Ridicilous, just make sure to go straight home and not to dilly-dally. He paid for you to get home safe, after all.

...he enjoys getting you gifts - but rather subtle ones. Useful tools are his go-to. Any other fancy and sentimental item could be...obvious for his affections of you. He is a cold man with a colder reputation but equally shy. He would not know what to do with the stares and questions from all around him if they saw the Reaper handing out flowers or chocolate or jewelry to the one person he cares for...quite a bit. So, any tool that you need and might come in handy are something he keeps in mind. Barok is a good listener and keeps little info dumps from you in the back of his mind. A high-quality pen with ink that dries quickly - you won't get any smudges this way anymore. Or how about gloves that actually keep you warm in winter? Yes, it may be tailored specifically for you and the material is pricey but still, do not pay it any mind. It gets tricky and risky if the gifts go into the direction of coats or shoes, items for your hobby and such. It means he cares, cares very deeply for your well-being to be safe and healthy and warm in this foggy town and he cares deeply about your happiness that he just gets you something to add to your joy. Anyone else will immediately raise a brow at this suspicious behaviour and Barok is in no mood to deal with any of it.

...he ends up slipping and calling you by a pet name. Never, ever has the Reaper of the Bailey ever made such a grave mistake. It just slipped off his lips, rolled down his tongue and he noticed only too late. He tries to play it off, be cool, collected and calm as always but he will end up thinking about well into the night. It's such hard proof for his fondess of you that it could be used in court, used against him. There's no denying anymore and if you do question him, ask him what he means - he cannot deny it. Barok cannot lie to you. You, who has...wormed your way into his dead heart someway, somehow and he cannot even be mad at it, as vexing as it is. Of course, he cannot ever tell the truth but will ask if it bothers you. If yes, he will return to using your usual name with the slightest hint of disappointment. If not, then he will be caught off guard and reaffirm, again just to be sure, if he then keep calling you that. It's...oddly relieving that he can...indulge in his affections for you even by simply calling something different. Something that fits the person he sees with his own eyes.

...the pet names do not vary though. In the beginning he was polite but distant by using your last name with the usual formalities. After considering you a good friend does he use your first name. But Barok is old-fashioned and has never had anyone else be so close to him again since ten years, so he sticks to the things that come naturally to him, the first thing that comes to his mind. 'My dear', or just 'dear', come to mind and are the safest and most direct way for him to put his feelings into words. The most he'd go (and that is a dangerous territory!) is 'my dearest' - its symbolizing you as the closest person he has and that is...heart-racing as well as nerve-wrecking. He cannot do that, let alone go so far as calling you 'love'. Many use it the term affectionally but platonically, but it is still too damn close for him. Too powerful of a word for his heart to handle. Either simple terms or calling you by your name.

...Barok shows his affections through stiff actions. The most he'd go with his words are his terms of endearment and maybe reaffirming how important your bond is to him, but that is it. Gentlemanly actions are expected of him as one of noble blood, so he does not link them to his affection for you. Neither does he hold your hand when you do not need to be guided or embrace you simply because he wants to. It's inproper and why would he do such a thing anyway? Him, Barok van Zieks, being so...soft? But if you introduce him to it, then, well, he has no choice but to accept them, no? If you ask him to hold your hand because you are in need of support or to feel less alone, then he will hesitate - his gaze drifts elsewhere briefly - before he ever so gently takes it. Barok holds it without much force, will not squeeze it but will do as asked of him. The last thing he wants is for you to believe he wouldn't go miles and miles of hell for you but all these actions are slightly unfamiliar and more uncertain for him. The closeness is flustering but he is more so worried he might do something wrong.

...his hugs are tender and unsure, his eyes avoid you, and he holds his breath. If you wish to be held, he will do so. If you want a shoulder to cry on, he will always be there. Any troubles you might have, he will listen and find solutions. But he is ever so uncertain if he can...make you feel safe. Protected, happy, cared for, loved. These worries are the first things he thinks about and the closeness and what it could mean, second. But with the way you might feel, the warmth emitting from you, your scent, the way you look at him, the way you smile, the way you say his name, it might break him. It all feels so loving and warm and wonderful and he does not know what to do. Is he allowed to bask in this? In you? May he go so far and just...accept all of this, no matter how scary it is? Everything of it he enjoys and it comforts him but it is all so terrifying and the last thing he ever wants, the last thing he could ever wish for, is for everything to go wrong and for him to lose you, too. Will it happen if he just lets himself be as fond of you as he wants?

[smokeys-house]

The Cane King's Daughter

⭐️Art by @sator-the-wanderer, story by @smokeys-house ⭐️

⭐️Also available on ao3!⭐️

✨️Part two TCKD: A Story for Another Time available here✨️

Storms at sea are no rare occurrence. Squalls that sweep ships to their sides may be daunting, but no more so than the tumult of the lives of all folk, land or sea. Captain Whetstone, a self made pirate born on the coast of France, has made rather a name for herself. A large and fluffy brown moomin, she grew up hearing the stories of a free life at sea. 

She sat wide upon a chair in the cabin of her ship. The strain of a pirate's life wore heavily upon her brow. The early days were rife with plunder and excitement, raucous laughter and cheers. She'd made it, or so she would've thought. She'd got the merry life she'd wanted, as for whether it'd be a short one would be up to the rule of law. 

'Perhaps I've been at it too long.' the captain thought to herself. She sighed aloud, staring into the vanity mirror as if looking past herself. "Rouse yerself. Yer a captain, not some layabout on a fishing trip." She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and made for the deck. She'd grown weary of taking scores and the thrill of living on the run.

The crew still aboard The Honeyed Word were working diligently; hauling crates to and from the port, maintaining the ship, or otherwise making themselves useful. Marseille was bustling, lively, and lousy with merchant ships. The local law, while concerned about piracy, were not so eager to challenge those engaged in its splendors. Collecting a bribe was practically by the books in Marseille. It wasn't the pirate haven of Nassau, but at least here she could try to lie low for a while. 

The salted sea air mingled nicely with the smell of cookery and the commotion of working sailors as the captain made rounds amongst what crew remained on deck. 

"Cap'n." A grizzled old hemulen woman wiped the sweat from her brow. "Most of the crew 'ave headed into town. I assume you can simply follow the ruckus if ye be needing to find them." Her voice was coarse and thick, but with a sense of duty. 

"As it happens, I fear I may be in search of drink myself." The captain shielded her eyes from the sun with her paws. "Keep an eye on things for me while I'm gone." 

"Promise me ye don't be up to nothin' foolish. I seen that bored look you been wearin'."

"No foolishness here, Ruthie. Just a quick nip, and maybe a rest in a bed what ain't rollin' on the waves." She patted the hemulen woman on the back with a hearty thud, to which she chuckled mirthfully.

The way into town was fraught with people of all classes and lifestyles; merchants, traders, sailors, simple common folk, rich and poor. Marseille was a well populated city, and drew in people from all over. The captain trod a familiar path to her preferred local pub, one of the few she hadn't been run out of in recent memory. Despite the relative ease with which she carried herself, being spotted by knowing eyes would likely spell trouble, or at the very least more excitement than she was looking for. 

"Didn't think I'd see you in here again, after last time." The barkeep didn't look up from polishing his glass. 

"I'm not sure I remember the last time. Much to see around these parts I'm afraid, sometimes too much." She eyed a table of navy men in the corner as she approached the counter. It was a clean establishment, not necessarily upscale, but it did at least serve the more well-to-do in days long since passed. The place was littered with well crafted furniture and gave an air of high status, but the clientele quickly dimmed the illusion. The velvets adorning curtains and chairs had all faded, and some were torn in spots. 

"What'll you have, Whetstone?"

"That'll be captain Whetstone from you. Pour me anything what ain't rum n' cask-water, and you can call me whatever you like!" The two shared a laugh as the bartender filled two tankards with ale. 

"Word on the street is your boys are already wreaking havoc. Half my usual patrons have made themselves scarce. You've only been in town a couple of days I thought, but from the way folks are talking I would've thought the devil himself had popped up on our doorstep, and made himself at home." 

"Oh, how lovely." Whetstone sighed and eagerly watched the man pour. "I'd have thought by now the folks 'round here would've been dreadfully bored by that sort of thing." She paid for the two drinks and clinked glasses with the bartender. "Not like the navy men do it any different while docked. We're all fixin' t' crack Jenny's teacup!"

"Aye, but your 'Jenny' is more often than not someone else's 'Sally', ye damn dog."

Whetstone raised a finger as she drank deep from her mug. "So long as she's not your Sally I'd say I'd done no wrong. Not my fault no navy men know how to keep a woman in good spirits!" She had a charismatic and an almost musical way of speaking, it was as though everything she said was a line in a play.

"And how might that be, oh great and wise slayer of maidens?" 

"Spirits!" She motioned to the bottles on the shelf behind the bar, sharing a hearty cheer with a few eavesdropping barflies. 

"And what might it be that brings you to Marseille once more?"

"Naught but the wetting of m' whistle and the tireless search fer comp'ny I reckon. I'm not quite so sure, I think I just wanted t' see yer ugly mug once more!"

She spent a few coins and hours there, seemingly wasting the day away. She knew that she wasn't searching for much of anything, and that she was simply tired of the hardships she'd chosen for herself. 'What use is a free life if I can't live it quietly?' She thought. 'All the excitement out t' sea, and all I'm wanting fer is a quiet day indoors.' Perhaps she'd grown weary of her trade, but taking a day for herself surely wasn't what you'd expect if you'd heard the stories about her. 

"That's her right over there. The glum looking gal in the coat." Whetstone's musings were interrupted by murmurs rolling like thunder into jeers. The calm if somewhat gruff environment quickly became rife with tension.

"Seems our mutual friends have spotted a familiar fiend." The barkeep kept his paws busy, still cleaning glasses from patrons past. The captain appeared more tired by the idea than worried, propping herself up on the bar with her arms. 

"You've got some nerve. Swingin' your snout 'round here like it weren't still smellin' of my girl's perfume." The hemulen navy man tucked one thumb into his belt as he approached, glancing over his shoulder back to his fellows. 

" 'fraid I haven't seen your girl since she were someone else's. Last I checked, and likely still, she belonged to herself. Let's keep our paws in our pockets, shall we?" 

"She seems t' think quite highly of you." His words were dripping with venom as he looked the captain up and down. He either had a chip on his shoulder or something to prove. "Turn 'n face me you bilgerat. I'm fixing to see what she thinks is so special!" 

"Quiet over there!" A younger fillyjonk man spoke up from the corner, his face mostly obscured by a hat tilted over it. "Some of us are trying to drink in peace."

"What's it to you, boy? Shut yer gob afore I shut it for you!" The navy man leading the group continued to shout, tensions rising among the men behind him. He grabbed the captain by the collar of her coat. "Don't think even for a second I've not seen your face on them posters. Teachin' you a lesson and gettin' paid for it? Price on you's enough to split with these boys and then some." 

The captain's eyes darted to and fro, seeking any opportunity to turn this around. The navy men must've numbered at least a dozen in total, all surrounding her. Them aside, patrons flanked them on all sides, acting as likely obstacles. Just as the situation was looking its grimmest, a near full glass flew across the room, finding its target to be the head of the man nearest Whetstone. 

That one thrown drink began a large-scale brawl encompassing the entirety of the bar. The glass distracted the leader of the pack long enough for Whetstone to throw the first punch, square in the snout. The rest of the navy men, unable to tell the shouting of patrons from aggressors, and unable to tell who threw the cup, tore through the establishment. Skirmishes filled every corner of the room.  The bartender calmly ducked into a room just behind the bar as it all began to unfold. The captain danced among the crowd, dodging blows and delivering them herself. 

"This way!" Beckoned the be-hatted fillyjonk man, motioning to the alley entrance he was holding open. Whetstone fought her way through the flinging of paws at maws and more thrown drinks, toward the only friendly face in sight. 

Just then, the bartender returned from the storage room behind the counter with a flintlock rifle and pistol in tow. He fired the musket straight into the ceiling, the boom overcoming the sound of the raucous crowd. For a moment, everyone stopped. 

"Out of my bar." He spoke quite plainly, as though it were simply closing time. The navy men stopped their brawling and regained focus, looking about the room for their previously cornered quarry.

"Over there! After her, boys!" The sailors that still stood gave chase, stumbling over chairs and glasses underfoot. 

In all the excitement, the captain had only just made it to the door when the gun went off. Her and her new acquaintance darted alley to alley, their pursuers forcing them through markets and over fences. Though the chase felt to them as intense as any they'd ever seen, it must have been quite the sight to see that many drunkards speedily shambling across town.

The shouting got further and further away, and luckily the throngs of the afternoon crowd began filling the streets once more. If it weren't for the simple fact that the captain hadn't been at the bar for as long as the rest of them, they likely would have caught up to her. She'd wisely abstained from anything too strong while in public, but a belly full of beer hardly makes for good running. With her wits mostly about her, and her ego intact, she'd made good on her escape thanks to a kind stranger. 

Soon after, the busy dockside streets and afternoon sun quickly shifted into wealthy homes and a dimming evening sunset as the two evaded their would-be captors. Once they felt they had lost their assailants, the two caught their breath and the young man calmly led Captain Whetstone to a lovely gated garden bordering the wealthier part of town. It was well kept and filled with vibrant pinks, deep purples and reds, and a sweet floral aroma mixed with the salt of the nearby sea. Ornate metal bars formed a fence, wrapping the exterior of the garden. 

"There's a greenhouse here where we can lie low. I like to come here to get lost for a while." The young man's voice shed pretense for a moment.

"Fine work, lad! And yer sure no nosy gardener's eager to do some midnight pruning?" The captain idly rubbed the petals of a nearby rose as she took in the view. "Posh bit o' living, this. Real pretty, though."

"Didn't think pirates cared for flowers. No, no one'll turn up. This square belongs to a wealthy family, used to be the daughter's. Haven't seen her around here in some time, though."

"We've all got our secrets, lad." She winked as she meandered through the garden to the greenhouse. The moon's rise baked a soft light throughout the interior. She idly rummaged through a cupboard above a potting bench. "Bless me tail! Oy, lad! They've got booze in 'ere! Some fine drink by the look of it. Supposin' the young maiden kept a few secrets, too." She snickered as she uncorked the bottle. She'd sobered a bit since her midday jog, and apparently wasn't eager to continue that trend. 

"What's your name, anyhow? Ya know mine as it seems half of Marseille does these days. Why risk yer life fer a no good pirate?"

"Well… like you said, we all have our secrets, captain."  The young fillyjonk sat upon a stool in the corner, seemingly familiar with the space. Whetstone poured a glass for herself and another for her new friend. The two shared drinks for a while, swapping idle stories late into the evening. The liquor spilled forth as did the relaxation and courage that comes with it. 

"So… you're a pirate, ay?" The man swirled his glass in his paw, not looking up from his drink. "You'd know a thing or two about fighting with a sword, then?" He stood, walking over to the potting bench near where Whetstone sat against the wall. 

"Aye, lad. I'd say I know a thing or two about swingin' a sword. What're ye gettin' at?" She steadied her eyes as they'd just begun to spin, realizing only now the risk of getting too drunk to stand with strangers about. 

"Show me." He tossed her a wooden cutlass from beneath the bench. 

"Secrets, secrets, secrets. My my my..." She caught it deftly, laying it across her lap. "I'm supposin' that's not the only thing y' be hiding from me."

"It's not, but if you beat me, I'll tell all."

"Ha, it'll take more'an that to get me into playfighting a stranger what won't say his name with a wooden toy." 

"Scourge of the seas frightened by a youngblood after just a few drinks?" He used the point of his wooden sword to lift her chin and meet his gaze. Either he'd handled his liquor better than she did, or he was far more cautious than she was.

"Now yer just testing me patience, boy." She pushed aside the sword and finished her drink, rising to her feet. "Ye won't be needing t' set terms fer if'n you win. On account of ye won't. Take the first swing." She stood straight, sword idle in her paw, in an entirely unready stance. She took in a sharp breath, and exhaled slowly. She wasn't unfamiliar with the art of the un-sober sword, but she never did like to lose. 

The man swung, overhead and diagonal to her shoulder. She tucked herself to one side as it flew past and struck the ground. 

"Slow." Captain Whetstone teased. 

He swung again, from left to right, to which she back-stepped. 

"Clumsy." She continued her barbs with a wink.

He thrust at her belly in quick succession, the first one a narrow miss, and the second intercepted by the flat of the captain's wooden blade. 

"Not bad! Once more!" She taunted, now fully engaged. Her feet planted firm and knees bent, she parried blow after blow. He sent out yet another thrust, this time aimed at her chest. 

"Out you go!" She turned his thrust to her outside line and closed in. She turned her point down, pressing the pommel to his ribs, and pushed him out of the greenhouse door into the garden with a shoulder check.

"You're toying with me! Throw a cut at least!" The fillyjonk protested, panting, but on guard after managing to avoid falling flat on his face. 

"Aye lad, I am! But here goes!" She threw a cut at a downward angle to cross his chest, or so it seemed at first. She feinted high, forcing him to guard his head and swung low, giving him a gentle tap on his thigh. "How's that?" She smirked. It was clear he was embarrassed, and perhaps a little upset. His face was red from drink, exertion, and now frustration. He threw several wild strikes out in a vain attempt to land a blow, to which she ducked several. 

"Easy, lad!" She began deflecting his blows, hoping that he'd ease up. He brought his sword up as a club with both hands, over his head, letting out a tense shout as he swung. She blocked it static and right between the two of them, holding the bind. She turned her point under and went for a disarm, tossing his sword aside. Just as soon as his sword hit the ground, as did he, with a swift push on the chest from the captain. She stood over the fillyjonk, pointing her sword at his chest. 

The fillyjonk's hat tumbled back, spilling forth long dark curls, previously tied back with ribbons that had since gone astray. The moonlight soaked into the fillyjonk's fur and hair, cascading shadows from the flowers that she had tumbled into upon onto her muzzle. The contrast between the bright blue flowers, her dark, rolling hair and the soft brown of her fur mirrored that of the shore and a stormy sea. To the captain, she was the very visage of romance. Perhaps it was the light of the moon, or the thrill of the fight, or even the blur of the booze, but she became immediately enamored.

"Well strike me pink! Hell hath no fury, eh? Now the question is, who scorned a bonny lass like you?"  The captain lowered her sword, wearing a surprised grin on her face. "I'm supposin' now would be a good time to cash in on my winnings."

The evening stretched on into night, bringing with it the still presence of the full moon and the quiet breeze carried in from offshore. The night air was cool, and just comfortably so. 

"My name's Marion." The fillyjonk acquiesced, true to her word. "Marion Cartier. It's my rum we've been spilling all night." She crossed her legs as she sat upon the cobblestone amongst the flowers. 

"And this here'd be your garden then? The daughter o' the house as you'd said it. It's beautiful." She cupped the bulb of a flower in her paw. "If yer the daughter of a wealthy family, what business had ye in a bar like that one?" 

"Same business I had in having a private garden. An escape." 

"An' what was that bit afore I pushed y' down? Figure you'd take me in fer the bounty alive after gettin' me liquor'd up?"

"No… it's not that it's just…" Marion hesitated before answering, burning with embarrassment and the rum in her belly. Eventually she settled on telling the truth. "My father was right."

Captain Whetstone sat just across from her, light-heartedly rolling her eyes. "I'm supposin' that's got a story behind it. Night's young and I've nowhere better t' be, might as well let it out."

"He'd have me fall in line or sell me off just the same. If it's not helpful to his business, it hardly matters what I want." 

"Yer a grown woman, can't ye just use all that money o' yers to get yerself a place by yer lonesome? 'S what I'd do."

"The man practically owns me. I won't see any money that doesn't sit in his paws until I take up the mantle." 

"...And the swords?" Whetstone was quick to dismiss the woes of the wealthy and continued sating her curiosity with questions. Despite the blooming feeling in her chest, she still found it difficult to feel sympathy for rich folk.

"Father fancies himself a duelist. I'm… I thought I could get to know him better if I could get him to see me." She eyed her paws, rubbing the areas hardened into calluses by many hours of practice. "Told me it wasn't worth my time to wield a sword. Told me I'd be good for nothing if it wasn't for the family business."

The captain looked over at the wooden swords lying on the ground and cocked her head to the side. "Those ain't dueling swords, lassie. That's a cutlass."

Marion's eyes stayed focused on her hands despite the captain's piercing gaze and raised eyebrow. Silence filled the space for a moment.

"I've uh… I'm not quite sure how to uhm… it's rather embarrassing, I fear. Given present company, especially."

"Spill yer beans. I've drank too much t' sleep now fer fear of hangover. An' it's far too long a night yet fer keepin' secrets. B'sides, I won, remember?" Whetstone laid up against a tree and began picking her teeth with one of her claws.

"You must promise not to laugh."

"Miss Marion, I hadn't realized we were school girls! I ain't laughin' now, but I sure could use a good'un, out with it."

"I thought I could be a pirate. Or a privateer. Something on the sea that isn't in the navy. I'd take off as a stowaway on one of my father's ships with a few good men and strike out on my own."

"If that's yer cover fer trying t' claim my bounty it sure is the most… creative ruse anyone's drummed up against me." 

"I'm not trying to claim the bounty! Even if I was, you'd have killed that dream along with the one you're stepping on now." Marion paused for a short while, composing herself. The frustration in her voice was joined ever so slightly by the sound of tears beginning to well up.  

"Ah, I'm sorry lass, but it's a mite hard to think of someone like yerself at sea… y' need more'an just a few good men and some sword swingin' skills. It's a rough life out there."

"But it's a free one. The sea keeps men honest… in a way. There's bluster, sure, like anywhere else. But the sea asks that you prove it, and I aim to." 

"Aye… ye can't lie to her none, this I know." The captain looked to the sky, feeling a flutter in her chest. She was reminded of her youth, and the first time she felt the call to the sea. Though it hadn't been too many years, most pirates don't last more than a few. "You'll find yer way. The bold ones always do." 

The conversation bled into thoughtful silence, the pair quietly ruminating on past and future. The captain balanced a near empty bottle on her knee, watching the liquor shift and roll within. She examined the label, taking in the details. A mustachioed fillyjonk gentleman wielding a bundle of sugarcane like a royal scepter sat cross-legged upon a throne also made of sugarcane. In his other paw, a coconut prepared to be a chalice. 

"Cartier's Cane King rum blend…" Whetstone continued eyeing the bottle, comparing the fillyjonk on the label with her new friend. "Tell me, what did you say yer name was again?"

–

Captain Whetstone awoke with the early afternoon sun baking into her fur upon a makeshift bed within the greenhouse she had stayed the night before. Her coat had been draped over her like a blanket, and her head was pounding. She stood and stretched, remembering the night prior. 

"I swear I fell asleep in the garden, though…" She thought aloud as she surveyed her surroundings. A note penned in fine handwriting sat upon the potting bench, and was tented neatly.

Ms. Whetstone

I should think you capable of reading seeing as you're a captain. You've given me much to think about. I've many choices to make. I apologize for leaving you unattended, but it's as I said that no one visits my garden. 

I intend to convince my father to teach me about sailing. I'll tell him it's for to learn the family business, and that ought to be enough. Of course, you and I know the reasons why well enough. The next time you see me, it might be out at sea.

I took the liberty of coaxing you into the greenhouse for a more private rest. I've a busy morning to come. 

It was a pleasure meeting you. 

-M

"Coaxed me into the..?" The captain was much too heavy to lift. She imagined Marion rolling her on her side like a big fluffy barrel as she slept. She would've been beet red if it weren't for her thick fur. She donned her coat, shook off the embarrassment, and tucked the note into her pocket. With the morning ending and the afternoon just beginning, she thought it prudent to check in with the crew and nurse her hangover with a late breakfast. 

Rumors of yesterday's excitement had reached every ear, and just as quickly sank into the sand like waves upon the shore. The king's navy almost always had reason to cause a stir and rarely did it ever go quietly, but with such frequency it joined the day's monotony. A chilled breeze and shapely dark clouds portended a storm to come, though the warmth of the sun persisted for the moment. The docks were alive as always, folks walking shoulder to shoulder, hardly taking note of one another. The cacophony of cooking, trading, buying, and selling rang through the air. The cumulative hangover was just beginning to peak as Captain Whetstone sat down to eat beneath an awning at a dockside restaurant. Through the din of the crowd, she could almost make out the song of seabirds and waves lapping on the shore. She didn't take to being in public well, but the liveliness of the docks drawing eyes off of her bought her a modicum of peace. This peace was short-lived, as a garishly overdressed fillyjonk man cut a path around him through the crowd, speaking loudly and with no lack of self-importance. He moved dramatically, as though he was performing a dance, spinning and gesturing flamboyantly.

"What fortuitous timing, you wishing to take up the family business. As it so happens, I've dealings with a gentleman from Curaçao this very afternoon!" 

"Yes, well… I was hoping to start with more on the transportation side of things. Learning to sail ships and the like. I've been doing much reading on the subject." A timid, familiar voice followed shortly after him. 

"Hmm? Oh, of course. I'm sure he'll be just as happy with that if all goes well. Regardless, Marion, how does 'Cartier's Cane King Curaçao blend' sound to you? Bold? Alliterative? Lively? Perhaps, too lively, do you think?" His exaggerated manner of speaking sounded as though all must hear. It was difficult to tell whether he was advertising to the world or simply lost within himself. 

"Who will be happy with that?" Marion rounded the corner, catching up with her father. She was dressed in deep blues, in an outfit that portrayed her wealthy standing and matched her father. The duo stopped perpendicular to the restaurant Whetstone was eating at, looking out at a few ships along the dock. 

"That one there's a wild'un." The captain nudged a nearby patron with her elbow. "Drinks like a sailor 'n aims to be one." The patron patently ignored her idle musings upon seeing they were pointed at the wealthy young woman, assuming it to be a joke with no punch line. She snorted out a quick laugh to herself when comparing Marion's current clothes to her getup the other night. She decided it best to keep her nose out of it and went about finishing her meal. 

"The gentleman from Curaçao, my dear."

"And why should it matter to him whether I learn to sail?" Marion's confusion began to mix with her growing concern. 

"Well you are to be married, after all. I should think him quite pleased to marry a sailor if he needn't a homemaker." He removed his watch from his pocket and stared impatiently at it for a moment. The watch and the fob were both silver that shone bright against the deep blues of his shimmering waistcoat. He slicked his hair back with his paw as Marion stood dumbfounded. 

"Have you no shame?! Selling your daughter off for sugar and spirits! I would think a man of your status would at least have the guts to tell his own daughter about such an arrangement prior. We're done here!" Marion balled her paws into fists, turning to walk away. Just as she turned she felt a tug at the back of her shirt. Her father pulled her back forcefully, turning her to face him. 

"We're done when I say we're done." He scolded under his breath, eyeing passersby in the hopes they hadn't seen his family matters turned public. He placed his paws upon her shoulders, holding her in place. 

"Get off me!" Marion shouted, batting his arms away and making an attempt to flee. Just as she escaped his grasp, he raised his arm high. 

Slap

Captain Whetstone looked up from her breakfast in time to see Mr. Cartier backhand Marion, who stumbled into a stack of tin plates and other dinnerware atop some crates, sending them clattering to the ground. The ruckus drew everyone's attention. Marion's father stood over her and shook his head. He took a clearly practiced stance, placing his hand disdainfully upon his brow, with the other resting on his hip. 

Whetstone shook her head as she slammed her utensils onto the table. She stood abruptly, and threw her chair to the ground as she stomped over to the scene. Without so much as a word, she raised her paw and delivered a powerful open palmed slap to Mr. Cartier's cheek. He crumpled to the ground, both from the surprise of being slapped and from the sheer force of such a large moomin. 

"I'll not have ye befoul my breakfast. Treatin' a young woman, let alone yer own daughter like that. Despicable." She spoke at him gruffly as she helped the young fillyjonk up onto her feet. Marion, awestruck and utterly confused by all of the events that had just transpired, simply stood behind Whetstone. 

"I won't.. take that… from a brute like you!" He panted as he struggled both to speak and to stand back up. 

"Aye, I imagine ye won't. And I don't be takin' nothin' from some fop exceptin' what's in his coffers. Scurry off out, ye bilgerat. I've got a devil of a hangover and I won't be wasting my time on the likes of ye."

"I'll have you arrested! Assault! Assault!" He shouted to the crowd forming around the trio. Much to his chagrin, the group seemed far more interested in seeing a pirate shake down a wealthy man than they were in coming to his aid. 

"Guards! Gendarmerie! Somebody help!" The captain mockingly shouted in a pitiful voice. She spat to the ground near the man. "You think the law around here cares? Look around you. The people who carry your crates fer a coin. The folks who you exploit. Whingeing like that only works on folk what got food in their bellies." She stepped uncomfortably close to him, looking just down on him from a head above his height. "Anything left worth sayin', or are we done here?" The man could only look back at her with glassy eyes, stunned into brief silence. 

"That's what I thought." Whetstone began to walk back to her table when she heard above the shocked whispers of the crowd, the distinct sound of a leather glove being thrown to the ground. 

"A duel. You've thoroughly disrespected me and I'll not have the Cartier name besmirched by a ruffian like yourself." 

The crowd ooh-ed and aah-ed at the prospect. More folks gathered around, wishing to see what the gathering was for.

"What? Here and now? But I 'aven't even finished breakfast." She stopped only long enough to respond as she continued her stride to her table, not even turning to face him. Her gait was immediately interrupted by another leather glove, this one being tossed directly at the back of her head. 

"A coward and a glutton! Afraid to challenge the famed fencing of Jules Cartier! I simply must laugh! Aha! Aha!" He forced out an almost theatrical laugh as he puffed out his chest. It seemed to him the world was a stage, and the thing he feared most was losing the audience. There was hardly a moment he wasn't scanning the surrounding group for approval.

"You'll be wantin' to be careful with what you say next.'' Captain Whetstone growled as she balled her paws into fists, turning to face him once more. "I didn't come to Marseille to kill a rich boy. I came to make merry and sell the scores I took from ponces like you!" She stepped in closer once more, slow and with intention. "Y' have no idea who yer talkin' to, do ya?" Her gravelly voice rumbled. 

"From the smell of it, a drunkard. And from the look of it, a buffoon!" His confidence, though shaken, had returned as he began to shake off the slap. He dabbed at his cheek with a pocket square, and straightened his jacket. 

"She's a pirate captain, father, don't do this!" Marion pleaded. 

"Quiet, Marion!" Jules snapped. "This isn't one of your storybooks!" 

"From the papers! Must you embarrass yourself at every opportunity? She's wanted and very, very dangerous!" 

Whetstone shot her a flattered, knowing look. "Ha! Did y' hear that one, Jules?" She thumped her chest before tucking her arms behind her head with a cocky smirk. "Very… very dangerous." Her gaze was piercing, albeit smug. She was practically inviting him to hit her knowing full well that he wouldn't allow himself to be seen in such a light.

"A duel! I demand it! Face me or be branded forever a coward!" Jules' obstinations were increasingly childlike. 

"As you like it, sugarboy. If I win, yer daughter goes her own way. And you pay off whatever price they got on m' head in Marseille. We fight to first blood, I'm not killing a man in front of his daughter. You let me know the time and place, Cartier. Send someone a'callin' down near this here restaurant. I'll be waitin'." The Captain parted the crowd as she passed. She righted her chair and sat back down, continuing her meal.

"Three days time. When I win, I'll be taking your bounty, and whichever rotten tub you floated in on. Live it up while you still can, Whetstone. You're about to make me even richer." 

Captain Whetstone simply waved as he made his exit, her mouth full. Jules departed, entirely forgetting his daughter and the man from Curaçao. Marion, now the sole focus of a murmuring crowd, rushed to the table her would-be savior sat at.  

"You complete and utter fool!" She slammed her paws down onto the table just across the captain. "You can't just go around inserting yourself into any old trouble you like!" 

"That's a laugh right there." She swallowed her bite. "I seem to recall someone inserting themselves into trouble on my account just the other day. She looked a lot like you, matter o' fact... Took me fer a stroll in the garden in the pale moonlight." She took her last bite and set her utensils on her plate. 

Marion slumped into a nearby chair, placing her head in her hands as the previously interested onlookers began to disperse. There were a few disappointed sighs, and life seemed to return to business as usual. 

"You've no idea what you've done. Not that you'd care if you did, seems you've no thought beyond fun and fortune." She repeatedly cleared her hair from her face, looking into the table rather than across it to the woman now responsible for her fate.

"It's only to first blood, mate. I'll give yer dear ol' dad a good scratch and a scar to remember me by, and you get to goin' on whatever it is you'd like from then on. You've seen what I can do first-hand. It won't be but a quick bout." 

"And I've seen what he can do, as well. He's a liar and a no-good cheat, but a proper duelist through and through. If you win I'll be on the street, and if he wins I'll be married off and you'll be in prison or worse in no small part on my behalf." Her brow furrowed. Her life had capsized and was now in the paws of a scruffy outlaw.

The captain took a small pouch from her belt and laid a few coins on the table near her plate, then slid the pouch over to Marion. 

"I'm sorry, lass. I just can't sit idle 'round men like him. When yer out t' sea, aboard and abroad, y' get to thinkin' all manner o' things 'bout the way folks get on… Whole lot that don't make much sense. I don't know to make a social call by now. I don't know nothin' but me own code." She took a heavy sigh, pulling a long smoking pipe from her coat and chewing on the stem. "Take that there coin and put yerself up some place nice a while. It'll be a payday fer us both 'fore it's over, I promise ye that." 

Marion sat quietly, gripping tight the pouch of doubloons. She wasn't sure what else to say, let alone what else to do. Captain Whetstone trodded off toward her ship, head full of thoughts and ache. Marion followed her not long after. 

"Something more y'need from a… how'd you put it? A 'complete fool' like me?" The moomin turned her head over her shoulder at the woman sulking just behind her.

"You are many things. A rapscallion, a scallywag, a ne'er-do-well, but I fear I spoke unfairly of you in calling you a fool. One of the many things you are now, however, is responsible for me." She sighed deeply. "Whether or not you like it."

"Yer yer own woman ain'tchya? Can go as ye please, afore at least three days are up. I don't be needin' t' look after you." She chuckled. 

"Consider it the price you pay for today's events, and my penance for yesterday's. I hardly think it wise to be anywhere my father could reach me at the moment."

"Won't be fur off my tail. Yer welcome aboard as long as you can stomach it!" She slapped her on the back, knocking her forward a bit as the duo made way to The Honeyed Word. "Hardly the worst punishment I've seen in all me days, 'avin a lass like you aboard." 

The next three days brewed a strange energy for all around. Word got out about the incident at the docks, likely in part due to Jules' boasting. It wasn't enough for him to duel and beat a lowly pirate, nor befitting of his reputation. Whetstone's wanted posters had enjoyed a fearsome makeover, at Mr. Cartier's request. She now appeared monstrous, though devilishly handsome. Her bounty was attributed to both deeds she had done, and now tales some have told. Even in opposition, the fillyjonk could not be associated with the ills and ails of a true and "ugly" world. He did not just want to restore his reputation, he wanted to cement himself as a hero by defeating a villain. Criers, newsmen, even housewives and barflies were alight and giddy over the upcoming duel. A legendary scoundrel pirate versus a noble and upstanding upper crust citizen.

Word had reached the captain's crew by now, who were mostly uneasy toward their new found glory. Being a famous criminal still makes one a criminal, and being famous makes one a target. They'd watched as their normally steadfast captain had begun fawning over a rich young lady, while showing her the ropes as it were. Their new guest had been enjoying the captain's fineries and with none of the work to earn it. The pair spent much of the three days aboard romping about clad in silk, delighting in drink and distraction alike. If it weren't for the prize of having their charges cleared and paid off by someone with deep pockets, and the captain's usually fair treatment, a mutiny might've been in order. There'd been no talk of plans, and any crew that interrupted the captain were brushed off or turned away. It seemed as though their luck would soon run out if their captain remained lovestruck.

Tensions rose onshore surrounding the Cartier business as well, but as tensions rose, so too did the profits. The money minded men of Marseille had begun buying up as much Cane King rum as suited them. Some stocked up to resell and others to enjoy, but all were buying thanks to the sudden and fervent advertising of Mr. Cartier. He'd sent out servants swinging sample trays to swill all over town. The collective drunkenness among citizens alongside the excitement of recent events made for a city wide spectacle. It seemed duels and drinks drove sales and sail alike. 

The buzz surrounding the affair became the calm before the storm on the day of. A party sent by the challenger arrived at the docks in the early afternoon along with a parade of onlookers. The usual liveliness of the harbor was instead abated by prolonged eager silence, joined only by the lapping of the waves and the stomping of boots. 

"Captain Whetstone!" A pair of whompers shouted at each ship they passed, waiting a moment before moving on to the next. They looked for her at the restaurant as she had requested, but she never arrived. The challenger's party consisted of two whompers dressed in deep blues featuring ornate silver trim, a large and muscular hemulen clad almost entirely in leather, and a nibling carrying a long red velvet box. Down the docks they shouted, and down the docks more and more onlookers followed shortly behind. 

"Captain Whetstone!" The whompers cried, over and over above the murmurs that had begun to swell. The captain, still fast asleep in her quarters, awoke with a start. 

"Who wa- is… wha..whasit you want!" She stumbled to her feet, eyes squinted, an empty bottle tumbling from atop her to the floor. She quickly realized the voice was coming from outside the ship, and fastened a robe around her waist. Marion awoke from the commotion as well, following Whetstone's lead. The pair exited the captain's quarters to the sour faces of an armed and ready crew. 

The first mate of The Honeyed Word, an older hemulen woman by the name of Ruth, spoke up from between puffs on her pipe. "I imagine that's fer you Cap'n. They've like to come a'callin' on her account." She motioned to Marion. 

"I imagine so, too, aye. Worry not, I ain't steered you lot wrong yet, 'ave I?" Whetstone winked, and made for the deck, Ruth and Marion following just behind. The mood was tense, and not all of the crew were sure of their captain's judgements as of late. She arrived at the railing, rubbing the sleep from her eyes to see dozens upon dozens of folk, all waiting on her. The leather clad hemulen, who had presumably been hired muscle, shook his head at the sight of the supposed legendary pirate dressed in a frilly nightgown and robe. 

"What do ye want?" The captain shouted. 

"Captain Whetstone!" The whompers cried once more in unison. The nibling in the party opened his velvet case to reveal a long brass horn, about three times his size. He set up a tripod and rested the other end of the horn on it. The small creature drew a deep breath before filling the air with a short, but very very loud melody. The muscular hemulen covered his ears, and shook his head once more. "You've been summoned to duel the great Jules Cartier at his manor! We shall escort you!" The whompers bowed.

Marion appeared just behind the captain, wrapping her arm around the small of her back. She was similarly dressed in a silk robe and nightgown. In her other paw, she held a steaming teacup, and passed it along to Whetstone, who took a long, slow sip. 

"But we 'aven't even had breakfast!" The moomin protested loudly.

"It's past noon!" The hemulen mercenary shouted, palming his face, and shaking his head once more before storming off. He parted the crowd, grumbling to himself on the way out. The nibling took up his horn once more, apparently announcing the departure of one of their party, much to the dismay of the gathered crowd's ears. 

Ruth approached the duo, dropping on the deck just behind them their clothes, and the captain's sword with an unceremonious thud. "Don't be comin' back if ye don't win." She spit to the side.

"When I do come back, we'll be 'avin' words, Ruthie. Strong ones, too, I reckon. Mind yer tongue 'round yer captain." Whetstone began to put on her boots.

"If only ye could mind yers 'round whatever gal ye be fancyin' of late. Wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't fer you. Now the whole of Marseille wants a look at us, and the whole of the world wants the price on our heads. Keep yer promises, cap. Er I'll be keepin' 'em fer you." She headed below deck.

"Whaddaya reckon that means, Marion?" She looked around, puzzled.

"I imagine it was pretty straightforward, but you pirates are a bit hard to understand sometimes. Verbally, I mean." 

The captain wheezed and laughed loudly, wiping a tear from her eye. "That we are!" She continued to get ready. "Anyway don't ye be worryin' about her, either. Everyone's a mite worked up I imagine. She's stubborn, but she's a good'un." She tossed her robe and nightgown onto the deck of the ship as she hopped over to the side of the ship to the dock. 

The whompers were still in their bowed position, and a large chunk of the crowd had begun to disperse before hearing the captain's boots slam onto the wood. She had only dressed halfway up, boots, slops, a sash, a belt and sword. Her thick fur was disheveled and unkempt, an appearance apparently befitting the crowd's idea of a pirate. Ooh's and ahh's once more took shape, whispers and whistling as well. She began pulling her shirt on as she approached her would-be escort crew, coat draped across her arm. Marion shortly after hopped over, dressed quite unlike she had when she'd arrived. She rushed to the captain's side, attempting to avoid the gaze of the murmuring crowd for too long. The challenger's party parted a path as they beckoned the duo along quietly. 

Marseille was silent and empty, shopkeeps shuddered their windows and covered their stalls, passersby rushed indoors, and the captain swaggered through the streets en route to her duel. Deep blue ribbons and brightly colored bits of decor began cluttering their path to Cartier Manor. Though sparse at first, upon nearing the manor proper, the whole of the area was densely decorated. Rugs and flower petals lined the walkway, and whatever surface could have something hanging from it, did. Red roses and white lilies were bouqueted and affixed opposite each other. Even the balconies of houses unaffiliated to the Cartier name had wreaths hung from them. The early afternoon sun baked the clouds in front of it as they gathered, and it seemed as though the sky would open up any minute. The air was humid and filled with the scent of loose flower petals being crushed underfoot, alongside the distant rains. 

The nibling rushed ahead as fast as his little feet would carry him, horn in tow. He set up  his tripod just outside a bespoke iron gate. Just beyond the gate was a vast open courtyard, filled to capacity with all manner of folk, many of which were dressed in finery.

"I'm a mite hazy, but, is yer dad always this.. dramatic?" Whetstone covered her face as she whispered to Marion. 

"Seemingly more so than usual these days. This, I'd say, is less dramatic and more… absurd? Honestly I've given up attempting to understand the man."

 "This way, Captain Whetstone." The whompers once again spoke in unison. They led her just to the side as they ushered the rest of the guests, Marion included, in through the gates. The nibling blasted the same tune as before as each made their way into the courtyard. 

"So I'm not goin' that way?" The captain said, pointing across the fence. 

"No!" The whompers said, cheerfully. Their smiles almost perfectly matched one another, along with just about everything else about them. They seemed as though they were simply pleased to be involved. 

"Can y' tell me which way I am goin'?"

"No!" They cheered once more.

The trio stood for a few more minutes as the nibling welcomed more guests with his horn. 

"Can I go in now?" The captain scratched behind her ears. Her tone was playful, but she was starting to get impatient.

"No!" They sounded almost the same every time. Captain Whetstone gave up and leaned against the fence, arms crossed. She wasn't worried about being late to the duel, nor really very much about the duel itself. The whole affair was turning out far more posh than she had imagined, and with each decoration and each passing upper crust guest, she became less and less worried. She gave into idle thought for a moment. Her mind chose distractions of all kinds, but more and more her mind wandered back to Marion. Had she made the right choice to interfere when she did that day at the docks? Had she done right by her so far? What would become of her next?  

"Ahem" 

"Wah!" Whetstone shouted, recoiling from the sudden interruption. "Who'sat!" She caught herself on the fence. 

A muddler with very long droopy ears dressed in a most garish fashion held her paw out in front of her. Her hat was massive and had a large feather sticking out from it, along with several other adornments. She wore several pin cushions in various places, and a chatelaine of sewing materials hung from her hip. 

"Ahem." She continued to hold out a paw to shake in greeting.

"What? Am I in yer way, or..?"

"Ahem. It's my name."

"What's yer name?" 

"Ahem!" 

"What?!"

The muddler sighed. "My name. My name is Ahem. As in hemming garments. It's what I do. I'm a tailor." She motioned to her collection of sewing tools and accessories.

"Taylor? But I thought y' said yer name was Ahem?"

Ahem patently ignored her. "Mr. Cartier has requested that you come along with me for the time being. Preparations for the… un-seam-ly events to come."

"...right." The captain squinted. "And will there be more sewing puns?"

"We'll put a pin in that one for now." 

"Yer too quick fer me, lass!" She laughed out loud. She was beginning to enjoy herself. Things had taken quite the turn from the serious to the silly, and she was along for the ride.

"Quick indeed." She grabbed the captain by the arm, taking her to a room just inside the manor around the outside of the courtyard. The room was littered with fabric, tools, and mannequins of all shapes and sizes. One of the mannequins featured a fillyjonk-esque head with a familiar mustache made to resemble Jules. 

"Rich bastard's got his own uhh… what do ye even call a room like this? Sewing dungeon?" Whetstone fiddled with just about everything in her path as Ahem snapped back and forth with her measuring tape across the captain's moominous form. 

"Mr. Cartier has appointed me to make a coat for you. Something a little less stolen and salt soaked. He wants you to look flashy for his big day." She rolled her eyes. 

"Big day. Pffft." She blew a raspberry. "Also I'll have you know I bought this one." She said, putting extra emphasis on the last two words. 

"Pffft indeed." Ahem pulled aside a curtain revealing a tall and nicely rounded mannequin. Upon it was a coat fit for a pirate, though very well made and quite fancy. It was entirely black save for the trim, cuffs, and pocket covers that were a deep dark red, with shining gold buttons and an interior lining of red and gold paisley. A cutlass crossed with a rose was embroidered on the left breast. She snatched it off the mannequin and draped it over the captain's shoulders. "Go on, see how it fits. Your measurements seem almost exactly what I thought they'd be." 

"It's quite lovely!" She put the coat on, pulling the sleeves over her arms. She jumped and jogged in place, bent down to touch her toes and stretched her arms. Then she mimicked punching, drawing and swinging a sword, and climbing the riggings of a ship. She pretended to draw her pistol with a flourish and blew the smoke from its imaginary barrel, and then curtsied meekly.  "Fits great! Oh, one more thing." She walked up to the Jules mannequin and planted her feet. She drew her arm back and delivered a hearty slap just as she had the first time. "It's perfect, actually." The head of the mannequin tumbled to the floor.

"Three days is hardly long enough to craft something perfect. Let alone an entire ensemble that turns a ruffian into a posh pirate renegade as Mr Cartier suggested. So you'll have to make due with only the coat I'm afraid."

"Wait, three days? He asked y' to make a coat on the day that I slapped 'im?" She let out a single loud laugh. "I musta knocked something loose! How'd ye get m' measurements, anyhow?"

"Followed you around."

"But I hardly left m' ship after that business, how'd y-"

"You left four times, actually. Two of which you brought back food and wine."

"Ha! Typical. I like you, Ahem, yer fun! An' this coat is perfectly made t' measure, most folks miss just how big I am 'round the middle. You've got me thanks." 

"You know, I think that might be the first time I've gotten a genuine compliment the entire time I've spent under the employ of Mr. Cartier. Go give him hell, captain." She smiled, pushing the moomin gently on her back towards the door. "Oh, but do mingle a bit first. I don't think Jules is quite done making a fool of himself yet. I'm sure he'll call for you." She began packing things into a large trunk.

Not long after, the strange events at Cartier Manor continued to unfold. Captain Whetstone found herself in the courtyard, and Marion in turn found her as well. Refreshments were being served on trays carried by servants in bright blue vests. The pair sat at a table under a parasol, similar settings littered the yard alongside tents, rugs, and a veritable ship's load of furniture. All of this surrounded a large stage, adorned with deep blue ribbons and flowers. 

"That's a fine coat you've found yourself." Marion eyed the embroidery, sitting across from Captain Whetstone.

"Aye? A gift from yer old man I s'pose. Funny seamstress gal made it." She lifted it to show off the liner. "Yer house is massive! Just you lot live there?"

The captain made musings about this, that, and the other, chatting idly with Marion. Time stretched on, and the outing began to seem much less like a duel, and much more like a garden party. With each offered hors d'oeuvre, the captain took at least one of each thing, most of which she tried and set aside without finishing. She did, however, finish each flute of champagne that was brought by. 

The captain held a glass at eye level, staring at the champagne within, boredom getting the better of her. "Marion, how do ye reckon they get the bubbles in th–"

"Welcome, all!"  A voice boomed from the stage, commanding everyone's attention. "Today marks a momentous and fateful occasion." Jules' theatrical manner of speaking finally suited the situation. 

He had chosen an outfit of deep blues and bright whites, with silver buttons. Each article bore a motif of white lilies, trimmed with shimmering silver. The calves and sleeves of his outfit were tight and fitted, while the rest was loose and flowing. All of it was made of a shiny satin exterior, and he wore a large and gallant cape upon his shoulders. It was no doubt the work of the same tailor of Whetstone's coat. His hair was slicked back, and his mustache was waxed into perfect, symmetrical points. Behind him stood a short and portly older moomin, with a curly powdered wig. He was dressed similarly to Mr Cartier, though much simpler and with a brooch bearing the symbol of the King's navy. 

"Today, we bring a close to the scourge upon the seas. I, Jules Cartier, am to end the career of a pirate that has so long plagued the open waters." Not a word left his lips without some manner of posing added to it. Bravado seemed a natural calling for him. "But I, ladies and gentlemen, am no brute! We duel today only to first blood. I have called upon the aid of Governor Woodes Rogers, an experienced pirate hunter, to take down alongside me the infamous Captain Whetstone!" 

Gasps were shared by the crowd, most of whom had likely never heard of Rogers nor Whetstone before the last few days. Jules was building drama for a performance, and the audience was absolutely enraptured. 

"Should your hero prevail today, Miss Whetstone will voluntarily turn herself in at my behest. The streets of Marseille will no longer be subject to her whims, and its surrounding seas shall stand as an affront to all pirates who would dare approach!" 

Rogers, the moomin standing behind Jules, stepped forward. He unfurled an almost comically long document and cleared his throat. "Captain Whetstone, of her own free will, submits heretofore under the crown and will be granted clemency for all acts perpetrated during her stints as a pirate, and shall be pressed into service of the king's navy, or be jailed at once and in perpetuity remain. Here listed are her many crimes, and associated parties-"

"You needn't continue reading Mr Rogers. They can see how long that page is." Jules interrupted. 

"Am I going crazy?" Marion whispered across the table to Whetstone. "I mean I know it's been three days. But it's only been three days. A garden party is one thing, but to organize all of this?" She rested her head in her paws for a moment.

"I don't even think that there's the real Woodes Rogers." She squinted at the man from her seat. "Last I heard it, he were bankrupt or some such. Sued by his own crew. Ought t' be down n' out, not out n' about putzing around France." She searched her pockets for her pipe, remembering that she wasn't wearing her old coat. "That page he's got is like as any t' be blank I'd bet."

"Captain Whetstone, to the stage if you would!" Jules shouted, finishing his speech. 

Marion looked across the table, only now showing her fear. "Be careful up there. He's quicker than he looks." 

"It'll be over 'fore ye know it, lass. If yer dad wants to put on a show fer these folk, then I say let's give 'em a show." She picked up her champagne flute, and swaggered up to the stage. She took her place across from Jules.

"The fearsome pirate captain, Whetstone. Ruffian. Ne'er-do-well. Scoundrel and scallywag. You've plundered your way through the seas and sewn chaos among the citizenry, but that all ends today." Jules once again performed for the audience rather than speaking.

"Aye. All that n' more. And none of it could sate the devil inside me." She growled, mostly unconvincingly. She was, at best, unseasoned as an actor. 

"You're drunk!" Jules said, tugging on a pair of leather gloves. 

"An' yer annoying!"

"Name your second." 

"My what?" The captain shot him a puzzled look. 

"Your second. Someone you trust to bear witness to the duel. Have you never had a proper duel in your life? And yet how many have fallen to your sword alone? How barbaric." Jules rolled his eyes. 

"Ah. Marion'll do it. She's good like that, seems despite yer efforts t' the contrary, you've raised a very capable young woman."

Jules flinched, balling his hands into fists as the captain shouted for Marion to join them on stage. He swallowed his anger, and continued the show. The moomin who may or may not have been Woodes Rogers presented a velvet box, and a servant presented another. They opened the lids revealing one to have within it a set of ornate dueling pistols with pearlescent grips. The other box contained two sideswords decorated with gold engravings upon their blades. 

"The challenged may choose the weapons. The seconds shall inspect the weapons to ensure fairness and quality. Once we are all in agreeance, we shall separate ten or twenty paces, face one another, and the duel can begin in earnest upon the signal of each second." Jules delivered his clearly practiced lines to the crowd. 

"Well I meant what I said. I won't be killin' a man in front o' his own daughter. No pistols. First blood." 

"Swords it is, then. Ten paces instead." 

"I ain't usin' one o' yer swords neither. I made this cutlass and ye won't part me from it." She removed her sword from her belt, handing it to Marion, who had just arrived on stage. "You and yer second can inspect that'un." 

"Very well, captain. I suppose I should have expected no less from a pirate." His words were intensely venomous, annunciating each word with a pompous anger. He turned to face the audience. "The pirate has elected to use her own, crude blade even within the context of a gentlemanly duel!" This elicited whispers from the crowd.

Jules paid no mind to Marion as she presented Whetstone's sword to him and his second. They looked at it for only a moment and both scoffed, despite its elegance and craftsmanship. The captain and her second both carefully examined Jules' blade, finding no flaw or alterations. They agreed, and each took their sword as they took their place on stage. The crowd was silent, and the sound of thunder echoing in the distance was joined only by the footsteps of the two duelists as they took their paces.

Jules held his sword point up, taking a dueling stance as he measured each pace. The captain had returned her sword to its scabbard, and was still holding her flute of champagne. She took each step as though she were crossing stones in a river, occasionally pretending to lose her balance playfully as she watched the audience. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. 

With each step Marion's heart raced, she feared for her future, and for her newfound freedom. She'd found a fondness these last three days and had mostly forgotten her anger to her father until she met with him once more on stage. 

Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. 

Jules gripped his sword tightly, eager to rewrite himself as a hero to the people of Marseille. He turned in his position, waiting for the signal from the seconds. The captain turned as well, sword sheathed, glass in hand. 

"At your will, Mr Rogers." Marion stood beside him near the rear of the stage, out of the duelists' way. Her voice was shaky.

"Begin!" Woodes Rogers shouted without hesitation.

Jules lowered himself, rushing into a full sprint. 

The captain tossed her glass into the air, straight. She drew her cutlass quick as lightning, and with incredible speed and precision, cut the stem from the bell. As the glass descended, she caught it in her paw. The audience gasped, a few even squealed as the base sailed far off into the crowd. 

Jules stopped in his tracks for a moment, on guard. It was too late to back out now, despite the impressive display. 

She took a long, protracted sip before gently setting the unharmed top half of the glass onto the stage upside down next to her, empty. "I hope y' brought yer dancing shoes." She extended her arm, the point of her sword idly aimed at her opponent. 

He rushed to strike first, despite his showmanship he aimed to end the duel as fast as he could. He thrust to the captain's side. She sidestepped, grabbing his wrist with her empty paw, and used his momentum to throw him to the ground. He landed with an anticlimactic albeit quite loud thud on his back. 

"That's disappointing, Jules. I thought y' wanted to give these fine folk a show." She spoke at stage volume. She stood over him, the tip of her cutlass resting just above his chest.

"It's to first blood, captain." He gripped his sword tightly, and swept at her ankles. "And I'm not bleeding yet!" He jumped to his feet the moment she was on the defensive. 

She back-stepped, narrowly avoiding his swing. The audience roared to life having been in rapt silence during their first exchange. They shouted and cheered, nearly drowning out the following clanging of steel. 

Jules ferociously delivered cut and thrust after cut and thrust, he was as well practiced as Marion had said. He'd not met an opponent yet that could hold against his onslaught, and yet the captain was calm and focused, dodging and deflecting each of his blows. 

Whetstone feinted high as she had done with Marion, then swung low at his legs, cutting just the fabric of his pant-leg as he changed his stance. 

She laughed. "Ha! Got yer daughter with that'un, too!" 

He snarled, lunging in and following up with several repeated thrusts. The captain knocked each of them aside. She bound her sword against his and closed any distance between them, using her weight to throw him off balance. Jules fell to the ground once more, but rolled off his back and onto his feet again. He rounded her, swapping sides hoping to gain an advantage. He threatened a cut, but dropped his leg and reached out for a long thrust to the captain's inside line. She had previously been neglecting it and stepping aside, and she wouldn't step aside if she had thought it was a cut. He drove his point home as fast as he could, and then-

Thwap!

Whetstone batted aside his blade by the flat using her paw! She charged in now that he was open, blade raised high. He managed to raise his guard just in time, barely withstanding the weight of an oversized moomin crashing against his sword arm like a heavy wave against a ship's bow. He rounded his opponent once more, returning to his side of the stage. 

Jules hated being on the defensive. He hated even more his opponent. He hated that despite his assuredness in his own skill and the effort he put into this display, he had not bested the captain as quickly as he had hoped. His off hand left his hip, abandoning his dueling stance. He abandoned his footwork, too, in exchange for a mad dash. He began throwing wild cuts in front of him as he charged, yelling the whole way. She threw all of her might into one heavy cut, knocking his sword off line once again. He reeled, regaining his composure. 

He realized that he could not beat her in a competition of strength, nor speed.  He would have to stay calm and search for an opening. "The leg!" He thought to himself. "She may be twice the size of your average moomin, but she's still got shorter legs than a fillyjonk!" He closed in once more, focusing in on waist level thrusts. He began changing his rhythm, repeating the same passing steps in his approach. He'd stab and wait for her to cut, then step and do it again. Biding his time until she went for something trickier.

Whetstone noticed the change in his attitude. He was lithe and by now much more warmed up. It was as though he'd settled into the flow of battle. She held both arms out to her side, as if to say "come at me!" Completely opening up her defenses. He threw a cut to her chest, following up on her opening. She took her sword by its spine at one end, and the grip with the other, and swung up as though she were forcing open a window. He reeled once more as his sword was knocked away, but the captain was wide open for exactly the kind of attack he'd hoped for. He readjusted, then swung for her thigh. 

Seeing this, she leapt back once, being caught off guard by such a near miss. She'd kept her cool through most of the fight, but she was beginning to worry that her fooling around might cost her new friend dearly.  She leapt back again, escaping his reach. She spun off her front leg. Jules watched, unsure of the captain's intentions with such a maneuver. He saw her rear leg swoop up midway through the spin, and then back down as she completed it, as if in slow motion. At first he was confused, but then he remembered. "Oh no." He thought. "Not like this!" 

Her back foot kicked the glass she had left on stage, sending it flying straight at his face. He brought up his sword to block it, or knock it aside, but it was in vain. It shattered against the base of his blade, sending shards flying past it. The collective gasp from the previously uproarious crowd would have sucked the air from the room were they not outside. Even the coming storm stood silent as a trickle of blood ran down Jules' forehead. He reached up and touched it gingerly, examining the aftermath upon his paw. 

"I believe that's first blood, Mr. Cartier." The captain flourished with her sword a moment before returning it to its scabbard. She faced the audience, curtsied meekly, and headed off toward Marion at the rear of the stage. Much of the crowd were confused, some even angry. There was cheering and jeering alike, booing and whistling. Jules remained on stage, utterly defeated as the rain began gently dropping. 

"Congratulations, Miss Whetstone." Jules said. His voice was much less performative, taking on a sinister tone. The captain continued her stride, merely raising her paw dismissively. "You have won the duel…" Jules rushed toward her. "But you will lose your life!" 

"Whetstone! Look out!" Marion cried as loud as she could. 

The captain turned to see Jules just behind her, and coming right at her head was the tip of his sword. She threw herself back, headfirst, but it was too late. His sword dug into her face and tore across her left eye, stopping around the middle of her forehead thanks only to luck and to Marion's warning. She shouted in pain, clutching at the wound on her face with one paw and drawing her sword with the other. 

"This isn't fair!" The wouldbe Woodes shouted, sprinting away. He stumbled into the table that had the dueling boxes atop it, knocking it over. "You didn't tell me you were going to kill her!" 

The audience bellowed with shouts of a similar kind. 

"The duel is over! Stop!"

 "You lost! Give it up!"

"He's lost his mind!"

 Many voices cried over one another.

Several members of the audience shrieked in fear from the sight of so much blood, and several others rushed to the stage in an attempt to stop him from continuing his assault.

"Y' cowardly bastard!" The captain growled, fighting as hard as she could with the use of only one eye. "Marion! Get yerself outta here!" She looked around in a half blind panic.

"Duel or no duel, she's a wanted woman! To the man who brings me her head, you'll claim the bounty and I'll make you the richest man in Marseille!" Jules drew the crowd into a frenzy. Those who weren't tempted by his offer began running to the gate, and those who were tempted began surrounding the stage. They were unarmed but very much outnumbered the two who were now stuck between Jules, the manor, and the gate leading back out into the streets. 

Marion rushed in the same direction as Woodes, shaking with panic. She had to act, and quickly. She picked up one of the pistols from the open dueling boxes, pointing it at her father. She tightened her grip, steadying herself. She'd never fired a pistol before, and despite everything, she'd never wanted to kill her father. "Stop! Stop attacking her this instant or I'll shoot you!" She shouted. Tears were streaming down her face, her hair and clothes now soaked with rain as the storm raged on. 

The captain backed off from the fight, holding her ground as Marion made her plea. Jules stopped as well, turning to face his daughter. The herd of newly made bounty hunters waited, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire. 

"Make sure you take that one alive." Jules pointed at Marion with his sword, gesturing to his makeshift militia. 

Click

Marion pulled the trigger, filled with an array of strong emotions that all burnt up in her anger. Jules paused briefly, seemingly offended. His eyes were wide and mouth agape. The flint struck the frizzen, yet there was no smoke, no flash, no bang. The rain had soaked the powder thoroughly, forcing her threats empty.  

The moment seemed to drag on, the clear line in the sand now drawn between Marion and her home life. She screamed, barely able to hear herself as she threw the gun at him, reaching next for the sword left in the box. The captain used this as an opportunity to rush to Marion's side, scooping her up in a bridal carry at full sprint, off stage. 

"After them, you fools!" Jules regained focus after his brush with death. He'd gone too far now to give up. He'd all but given up on raising his daughter to be the way he wanted her, but he refused to relinquish even the slightest bit of control, especially to a pirate. 

Captain Whetstone ran as fast as she could toward the gate. The path was clear and the only remaining bystanders had just made it through. Jules was the fastest among the duo's pursuers, quickly taking charge ahead of his group. The grass underfoot was slick, and the rugs placed upon it now waterlogged. Thunder crashed within the sky, bellowing throughout the humid air below. 

"Come back you coward! Blaggard! Face your fate!" Jules shouted above the racket of the storm as he ran. 

The captain stumbled, woozy from her injury, dropping Marion in the process. They both stopped only a moment, with Jules gaining on them. The gate was tantalizingly near, and their hope for escape pushed them onward. The pair righted themselves and passed the threshold, soon to be followed by Jules and his cohorts. 

"I have you now, you wretch!" Jules raised his sword, closing in. He chanced a cut at the captain's leg rather than attempting to tackle a woman likely twice his weight. 

tst-BOOM

A shot rang out, crushing beneath it for a moment the sound of storm and step alike. Smoke plumed from a covered balcony one floor up, just outside the gate to the Cartier Manor courtyard. Whatever onlookers remained nearby scattered at the sound. 

"I reckon I already told ye…" a hoarse voice spoke from behind the smoke. "Keep yer promises, Cap'n. Lest I be keepin' 'em fer ye." A rugged hemulen woman set her spent rifle to the side, lifting a loaded one from a row against the railing she was perched at. 

For the briefest of moments the world fell silent as those in the vicinity searched for the object of Ruth's aim. The silence broke with the anguished scream of Jules, his sword clattering to the ground as he clutched his arm where he'd been shot. 

"Ruthie!" The captain shouted, gleeful and relieved. 

"Put some wind in yer sails, kid! Ye promised me no foolishness. Ye get that girl outta here, an' maybe I won't be considr'in it foolish n'more!" She took aim, putting a shot between the wounded Mr Cartier and his thugs. The shot caused a few of them to rethink, running back into the courtyard. She once again set her empty rifle aside, picking up a fresh one. "Avast! I've got 'nuff guns up 'ere to take the lot of ye! What'll it be?" She asked the duo's pursuers, mounting her gun on the railing.

Captain Whetstone and Marion ran as far and as fast as they ever had before. Despite eventually making their escape, the two were in need of leave from Marseille. Jules' ire is doubtless to have stirred all manner of trouble, and he had a wound to prove his opponent's guilt. When they arrived at the docks that evening, out of hiding, The Honeyed Word was no longer moored at the harbor. The surrounding area was lousy with law, searching for the both of them. They spent that night together in a cove on the beach tending to Whetstone's wound, making plans for tomorrow and the tomorrow beyond that. 

–

"That's awful, Miss Puukko!" Moominmama had returned from the kitchen to the veranda with a tray set for coffee. She set it down upon the table, having a seat next to her husband. 

"Yes, quite! And what became of the two of you next?" Papa asked from his seat across the table. His agreeance to Mama's exclamation was betrayed by the excitement in his voice. He held a love for all things nautical as well as for a good story, and could not hide it. 

The fluffy brown moomin scratched at the underside of her snout, eyes fixed on the distance as she reminisced. It was a calm, and pleasantly warm evening in Moominvalley. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon and crickets chirped from their hiding places. She puffed on her pipe, exhaling deeply with a contented sigh. She bore a scar across her left eye, and the heavy brow of a long life. Seeing her dressed comfortably, swapping stories on the veranda,  you'd hardly believe she'd once been a fearsome pirate captain. Obscurity suited her quite well, as the last breath of a legend long past. 

"In my absence, Ruthie 'ad told me crew t' weigh anchor an' make fer somewhere near. I reckon I'd consider her t' be a hero, least by my account anyway..." She took another drag off her pipe. "Trouble were certain to have found them if she hadn't got 'em outta there. That was the last anyone saw of her. Sent some men that-a-way fer to go about findin' her some time later. Not hide nor hair. I think she aimed t' make the rest o' her life a quiet one."

"But you pirates are all flare and bravado! A life of excitement, and er, uh, and freedom! Why would you want to give up that?" Moominpapa gestured in his chair as he spoke. 

"Papa…" his wife laid her paw on his arm as if to settle him down. 

"It's a fine thing t' be sure, fer a spell. But it's got its rigors. I fear what I mean t' say ain't kind enough fer this valley. It's foul, and it's wretched. Turn folk into beasts and beasts into.. well I hardly even know what ye'd call it. Bastards 'n scoundrels. When ya find a one like the one I were sweet on, well… it's hard t' live a life like that seein' thems that you'd protect with their teeth gritted behind a sword." She dropped a sugar cube into her cup, watching it slowly dissolve beneath the dark waves of coffee. 

"And to think I'm the one writing memoirs." Papa mused. "And what happened to Marion?"

"After we made it back aboard me ship, I weren't in a way fit fer sailing. Without a first mate and without their captain and helmsman, the crew had t' band together. They fell in with Marion right quick. She'd read up on sailing her whole life, call to the sea an' all that. Just ne'er put it to practice. Did a good turn at the old bailiwick once more, plundered as many ships carryin' the Cane King stuff 'tween Nassau, Curaçao and near Marseille as we could. She learnt t' be quite fierce in a short while. A force to be reckoned with under my care. We became as tall tales walkin'... We got t' bein' quite close, too. Didn't ne'er get to talking out the particulars though, I'm afraid." 

She stopped for a moment, enjoying the coffee, company, and relative peace and quiet. Ever since she'd moved to Moominvalley she'd known more peace than she ever had. Even in her own childhood home,  there were always storms and turmoil. As no more than a pup on the seas apprenticing under good men, she knew even further strife and noise. From her start on the seas she thought she could earn the peace she had now, and never did. 

"It's funny how misfortune and heartache can get ye where ye need t' be goin'. We coulda stayed tall tales iffin things hadn't shaken out like they did. The thing about it is…" She took one last puff on her pipe before tapping it into the ashtray. 

"Whether or not ye tuck it when ye run, if ye made yer tale long enough, someone always catches ye by it in the end. But that's a story fer another time I suppose."

[because-i-am-barely-even-human]

It starts with pain followed by hate.

«I was a careless fool. I could've sworn I shot clean through the wolf's head, and yet it lunged at me.»

«Everyone stood around the cabin and watched as it burned to the ground.»

Fueled by the endless questions no one can answer.

«The boy's grandfather has fallen ill and his condition worsens every day. The boy worries terribly about him, and there are murmurs of a “madness” among the villagers.»

A stain covers your heart and tears you apart.

— Little hard to put my faith in someone who used to work for Umbrella.

— Umbrella's done for. You don't need to worry about them anymore.

How did you get here and when did it start?

«He is a very curious child and has a true thirst for knowledge.»

«After graduating from university, he was employed by Umbrella's research division.»

An innocent child with a thorn in his heart.

«I cannot bear seeing the boy's worried eyes.»

«I can't die now and leave the boy behind. Dear God, please protect him.»

«The boy looked on without saying a word. The next day he was gone.»

Are you sane?

«After preaching about salvation and forgiveness, they injected us with something they claim will cure us of madness. Can they be trusted?»

Where is the shame?

— Be straight with me for once.

— Los Iluminados... I was working for them.

Who's to blame and where did it start?

«After the Raccoon City Incident, efforts were made by law enforcement and the government to track down anyone with links to Umbrella.»

Is there a cure for your sickness?

«There are two ways to eradicate las plagas: antigen injection and surgery.»

Have you no heart?

— Why are you helping us?

— Because it makes me feel better. Let's leave it at that.

***

— I don't get you. Why risk your life like this? You don't know us.

— I told you. It makes me feel better.

***

— I just wanna feel good about myself. Make amends. Or something like that.

***

— I don't want anyone else to get hurt.

Selling our soul for no reason.

«He was involved in the development of several common over-the-counter drugs, all of which were discontinued before ever reaching the market.»

— It seems he used to be a researcher for Umbrella.

There's a sickness inside you that wants to escape.

«Once fully developed, the parasite gains complete control.»

It's a feeling you get when you can't find your way.

— You know, I led a pretty shitty life.

So how many times must you fall to your knees?

«Serra resigned from Umbrella and could not be located.»

«I don't think I can trust this outside group either, but I've already come this far.»

Never do this again.

— People can change, right?

[the-24-7-lawlu-library]

Poll Vote March Mutual Pining Slowburn

Hi readers! I hope your weekend is going well <3

Blinded by Sakuya_Serenity_Kira (E)

Strawhats and Heart Pirates are traveling together after the events on DressRosa, Zou and maybe even Wano. Kizaru pays them a visit and as a result Luffy is blinded.  Now he is not allowed in the sun for days. And where would be safer for the freedom-loving captain than in the cabin of a grim, silent surgeon...?

Storge by Sketched_Ink (M)

“Ok!” Luffy grinned brightly, “You help protect Ace, and I beat up a flamingo? Easy” “Not a flamingo, Donquixote Doflamingo, my adoptive father”, Law tried to stop the venom seeping into his voice. Luffy nodded solemnly, “Ok, I beat up your father, the flamingo, and you protect Ace?”. Law supposed this was the closest he was going to get to total understanding. “Yes”, he ground out.   Or, the self-indulgent Bridgerton-style AU nobody asked for.

The Greatest Adventure by Kaatosade (E) [incomplete]

It was even more absurd to hear Luffy talking about marriage.

I was a God once! by KhepiAri (M)

I was a god once; no one believes it when I tell them now. I had tall shrines, devout followers and piles of offerings. My first shrine was made in the hollow of a tree. It was a little boy who had built it; he had killed a wild boar with a stone, that blood covered stone was my first form. He, along with his mates, he concluded the stone was a miracle. A notorious boar had rampaged around his village for months, destroying their crops and killing three elderly. The boy at the stupid age of 12 had taken matters in his own hand and ventured into the forest after his brothers and grandfather had returned injured. He had no skills and zero sense of self-preservation. With bow and arrows slung on his back, two long knives tied on thin his waist and a spear in his hand; he marched out of home at break of dawn. While his mother and father were busy nursing the injured and grandmother brewed the medicinal soup, he sneaked out. A pining god recites how he fell in love with a mortal. From bickering god and a devotee they become friends, but can god and human be together? Law is a young god and Luffy his devotee. SWITCH COUPLE: LawLu/LuLaw Lawlu Week 2022 day-6

And Like This, We Eclipse the Universe by riverofnara (G)

He knows his name. He knows the lullaby of the ocean and the press of warm sand against his toes. He knows the straw hat on his head is sacred, a treasure of unspeakable value. And he knows that he’s missed Law, a cavernous ache in his chest that would normally swallow one whole, but not here because Law’s presence alone is enough, a gentle balm to dull the pain in increments. - The universe grants two hearts longing for the other a chance to reunite. And even when they don't recognize each other, they don't let the moment go to waste.

Mon Trésor by bimarian (G)

Luffy wonders if Law will get mad once he finally admits it; will Law walk away from him once he lets all these wishes and prayers out in the open? Maybe. And that’s one doubt too many. Ten things that he wants to confess to his ally now that he is already the Pirate King.

Lost and Found by too_addicted_to_fiction (E)

“I’m not here to play hide-and-seek with you, Mugiwara,” Law spat out, hot and tired and annoyed. “I’m here to take you back. I promised your friends." In which Luffy runs away, and Law is sent after him.

When You Hug Me It Feels Like Home. by KhepiAri (G)

Unlike how his family had feared that Luffy would go wild at the first taste of freedom, Luffy was drowned in the first taste of college existential crisis, being good at something practically didn’t mean he was good at in theory. The first three weeks of Luffy’s freedom were spent studying things he had no understanding of. When assignments came another week later, the young student couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed and began crying in the middle of the library. Fellow students didn’t make things awkward for him by staring; it was common to find crying first years at every nook and corner of the university. It was entirely different from high school, if you fell no one was going to pick you up, you had to pick yourself up, clean your wounds and keep walking. “Are you okay?” A firm hand gently tapped a wallowing Luffy’s shoulder. “No…” Luffy tried to control his sobs. College AU. Fresher Luffy/PhD student Law. No Smut. One kiss. Law finds Luffy crying in the library, so he offers to buy Luffy a drink and help him out for a while, but he soon finds himself flirting with Luffy, who is a bit slow when it comes to matter of hearts. LawluWeek 2022 Day-8

Why won't you kiss me already? by Katia_Anyway (M)

Luffy is in love with Torao. And he knows Torao loves him back. So why won't Torao kiss him already!?

If You Need Me, I will by BasicallyACat (G)

Luffy can't find the words to describe all the things he feels, couldn't say them even if he found them. He knows people don't understand him usually and doesn't really mind. His nakama understand and that is all that matters. When he meets Law, suddenly there are far too many things to say even when he can't and Luffy prays Law can understand anyways.

The Curious Case of Monkey D. Luffy by lampalot7 (T)

Monkey D. Luffy was cute. This much was known—this was an undeniable, immutable fact. It was also largely suspected to be a ruse of some sort. The squishy-cheeked, beaming face on the wanted posters was largely considered by the more discerning members of Law’s profession to be incapable of the infamous, impossible deeds that Straw Hat Luffy has committed. Or: Luffy is cute, Law has incorrect assumptions, and then a crisis.

If you think we missed a work that you think deserves to be added, don't hesitate to reply with the link or send a message <3

-Mod Raiya

[north-blue-hearts]

Heart of Gold

CisFem Reader x Trafalgar Law

CW: ptsd, trauma, depictions/implications of suicide and suicidal ideation, language, violence, blood, canonical character death, mature themes and events 18+

@mfreedomstuff

Chapter 18: Priorities

You were sitting in your room back on the Tang. Law’s suggestion about switching hearts had flustered you at first, and then worried you. It seemed such a powerfully intimate act, to literally trade your heart with his, and then have his heart in your chest.

But if his theory was only mostly correct, then that means he’d experience the same pain and fear that you had felt when you’d tried to step onto the island. It wasn’t like the pain remained, once you got back on the ship, but you didn’t like the idea of anyone else having to risk experiencing it. Law thought you were hung up on the idea of having his heart in your chest, either thinking it too intimate or unsanitary.

Your argument had barely been an argument in the strictest sense, but you did want some space to consider the variables yourself. If it worked, neither of you would have a gaping hole in your chest. Neither one of you would experience pain or terror while being on land. From an objective standpoint it was a solid answer to all the practical issues of your problem.

There was nothing to give away the fact that your heart wasn’t with you, and nothing to stop you both from trying to research why there was an issue in the first place. You weren’t sure if you were flattered or concerned by Law’s apparent trust in you. To give his heart to you like that.

The romantic connotations of the thought bubbled up in your brain and you could feel the blood rush making you dizzy. You weren’t some twitter-patted teenager, giggling in the corner during a ball as your eyes slipped from one well-dressed bachelor to the next, but love was still relatively new to you.

Love as the common folk knew it.

Love without consideration of family or political ties. Without concern of progeny or contracts. This was not a formal relationship, one where you’d both work to maintain your own happiness, and the happiness of your partner, for little more than keeping court gossip in check in the worst of circumstances.

Shoving your face back into your pillow and groaning you were beginning to realize that maybe Law wasn’t entirely incorrect about your biggest hangup with his plan. It didn’t invalidate your concerns about him experiencing pain in your place, and there was just as much of a possibility that you’d be the one to have to deal with it.

That’s what the experimenting was for, after all. Sorting out what the parameters were of what you were dealing with, in hopes of figuring out how to fix it all. The end goal of which was currently two pronged. First and foremost was why your body, or just your heart, was reacting to the islands with such fear. Secondary to that was a way to reverse the immortality placed on you by your friend.

Frankly, you didn’t have the luxury of being embarrassed about any of it, and it was a kindness of Law’s that he was letting you effectively waste time walking yourself through your tumultuous emotions. Not that his help would make the process go any faster.

Setting the pillow aside, you got off your bed and headed out of your room. It would be time to eat soon, and you needed to talk to Law privately before the crew was nearby. Your relationship was by no means a secret, but you didn’t need Shachi or Clione to overhear that you were too embarrassed to do something. You felt like, good natured or not, you may not hear the end of it from either of them.

When you reached Law’s cabin, you noticed the door was already open. Pushing it open further you peeked inside, seeing the captain lost in a book. It was interesting to you, how easily he slipped into the role of academic, doctor, pirate, and self. They were all parts of him, but he put so much of his focus into what he was immediately doing that you could always see a palpable shift from one to the other.

“Captain,” you say the word softly, stepping into the room. Law grunts, it’s an acknowledgment to show he’s not ignoring you, but he doesn’t approve the title from you. Suppressing the smile on your lips you shut the door behind you and stand across from him, staying on the far side of the desk. “This island, or the next, I’d like to work through those experiments when you’re ready.”

“When I’m ready.” He states dryly, looking up at you for a moment before looking back down at the book.

You hum positively. “Indeed. I would not want to impose on you unjustly, magnanimous captain that you are, after you so kindly allowed me ample time to-.”

“Alright.” He interjects. You can see the ghost of a smile slip along his features. “You’re determined to get me to listen to that King’s Tongue babble one way or another, aren’t you?”

“I have no idea what you may mean, good sir.” You assert playfully.

“Tomorrow, as planned.” He says evenly. “Relax, eat and adjust to going about your day without your own heart in your chest.” Setting the papers he was reading aside he looks up at you properly. “Speaking of, how have you felt so far?”

“Not bad. Not great. I certainly feel a little sluggish, but I haven’t yet tried to spar with anyone.” You admit. “I can’t hear my heart beat even if I try to focus on it, and I have to admit that is a little unsettling. Will I be less sluggish with your heart in my chest?”

He shakes his head. “A little maybe, but it’s not going to be as effective as having yours back. If the swap works tomorrow, we’ll only have our own hearts on sea voyages. It’ll help cut down on the fatigue.”

“Does it get worse over time?”

“Over months, yeah, but it’s a very subtle long term shift.”

You raise your brows. “You’ve done experiments?”

Law nods. “I’ve had the fruit since I was a kid. Shachi, Penguin and Bepo are childhood friends of a sort. They let me test a lot of things over a few years while we all grew up.” He grins a bit, the old memories coming back to the surface. “I learned a lot just from us being kids too.”

“I imagine.” You sit down across from him. “Embarrassment wasn’t my only issue earlier.” You start quietly, hands folded, eyes diverted. “But it wasn’t not an issue either.”

“… Is it still an issue?”

“It is still a thing, but it’s not something that will stop me.” You admit, giving him a small smile. “It is, for what it’s worth, an issue I don’t mind having.”

“Oh?”

You lick your lips, trying to maintain some level of neutrality, or business in your tone, so as to not sound like some giddy youth. “Emotional love is a new, and thus far, interesting sensation.”

“You loved your family, didn’t you?”

“This is decidedly different, Trafalgar Law, and you know it.” You huff, crossing your arms and turning away. You can hear the smirk on his face, even if hasn’t made a sound.

“It is, and I do.” He admits, getting up and coming over to your side of the desk, leaning against it and looking down at you. “But it does make me realize we need to agree on something before going forward.”

Suddenly you find it hard to look up at him, something about his words, not even his tone, has your heart twisting. Of all the things lessened by not having it in your chest, this was not one of them.

“And that is?”

“Am I your captain first, or your lover?”

It takes a moment for the question to really sink in and you look up at him in confusion. “Isn’t that something you’d need to decide? I mean… well, as the captain.”

“What you want is just as important.”

“… You do not dismiss the inputs and wants of your crew as it is, so far as I have seen. An unquestioned and functional chain of command is a requirement for maritime success, if I am to understand it correctly.” You say all of it mostly to yourself.

“All of that is objectively true,” he agrees.

“Given our relationship I’m certainly not just a member of the crew. I wouldn’t want to receive preferential treatment in terms of the responsibilities required to be a functioning member of the crew, but I am still, er, different.” You pause and consider. “Then, a level of evenness between the two is the most ideal.”

“Indeed, but one still needs to be a priority over the other.” He insists gently. “I know what I should do, and I know what I’d like to do, but with the two at odds, I would like your input.”

“… You have to -.”

“Not what I should do,” he interrupts. “What you want.”

You breathe in deeply, letting the breath out slowly, and sit silently for a few long moments to consider your answer, and his words. There’s no wrong answer, but you aren’t entirely sure what you want either. The knee jerk reaction is to want to be seen as his partner first, his subordinate second. The objectively better option is to be seen as the subordinate first. His position as captain was just a matter of leader and subordinate between you two.

His position needed to take into consideration the crew’s lives equal to your own. But in terms of just you and him, a focus you assumed he wanted you to consider on its own, the answer didn’t change much.

“Captain first,” you say with a nod. Looking up at him you smile. “I see no reason to diminish the emotional feelings, unless a need to do so arises, but… I have literally been in stasis for centuries. This world is different enough to be almost fully alien to me.” You clear your throat. “My heart seems against the very idea of land, as it is. I need to be able, and willing, to accept your decisions and knowledge as correct.

“And you need to be sure in your decisions, whether they be between us, or concerning the entire crew. Otherwise there will be stress, I think.”

“I agree.” Law says, eyes looking away for a moment before they look back down at you. “But don’t call me captain unless there’s an outsider around.” He asserts, and you can’t suppress a giggle.

“You really don’t like formal titles, hm?”

“… The crew calls me captain, it’s fine.” He says it flatly, and moves to walk away when you grab his wrist.

You can’t look up, not at first. You can feel the heat in your face, and somehow your distant heart is still managing to thunder in your ears. “I… like saying your name.” You admit quietly. “But it’s… very intimate to me.”

He slips his fingers between yours, leaning down and kissing the top of your head. “Maybe one day, you’ll say my name in such a way, that saying it casually in front of others won’t feel so intimate.”

A small nervous sound escapes you, and as you look up to say something more his hand slips along your cheek. The soft, warm sensation stutters your thoughts and your eyes close as you nuzzle into the touch. As much as the crew was open for hugs and just contact in general, there was something heavier in the callouses of Law’s hands.

He leans your head back and kisses you. Once, twice, and a third just on the tip of your nose, smiles slipping across both of your faces as your eyes open. You had no doubt the crew knew how kind their captain was, but you did wonder idly if they knew just how soft he was.

He steps back, giving your hand a squeeze before offering to escort you to dinner. Arrival in the mess hall, despite all your efforts to appear normal and composed, had not gone unnoticed by certain members of the crew. Ikkaku slipped beside you as Clione talked to Law about something, but you weren’t sure if it was legit or a ploy to distract him.

“The Lady has a certain glow about her,” she says teasingly, helping you make a plate and moving you along the buffet style the crew utilized for most meals.

“Nothing has happened,” you assert, giving her a smile even as you stuff a small bun into her mouth when she goes to reply. “We’re still working through the steps of the experiment.” Her eyebrows raise as she pulls the bun away, chewing on a bit of it with a smirk. “What?”

“You and the cap’n are experimenting, huh?”

You blink. “Yes? We’re experimenting on -“

“(Y/N)!” Law tries to stop you, but even as you turn toward him you’re still explaining.

“-each other to see if breaking the set will solve the problem.”

“Oh.” Ikkaku says as Law deflates. “Experimenting, eh? On your bodies?” She devours the remainder of the bun in glee.

“I… am missing something.” You press your lips together.

Ikkaku nods, almost squealing in delight. “Lovers experiment.” She says.

“It’s a euphemism for sex,” Hakugan explains.

“Hakugan!” Shachi smacks him with his hat. “You broke the spell!”

“Kinky sex usually.” He adds before turning to Shachi. “It’s only a spell if you already know all the different ways it can be taken,” Hakugan asserts. “The magic is in not realizing you’re saying things that way while knowing you could be. You gotta give Bell all the knowledge first.” He insists as Shachi puts his hat back on. “Then you cast the magic.”

“Only you,” Ikkaku sighs, but then gives you a disarming smile. “He’s right though, it’s better when realization dawns on you from your own knowledge. But also, don’t go telling people you’re experimenting on bodies with the cap’n. It’s more graphic than the whole hand job mix up.”

“Bepo, Jean Bart, we’ll need your assistance for some of the setups.” Law says and the two nod. “The rest of you are going to make sure the Tang is in top condition before we leave. We need to travel fast and cover as many islands as we can to figure out what the cause might be.”

Penguin and Shachi look over at Ikkaku and she just sticks her tongue out at them. “Don’t give me that, Hakugan is gonna be on maintenance with the rest of us. It’s not a punishment.”

“It’s cause no one else can lift Law and Bell as fast as Bepo or Jean.” Hakugan says. “You’d tip over and fall off the gangplank.”

“See? You could’ve been running up and down that gangplank all day tomorrow with the cap’n on your shoulders.” Ikkaku asserts in triumph. “You should be thanking me.”

You look over at Law and stare for a moment. He side-eyes you, but doesn’t say anything. You were fairly certain he almost had meant it as a punishment of sorts, or at the very least just wanted most of the crew out of his hair tomorrow. Though, you supposed that if he really wanted to punish them, he would’ve made them scrape barnacles off the hull, instead of removing them with his devil fruit power like he usually did.

[dark-elf-writes]

After Dolores brought Harry in front of Fudge for his illegal army.

" an army ? Since when is a book club and a study group are an army? Professor Umbrige are you okay ?" said Harry.

" shut up Potter! Cornelius it's the truth! A student confessed!"

" Marietta you mean ? The one in the infirmary? After she went inside your office . What did you do to her ?"

" nothing! It was you !"

" me ? I was in the common room"

Hermes cabin rule 2 : use the law against them.

When they try to expel him, Harry insists he needs his guardian here. And call Chiron. Who steps out of the fireplace to defend Harry ? Of course Hermes himself.

Harry makes sure to wave to his father with his injured hand. Makes sure his father sees the words carved into the back of it in his own hand. Makes sure that he lets just a little of the pain and exhaustion that has been haunting him all year show on his face as he makes a show of trying to hide his hand.

Hermes sees it all, and catches Harry’s wrist in a gentle grip, tracing over the words on Harry’s hand with a feather light touch. The glow surrounding his father’s fingers screams that he is just barely holding onto his temper. That he is seconds away from incinerating everyone else in the room by revealing his godly form.

(He isn’t going to make it any easier.

They would deserve it if Hermes reduced them to ash anyway.)

Harry looks up at his father with big teary eyes and lets out a sob that’s only half faked. Drawing up the terror he has been pushing down from the moment Umbridge turned her wand on him.

“She tried to use the cruiatus curse on me!”

Hermes, ever full of movement, goes still.

[aftgficrec]

Any neil& aaron recs? Not with a relationship with them necessarily as endgame but something like triptych or the one where they're on the hunt for andrew (cant remember the name rip, but i love that one)

There are a good amount of fics for Neil and Aaron — their relationship is fertile ground to explore angst or growth! The stories run the gamut from mutual disdain to familial warmth, from bad or awkward situations to quests (like hunting for Andrew together in ‘I'm leaving this town…’), from friendship to lovers and even plain ol’ sexual experimentation (see ‘triptych’). 

Though you weren’t keen on Neil/Aaron as a couple, you might enjoy ‘Every Sinner Has A Future.’ It’s friends to lovers and spends significant time developing their relationship. Find it and the fics you referenced among those featured below. -A

Neil & Aaron in situations/working together 

Aaron & Neil stranded together here

Aaron & Neil stuck in a bad situation here

‘Calm down. I look a lot worse than I am.’ and ‘climb a mountain (hold his hand)’ here

‘they who made you/they made me too’ here

‘Identity Theft’ here

‘Apart from Your World (A Part of Mine)’ (selkies) here

‘The World Beneath Our Feet’ series here

‘Crossfire’ here 

‘For You I'd Bleed Myself Dry’ here (updated)

‘If Neil, Then Fox’ here

Neil & Aaron relationship because of Andrew

Aaron & Neil rapprochement here

Aaron accepting andreil here

Aaron & Neil's talk at the cabin here

Neil meets the in-laws or foxes here

‘Did You Get What You Deserve?,’ ‘The Ash is in Our Clothes,’ and ‘common ground??’ here 

‘Married To Annoy,’ ‘head case (what to do with you),’ and ‘AJMICKEY56's Fanfiction Palooza!’ chapters 2 and 82 here 

‘Hold each other...ch 8: Time Does Things’ here

‘Muscle memory’ (completed) and ‘The Memories I Never Can Escape’ here

‘No More Fucks To Give’ here (updated)

‘Neil Fights the Foxes’ here

‘on the tip of my tongue (say something)’ parts 7 & 8 here

‘No straighter path than to struggle,’ ‘The Road Trip,’ and ‘An Olive Branch’ here

‘what even is baseball anyway’ and ‘Holding On and Letting Go’ here

‘Hold me close (in fact, bury me)’ here

‘a girl so bright she'll blind you’ here

Neil & Aaron friendship

Aaron & Neil = Andrew/Neil here

Neil & Aaron friendship 2 here

domestic fluff w/twinyards bonding + Neil & Aaron friendship here

the tumblr posts in Neil/Aaron or Neil & Aaron ask here

‘Make This Leap (Geronimo)’ here

‘Math, Exy and Middle Ground’ here 

‘every piece of you, it just fits perfectly’ here

‘i just wanted you to know (this is me trying)’ here

‘togetherness’ here

‘More Than Words’ here (updated) 

‘Ten Percent’ here

‘Tachycardia’ here; ‘Tachycardia (the My Own Soul's Warning Remix),’ ‘It's going tibia okay,’ and ‘What the fuck happened to you?’ here

‘Aaron is Neil’s doctor in the pros’ here

‘Shards of Glass’ here

‘Et tu, Doctor?’ here

‘Art Hoe’ here

‘Beach Bois’ here

‘just a footnote’ here

‘I'll Follow You’ here

‘Call the doctor ( I may need help)’ and ‘we're inside out’ here

‘Andrew Goes to Hogwarts’ series here

‘Minyards' Magical Mischief’ here

Neil/Aaron rarepair

Neil/Aaron or Neil & Aaron here

‘In The Forest (Burning Bright)’ here 

‘Winter Banquet’ here

you may also like

new Katelyn/Aaron here

Katelyn & Neil friendship here

Katelyn & Neil as siblings/lookalikes here

Katelyn-centric hurt/comfort here

Aaron protective of Neil here

Neil mistakes Aaron for Andrew here

Andrew & Katelyn rapprochement here

‘the prettiest blue’ and ‘The Photo Strip Predicament’ here

‘Nor are we forgiven’ here

‘Give Me Another Minute (to Lay Here in Your Echo)’ here 

‘coming loose’ here

‘the roads I traveled with you’ here

‘One day we'll reveal the truth’ and ‘i'm getting static from my better sense’ here

‘you're not next before forever’ here (completed)

‘Before You Drown’ here

‘Five Years to the Day’ here

‘Twilight and Daytime’ here

‘Whispers in the leaves, shadows in the moonlit night’ here

quests and situations

halloween series by zweimam [Collection, Rated T, 44426 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2023]

NB: Part 1 reviously recommended in new twinyards bonding ask

Part 1: I'm leaving this town (and I'm changing my address) [40309 Words, Updated Sept 2023] Aaron tries to assimilate everything, nodding, "How do you know he didn't mean it?" "It wasn't a thought, or anything," Neil says, looking everywhere but at him. "He told me to go away, to leave and run, and I did. I'm very good at running, you see." Or: Aaron has been looking for his brother for six years. Right when he's beginning to lose all hope, he meets Neil Josten.

tw: child abuse, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: heavy suicide themes, tw: implied/referenced suicide attempt, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction, tw: detailed discussion of drug use, tw: implied/referenced overdose, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: panic attacks, tw: dissociation

Part 2: I know that you'll come if you want [6170 Words, Updated Aug 2023] If Aaron has been looking for his brother for six years, Andrew has been waiting for him for longer.

The Most Unorthodox Way of Fighting Back by orphan_account [Rated T, 1683 Words, Complete, 2021]

Neil Josten is forced to pick up his shoes and run. If not for him, than for the ones who can’t.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: murder, tw: blood/gore

Tumblr Bits by gluupor [Rated T, Collection, Complete, 2019]

Chapter 8: Neil Josten: Accountant Spy [2316 Words] Whenever anyone asked Neil what he did for a living, he responded by saying he was a spy. This always was met with impressed faces and probing questions about his job.

till the bitter end on a flat tire by thewintersolstice [Rated M, 10000 Words, Complete, 2022]

neil & aaron end up stranded on the side of the road in the desert. neil wants to talk homophobia. aaron wants neil to shut up for once in his life. aka: my attempt to turn aaron minyard into someone i want to like

tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Growing Sharp Edges by Leocante [Rated G, 10218 Words, Complete, 2022]

Aaron just needed some wiggling room. He didn't think he was asking for that much - a few inches of freedom, a miniscule amount of life outside of school and exy, an ounce of control over his day. Well, thruth be told, he wasn't exactly asking asking. Questions like that resulted in a knife under his neck and an unyielding 'no'. But Aaron needed some goddamn wiggling room, and he was desperate enough to ask Josten for help.

tw: attempted sexual assault, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: recreational drug use, tw: alcohol

Who is the man in the relationship? by sugaroto [Rated T, 6986 Words, Complete, 2022]

"I'm your type." Neil went on. "Then I'm yours." Aaron shot back, "You're literally fucking my twin, asshole!" "High five!" Neil said, his eyes lightening up, "We're type buddies!" Neil started laughing. "What? What's so funny?" Aaron asked. "We should get married!" Or The time Neil and Aaron got drunk and thought it'd be funny if they got married.

tw: alcohol

NB: fic meme by @sugaroto here

Momentary Disaster by JostenlovesMinyard [Rated T, 1305 Words, Complete, Twinyards Appreciation Week 2022]

Day 2: Disaster Aaron and Neil are sent to do a grocery run but Neil loses something along the way. Aaron is there to help him.

You Are So Much More Than Your Father's Son by phan_taloon [Rated T, 3143 Words, Complete, 2021, Locked]

In which Nathan Wesninski has fanboys and Neil Josten doesn't want to deal with them, but Aaron is there to save the day.

tw: panic attacks, tw: flashbacks

A Pain Never Meant to be Felt (I really suck a titles, just pretend its good.) by transandsad [Rated M, 14187 Words, Incomplete, Updated Aug 2023]

Aaron is mistaken for someone he is not and has to figure out how to pick up the pieces in the aftermath.

tw: gang rape, tw: nonconsensual touching, tw: assault, tw: graphic descriptions of csa, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: blood, tw: flashbacks, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: ptsd, tw: panic attacks, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: murder, tw: drug addiction

Neil and Aaron swap body’s AU bullet fic by @sadboyayeron [Tumblr, 2020]

AFTG Neil & Aaron Gender Swap hc by @sadboyayeron [Tumblr, 2020]

friendship

Oblivious series by greencherrybomb [Rated T, Collection with 2 complete works, Updated July 2022]

Part 1: Oblivious in love (3152 Words) Andrew has been pining after Neil Josten for months, but knows it wont happen. Neil doesnt even swing, so he does the only thing to protect his feelings. Ignoring Neil and eating ice cream. Part 2: Best Friends Brother (3930 Words) Neil has been harboring a long time crush on his best friend, Aaron Minyards, brother Andrew. Too bad Andrew has been avoiding him at all costs and is dating the hottest guy in school, Kevin day. Or at least thats what Neil thinks.

Dear Little Ghost by choisunsanie [Rated G, 4650 Words, Complete, 2022]

Neil Josten starts to be haunted by a naughty blond ghost.

tw: previous major character death, tw: car accidents

And I Swear And I Swear, I Was Burning Alive by Miss_Fun_Fun_and_Fun [Rated T, 1477 Words, Complete, 2022]

Neil is confronted by his ex-best friend's twin brother while still reeling from his mother abandoning him. - A one-shot, alternate universe for Fortheloveofexy's fic, "More Than Words".

tw: implied/referenced drug addiction

NB: ‘More than Words’ was previously recced here (updated)

sexual experimentation

triptych by likearecord [Rated E, 12805 Words, Complete, 2023]

Three parts, three POVS. Aaron, wondering, picks up a guy in a bar. Neil, having learned something, wants to try again. Andrew, knowing nothing, sees something he likes.

tw: explicit sexual content, tw: nonconsensual touching

friends to lovers

Every Sinner Has A Future by OfficialStarsandGutters [Rated E, 29864 Words, Complete, 2021]

Canon divergent Neil x Aaron. - Neil Josten. A shock of red hair and ocean blue eyes. Pretty faced, but nothing special. Except he makes a throwaway comment about Andrew being off his meds and it’s like everyone in the room forgets to breathe. Even Aaron, his body still and tense with surprise that he can tell them apart. Without even having met Aaron, he knew Andrew wasn’t him. That shouldn’t mean anything. Aaron rubs his sweaty palms on his skinny jeans and tells himself it doesn’t, it doesn’t, it doesn’t.

tw: recreational drug use, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: graphic description of overdose, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced murder

Art

monsters cuddle pile art by @emry-stars-art

au where aaron and neil are best friends first comic by @02511213942 also on twitter

when Neil tells Dr Aaron he’s fine art by @srslyarts

get in loser we’re going shopping art by @ouijacine

Josten and Aaron on press duty comic by @paradoxolotl

Aaron is a godfather comic by @paradoxolotl

[soloavengers]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE Arisen & Pawn(s) Edition

tagged by: @sangre, @lesbianbreastmilk, @bearlytolerant, @bees-tes-blog <333

the whole gang under the cut…

name: sylvas nicknames: syl (chopper, goblin as a boy) age: 20-21 race: human (quarter elven) gender: cis male orientation: bisexual zodiac: i’m not good at this, skipping sorry </3 moral alignment: chaotic good class/subclass: trained in use of daggers, bow and arrows, swords, regular spears by a professional (his pa). mystic spearhand or a warfarer. background: what he can remember of his childhood is living in a secluded cabin in one of northern vermund’s forest with his father, a former soldier who left town out of grief, for a ranging job. he raised syl to inherit the job and he did, though after his father’s death syl likewise left that life out of grief. he’d act a soldier in melve, for a couple of reasons, only a few were healthy. interests/hobbies: exploring, adventuring, treasure / monster hunting, etc.. languages: the common tongue, and a little elvish. height: 178 colors: shades of green, dark reds & brown. fruits: anything but pineapples. alcoholic beverages: not the biggest fan but neither is he picky. smokes: nope. drugs: no. drivers oxcart license: how hard can it be? ever been arrested: once or twice… (four times.)

name: winterheart nicknames: winnie, winter age: ??? race: half-elf in appearance gender: cis female orientation: lesbian moral alignment: lawful neutral class/subclass: warrior! background: summoned for the first time a long time past by a respected sorceress. she had wished her pawn to get a second chance upon her death. an unknown number of years later she was summoned by sylvas. he reckless, and she over-cautious, both grieving — such they were a perfect match. interests/hobbies: sightseeing, painting, collecting flowers, reading. languages: the common tongue, remembers a little bit of the language of her old world. height: 175 colors: purples. fruits: berries. alcoholic beverages: she acts as if allergic. smokes: nope. drugs: no. drivers oxcart license: she can get one? ever been arrested: never.

name: thorne nicknames: don’t you dare age: ??? race: human gender: cis male orientation: gay moral alignment: neutral good class/subclass: once a warrior, now a fighter, sometimes sorcerer. background: summoned by a tyrannical arisen from a drastically different world full of wars. thorne was replacement for the arisen’s brother, he wasn’t only given the late prince’s appearance, but his duty and status as well. thorne acted more a general than a pawn, conquering lands for his arisen until the dragonsplague his deep buried resentment changed something. a different arisen would summon him an unknown time later. interests/hobbies: keeping things clean and orderly. fighting!! languages: the common tongue, very little of his former world’s language. height: 200 colors: red, silver & gold. fruits: apples. alcoholic beverages: don’t tempt him. smokes: nope. drugs: no. drivers oxcart license: ? he can ride horses, he misses his steed. ever been arrested: no.

name: eidolyn nicknames: lyn age: ??? race: human (quarter elven, inherited features) gender: male, his concept of gender is pretty fluid. orientation: aromantic bisexual moral alignment: lawful good class/subclass: thief, mage. background: no background. though he is both aforementioned pawns, and possibly more (and a part of syl’s big brother) interests/hobbies: cooking! languages: the common tongue. height: 185 (might be wrong shit) colors: blues. fruits: grapes. alcoholic beverages: none. smokes: nope. drugs: no. drivers oxcart license: no…? ever been arrested: and never will

i’m so sleepy now - swear everyone who comes to mind has already been tagged, but please just tag me if you do this too bc i’ll not want to miss it ✋🏼

[seungkwanslowqualityenglish]

Siren's Song

✿ Synopsis: The waves were always captivating, alluring, the swells of the white foam bringing people into the water deeper. Yet, sometimes the force of the unsteady seas is not the only danger that lurks about.

✿ Who: Koga Yudai / K (&Team) & Gender Neutral Reader ✿ Word Count: 14,267 Words ✿ Genre: Angst ✿ Warnings: Darker concepts, explicit language, death, drowning, bodily harm, forced kissing, parental death, strangers death, attempted self drowning, forced imprisonment, coercion, abduction, pet names, manipulation ✿ Request: Yes. Thank you for your request. It's not the best, but I hope you enjoy it. ✿ Not proofread.

The sea was a captivating thing. The swells of the white foamy spume slapping against the sides of the ship, was alluring to watch. The large waves would draw anyone in, like a siren luring sailors into the rocky spires to their deaths. The waves had you completely filled with aghast, they were large, shaking the ship all about, causing sea sickness in those who were not accustomed to the ways of the water, to those who had yet to acquire their own sealegs. Yet, the ship, she did her best to stay afloat throughout this torrential storm, the sailors and captain did their best to keep her steady.

The trip was one you had gone on many times before, being the child of the famed ship's captain and first mate, you were accustomed to this voyage. You were practically born on this ship, sailing and making long voyages before you were able to walk. Your parents' livelihood had become your childhood. Spending your days confined on this ship, wishing for the land, for the feeling of grass and dirt under your feet. A normal childhood was all you ever desired, instead you were stuck on this ship, as your parents sailed around, doing whatever it was they did for a price.

They always claimed you would learn to love the freedom, to love the sea, to love the joy that this path would bring. On land jobs would only make you a couple doubloons, but sailing, it was much more profitable. It was hard to undertake a voyage without the proper equipment and sailors, and many would rather pay a hefty sum to get someone else to do all the dirty work for them, rather than put in the effort and do it themselves. That is where your parents would come in, they would take anything anywhere and do anything for the right price.

Despite how general the job description was, they would do really anything. You had seen them being nothing more than self appointed vigilantes hunting down those who attempted to evade the law by going out to sea, oftentimes being paid quite heavily for those captures. They had also been nothing more than common thieves and parading pirates, breaking into the sailing ships of the wealthy and stealing their riches, all for their own cut on the gold and jewels. They had taken on common jobs, simply sailing items from point one to point two, moving things as simple as boxes of cloth to sailing things like boxes of swords. Each and everything had a price, and there was nothing they were not willing to do for a price, even reprehensible things. They had never said it for certain, but you had no doubts that at least one of your parents had probably taken another’s life, after all everything has a price, and that includes human lives.

Despite their joy and love of sailing, of what they did, you never found yourself enjoying it that much. Oftentimes your days were spent desiring the land, desiring to be in one place, desiring to be away from this. Days were spent within the confines of the ship, hiding within one of the cabins to avoid whatever the agenda was for your parents on that day. No longer did you enjoy sailing, and you soon grew to hate the sailing trips.

Your mother was always using the utmost care and caution when steering the ship. Despite how cutthroat and terrifying what they do might be, she would never attempt to sail through a storm, not wanting to possibly hurt you, her only children. Your father was honestly the same, rather would stay docked during the storms, than let things be risked. Despite their suspicious careers, and odd reactions towards certain things, they tried their best to be good parents, even with their wild lives and how they made money, not always being the most legal of things.

The amount of times you were sailing through a storm could be counted on one hand, that number being only twice. Once the storm hit while you were out at sea, unable to return to the shore before it started to rain, but that time it was only rain. The second time, being today, right now actually. The sky was a deep shade of grey, only illuminated by the random flashes of sharp lightening, and growing a deeper and darker shade with each growing second. The thunder was loud, easily overpowering the cries and screams of the children as they hid with the saloon, under the exposed deck.

Today was one of those days that your parents were on a job, transporting a large number of people across the sea, a trip projected to take only thirty days, and here you were already on day twenty-three. Only seven more days until you could be on land, you could escape this ship, you could escape from the close confines of being with your family, the sailors, and these complete strangers. The group of strangers were currently hiding under deck, the twenty people rushed in as the storm started, their children screaming out in terror and fear as the thunder started to crack and lightning started to make itself known across the previously clear sky.

Leaving the saloon, you took refuge on the exposed deck. The rain was a welcome feeling against your skin, it was like it was washing away all the stress and annoyance you felt towards being on this ship once again. Others would have run away, escaping into the warmth and cover of the saloon or cabins, wanting to get away from the rain. However, you just wanted to get away from that safety, desiring the feeling of freedom that temporarily filled your being, as the rain fell down upon your skin, soaking your clothing and you to the bone.

After a few moments, the coolness of the rain and the combined wind finally started to get to you. Walking around the deck, you found yourself seated under the overhang that shielded one of the doors from the onslaught of water, it kept the rain from falling against your skin, as you watched the rolling storm clouds filling the sky. It was only midafternoon, four in the afternoon at the latest, but the dark cover of the sky would easily have you believing it was at least nine at night during this late summer day. Storms like this were rare during the sweltering and overheated days of the summer, it was too the point of the summer that the storms were no longer forming, but you knew it would only be a matter of time until the cold waves took over, hitting the warm air and sparking massive storms. This seemed to be one of those days.

The massive storm swirled overheard, the deep dark grey turning to almost black. The visibility was so low, you were barely able to see a ship’s length out into the dark murky water. Oddly, your mother had even stopped forcing the ship to go forward, you could only assume that the lights from the sparse flashes of lightning were not bright enough to help her steer the ship with any certainty.

The white spume covered waves were now a shade of dark grey, the water no longer the clear reflective liquid it was only minutes ago. The storm was taking over, taking everything from the area, plunging everyone and everything in its path into darkness.

Oddly, the darkness was comforting. No longer were you hearing the loud cries of the children, the constant complaints of the men with a little bit too much money, and no longer experiencing something like clockwork. Shifting, you found yourself laying down the bench, the cold harsh wood was oddly comforting as the rain softly fell down onto your skin in light raindrops. Despite being splayed lightly by the raindrops as they fell askew instead of straight down, it was nice, it was a change from the doldrum day you usually experienced.

The storm was somehow even more captivating while at sea, as they were on land. The rolling clouds continued, painting the sky various shades of grey, what little bright blue sky that remained was soon covered with the overcast sky. The lightning seemed louder while at sea, almost like being in an echo chamber, but it oddly was not terrifying.

The scene was serene, oddly serene, almost to the point of being uncomfortably serene. Something was wrong, but at this point, you could not care what it was, who it was, or anything, just enjoying the storm, the sounds, and the change from the usual. The rain was a welcome change, maybe not to your parents or the guest, but to you it was. A change from the normal, a deviation that you loved, since you hated the basic everyday rhythm that encompassed everything around you.

As the rain soaked through your clothing, you felt the white muslin fabric sticking to your skin, reminding you that what you were wearing was not the best for being out in this horrid rainstorm. Yet, despite that, you found yourself unable to move. The rain pattering down with a steady beat, almost as though it was a musical instrument. The pitters and patters of it hitting the water all around the boat was soothing, it was not long before it was starting to lull you into slumber. The darkness surrounding you made your brain think it was already night, and the calm falls of the rain soon had you asleep on the bench where you laid.

You were unsure of how long you were asleep for. It may have been minutes or it may have been hours, or possibly even longer. Yet, upon waking up, you were welcomed with the sight of a completely black sky, it was even darker than it had been prior. You were left to assume that night had fallen during your slumber. Sitting up, the sound of rain continued, time may have changed, but the current weather condition had not.

Standing, you found yourself enjoying the fall on the raindrops upon your skin, it running down your face without a care, leaving your clothing rain stained, and your hair waterlogged. It was a comfortable feeling, the rain washing away all the stress and sleep remaining in your being. Looking around, you oddly saw others out on the deck, the sailors would usually be up in the wheelhouse or in their cabins sleeping at this time of night, but instead here they stood, aligning the banister of the deck. Their eyes were fixated forward, staring into the darkness. Vacant, unmoving, and unchanging. Just staring ahead with all their focus. They did not even move or sense your presence around them, just continuing to stare.

Venturing into their line of sight, they started just through you, almost as though you were not there. For a moment, you were in a state of turmoil, had you passed during that nap, were you now a ghost set to haunt the place you died for the rest of eternity. Seeing how none of them acknowledged you, that was the first thought on your mind. It was not until one of the sailors pushed you aside, moving to stand in front of you, getting so close to the bannister, they were in danger of falling, that you finally realized you were in fact alive.

It was an odd scene, the sailors pressed up against the bannister without a care in the world, staring out into the sea, the vacant and empty sea mirror the empty and vacant stares on their faces. Stepping back, you called out to a few of the sailors, calling their names, calling their ranks on the ship, and even calling them the nicknames they call one another. Not a single sailor moved, none spared a single look back at you, instead just continuing to stare without a care in the world.

The scene left an odd feeling in your stomach, it flooded into your brain, just nothing but red flags. It is repeated in your mind, this is not normal, this is not okay, this is not what usually happens. Usually you were all for things not being how they always are, but on this occasion, it was terrifying. The sailors knew not to be so close to the banisters. The sailors knew the risk that being too close brought. The sailors knew if they fell, it was certain death. Watching as they clamored for spots closer and closer to the edge, you knew it was only a matter of time.

One moment they were nine beings being illuminated by the dull lantern light that hung from the water free overhang on the wheelhouse. In the blink of an eye, there were only eight. The sailor made no noise as he fell, the only sound coming from the harsh sound of his body hitting the water, and the large clanks as his body hit the side of the ship on the way down. A scream slipped past your lips, hearing each and every noise over the rain, almost as though it was amplified.

Not a single sailor spared a glance at their fallen comrade. Not a single sailor spared a glance at you as you screamed. Their eyes wasted not a second staring on, just continuing to stare, like nothing existed except for the area in front of them that they were staring at.

Stepping back, you found yourself clutching to anything, for something, to help you stand up. The ship was never this rough, never this harsh on the waves, and it was not the storm that was making this ride so unbelievably horrible. Unable to believe what you just saw. A sailor fell overboard. No, a sailor was pushed overboard. But they did not scream, they did not cry, the sailors that pushed them overboard had no reaction, no screams for help, no cries of apologies, they did not even realize they had pushed one of their own off the ship in their desire to get closer to the banister.

Staring at the wooden floor planks, you tried to catch your breath, unable to understand what was going on, what they were doing, and why they were doing it. During your attempt to calm down a noise distracted you. It was a large sound of something hitting wood, followed by a splash. Looking up you saw only seven. Another sailor was overboard, but this time you were unable to scream, you were unable to cry, you were unable to beg and plead with the other sailors to get away from the edge. You were left unable to do anything more than watch, and as you stared at them, seven became six, it was only then that you broke your reverie.

Finally fighting to get to your feet, you found your way to the wheelhouse door, wrenching it open, you were met with an unlikely sight. Rather than your mother or father standing at the wheelhouse, they were pressed up against the windows, paying no mind to you in any way. Their eyes staring out into the way that they sailors were, captivated by something, unable to resist whatever it was. “MOM! DAD!” You called out in confusion, they however paid you no mind, nothing would distract them from whatever was out there.

Fighting through the door, unable to close it as the ship rolled from one side to another, you made your way to them, clinging to things on the walls, things that were unable to move with the roaring storm. Shaking them, they said nothing, instead just pressing their faces closer into the windows. As you looked out, trying to see what it was they were looking at, the sight shocked you.

The six sailors had become five in the time you were entering the wheelhouse. Yet those five had changed to twenty. At some point the fifteen adults accompanying you on this voyage had found their way up from the saloon, pressing themselves against the banister with the sailors. It was only then that you saw it, the lightning hit one after another, illuminating the sky brightly, showcasing nothing more than the rocky spires that your ship was headed towards. The storm was sending you right into death's arms. The spires were the kind you had heard about often, how sailors would lose it all by getting too close to them, how it would destroy your ship with ease, and destroy your life with ease.

A scream fell from your lips, grasping the wall, you attempted to get to the wheel, desiring to steer yourself away from this certain doom. You were unsure why everyone else seemed so captivated, so destined to let it end this way, to just go into the rocky spikes willingly. As you attempted to walk, you found yourself on the floor, crawling towards the helm. Finally clutching it with your hands, you pulled yourself up, barely able to stand as the ship rolled from side to side, the waves becoming more and more treacherous with each passing moment.

With the wheel within your hands, you attempted to steer the ship away from your certain rocky doom, turning it as far as it would go to the right, trying to divert the direction of the ship. This action however was not welcome. It was only at that moment that you noticed your parents had moved from by the window, and were standing right next to you.

In that moment, the wheel was ripped from your hands, your father’s arms wrapping around you as he picked you up with ease. You were moved away from the wheel, and your mother easily took the wheel undoing what you had done. Setting the boat back onto the rocks path.

After that, you were no longer kept in the wheelhouse. Your father picking you up and carrying you out of the wheelhouse, as your mother followed behind. Thrashing in his grasp, you tried to escape his grip, wanting freedom. The freedom to save this ship, to save yourself from whatever was going on, save yourself from whatever they were doing.

Your fighting was not welcome, your mother easily grabbing a rope as one of the four remaining sailors grabbed your feet, helping your father. Soon it was no longer just the sailors helping, the other voyagers joined in. The fifteen of them easily took over what the sailors were doing, the last thing you saw before turning around and held down to the bowsprit was the sailors opening the sails, letting the wind carrying the ship faster towards the rocks. The guest easily held you down, allowing your parents to tie you tightly against the bowsprit.

You were tied onto the spar above the figurehead, leaving you with only two places to look, down at the rippling water below, or at the rocky death that awaits you. Neither of which were desirable.

Screams continued to fall from your lips, until you were unable to scream any longer, voice so hoarse, no yells could slip past your rain soaked lips. At that point, all that could be heard was the falling of the rain, and soon the soft humming of the others surrounding you.

The first voice you heard was your mothers. “Don’t you hear it? The beautiful music.”

“Oh the beautiful music.” A guest, whose name you never learned, said immediately after.

Soon the air was filled with hums of approval, hums of joy, and hums of happiness. The music, all about the music, they kept saying. They must find the music. They will find the music. They will go to the music. They need the music. The music.

However, you heard nothing, no music, no noise other than the splattering of the rain upon the water. The sounds of the ship as it pushes through the rough waves. Tears started to fall from your lips as you neared the rocks, knowing it was over, it was all done, you were unable to save anyone, to save yourself most of all. The tears easily mixed with the rain, falling down your cheeks in fat drops, hitting the ocean water with no noise, just as your sobs were easily drowned out by the roaring thunder and cries about the music from the others.

Unbeknownst to you, there sat an individual out there, watching all this chaos from a distance. The chaos was not enough for them, but it would suffice. They preferred more drama and more screams and cries, but this would be good enough for now. It had been so long since a ship ventured into his territory, until he had this joy, until he had felt his heart fill with happiness like this. He enjoyed this a little too much, despite the fact it was not as theatrical as he usually liked it to be. Listening to the falling rain upon the roaring waves and the harsh rocks, he smiled, knowing it was only a matter of time before his dream would come true, before your ship would be too close to evade the rocks, before it would all be nothing more than destroyed planks of wood floating in the water, and blood that would lure in sharks to feast on what remained of those from your ship.

As the rocks got closer and closer, the thought of what you could have done to save yourself filled your mind. The obvious answer was to not go with your parents all those days ago. Had you never ventured onto this ship, you would not be tied to the bowsprit and hurtling towards your death. Had you not accompanied them on this voyage all those days ago, you would have not been about to die, along with all the others upon the boat.

Within a mere time of three hours, the usually steady and certain ship had turned to certain chaos. Sailors had jumped over the banister to their deaths, desiring to get closer and closer to some unknown thing. Your own mother had abandoned her moral code, steering the ship right into a patch of rocks. Your father had abandoned his own morality, opening the sails to full, allowing the wind to carry the ship into the rocks at an even faster rate. Your own parents had abandoned their love for you, tying you to the bowsprit with the assistance of the guest. The guest had even gone crazy, clamoring over each other, once again, wanting some unknown thing, like the sailors.

The frenzy the ship was in was something you had never seen. It was not just a thunderstorm that caused his chaos. It was not something as simple as a little storm, to have thrown so many people off their usual mental paths, into whatever chaos this was.

As the ship continued on, the cold salt water soaked your face, as the bow hit each and every wave. As you always thought, the sea was a captivating thing. The swells of the white foamy spume slapping against the sides of the ship, were alluring to watch. The large waves would draw anyone in, like a siren luring sailors into the rocky spires to their deaths. The waves had you completely filled with aghast, they were large, shaking the ship all about. The sea was captivating, however it was terrifying when seeing it this close. No longer were you observing from your usual spot on the deck, but instead being forced to stare at the white swells on facedown. The lightning from the storm illuminates the waves, allowing you to see as you get closer and closer to the rocky spires, as you get closer and closer to your doom. The waves were no longer comforting, no longer did they bring joy, instead you felt your being filled with fear, with terror, of what was to come.

Had you the ability to, you would have been screaming. Begging for someone to hear you. Pleading for someone to hear your cries of pain. Praying for someone to save you. However, your ability to scream faded a while ago, the adrenaline that filled your body in that moment leaving. Weak, you were only able to do your best to keep your face turned, trying to keep the salty sea water from entering your mouth. Yet, death by drowning might be more appealing and painless than whatever fate awaits you near the rocky shores.

Your consciousness was barely stable, eyes rolling back, trying to shut, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep as your brain beckoned you to allow it to take over. However, you fought it, trying your best to stay awake. Trying to keep yourself from falling under, to letting the deterioration of your current state take over.

However, fighting was worthless. The adrenaline leaving your system did nothing but make you fall from the energy high you were previously on. Your eyes were closing on their own accord, and you had no energy to fight them doing so.

Darkness was all you saw, it completely taking over, until all your figure was doing was shallowly breathing, just enough to keep you alive.

As you faded, the rocks were quickly approaching. The ship had been sailing towards these rocks for who knows how many minutes, and was even less from hitting it. This was supposed to be a normal voyage. Your parents would take the guest where they wanted to go, the guest would pay your parents, and then you would get to enjoy a week or so on the land, before the cycle would repeat again. But instead, you were here, extremely off course, hurtling towards your death. That certain doom is getting closer and closer.

Guests were jumping off the ship at that point, what was once thirty or so people on the ship had been reduced to only half of that. Sailors and guests alike were hitting the water with life taking force. Those remaining on the ship continued repeating what you had last heard them say, the music, the voices, the beautiful sounds, none of it made sense. What started out as a normal day during a normal voyage had descended into chaos and terror so quickly. It was terrifying, how things went from being so usual, to abnormal in the span of minutes.

What was abnormal to you, was completely fine and normal to him, however. He was accustomed to this. Ships would easily veer off their course for him. Ships would easily steer towards their own demise for him. Passengers on these ships would throw themselves off of all levels of these ships for him. Passengers would do extreme and crazy actions just for the possibility of hearing the melodic singing up close. People would dive from ships, falling to their deaths in the water below, just for the possible chance of getting a little bit closer to those melodic voices.

His amusement was interrupted however, the giggles from the nearby females bothering him to his core. They giggled and sung praises of him, compliments he did not need, nor did he want them, from them especially. These words however fell on deaf ears, he was too preoccupied with what was going on to pay attention to the wanton girls who were practically begging for his attention.

Usually ignoring the girls was fine, they would leave him alone, but these girls were determined to get him to pay attention to them. It was only moments later that he felt the first hand on his body, ignoring it thinking he was just imagining it, as it was joined by another and another, he knew he was not imagining it, despite how badly he wished he was. Standing with a sudden moment, the girls around him, who were attempting to cling onto him, fell to the ground. They were talking before he stood, their conversation coming to a stop as they fell. Soon, all he heard was their whining. The high pitched voices shrieking and calling him mean, they not losing their attempts at sounding cute and juvenile, as they whined. This did nothing but bother him more, unable to even enjoy the scene any longer, he was quick to start to walk away, leaving the whining girls to change back into their original voices, commenting on how much of an asshole he was.

Their words did not bother him, he was an asshole to them, and he knew it. The girls would follow him around, akin to fangirls, and would not respect his clearly set boundaries, so he had no sympathy for them. They had ruined so many things for him, sunbathing, swimming in general, and now had even ruined his favorite thing, watching as his siren song sent sailors to their demise.

Moving from the previous spot, sitting lowly on the rocks, allowing himself a better view of the pathetic humans as they fell from the boat, he easily climbed up the rock. Going up the rocks meant the vapid girls would not follow him, he had heard them complaining more than once about not wanting to break their nails, when he would do this before to escape them. Finally sitting upon the top of the rocks, he had an even better view. The ship was nearing rocky spires so many of them called home, yet, he knew it would never hit their rocks, the whirlpool situated right before the rocks would destroy the ship before it even had the chance to hit a single rock. This was his favorite spot for unleashing his siren song, the whirlpool was massive, but apparently unable to be seen from the boats. Watching the boat near the spot, he thought to himself that the stupid humans probably thought it was just a large wave, rather than being anything more than that. He loved how easily they would shift their paths, steering directly into his way, he had to do nothing more than sing a few lines, and they would all be under his spell; unable to stop themselves from doing anything and everything it takes to come to him.

The view allowed him to laugh, watching how the stupid passengers and sailors fought over getting closer and closer to the railing on the boat. It was amusing watching as a very extravagantly dressed man fell overboard, he was wearing a coat, that made him think to himself he needed to find it on the seafloor later, to take it for his own. Despite how amusing the scene at the railing was, he allowed his eyes to wander the ship, taking in the splendor and craftsmanship of the boat that was about to be destroyed into millions of tiny pieces. It was not often that he sees a ship of this caliber, whoever the poor owners of this ship must be, must have been professional sailors, otherwise they would have had decked out their ship to the extremes, building and designing such a massive feat.

A tinge of sadness fills his heart, the work and pain that had been put into this ship is going to waste, since it will never be seen again. But that sadness disappears just as quickly as it appears, as he sees the railing on the ship break, sending three people plummeting into the water.

It was all hilarious to him, how these people clamored and fought to get closer and closer, unknown to them, it was to their deaths, not the voice behind the voice they loved so dearly. Watching as the number of people on the ship decreased, he felt joy, it growing as the tip of the boat finally hit his dear whirlpool. That joy however was short lived, as he saw something shocking, something that left him confused.

Standing, he took a step forward, getting closer to the edge of the rocky platform where he previously sat. Something had caught his eye, better yet, someone. It was odd, there was a figure tied to the wooden pillar at the front of the ship. It took him a few moments to realize that it was not something, it was someone. As he gazed on, watching the ship starting to get sucked into the whirlpool, he finally fully saw who it was.

Without another thought, he found himself jumping off the rocky platform, landing in the water, swimming as quickly as he could towards the whirlpool. During this time his thoughts were filled with one thing and one thing only, save the life of the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He had never swam as fast as he was, looking around, seeing the other passengers and villager’s bodies floating through the water, he only had eyes for one person, the person wearing nothing but white muslin fabric. The angel like being that he saw savagely tied to the bowsprit, the first ever person he saw that took his breath away, the first ever person he felt the undeniable urge to save, the first ever person he felt the undeniable urge to covet, you.

Luckily for yourself, you were still unconscious as the boat hit a whirlpool, something that none of you could have seen coming. Your brain shutting down in those moments before impact was helpful, allowing you to keep from seeing the sheer terror around you, allowing you a peaceful and painless death. Unknown to you, that death would never come.

He swam through the swirling waters like they were nothing. Only one thing was on his mind, and kept him going through the blur of bodies and shards of wood. Dodging the fast moving broken wooden planks, his eyes finally caught sight of it. The large wooden pole, the one that you had been tied to only moments ago. Grasping at the wood, he swam towards the other end of the pole, luckily it had fallen off the ship, yet to get caught into the whirlpool, but he knew his time was limited. Humans could not survive underwater for very long, he may know little of the species, but that was one thing he was certain of.

The light white fabric caught his attention first, it billowed out from between where the rope was tied around your figure. If he thought you were angelic while above water, the flowing white fabric from the water made you look even more so. He quickly started to work at the knots, doing his best to untie you, wanting to get you above water before it was too late, before he was too late to save you.

He was rushing, but the ropes would not give up. The knots were tied entirely too tight for him to easily undo them. The wooden pillar you were tied onto was entirely too heavy for him to lift above water on his own. Looking around he was trying to hurry, the blue shade which was taking over your lips let him know he was running out of time. Eyes shifting around, staring at the wreckage floating around, he was unsure of what to do. Knowing he did not have much time left, he found himself pressing his lips against your own, breathing oxygen into your mouth, hoping that he would buy himself some time, some time to find an answer.

As he stared around something shimmering in the distance caught his attention, knowing that he only had moments to spare, he parted from your form, before immediately starting off in that direction. Obtaining the shiny metallic object, he was happy to see it was a knife, knowing that was just what he needed. Returning to where you were stuck, he swimmed with a speed unmatched by any others. He quickly made use of the knife once he was within reach of you, quickly making waste of the rope that bound you, wrapping his arms around your unmoving form, stabbing the knife into the wooden pillar, just as it started to be sucked into the whirlpool.

His lips found their way to yours once more, the coldness of your frame terrified him, it was too late, he must have been too late, however he would not give up. He moved as quickly as he could, holding your body close to his own, as he swam through the water, seeking the cave where he usually would seek refuge. As he found himself swimming up into the cave, it was isolated, as usual. Everyone knew it was his special spot, therefore they all knew better than to be in his cave.

Breaking the water, he separated his lips from yours, hoping that your head was now above the water, you would start to breathe. However, as he swam to the shore, he was quick to realize, you were still in a state of non breathing. Lips were turning a darker shade of blue, skin growing colder and colder. Attaching his lips to yours once more, he tried to breathe more air into your lungs, just to realize quickly that the idea of doing that was providing him with no results.

Trying again and again, he would not give up, he could not give up. He had never seen anyone he wanted so badly, and he would be damned if he was to lose you.

His hands were fast to be placed upon your chest, starting to do compressions, hoping maybe that he would be able to expel the water from your lungs quicker, get you breathing once more. As he was starting to give up hope, thinking he was too late, that he had ruined his chance, something stopped him. Pushing down on your chest, he watched as your mouth fell open, saltwater starting to fall from your parted lips. This caused him to do this action again and again, water slipping past your lips, falling onto the darked rock flooring of the cave.

His actions were helping it seemed, since before long, he started to hear strangling noises. You were trying to cough, he watched as a moment of consciousness hit you. You were quick to roll over from the constant hits on your chest, coughing up water, before launching into a coughing fit, unbeknownst to you of where you were.

His hand found itself laying on your back, almost like it was giving you some sort of support or help, he gently tapped your back, trying to replicate things he had seen humans do to others. As the water was finally gone from your lungs, you took a deep breath, much to his like. He was not too late, you were breathing, you were going to be fine, you were going to be his he was sure of it. However, things sometimes are not as simple as one might think. With a short cough, your frame slumped over, falling to the cave floor.

Watching as you fell over, face hitting the cold stone floor of the cave, he was quick to grab you, moving you over towards the inner part of the cave. His fears were returning, but as he watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest, he felt better, you were breathing, you were not dead, he had done it.

His back hit the harsh cold rocks on the cave floor, his breathing strained, his chest tightened. He had expended all his energy making sure that you were safe, that you were okay, that he saved the only thing he ever saw that he truly desired. As his eyes closed, he found himself drifting out of consciousness just as you had moments prior, finding himself in the same state in only minutes.

He was unsure how long he was out, however he was happily awoken to the sight of you still slumbering away. Your chest slight rise and fall enthralled him, he felt captivated, moving over towards your sleeping frame without much thought. His fingers found their way to your cold pale face, brushing the hair from your face, his fingertips grazing your cheek. The warmth of his hands contrasted with the frozen air around you, the coldness of your skin. His hand rested on your cheek, warming the skin up nicely.

He found his eyes gazing upon your body, the white muslin fabric sticking to your skin, it had for the most part dried by now. He could see the slight shivers coming from your cold frame, knowing that while the crisp weather does not affect him, it must be affecting you. Seeing how you start to shiver more and more, he looks around, there is nothing much in the cave other than a few clothing items he had brought to shore before. Standing, he found himself pulling on a pair of pants, before he started to grab these items. Laying them on top of your figure, hoping that they might provide some warmth for you. While he could leave to go find some items from the wreckage for you, at this moment, he decides it is best to stay with you until you wake, after all he fears what you might do if you woke up alone.

Leaning back against the wall of the cave, the unknown male stares at you, his eyes never leaving you as you sleep under his watchful eye. He is unsure how long you slept, the cave has very little natural light, and it quickly fades. Standing, the small amount of sunlight still remaining in the cave was quickly replaced by the dazzling moon. Walking back over towards you, the moonlight illuminated your beauty even more than the sunlight did, leaving him in awe of the angel like being in front of him. He had been captivated by your beauty as you laid tied against the bowsprit of the ship, but seeing you under the moonlight gave him a new sort of appreciation, a realization that he was absolutely correct in his desire to covet you.

Finding himself sitting back down beside you, his fingers brushing down the hair covering your face once more, he made the decision that if he was to keep you, he needed to provide you with a better cave. Looking around as he started to clutch your cold hand, he knew the cave was empty, and completely unequipped to keep him satisfied, let alone you. He was unsure what all the worldly needs of a human would be, however he felt that they could not be that bad. You would need some sort of light, the moonlight did not provide enough for you to be able to see in the small cave. You would possibly need some of the items littering the ocean floor from all the ships that have sunk. He was unsure what many of these items were, but he felt you would probably need some, yet, he would have to wait until you awoke to ask you what you needed exactly. He however, did not wait long.

Sitting up with a jerk, you screamed out, your lungs no longer begging for you to stop, no longer begging for the salty water to stop invading them, no longer constricted by the rope to the wooden pillar. Looking around in confusion you no longer felt as though you were standing on the ship. You were no longer bound to the ship. Suddenly the feeling started to come back to your limbs, that was when you felt it, his hand, grasping yours.

Jerking away, another scream left your lips as you finally noticed him, the man sitting next to you. The stranger sitting right next to you was wearing nothing but a pair of pants, sitting next to you trying to hold your hand. Yanking your hand from his, you stood, screaming. The shock of the situation made you scramble back, looking for a way out. In this rush, you fell to the cave floor, but still managed to scramble away, right into the water.

Water entered your mouth once more, the salty water infiltrating your lungs, pulling you under once again. This was it, you may have not died previously, but this was it, the end of you. At least, that was what you thought at that moment. Soon hands were wrapped around you, pulling you above water once more.

Feeling your body reach the cave ground again, you coughed, expelling all the salt water with ease this time. Body laying against the cave floor, chest rising and falling as you glance at the man next to you once more. Only this time you jerk back with a shocked gasp, where there was once a shirtless man wearing nothing but pants, there sat a shirtless man with a tail, a fishlike tail.

The shock froze you for a moment, thinking you must be dreaming or seeing things, you blinked your eyes rapidly, but no, he was still there. Sitting up immediately, the head rush started to make your head ache, but you paid that pain no mind. Scrambling away as quickly as you could, feet hitting the rocky ground, back scraping against the rocks as you scampered away to the wall of the cave. “Get away! Stay away!” You screamed, like you were in the process of being attacked, which in your mind you might as well have been. Here you were, alone in a cave with this strange man, no you were with this strange creature. His attempts to get near you, caused you to scamper back once more, wanting to stay as far away from him as you could. “Back!” You cried out. Clutching at the ground, all your hands found was an abandoned thin tree branch, grasping it you swung it with all your might, trying to keep whoever it was away. “Back! Stay away! Leave me alone!”

He quickly backed away, seeing how you were completely freaking out and panicking, acting crazed, like some sort of feral or rabid person or animal. “Hey, hey, hey.” He started, holding his hands out, trying to keep the stick from coming too close to his body. “Hey, calm down, I’m not going to hurt you.” He said, like he thought that the statement was helping.

Swinging the branch, you were lucky that the man did not try to breach your temporary shield, since he could have easily broken the branch with little effort. “Stay away from me!” Was cried out, each and every one of his words were ignored, your eyes instead shifting around the cave, looking for a way out, a way to escape, anyway to get away from him.

Yet, there were no escape routes, no gaps in the cave wall, no way out of the cave except for the watery entrance or the exposed skylight that was far too high to climb to. He had trapped you in this watery grave with him.

The branch was slowly falling from the high position in which you held it, your swinging becoming slower and slower. Fatigue started to set in, for the third time in a short span of time, the adrenaline was draining from your body. Fighting the signals from your brain to calm down, to lay down, you attempted to ignore it, trying to fight on. But that fight was dwindling quickly, allowing the man to easily gain access to you.

You were unable to stop him, the man easily grabbing the branch from your hand. Frozen in place, body starting to quiver, his hands were quickly on your frame. He kept you from fainting, as your body finally gave out, his strong arms lowering you to the ground, laying you down gently. Once you were on the floor, his voice met unhearing ears. “Rest my baby, rest.”

Again, you were unsure of how long you were out, how long it had been sense you were taken from the sinking ship. This time, you opened your eyes to see not only the man, but an assortment of items around you. Random clothing items that the people had brought onto the ship, the chest that once held these items, even a singular chair and soaking wet mattress had been brought up from the sea floor. Eyes casting around the previous vacant space, you saw familiar sealed boxes, knowing they held the fruit and vegetables that had been purchased before starting on this voyage. Clothing items were strewn about, hung on makeshift drying lines, there were even blankets you recognized from the ship.

The amount of time passed out must have been quite long, especially given that whoever this stranger was, had managed to have enough time to compile all these items. Dragging them through the ocean waters and up to this cave’s floor is no easy feat, and these items once belonged upon the once glorious ship your parents captained.

Staring at the items it finally hit you, your parents, they were on that ship, they had gone down with the ship. The material goods around you were nothing compared to that of your parents' lives, these items had been saved from their watery graves, while your parents were probably cast aside to their graves with no remorse, no second thoughts. Whoever this mysterious man, creature, whatever he was, is, had saved you, but left your parents to drown. He had left all the others upon the ship to drown, only saving you, no he had abducted you, taking you away from where you should have laid alongside your parents, and bringing you here, to this forsaken place.

Slowly standing, your feet felt odd upon the solid ground, but your stomach still felt the waves that you would once feel upon the ship. Moving from the middle of the cave, you found yourself rushing to stand against the side, in the dark, a spot not being illuminated by the sun overhead. It was moonlight hours ago when you had passed out, allowing you to know that it had been at least a large number of hours since you were last awake.

Breath was stilled as a noise was heard, a heaving noise broke your ear drums much to your displeasure. Staying hidden, it was a sight, watching this strange creature, as he hauled items from the water. It was a table, being placed on the top, the four legs hanging up in the air, before the thing disappeared underwater once more.

He was dragging things up here, things that you once used on the ship. Looking around, the fear started to set in. It looked like he was trying to form somewhat of a living situation, trying to turn this cave into a home to keep you in.

Once you were sure he was gone, you started to look for a way out. Swimming was out of the question, since you had no idea how long it would take to exit this forsaken underground cave. Climbing up to one of the holes overhead was the only option, but even that did not seem like a good idea, they were so high, and were going to be hard to reach.

These thoughts did not have long to stew however, as the sound of the water being broken once more met your ears. He was pulling another chest above the surface, it was filled with who knows what, making a loud sound as it met the cave floor. It was only them that you saw the being starting to look around, obviously looking for something specific, looking for you.

You could tell he was not happy upon realizing you were no longer in the spot sleeping, where he had left you all those hours again. Cowering as he exited the water, you just wanted to hide even more, wanting the wall to open up and envelope you, yet it did no such thing.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice called out.

While that would usually be reassuring to others, it was not to you. You did not want to be here, you did not want to be near him, you did not trust him either. His false claims of not injuring you went in one ear and out the other, ignored just as easily as you would ignore the talkings of those that once occupied the ship. Had he really meant no harm, he would leave you alone, he would have left you to die alongside your parents, not dragged you into this unknown place with the desire to keep you here permanently as some sort of personal pet.

You were in shock, holding your hand over your trying your best to not make a single noise. Eyes were forcefully being held shut, trying your best to not see or alert the man of your location. Had you been watching however, you would have seen him rising from the water, tail turning into legs, he becoming the man wearing nothing more than a pair of pants you had seen hours ago. Yet, you did not want to see this, you did not want to see him in any capacity.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you.” He attempted again, starting to move around the cave. “I just want to help you. Please, don’t hide from me.”

His footsteps set you on edge as he walked around the cave. The items he had brought up from the ocean floor were arranged in a way that they provided no obstacles for his running. As he neared you, that part of your brain that controlled fight or flight kicked in, causing you to drop your hand, open your eyes, and start to run.

This cave was a confined space, not providing much room to move, so when unable to run from him, your brain made the decision to attempt to climb the wall. Trying to scale the rock wall, you only made it about two feet off the ground when his hands found you, pulling you against his chest.

“Stop that.” He was quick to say, holding your frame tightly against his chest. Pulling you from the wall, he attempted to still your movements, keep you from moving anymore. However, his attempts were for naught, as you kicked his leg at just the right angle, causing him to fall to the ground, dropping you along the way.

Once free from his grasp, you were quick to stand, your brain telling you to take the only other way out, the water. Running from his grasping hands, you found yourself in the water once more. Starting to swim, you were not even underwater for a minute, before hands were around you once more, pulling you back towards the surface of the cave.

As the man caught you, the adrenaline that was fueling your body gave out once again, this time causing you to crash worse than all the times before. Your body was getting to its physical limit, what you had been going through taking it out a little more each time. This time, you were not so quick to awake, your body losing consciousness just as you hit the fresh air, leaving you limp in his grasp.

Waking once more, you were unhappily met to the sight of the creature in front of you, sitting there with legs this time, seated in a chair across from you. Wanting to stand, you tried to jerk up, only to realize you were seated in a chair as well. Yet, you were not just seated, you were instead tied to the chair. Rope was holding your legs to the chair legs, it was also binding your arms to the chair arms, and your torso to the back of the chair. Despite the physical limitations, you attempted to tug yourself out of your binds, trying to fight against the ropes, to no avail.

The man offered no words or actions, he instead of staring, just watching. You knew within your heart he was enjoying this scene, enjoying watching you struggle against these binds, enjoying the fact that you were unable to escape, unable to gain freedom, unable to leave. This however did not stop you, tugging at your legs, your wrist, even trying to move your torso forward, you tried to find a way out, a place where you could gain your freedom. But in this moment you were weak, your previously failed escape attempts had left your body energy deprived, unable to provide you with the amount of strength you need.

The small amount of energy you had was easily consumed, leading to you finding yourself nodding off once more.

This time the dazzling moonlight awakened you. The man was still seated across from you, looking like he had not moved. This time you did not bother trying to fight against the ropes, knowing it was a losing battle, you would not gain freedom from these binds anytime soon.

A tisk was heard resounding through the silent cave, the man tilting his head to the side with interest. “Have we finally given up, my baby.”

The pet names slipped from his mouth with ease, filling your stomach with a new level of disgust. Gently tugging at the binds once more, you easily gave up, knowing you were not getting free now. Honestly, you were hoping that he would fall for the bait, seeing you unwilling to fight any longer and instead just free you. He didn’t.

“Don’t talk to me like that!” You were quick to snap back, starting to tug at your binds again, wanting freedom now. “Let me go!” tugging at the rope, you just wanted free, yet the way this man looked upon you, filled your heart with disgust, your mind with terror, and your veins with ice. His gaze held no warmth, even as his words tried to portray that. His actions, his behavior, even just his existence in this moment filled you with disdain and hatred.

Tugging against the binds, you were unable to break the rope. You were foolish for thinking you could, but wanting to gain your freedom overwhelmed those thoughts.

Looking up, the man was gone, but you knew he could not have gone far. Looking around, eyes ablaze as you glanced from corner to corner, everywhere your limited vision would allow. He was nowhere to be seen for you. However, he could not have gone far. The question of where he was was fresh on your mind, when you felt it, his hand around your throat. He tilted your head up, so you were staring at him.

“Calm down,” The man said, almost in the way one would say a command, demanding someone to stop doing something. “Once you calm down, we can see whether you deserve to be untied.” He said, this time his lips brushing against the outer part of your ear, letting you know that he was much closer to you than you would like him to be.

Jerking your head around, you attempted to free yourself from his grasp, but that only made him hold onto you tighter. His nails were digging into your throat, into the skin, soon it would have been tight enough to draw blood. Maybe you were hoping that he would end this all for you right then and there, take you out of your misery, out of the pain that he had brought into your life. But, that would be too benevolent of him, an act of kindness that he would not do to you or for you in any lifetime. You were his, and he made sure that no one ever hurt what was his, even himself.

His hand left your neck as quickly as it had been placed onto it, leaving nothing more than crescent shaped marks on the flesh of your neck. The desire for this nightmare to be over was overwhelming, but he did nothing to help save you from his terror. Instead, he was prolonging it for you, if anything.

However, in his mind you should be thankful. You should be thankful that the siren prince found you precious enough to save. You should be thankful that he got to you before you had drowned in the salty sea water of the ocean. You should be thankful that he pulled you away from the instant death of that whirlpool. You should be thankful to him. You were in his debt. He saved you from a cruel death. He saved you from those who did not truly care for you. He saved you from those who did not truly love you. In his mind, he was the one that truly cared for you, he truly loved you. You were his, and he would make sure no one, not even yourself, took you away from him.

As he walked away, you got a glimpse of the man, he wore a pair of plain black pants and a loose fitting grey shirt. Had you been meeting him in any other condition, you would have conceded that he was in fact rather attractive. His dark eyes caught yours, as you watched him walk away, a smirk coming across his face, as a scowl came onto yours.

“Let me go!” Was demanded, irritation marking your features, as you saw the man sit in front of you, almost like nothing was wrong.

Anger filled your being as he shook his head. “What did I tell you?” He asked almost mockingly. “You calm down and then we can talk about whether you deserve to be freed.”

Your resolution to fight was slowly draining from your body. A few more demands to be let go left your lips, followed by a few pleas to be freed. All of these were met with nothing more than a shaken head and a sharp no. Soon you were quiet, tugging at your ties every now and again, but all that energy that filled you previously was gone. Before long, you just sat still, eyes glossed over, staring at your captor, unable to fight anymore.

Despite your body sitting still, unmoving, for far too long, the man did not bother to approach or even check on your weakened figure. He instead sat there watching you, almost as thought he was enjoying the fact you were surrendering, giving up your fight. “Are we calm now?” He asked, nodding to himself as you did not respond. “Now that we are calm, I’m going to talk, and you’ll do as I say, or you won’t be getting untied.”

Sitting on the chair, you did not even bother nodding at the man, just wanting this nightmare to be over, as he started to speak once again.

“Now that you are listening, my name is Kei.” Kei started with, finally telling you his name after how many days you had been stuck here with him already. Standing, he walked until he was next to your chair. “There is no escaping from here, you need to stop, you are going to only end up hurting yourself.” He started to stroke your jaw and cheek as he spoke. “You will have everything you need here, there will be no reason for you to leave here, to leave me. I will provide you with everything you need, and if there is anything you need, you will tell me, there is no need for you to be trying to swim out of his cave again. You will stay here, you will learn to like it here, you will learn to love it here, to love me.”

Moving his hand from your cheek to your hair, you felt him tug your head back, so you were looking at him. “Maybe one day if you prove you can be trusted and you behave, I’ll take you outside of the cave to see the rest of the area. But until then, you will be stuck here, doing just as I say.”

Releasing your hair momentarily, your head fell back down, your chin meeting your collarbone. “I think we’ll keep you here for a bit longer, I don’t think you’ve exactly learned your lesson yet.” Kei was quick to say, with another jerk of your hair, he had you looking up once more. “I’ll get you some food, either you eat willingly or I’ll force you to. I’ll even compel you with my siren song if I have to, well find a way to.”

As he spoke all the puzzle pieces started to fall in place. Siren, siren song, compel, siren song. He is a siren that explains the tail and appears when he hits the water. He is a siren, singing his siren song, that explains why everyone was acting so erratic on the ship. He was singing, sending everyone to their deaths. But for some reason it did not affect you in that moment, maybe it would now, you were unsure. The only thing you were sure of, was that he was the sole reason for your parents deaths, their ship’s destruction, the deaths of everyone else on the ship, and your current imprisonment.

He had destroyed all you knew, your parents livelihood, what would one day become your livelihood, all for what, a temporary moment of joy. He had saved you from going down with the ship, like a true captain does, all for what, his own sense of want and greed. Everything that was happening right in this moment was his fault, you had been saved for his twisted sense of desire under the guise that he loved you.

Love at first sight, what a stupid farce, no one believes in it realistically. Yet, here he was, taking you from all you knew, for that foolish thing. Love? You would never fall in love with such a selfish and egotistical maniac. He seems to believe that coercion is the way to love, however you would rather jump right back into the swirling whirlpool, than accept or tolerate acts of affection from this man. He genuinely thought that you would be capable of learning to love it here, of learning to love him. What was explained within his words was nothing more than Stockholm syndrome, false feelings of love towards one’s captor, since you would never love the person who took everything from you.

Glaring at him as he walked over to the crates of fruit that he had saved from your parents destroyed ship, you kept the urge to start screaming within your mind. Starting to think up a plan within the expanses of your mind, knowing that you will be free, even if it is the last thing you ever do in your life.

Days had blended into nights. No longer were you sure how long you have been here. No longer were you sure how many days have passed since the ship sunk. No longer were you sure whether it was day or night at a certain time. Luckily no longer were you tied to the chair, finally having gained his favor, being released after getting to the point of being so weak you could have not fought him even if you wished.

The cave was lit with some lamps Kei had found somehow. Probably from sinking another ship, sending all the poor passengers to a watery grave. Somehow he even managed to get matches to light the lamps, however you never saw those. For them to have not gotten destroyed by water, he must have been on the ship while literally letting everyone go down with it.

The sheer amount of selfishness and carelessness towards human life he carried appalled you. He would brag about having saved you with such ease, but then he easily sends hundreds of others, men, women, and children hurling towards their deaths in the whirlpool near the rocky spires. He only saves things from these sinking ships he thinks might be able to purchase your favor, that might be able to make you love him.

But none of it will.

Being docile and submissive towards him was painful towards your soul, however, you were biding your time. When he released you from your binds you were too weak to attempt an escape, however the days had passed, your strength had come back, you were sure this time you would be able to get away.

Despite his desire to stay with you at all times, Kei was unable to do so, always saying some shit about his royal duties. He was not only a crazy maniac that abducted people for his own amusement, but also apparently somehow siren royalty, a prince he once said. Yet, this brought you no sense of security, it only made you want to leave even more. Royalty or not, you were not a toy or prize to be won, you were not a porcelain doll to put away and keep under lock and key, you would gain your freedom even if it meant being welcomed into a water grave alongside your parents on the seafloor.

You had realized he had a schedule, he would leave for hours at a time, with no way to track time, you would only assume it must be five or six hours at a time. Just enough time for you to be able to escape before he would be back, you would be gone before he returned, you would be gaining your freedom finally.

The morning went as it normally did. Kei digging fruit and vegetables from some crates he had stolen from a sinking ship, providing you the food, before he would start to see if he needed to sink another ship. Even when there was no need for anymore food, furniture, or clothing, he would sink one anyways for his own morbid joy of the scene.

You were unsure of when you would attempt to escape again, however overhearing his musing, you were sure that today was the day. He had started talking about what he needed, things like warmer clothing for you, more food, the usual items. But one thing he said stopped you in your thoughts, his mutterings about a child, finding a child on a ship, becoming a family. While you might be stuck here with him, you would be damned if he dragged anyone else into this hell with him.

The morning went as normal, eating the food, watching him walk around the cave, listening to his ramblings, fighting the urge to hit him when he kissed your cheek, fighting the urge to throw up as he called you his baby. Soon he was standing, arm wrapped around you, face buried into your neck, placing soft kisses along the flesh, while muttering about how he must go.

You said nothing, just watching and waiting.

Kei found himself jumping into the water, diving down underneath the glistening liquid, going to get more things he felt were necessary for you. Unbeknownst to you, while he was doing such a kind act of service for your comfort, you were biding your time. Waiting until you deemed the time appropriate to escape.

Jumping into the water was a stupid decision. However it had been at least ten minutes since Kei left the cave, so you thought you were safe. You thought that maybe you could either escape this water home, or that you would be welcomed into a watery grave. Maybe you should have heeded his warning, his words should have lived in your mind. They should have let you know that you would never be free of him, you would never be allowed to leave here, be allowed to leave him.

Once you breached the water, you had only been swimming a minute or two when you saw the first one. A flurry of long flowing hair caught your eye, the female siren turning to you, making momentary eye contact, before swimming away at a high speed. Paralyzed at the sight of another one of them, you found yourself unable to swim any further, stuck in place, starting to sink. Your breath was running out, and you hoped that maybe this was it, maybe you were going to finally be free on your own terms.

However, you should know that things are not that easy.

His hands were felt before his body was seen. The hands were rougher than Kei’s and they were stronger. The arms wrapped around you with little force, however, they bound you like a vise. “You shouldn’t be here.” The male siren said as you were starting to struggle only making his arms tighten before starting to swim up, starting to take you back where you started.

Wiggling, attempting to get free, but it was no use. The male siren just held you tighter and tighter, wordlessly swimming back into the cave, before bringing you up above the surface. As your body found the ground, you passed out, the lack of oxygen finally taking action.

Unsure how long you were on the ground, you awoke to the strong armed siren standing near you. They were keeping you away from the water, their position being one that would easily allow them to stop you if you tried to pull that stunt again, if you tried to run again. Looking around the once bright sky had faded, allowing you to know that this little escapade had taken you unconscious for many hours.

As you attempted to judge how far from the water you were, it was when you heard him, Kei. Those sirens had gotten him and he returned to the cave as quickly as he could. It was only then that you realized, the female siren and male siren being here was not just a coincidence, he had told them to watch you. He had his underlings doing the dirty work, keeping you from escaping, keeping you captive in this hell.

You thought maybe you had a chance to make a break for it, he was too distracted at this moment to notice you, at least you thought.

Kei’s attention had never left you for even a moment, even when you thought he was deep in conversation, he was a skilled multitasker when it came to you. “I thought I’d lost you.” He simply said, had he cried it out you might have been more convinced of his overwhelming feelings towards you being unconscious for so long, yet in the end his voice conveying an emotion you knew was not genuine.

You simply shrugged, moving away from the man as he neared you, his arms outstretched, trying to grab you. Standing you simply moved to the farthest edge of the cave, putting as much distance as you could between yourself and Kei.

The stress on his face was evident in the moment, watching you with an incredulous look. He had risked his life to rescue you from the sinking ship, he had rescued you from the water the first time you jumped in, along with the second time, the third time, and he or his subjects would each time you jumped into the glistening pool of liquid. Seeing the blasé expression you wore, he was hurt, brought aback by how you seemed to ignore him with such ease. “So you don’t regret it at all?”

Shrugging your shoulders once more, you were unsure how to display your dislike of him and this situation any more. “Leave me alone.” Came from your lips with ease, turning your body so you were practically facing the wall, back towards him.

A sharp laugh left the male’s mouth, watching the display that was akin to a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Is that really what you want?”

“Just go, leave me alone. Go be with your little mermaids or whatever.” You said, hoping that maybe he would leave you, let you live however many days you may have left in peace, without him being here hovering or bothering you.

“I don’t want them. I want you.” Was all he said, quickly crossing the give, his arms pulling you from the wall to look at him. “And I always get what I want.” He said, hand coming up to grab at your face.

Turning away, you found yourself unable to move from his clutch, stuck in his arms, in his grasp. He restricted your movements with ease, keeping you right where he wanted you, right here.

Kei’s hand clutched your chin, pulling your face closer to his, pressing his nose gently against your forehead at that moment. His lips found your nose, pressing a kiss gently against the tip of it. Before his nose was soon pressed against yours, his eyes staring into yours with a vacant empty stare. “You may have evaded my siren song once, but don’t think I won’t find a way to use it to keep you here.” He advised you, his lips finding yours in a forced kiss.

Struggling against his arm, you felt his hand moving from your chin to your back, securely keeping you in between his arms. He was so strong, you were unable to escape his grasp, instead stuck wriggling in his hold. Unable to escape.

“I won’t warn you again. You will be staying here.” Kei spoke, his words harsh, as his lips parted from yours momentarily. “You will be staying with me, whether it’s willingly or by force, you are mine.” He said, his lips meeting yours in a clash of teeth.

Unable to move, you had attempted to bite his lip, however that did not deter him, he instead kissed you even more passionately. This act of violence was welcome to him, as Kei’s hands moved from behind your back to your thighs, picking you up with ease. He was too strong, since soon your back met the rough rocks of the cave walls harshly. Kei’s tongue invades your mouth, swirling around your own, he licks at each and every part of your mouth, memorizing your taste, how you feel. Despite your attempts to break the kiss, you are unable to part from him, his grasp on you being too harsh, too strong, too rough. As his tongue moved around your mouth, his hands gripping your skin, you felt the tears start falling, crying out against his mouth.

He was not going to let you go now that he finally got you, nothing would stop him at this point from doing everything in his power to make sure you remained his. He would hurt anyone that attempted to steal you from him. He would kill anyone that attempted to take you away from him permanently. You were his, and he would go through hell and back to keep it that way, to keep you where you belong, to keep you as his.

Kei may have easily been able to overpower you, however you found yourself fighting despite his tight grasp, wanting freedom, wanting to be away from this man. His arms however were too strong, tightening as he pushed you further into the rocks, they easily pierced the delicate skin on your back. Unbeknownst to you, the once dazzling white fabric was slightly becoming stained with the crimson fluid dripping from the fresh cuts adorning your back.

His tongue left your mouth, leaving you to now cry out in pain. However, those sounds went unheard to Kei, he instead started to kiss up your cheeks, starting to lick the tears as they fell from your eyes. The pain you were experiencing was nothing to him, he instead focused on the joy he felt from the position he had you in. His mind consumed with the joy of finally having something no one else had for himself.

None of the others were confident to keep a human as a pet, even if he told himself you were not his pet, the others would still refer to you as such. The siren songs of the royalty was enough to compel any human, so even if they had found a human immune to their song, the human would not be immune to his or the other royals songs. You however were special, you were immune to his song, the song of the siren prince. In all his years, he had yet to see someone evade his song, but here you were, you evaded his song, you invaded his heart, consuming his mind, and all that was left was thoughts of you.

“I always get what I want, and you will not be leaving now or ever.” Kei muttered, his lips having shifted from your cheeks to your neck, he was lavishing the flesh with his tongue and plush lips. The once dry flesh now glistened with moisture, his lips starting to suck and nibble along your neck. Sucking the skin into his awaiting mouth, he marked your neck, the tingling skin was soon to bruise, a sign of his efforts put in. His teeth marked your neck with ease, the canines scratching across the flesh, luckily not cutting through the skin though.

Despite the desire to vacate his arms, to run away, leave this place, leave him behind, you found yourself parting your lips, yet it was not a cry slipping past them at this point.

A guttural moan left your lips, despite your needs to not show any pleasure from his man’s actions. As Kei sucked at a specific spot along your neck, you felt all that tension, that anger, flooding from your body, instead being replaced by a slight bit of release, trying to relax as he continued his ministrations. For once he finally heard the noises you were making, and made it his goal to hear that again. The pain coming from your back faded, instead being temporarily replaced by the feeling of pleasure coming from his actions, and Kei focused even further on the spot on your neck, no longer just sucking it, but instead licking it and grazing it with his teeth.

The action was one that brought you dread, knowing that whatever he had been rambling on about was true, that you were stuck here. Looking aside, making eye contact with the siren that pulled you from the water and subdued you until Kei had arrived, it was fleeting. The siren looked away, maybe ashamed at his actions, maybe feeling pity for you, however, whichever it was, you would remain in the dark, as he slipped into the water, evading your sight.

It was only then that Kei’s voice met your ears. “If you try another little stunt like that again, you’ll end up tied to that damn again for the rest of your life.” He said harshly, his word being marked with his arms tightening around your figure. “If you do anything like that again, you’ll be saying goodbye to the little bit of freedom you have.”

With that his lips were pressed against yours once more, harshly pressed against them in a bruising display of affection. You however remained still, unmoving to his harsh actions. Only then did you feel his hand clutching your hair, pulling the strands with a quick tug, causing you to open your mouth in pain. You felt his tongue slipping into your mouth, the kiss continued for too long, so long that you started to reciprocate the rough action, much to his pleasure.

Kei detached himself from you with a sharp movement, his hand however never leaving your hair. Tears started to fall as he jerked your hair once more, walking, leading you by your hair around the cave. He was quick to push you down into a chair, before leaning over, making eye contact with you once more. His hand found your chin, holding it harshly as he forced you to look at him. “Now, you’ll stay there and be good won’t you?” He asked mockingly, before standing up. “Since if you don’t, next time it’ll be chains holding you down.” He added, his eyes drifting over to the rusty pile of chains that he had pulled up from the sea floor.

You barely had time to look at the brown pile of metal before he was on his way towards the water again. The whole scene was giving you whiplash, how quickly he went from attempting to sweetly kiss you, to him holding your hair tightly in his grasp pulling you around like a doll.

Kei was quick to be on the water's edge. “Fuma watch them.” being the last thing he said before disappearing underwater.

Watching as he disappeared under the water, the tears started to fall even worse. A few stray tears turned into full on sobbing, not even the forlonging looks from Fuma would stop them. You knew you were stuck here, stuck here with him, and there would be no freedom for you.

As he swam away, Kei could hear your sobbing, however he honestly did not care. Nothing more than a smirk crossed his features, knowing he had broken part of you. Now, all he needed to do was break the rest of you. Soon you would be nothing more than a plaything in his hand, a toy for all his needs and desires. Soon you would never want to be apart from him. Soon you would only know that being by his side is where you belong. Soon you would never want to leave him and he would be happy, since after all, he always gets everything he wants and that includes you.

[blacklegsanjiii]

Since North Blue has it's own lenguage, wouldn't it be funny if in like, ASL+S, Sanji just gets nervous or angry and start to talk in North Blue without even noticing? The ASL would be confused as hell-

Each Blue technically has its own language, but in the East Blue and Grand Line mostly common is spoken so Sanji in any of the ASL+S bullshit I have just getting scared and babbling in Northern Blue and his brothers staring at him like 'what is this gibberish?' and then Sabo realizing Sanji's from another Blue and rolling with it until Sanji gets excited and goes off in his native tongue about something as they stare at him and then ask for an explanation in a language they understand.

Sanji teaching it to his brothers and everything and like Sabo knowing Northern Blue in the revolutionary army as a child and no one can figure out why he would know that. Luffy and Sanji talk in it while they reminisce about Dadan and Foosha, Ace talks to Thatch excitedly in North Blue. They used it to keep secrets and have conversations.

In the verse where Sanji loses his leg and they're all in the White Beard fleet and Shanks and Marco are looking at them as the kids are all half awake just mumbling incoherently to each other in northern and Shanks and Marco are just staring at them in they're drugged fucking state and if the Heart Pirates are there most the have to be trying not to laugh as Law looks at them with confusion and Shanks asking them to translate and Shachi, Penguin, and Ikkaku eagerly telling them what dumb shit they are saying which is basically like 'shrimp are too good for us' 'shrimp are delicious and they have it coming' 'i can't feel my toes' and other exceptionally dumb shit.

In Dressrosa Sabo and Ace are talking in it at the cabin and Law is once again looking at them in confusion as they catch up like old friends and when he asks it's like 'Sanji taught it to us' and then straight back to northern as Robin laughs.

[todaysdocument]

Opinion of the Court in Stowe v. Thomas

Record Group 21: Records of District Courts of the United StatesSeries: Equity Case FilesFile Unit: Stowe v. Thomas, Case #9 October Session 1852

Calvin E Stowe & [bracket] In CC. US. E.D. of Penn Harriet Beecher-Stowe vs In chancery F W Thomas [end bracket] Submitted on bill & answer Opinion of the Court The bill in this case alleges that Mrs Stowe is the author & proprietor of a work called, "Uncle Tom's Cabin," and has obtained a copyright for the same in due form of law; that the defendant has translated into German, printed published and sold the same in newspaper & pamphlet form; [struck through] That such translation is an infringement of complainants copyright; And therefore prays an injunction account &c. The answer admits the facts stated in the bill, but denies that such translating printing publishing &c is an infringement of complainants copyright. The question raised by these pleadings, has not been decided either in England or this country in a case where it is directly involved2. Pardessus cours [bracket] In many of the states of Europe, it has been made the de droit commer subject of special legislation. In France, jurists appear Part. 2 [T?]. 1 to be divided in opinion. Pardessus is of opinion, that No 164 [end bracket] a translation is not an infringement of copyright, Renouard on the contrary argues that ^it^ is. Mr. Godson, in his work Renouard [bracket] on Patents concurs unto Pardessus, Mr Curtis in his Tom 2. Page 36. [end bracket] treatise on copyright unto Renouard In this balance of opinions among learned jurists, we must endeavor to find some ascertained principles of the common law as established by [struck through] judicial decision, on which to found our conclusion In order to decide what is an infringement of an authors rights, we must inquire, what constitutes literary property; and what is [struck through] recognized as such by the act of congress, and secured & protected [struck through] thereby. An author may be said to be the creator or inventor both of the ideas ^contained in his book^ and the combination of words to represent them. Before publication he has the exclusive possession of his invention. His dominion is perfect. [full transcription at link]