#I'm the last captain on a sinking ship

[ask-assclass]

Dude Ur alive? Your last post is in 2020...

hello! your good ole ask-assclass blog moderator is, in fact, alive. I'm just not that into assclass anymore. BUT I still love matsui yuusei! I've read all his works — heck, I've even met the man and handed him fan art! — and I'm really into his newest series, the elusive samurai. so rest assured, it's not that I love assclass any less, it's just that a lot more has caught my attention since then.

while I'm at it, here's my life update since 2020: - I have since graduated twice, with an undergrad and a postgrad degree in my engineering field of choice - I now work as a cog in the corporate machine and am constantly traveling for work. I'm hoping to find more time to draw this upcoming year.

I'm not 100% decided on the future of this blog. I won't delete it, since there are many memories here, but I also want to align with what fans of assclass (if the fandom even exists, still) would be interested in. open to suggestions!

in the meantime, if you've liked my art and are curious to see what I'm up to now, please feel free to check out my mains:

tumblr: @mochidoodle twitter/ig: @ steohsama

miss you all tbh, please come say hi!

[rodentluvrr]

Yearning

Pairing: Law x reader Summary: Law is desperate for you. He craves you, and his usual calmness fades as he becomes more intense. CW: NSFW sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, no plot, fluff, mdni 18+ only Word count: 1.6k+ A/N: I NEEDED pathetic Law, I'm ovulating 😶 + the song I was listening to while writing this

The night was heavy, the sea’s rhythm lulling the ship into a slow, steady sway. The world had gone quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood and the hush of waves outside. Everyone had turned in for the night. Another day was over.

Sleep was pulling you under, your body sinking into the mattress, breaths soft and even. You barely registered the sound of the door opening, the quiet shuffle of boots across the floor. Then, the bed dipped, and warmth followed—a hand, trailing slow and deliberate along your legs.

A familiar voice murmured your name.

“Law?” Your voice was thick with sleep. “Took you long enough.”

He didn’t answer. Not with words. His touch said enough. Fingers tracing the curve of your calf, his lips pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss against your ankle. Then another. Higher. A hum left your lips as his mouth mapped a path up your legs, heat blooming in their wake.

When his lips hovered dangerously close to where you ached for him, you tangled your fingers in his hair, a soft tug to halt him. But Law only hummed, his hands tightening against your thighs as if to keep them open.

“I missed you today,” he said against your skin, voice hushed, edged with something raw.

You let out a quiet laugh. “You literally keep me by your side all day, Captain.”

He huffed, burying his face between your thighs to hide the flush creeping up his cheeks. You felt the heat of it, the warmth of him, the way his grip on you tightened like he needed you closer.

And then he kissed you again. Slower this time. Deeper. Soft lips pressing reverent, lingering touches to the inside of your thighs, easing them apart as his breath ghosted over your soaked underwear. A sound caught in your throat when he pressed a kiss there, right over the fabric, his tongue teasing through the damp material.

“Law,” you gasped.

That was all it took. His fingers hooked into your underwear, dragging them down your legs, eyes fixed on you—drinking you in. You felt his gaze roam your bare skin, his lips parting as if to say something. But he didn’t. He only stared, hunger darkening his golden eyes.

Heat prickled across your skin, self-conscious under the weight of his attention. Your thighs started to press together on instinct, but his hands stopped you.

“Don’t hide from me,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful.”

You swallowed, heart hammering as you slowly let him spread you open again. He exhaled sharply, and for a moment, you wondered if he was restraining himself, holding back the need in his eyes. But then he wasn’t.

Law groaned as he dragged his tongue along your slit, savoring the way you trembled at the first touch. He moved slowly at first—testing, teasing—before pressing deeper, his lips sealing around your clit as his tongue flicked against it just right.

Your fingers fisted in his dark hair, thighs trembling around his head as pleasure washed through you. He groaned at the feeling, gripping your hips tighter as he pulled you closer. Law had never been the kind to indulge easily, always too controlled, too careful—but with you, like this, restraint was the last thing on his mind.

He was lost in you. Obsessed. Worshipping you like you were the only thing that mattered. And actually, you were.

His movements grew more desperate, more eager, like he needed to hear every sound you made, to feel every shudder of your body against his tongue. And when your moans broke into something sweeter, breathless and needy, Law knew—he’d worship you like his goddess for as long as you let him.

Law’s tongue moved with purpose, teasing your clit in slow, deliberate strokes that made your breath hitch. His grip on your hips tightened, his nails pressing into your skin as he devoured you like a man starved. His desperation was palpable, and you could feel the urgency in every movement of his tongue as he sought to bring you to the edge.

You moaned his name, fingers tugging at his hair as his mouth worked you, drawing out waves of pleasure that had your body trembling in anticipation. He was so fucking determined to make you fall apart for him—your pleasure was all that mattered in this moment.

“Law, please…” you gasped, voice breaking as your hips bucked up against his face.

“Shh, just let go for me,” Law muttered between breaths, his mouth now fervently sucking at your clit, dragging a long, languorous lick before flicking at the sensitive nub again.

The pressure was building quickly, your body moving instinctively with each touch, and you could feel it—the wave that was about to crash over you. You cried out his name, your thighs trembling as you reached your peak, the pleasure washing over you like a tidal wave.

He groaned into you, his hands moving to pull you closer, his fingers digging into your soft skin as he didn’t let up, eager to drag out every drop of pleasure from your body. He wanted you to be his, all of you, and his movements were frantic, desperate.

Finally, when you were left panting and trembling, Law pulled away from you, eyes dark with a hunger that hadn't yet been sated. His face was flushed, his lips wet and swollen from his ministrations as he stared at you, his chest heaving.

You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched by his sides. His pants were tight, and you could tell he was barely holding himself back.

“Law,” you whispered, your voice still shaky.

He groaned in response, his hands coming to grip the edges of the bed as his body shifted restlessly. You could feel the desperation radiating off of him, the subtle thrusting of his hips against the bed. He was trying so hard to hold off, but it was clear he needed more.

“I… I need you,” he breathed out, voice tight with restraint. His movements were jerky now, the way his hips ground against the mattress, desperate for release.

You watched him, a mix of lust and affection in your gaze as you moved to touch him, your fingers skimming over his chest. But before you could do anything, Law’s hand shot out, grabbing yours, and pulling it up to his lips. He kissed your fingers softly, but the desperation in his eyes spoke louder than any words.

“Did… did I make you feel good?” he asked, his voice almost shy, a rare vulnerability creeping in. The question was almost a plea, his eyes wide, searching for affirmation. The confidence that usually filled him was gone in this moment, replaced by a deep, raw uncertainty.

You couldn’t help but smile, brushing a lock of hair out of his face. "Of course, you did," you said softly, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. "You always do."

The words seemed to melt some of his tension. He exhaled deeply, his face flushing with a mix of relief and embarrassment, and he gave you a shy smile that was far removed from his usual cool demeanor.

But he didn’t pull away, his hands gently pulling you closer as he moved to lay down beside you, drawing you into his arms. He placed a kiss on the top of your head, his lips soft against your skin. He was still hard, his body rigid with the need to finish, but there was something else now—something that went beyond the physical desire.

“I need to be inside you,” he murmured, voice rough and strained.

You nodded, already knowing what he needed. Slowly, you shifted, your body moving to position yourself above him. Law’s eyes darkened, his chest rising and falling with anticipation.

“I can’t hold on much longer,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper as he squeezed your hand, a small trace of vulnerability returning to him. “You feel too good.”

Without another word, you sank down onto him, and the feeling of him inside you made both of you gasp. Law’s hands moved to your waist, holding you tightly as you began to move, your rhythm slow but deliberate, each motion bringing him deeper into you. His eyes locked onto yours, his face flushed with desperation, the tension in his body now palpable.

You smiled at him, your lips brushing against his in a tender kiss. “Then let go, Law,” you whispered against his lips, guiding your movements with steady hands.

With a strangled groan, Law’s grip on your hips tightened, and he thrust up into you, desperately chasing his release. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, each thrust more frantic than the last. He was close, so close, his chest slick with sweat as his desperation reached its peak.

And then, with a broken cry, he came, his body shaking beneath you as he spilled inside of you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you down against him as he struggled to catch his breath. You felt the warmth of him, and his grip was possessive, like he never wanted to let go.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both of you trembling from the intensity of the release.

Eventually, Law's hands gently stroked your back as he sighed, his voice still raspy. "God, I… I don't think I’ve ever needed someone as much as I need you."

You smiled, kissing him softly. “I know, Law. I know.”

He held you close, pulling you into his chest as he ran his fingers through your hair, the exhaustion from earlier slipping in. "Stay with me," he whispered, voice tender as he pulled the blankets over the both of you, drawing you into his arms like you were his lifeline.

You nodded, settling against him. "I’m here. I’m not going anywhere."

His grip tightened for a moment, as if to reassure himself, before his breathing slowed, and he fell into a peaceful sleep with you nestled safely in his arms.

[clare-875]

Despair (Sanji x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Sanji x Female Reader Summary: You start to skip meals, doubting yourself and your image. Sanji doesn't notice until it's too late. Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Body image, Comparing yourself to others, Not eating enough (TW: eating disorder), Passing Out [One Piece Masterlist] _____

You prod at the food that lies on your plate absentmindedly, telling yourself to eat. It looks delicious; of course it does. Sanji's food was to die for, and you felt your heart sink at your thoughts to not eat what he has poured heart and soul into. But then again, your thoughts haven't been nice to you recently. You have found yourself comparing your image with Nami and Robin and all the other women you come across and you feel buried insecurities rising because of it. You know it's ridiculous; that you should really just embrace yourself and just deal with it. But you can't just deal with it. It's been running your mind rampant. I'm not pretty enough. I should work out more. Why can't I look like her? I should really start watching what I eat. You know the last thought is the most ridiculous; Sanji makes his meals to cater to every necessity your body could need. But you have tried everything, and the beautiful figures of your female companions are overwhelming. What if he realizes... I can never look like them. Will his eyes wonder? Will he leave me?

"Love, is everything alright?"

Your gaze snaps upward at your boyfriend's voice and he looks to you with deep concern in his eyes. The cook eyes you questioningly before looking at your untouched plate of food. "Is the food not to your liking? I could make you something else if you-" You quickly cut off his words, not wanting him to question the meal you know he has prepared so intricately for you and the crew. "No, no, I was just thinking. Thank you Sanji, it looks lovely." You try to undo his concern and make your lips quirk upwards, but you know what you produce is a half-hearted smile. Sanji looks at you, the furrow of his brows not giving way. However, as he goes to ask you something, he is interrupted by the voices of the crew. "Sanji! Another!" Luffy has his now empty plate high in the air, craving more of the meal, Ussop and Chopper doing the same next to him with wide grins on their faces. It has the cook rolling his eyes but he stops when Nami joins the fray. "I wouldn't mind some more too Sanji-kun!" Robin nods along, a soft smile on her face. "Me too!" The cook turns hesitantly from your side then, going to fetch their plates. "R-right, straight away ladies!"

He leaves you to your thoughts again.

In his distraction, you push your plate to Luffy who sits near you. "Here Luffy, take mine, I'm not feeling that hungry." Your Captain turns to you, eyes gleaming as he ponders your words. "Really?" But he has already taken the meal outstretched to him. "Thanks [y/n]!" You find yourself standing as he devours your meal in an instant, and hope Sanji doesn't notice it wasn't you who ate it. Robin perks up at your sudden movements. "Is everything alright, [y/n]?" You freeze as you turn to her, and you are met with her kind smile, the concern in her eyes. But you also see all that you cannot be. It is insufferable: your jealousy. It makes you loathe the depths of yourself and so you force it away and nod. "Yeah, I'm just turning in." You try to ease her concern and you don't know if she believes your words, but you move before she can question you further. You leave the rowdy crew to their dinner and open the kitchen door, not seeing how Sanji turns in surprise at your sudden absence.

You breathe in the crisp evening air, not noticing how desperately you needed it until it hits your face. A single tear slips from your eye but you catch it quickly, shaking your head. What's wrong with me? You move across the ship to the bathroom, hoping that a bath might help wash away your suddenly erratic thoughts. However, when you strip yourself of your clothes, you realise it is a mistake; there are mirrors. Your lips turn downward as you look at yourself realizing how impossible it would be to look like Nami and Robin. How impossible it would be to contort yourself to that image: pretty eyes, perfect smile, lack of waists and slim figures but still with curves where you needed them to be. How do they do it? Your thoughts then turn to how Sanji's face looked as they asked for seconds of his meal. He seemed so happy to cater for the beautiful women; of course, he would be. How long until his thoughts drift away from you? You turn away quickly and continue your tasks until you're wrapped in a towel again, hating your envy and hoping sleep might control it.

However, your insecurities can't disappear that easily.

Your thoughts mingled the rest of the week, and because of it, you found yourself eating less. You found yourself pushing meals to Luffy when Sanji was distracted, desperately hoping he didn't notice. You worked out more, glad that Zoro said nothing when he saw you more frequently in the crow's nest. You slowly started to slip into the rhythm. Skip breakfast, work out, a little lunch, work out, skip dinner. It was becoming easier to ignore your hunger, you told yourself you were seeing progress. You could never hate the beautiful women around you for your sudden revelations, you saw it as your own problem. You told yourself it was for the best. However, what you failed to see was that among your suddenly obsessive thoughts, you have slowly started to neglect your health, and on top of that, you have slowly started to neglect Sanji.

The cook had barely seen you the past week, and he missed you. What hours you would usually spend by his side you now spend in the crow's nest and he wanted your presence by him again. You used to always be in the kitchen as he prepared meals; his personal taste tester always gifting him compliments that made his heart soar. You would always share stories as he chopped and mixed, and he would be blessed by the soft sound of your voice. You would dry dishes you insisted on drying as he passed them to you, and he would hear your sweet laughter at something that had happened earlier in the day; he would have to struggle not to swoon just by the sound of it. You used to hold him gently as he cooked the crew's meals and he would feel your warmth make his heart stutter, make him want to create even better dishes just as a thank you for being his; for being you. Your fleeting touches, your pretty smile, your gleaming eyes, your perfect figure that melds into his; they were all suddenly taken from him and he didn't know why.

Sanji had tried to approach you several times but you had evaded him. "Sorry, Sanji I'm too busy right now." "Sorry Sanji, maybe another time." "Sorry Sanji, I think I'm gonna go to the crow's nest again." Sanji's lips downturned at the thought. Had he done something wrong? His fingers flicked on his lighter as he pulled out another cigarette; he had been going through them like lollipops recently. His heart twisted in slight envy as he thought of you in the crow's nest again, no doubt with the stupid marimo nearby. How had Zoro of all people seen you more than he had? It took all his strength not to (for no reason) go beat up the green-haired swordsman. His thoughts then lingered on an event he had considered over and over; the night when your smile didn't shine as it should as you poked and prodded your food. Of course, Sanji noticed the unusual despair on your face; he was basically a professional at catching on women's true emotions.

Had something happened? Had someone done something?

As Sanji thought on and continued to blow on his cigarette he finally considered something he had yet to acknowledge. Now that he had thought about it, he hadn't seen you much during meal times with the crew. You would either pop your head in for a brief while, leave quickly, or barely even show up at all. Sanji raked his brain harder for answers. He had thought he'd seen you slip something to Luffy during those times, but could it be your meals? He had seen your fleeting figure and he had seen how your eyes had seemed duller, your face a bit paler, your figure a bit more littered with exhaustion. But it couldn't be, could it? Were you skipping meals? He then thought of how your eyes seemed to sadden at the last island you and the crew had gone to. They were saddened by the presence of the women on the island; known for their beauty and charm. And, of course, they were beautiful, but they weren't you. Sanji had toned down his woman-crazed ways the instant he understood what his feelings for you meant. Had he let slip? Had you misinterpreted his care for flirt? Was it all his fault?

"Sanji-kun!"

He snapped out of contemplation as he registered Nami's worried voice as she ran to him quickly. "Nami-san? What's wrong?" Sanji feels his already racing heart pick up pace as the navigator frowns before spilling the words that has her rushing to him. "[y/n]... she passed out. She's with Chopper."

......

When you finally reopen your eyes, you are lost for a moment, not knowing what happened. But then, your memories start to flood back in. That's right, you think to yourself. You had finished your workout again, but something hadn't felt right. As you descended from the crow's nest and went to rest you had suddenly felt dreadful. Cold sweat had started to seep from your skin, your vision had slowly become clouded by spots and you had felt nausea wash over you quickly. You had stumbled, luckily Nami had been walking past as you did. You had felt her arms, heard her muffled voice in the ringing of your ears - something about staying awake - before the darkness had pulled you in. You sigh looking at the tube ingrained in your arm with despondency, before registering a warmth around your hand. You instantly look down to see that it was Sanji, and he had also just realised that you were awake. Your heart beats faster, shame befalls you, but he speaks first.

"Love... what happened? Chopper said you were malnourished..."

Your heart twists as you look at the cook who has utter concern and sadness and determination in his eyes. Why? "Love, please... talk to me." Sanji's voice sounds desperate for answers already lingering from Chopper's diagnosis, but he needed to hear it all from you. You let the silence remain for a moment to try and control your emotions, but your tears let slip and Sanji's eyes widen at the sight. "I-I'm sorry Sanji. I just- I just haven't been feeling like myself and- and I just wanted to feel better. I skipped meals and I guess I trained too hard. I-" You swallow harshly as you look at the man who squeezes your hand in comfort despite your despair causing his heart to ache. "I just wanted to be good enough, I didn't want you to realise that I'm not as pretty as-" You pause as you tear your eyes away from Sanji. "I just didn't want you to leave me." Sanji can't even describe the amount of disbelief that filled him at your words. You were scared that he would leave you?

"Love... How could I ever- What made you think- It's all my fault."

Your gaze snaps upward at his remark as you shake your head about to retort but he continues on. "I'm sorry love. I should've noticed sooner." Sanji feels his heartbreak for you as his lover, but failure seeps in as the cook of the crew. How can he dream of being a renowned chef, when he can't even notice his own partner, clearly having skipped and pushed away his meals. It was his job to make sure all the crew were fed and nourished perfectly, and he had failed to do that with the one person he cared about most in the world. What's more, he hadn't even noticed your insecurities; he had let you wither and deal with your pain alone. He grits his teeth. "[y/n]." Your heart jumps slightly at the sheer will in his eyes. "Believe me. You are beautiful, perfect, you are the only woman for me. Please, let me be there for you, let me help you..." He holds your hand up in his but you eye him hesitantly and so he continues. He presses his lips to your hand and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks; missing the intimate moments you have traded because of your irrational fears.

"I could never love someone else."

Your eyes glisten with his care and you squeeze his hand gently before peering into his gaze. "I'm sorry Sanji, I didn't eat your meals. I- I've been so distracted I haven't even come to see you... I missed you." Sanji's lips quirk upward then into his kind, warm smile.

"I missed you too, love."

In the following days that passed, you made up for the lost time with Sanji. In his kitchen, you went back to your usual routines and he swooned at your presence, also back to his normal self. Almost all the crew, except for those forever oblivious, let out a collective sigh of relief at the sight of the both of you together and back to your usual ways. Nevertheless, even as insecurities may bubble and rise within you from time to time, you didn't find yourself contesting your beauty or his love for you again; more like Sanji wouldn't let you. Each time he saw your eyes wonder, he held you closer. Each time he witnessed your thoughts drift away he brought you back to him. Each time you considered your self-worth, he would be there to reassure you of your beauty, and his adoration; all almost painfully obvious in the way he basically screamed of his love for you each passing day. He never wanted that look of despair in your eyes again, and so he made sure he didn't.

You looked at your boyfriend, the loving, doting, devoted chef of the crew and you didn't doubt him; you didn't doubt his words. You accepted yourself and you accepted his love, letting despair dwindle away; relishing the brighter days that lay ahead.

[zarnzarn]

1/2/3/4

reverse Odyssey au where polites is still on the ships when Poseidon arrives, and that last bit is enough to push Odysseus to beg him to stop, to spare the men he spent ten long years fighting hard and bitter to save. 593 men is no less amount after all, not for a small island like Ithaca, only three generations old. he'll do anything, anything at all, blind him, torture him, kill him- just let his men go; they were not the ones to blame.

Poseidon considers, staring down at the king with the odd grey eyes that he knew the origin of. Athena would be furious, after all- so why not take away the one thing her favoured pet was known for?

the crew rushes towards their captain, their king, as shouting emerges from the other boats, as he hits the deck convulsing, grasping at his throat. the cries of his men rend the air as his legs melt into oceanspray, remerging as a fish's tail, Odysseus gasping for air wildly, his tongue a mess of mangled flesh on the main deck, unable to talk or breathe.

they have no choice but to pick him up and tip him into the sea, and they watch in horror as he falls beneath the waves and with a flick of the tail, disappears.

six hundred men chase their king down, following the odd silver glint that appears once in a while above the blue water, following the strange cursed monster that Elepnor sees when he falls drunk into the ocean one day. follow him all the way back to Ithaca, where the people gather on the shore to cheer their arrival.

telemachus is all of ten and untameable at the return of his father's ships, running past the guards and the priests to the dock, where the soldiers and heroes are all setting down the ramps, strangely quiet, unsmiling in the face of ten years of gore and bloodshed being done. Penelope catches up to him, laughing as she cranes her head up, scanning the ships to see which one- which one had-

she only has to time to see euroluchus' shame-filled tears and polites guilty devastation, feeling her heart slowly sink to the ground, when there's suddenly a splash and an outburst of screams and propped up on the dock is a man with a fish's tail and familiar curls and razor-sharp teeth and eyes that are solid grey. the soldiers cry out in horror and thunder down the ramps to them as the monster reaches out- and Penelope can't do anything, frozen, as it reaches out and places a webbed hand with deadly claws on her son's cheek, caressing almost; and her breath catches when it looks back up to her, and she knows the face as well as her own, knows the grief and fear and knows it is her husband-

Then the pounding footsteps from the closest ships and the guards behind reach them, and Penelope only has time enough to scream to stay their weapons, already shoving Telemachus behind her and reaching out to shield off any spears or arrows from battle-strung men who'd shoot first and ask questions later-

Instead she only feels the brush of cold skin under his fingertips for the briefest of moments and then she's caught up in a fisher's net, tangled and alone. More nets are thrown, men crying out for their captain with desperation and fear, Polites running straight past her and leaping off the dock to swim after him-

But her husband is a descendant of Hermes, and Odysseus is gone.

Penelope listens to the story that night and does not cry, sitting straight-backed in the face of her family sobbing around her, of the five hundred and ninety-three men staring at her with grief and guilt alike, of being the only widow in the kingdom. Pets Telemachus' wild hair and remembers his father's, and thinks.

"You have told me much," She says finally. "But I'm still to hear a single, solid plan."

The room rustles as all the heads swing to her.

"Plan?" Eurylochus says finally. Anger burns as soon she looks to him, but she pushes it down firmly- rage will not win her anything.

"Yes. A plan," she says, "To bring my husband back home."

Telemachus unfolds at her feet and stares up at her with a hopeful grin, echoed slowly on the faces of the men around the room. Penelope smiles back.

"My husband spent ten years fighting for his people to make it back home," She proclaims. "Let's wait at least that long before we give up on him, yes?"

The answering cheer shakes the walls of the palace and echoes through the streets of Ithaca.

[mandiemegatron]

heart pirate reader x killer / implied unrequited reader x law ; no use of y/n. gender neutral reader, they/them pronouns.

rated ; available for all ages. MDNI with anything labeled 18+. angst with somewhat of a happy ending. ♡

based on state lines by novo amour ; thank you to my lovely cin [ @sheerxfiction ] for your help and inspo, as always.

You weren't supposed to be gone this long.

Helping the Kid Pirates learn some form of medical knowledge had been your idea - one that Law hadn't wanted to agree with - but that determined look in your eyes refused to waver, to the point Law had no choice but to sigh an unwilling agreement.

Two weeks, you'd promised.

Two weeks, and you'd call from the island that Kid and Law agreed that the red-haired Captain would drop you on.

That call never came.

Law stood on that shore, exhausted eyes wandering the empty, mute vastness of the Seas, nearly desperate for any crumb that you'd come back to the ship.

That you'd come back to him.

Here, I'll forgive my thoughts now

Steer it, 'cause I forget the dots now

He paces for a few moments, eyes flicking from his feet back to the barely crashing waves, ignoring the way his fingers twitch in irritation in his pockets.

“Captain?”

Law stops to look over his shoulder at Bepo only for a moment before he returns to his pacing, eyes returning out to the seas.

“What.”

There's an audible gulp from the mink before he stutters, “W-we gotta get going soon, or the Logpose will take another week to reset...”

Was it all any more faded after all?

I don't know

I don't know

I don't know…

Law sighs through his nose, glaring out at the continued expanse before he finally bites out,

“Give me a few more minutes. I know they'll come.”

There's only silence from his first mate, which he expects. He knows what Bepo is thinking, and Law mentally begs him not to say it out loud.

Unfortunately, lady luck was not on Law's side.

“Captain… I don't think they're coming…”

Are you sure, did you call?

Did we ever really talk?

I don't know,

I don't know,

I don't know,

I don't know,

I don't…

Law angrily whips around to see Bepo still holding his den den mushi, the spotted snail comfortable in massive white paws, asleep and silent.

Just as it had been for the last three weeks.

Furious tears pricked at the corners of Law's eyes, which he immediately hid under the brim of his spotted hat. Law wordlessly holds out his hand for his snail. He stalls for a moment before finally dialing your personal den den, in hopes you'd finally answer this time.

Dear, I wouldn't bet your heart down

Clear, but I couldn't get my head around

A few islands away, your den den rings a specific tone, alerting you of who exactly was calling. Your heart sinks as you simply stare at it, biting back tears of your own as a heavy hand lands on your shoulder.

“Love…”

You slowly turn from your snail to your masked, blonde lover, unable to wipe the sudden waterworks as they slip from your eyes.

“You should answer it.”

You shake your head, instead curling into Killer's massive arms, which wrap around you immediately. “He wouldn't understand,” you drone sadly, clinging to Killers shirt as if he'd disappear if you didn't hold tight enough.

“You don't know that,” Killer gently starts, his warm hands roaming your back in a soothing manner.

“I do,” you croak, sniffling as you pull your face away just enough to look up at him. “He would make me leave, and I'd never see you again.”

Killer's grip tightened around you at your words, sudden dread filling his entire body at the thought of never holding you like this again. He stares at your den den as it keeps ringing, knowing it would ring for a good handful of minutes.

Just like it always did.

“I'm a traitor, and traitors get the death penalty…”

Killer's head snapped down at those words, one of his hands cupping the side of your face as he swears heavily, “You will not perish while I protect you, that I promise.”

Was it all any more faded after all?

I don't know

I don't know

I don't know…

“It's what I deserve. It wasn't supposed to be like this, I was just supposed to teach-”

In a flash, Killer lifts his mask up enough to capture your lips in his, cutting off your depressed and terrified rambling. Your body physically deflates, the worries slowly evaporating from under your skin as Killer practically kisses it all away.

He tugs his mask down when he pulls away, but you can feel his gaze from behind the painted ceramic as he insists,

“It doesn't matter what was supposed to happen. What did happen was we found each other, and if that's not enough reason to stay, then you should go back to them… to him.”

Your eyes fill with tears again as you quietly beg Killer, “Please don't say it like that…”

Killer takes your face in both hands, his thumbs brushing over your tear stained cheeks as he begs back,

“Then tell him this is what you want. If us being together is enough… then answer the call and tell him.”

You openly sob at those words, clinging to Killer once more as he pulls you into his embrace, glad his mask hid his own teary eyes as he whispers again,

“Answer the call.”

Are you sure, did you call?

Did we ever really talk?

I don't know

I don't know

I don't know

The ringing never ceases. You know it won't, not until your den den either falls asleep, or until the caller gives up.

You move away from Killer with a heavy sniffle, wiping at your face before finally reaching for your snail, picking up the receiver with a deep breath.

There's stunned silence from the other end, until you finally hear your name breathed through.

“... please tell me I'm not dreaming.”

You can't fight the slight chuckle, wiping at your eyes with your other hand as you softly affirm,

“You're not dreaming.”

There's more silence for a moment, and then,

“Where are you.”

Not a question, a demand.

Your eyes ache with tears, looking to Killer who smooths a hand over your back.

“... I'm still on the Victoria Punk.”

“Why?”

You could feel the fury rising off your now ex-captain, unable to get a word in as he continues,

“I am here, waiting at the designated island, as I have been, for a week! A whole goddamn week, and you're not here?!”

You covered your face with your hand, praying for peace into it as you finally get out,

“I'm sorry!”

“You're sorry?! You get your ass to the next island to the north. You are MY crewman, not Eustass-ya's! I shouldn't have listened to you-”

“They're not coming back.”

Law freezes at the new voice, recognizing it but unable to properly place it until it speaks again.

“They're staying here.”

There's a dark energy that emanates through your den den, sending a shiver up your spine as Law demands,

“And why would they do that?”

Killer looks to you, nodding slightly as he prompts you to be honest to your ex-Captain. You mimic him in response and finally blurt out,

“I… I'm staying because I fell in love.”

Law physically stumbled a step back, feeling like his heart was shattering in his chest.

“Y… you…”

You watched your snails expression turn empty, knowing you'd just broken your Captain from the inside out. You tried to explain honestly, biting back anxious tears with whimpered words.

“I didn't expect it to happen, it just… did. I never thought someone would love me like this, that I would feel safe and loved all in one-”

“Then you are a traitor.”

I've been awake in every state line

Dying to make it last us a lifetime

Trying to shake that it's all on an incline…

You'd never heard Law hiss like this, like the words he spoke were pure poison on his tongue, tainting his mouth in hatred.

“Captain,” you beg in a short whisper, unable to wrap your head around the fact that what you knew would happen, was finally happening.

“It wasn't supposed to be like this.”

Killer's hand on your waist tightened a little, and you knew then you'd accidentally said those words out loud.

“You are a traitor to the Heart Pirates, and our enemy. Should we cross paths again, I will hunt you down until there is nothing left of you.”

Your heart sank as the line disconnected, your snail going limp for a moment before yawning and finally falling asleep.

Your shaky hand returns the receiver to its back before you turn in Killer's grasp, feeling the guilt that radiated off him like a sticky, wet blanket.

“I'm so sorry,” he breathes, holding you against him tight enough it barely kept you from falling apart.

You feel nothing but a knowing shock, your brain unable to comprehend the fact you could truly never go home, never return to the family you had, and it was all your fault.

“We'll have to talk with Kid about this. I know he'll be happy you're staying but-”

“I know.”

Killer sighs softly at your acknowledgment, knowing exactly what he was thinking. Even if it was for love, you left one crew - what was to say you wouldn't do it again?

“I'm going to have to work hard to gain his respect like that.” You murmur quietly, still shaken to the core over the whole conversation.

Killer hums in slight disagreement. “Not that hard. You showed loyalty to Kid, he holds that in a higher regard than you'd think. As long as that loyalty stays to him, you'll always have a home with us.”

Killer lifts your chin, taking in your half-dead expression as he murmurs honestly, “I love you, and I'm proud of you. That wasn't easy, what you just did, but now we can spend our time focusing on us, instead of worrying when you'll have to leave.”

You give him a ghost of a smile before he presses his mask to your lips in a faux kiss.

“Now you can put your things in my room, instead of staying in that closet. Doesn't that sound nice, love?”

You think you give him another answer, the overwhelming ringing in your ears overtaking your consciousness to the point that the rest of the day passes in a blur.

You can't remember the party being thrown in your honour - nor can you remember laying next to Killer as he slides next to you in bed, pulling you to him as his lips press over your skin, forever marking you as his with painted lips.

This was what you wanted… wasn't it?

Find me a way

I'll be yours in a landslide.

♡ DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, STEAL, REPOST OR RUN MY WORKS THROUGH AI.

♡ ALL FANWORKS/FANFICS WRITTEN BY THIS BLOG ARE OWNED BY MANDIEMEGATRON.

[hwang-inhos-fish]

Less Common 457 Playlist Songs

And a line from each song that I think fits them.

"Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up)" by Florence and the Machine - "This is a gift, it comes with a price // Who is the lamb and who is the knife?"

"Hayloft II" by Mother Mother - "My baby's got a gun, my baby's got a gun // My baby's got a gun, I better run. ... An eye for an eye, a leg for a leg // A shot in the heart doesn't make it unbreak."

"Burning Down" by Alex Warren - "I guess you never know, someone you think you know // Can't see the knife when you're too close, too close. // It scars forever when someone you called your friend // Shows you the truth can be so cold, so cold."

"Oxytocin" by Billie Eilish - "You should really run away // Other people wouldn't stay // Other people don't obey // You and me are both the same // //You should really run away."

"Ship in a Bottle" by fin - "Oh, Captain, let's make a deal // Where we both say the things that we both really feel // I feel scared and I'm starting to sink // And I only sink deeper the deeper I think."

"Notre Dame" by Paris Paloma - "I rarely go down there, the view's just // So beautiful from here and I can see everybody // At their worst points // At their worst points."

"Frozen Pines" by Lord Huron - "I don't want to be the only one living // When all of my friends are gone"

"Religion" by Isak Danielson - "Can we say goodbye to, to the lies you told // I know I'm wiser, I've been here before."

"Obsessions" by Marian and the Diamonds - "Sunday, wake up, give me a cigarette // Last night's love affair is looking vulnerable in my bed... We've got obsessions // All you ever think about are sick ideas involving me, involving you."

"Check the Lock" by clipping - "No signal, head on a swivel // Hand on the center console with the pistol // Tinted black, got the window right // Always shoot the gap at the yellow light."

"Find Me" by Sigma feat. Birdy - "We said goodbye // That's what you told me once // So many times we've made our peace // But this is love, I'll never give you up // I know you'll always come home to me."

Honorable mention, mostly for the intro: "Too Much" by Dove Cameron - "Player number One! Game over."

[divinehedons]

godless promethean, elektran rage.

navigation: masterlist

pairing: pirate!joel miller x siren!reader

word count: ~8.4k words (I KNOW I'M SO SORRY)

summary: when the wrath of poseidon brings in something not quite human, a hardened pirate with the harshness of a soldier at war faces a bright-eyed siren with the delusion of a dreamer.

warnings: this is a DARK, EXPLICIT fic. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT or i will BLOCK you. so much plot, pirate!au, siren!au, joel is a violent motherfucker, reader is a metamorphic creature that turns human-like when not submerged in water, graphic depiction of violence and injury, mentions of abduction and implications of abuse, explicit p-in-v sex, oral (f!receiving), squirting, creampie, soooo much murder. it's like a greek tragedy without the incest.

note: THANK YOU FOR 600 FOLLOWERS!!! much of this work was inspired by me rereading the odyssey by homer, but the trope of joel x siren!reader is not of my own making! thank you so much for reading, and as always, comments and reblogs are much apprciated!

Be strong, saith my heart. A wave crests over the hull of the ship. Then another. And another. I have seen worse things than this. Synchronized hands haul the rope for the sails, a last attempt to regain control of their vessel. The Balkan sea stretches before weary sailors, endless and unforgiving, with one foot in their watery grave and the other clawing to live.

In the midst of this carnage is The Flounder, harbinger of chaos, populated by a crew of men who pillage, murder, and destroy anything that gets in their way. Joel once thought of him and his men as indestructible. The Wrath of Poseidon makes him reconsider otherwise.

“Goddamnit, Bonnie, we’re never gettin’ out of this mess!” Joel yells over the deluge of rain, tightening his grip and growling as the rope digs in to the skin of his palms. He sees another wave crest over them, sturdy as a wall, coming down upon their shivering backs, leaving them spluttering out seawater. He coughs momentarily, heaving in air as he digs his feet into the deck.

When he regains his breath, he hears his name being called. He looks, their Captain bellowing from where he steered. His new orders came through in the middle of the crack of thunder and the whistle of an unending storm. Check beneath the deck for damages. Fix anything that could sink them. He calls for someone to replace his hold and he runs for it. 

In his head, he had begun to pen a letter back to his waiting daughter under the care of his brother. Dear Sarah, he thinks, climbing down the ladder and finding himself in knee-deep, ice-cold water. I promised you that this will be my last expedition. That after this, we shall live out however you want us to. I only hope that I can live up to that promise. He cusses under his breath when he finds a growing leak in the hull, crossing himself as he immediately went about to fix it temporarily with what materials he could find. You’re safer with your uncle Tommy than here in this misery. And should anything happen to me, know that I love you and I trust you to be good to him, too. He crosses the threshold to see if there was anything else, moving across floating bottles, bobbing up and down with remnants of booze. With a sigh, isolated from the chaos above deck, he leans against a column, grabbing a drifting bottle and swallowing down the booze to settle his nerves.

I grow old, I grow old. He mouths the words under his breath. I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

The muffled sounds of the world melts away as he tries to catch his breath, gritting his teeth from the ache in his hips. Getting too old for this. He tries to think of a way that rest can be comfortable in this mess. Sleep, he thinks, delicious and profound. The very counterfeit of death.  It is only when his nerves settle that he hears it.

A splash in the common room. Too loud to be some drifting object. Something that continues to move against the motion of the ship between the waves. He stills himself, the empty bottle slipping between his fingers. Slowly, he moves closer to the source of the sound, like a predator stalking his prey in the darkness. He retrieves a drifting harpoon, peeking through the threshold of the room to inspect. In the semi-darkness, interrupted by the flickering of lanterns and dying candelight, he catches the shimmer of something alive. He raises his weapon, looks through his good eye, his brows crinkling at the effort to focus.

Too old and too goddamn blind for this shit.

He blinks a few times more before he finally sees. And what he sees is you.

Your lithe arms reaching against the walls of the ship, trying to find a weak link that could let you escape. Were you brought in by the waves? Were you the very thing responsible for the leak he just had to fix? Initially, Joel made the movement to speak, to ask how you had ended up here—the sea is no place for a maiden like you. But his breath hitches when he looks closer to see… well, you. The incandescent flickering of a scaled tail, blending with inhuman yet somewhat human skin around your hips, and your upper body, glorious, unmarked, and completely fucking naked.

Perhaps it was the months at sea, conversing with no one but the same crew of men who, despite their intelligentsia and capabilities, do not exactly have the looks capable of producing in him the flustering exhilaration of some teenager. But he, of all people, know of the stories, too. The whispers shared in the saloons in the darkness. The shared thrill and excitement of such beauty and danger lurking beneath the temptresses’ skins. He has heard of claws coming for his companions’ throats, have heard of the trickery they can cause with the power of the ocean entirely at their disposal. He thinks of Odysseus again— tethered to the mast of his ship, The only one of his men to hear the voice of the sirens and have survived. Odysseus, who would have laid his life down  just to come close to the very presence of something so divine. 

Another thing he knows is that the price of one siren is half the bounty they had planned for. Months of work cut out for himself. Months closer to seeing his daughter again. It’s enough to give him the taste of freedom. His own little piece of heaven that, ironically, is someone else’s hell. The funny thing was, he does not feel guilt about it.

Perhaps he was not Odysseus. He was not as noble. Nor did he ever want to be. A noble character would never provide a good life for his Sarah, waiting for him oceans away.

That was the decision that sealed the creature’s fate before him. Without a second thought, he fires his harpoon, the sharp head piercing through the creature’s shoulder as an angelic wail emanates from her precious throat. With her pinned down, he had begun yelling, calling for the presence of men to see what they’ve caught in their vessel. Their ticket to riches. The honeypot herself.

The blade itself incites to deeds of violence.

He swallows down the guilt as the thunder of heavy steps descend upon their victim, her screams only growing louder and louder amidst the exhilarated, disbelieving laughter of his companions. He does not dare to look. Does not dare to see those doe eyes of yours begging for respite, pulling him into your charms.

An eye of an eye. A good life for Sarah in exchange for hers.

Fair enough.

—-

When The Flounder has escaped the barrages of the storm, the sea is quiet. Some would even say peaceful. Joel wouldn't exactly use that word. Not when he hears your wails breaking the silence. That first night, no one understood what needed to be done. No one even bothered to try and treat your wound. The very wound he had caused. Everyone had something more important to do. Clear the seawater beneath the hull, secure the sails, have a quick meal, get a few winks of sleep. Naturally, the mythical being, as all other inconsequential things, were tucked away, you dealt with the usual brusque nature of men.

So when he had been called to watch you before dawn broke, that's what he set his mind to. Stepping down beneath the deck, with spare scraps of cloth and booze in hand. They've cleared out the flooding. But the wood hadn't dried completely. Mick, who he had passed beforehand, gave him a questioning look. "Aren't ya scared she'd rip your throat out?"

He scoffs, tilting his head to the side as he speaks. "I'm more scared of the stench she'll make if she starts dyin' on us, Micky."

What he did not expect when he opens the closet you've been locked in is the metamorphic cross between a tail and legs you kick out at him. What he hears next is the snarl, your body knocking him over, small, webbed hands slipping around his throat. “You asshole!” That same heavenly voice, filled with so much malice that does not fit with the angelic features towering over him. You speak in a language he does not understand, a torrent of words driven by so much emotion that he sees a glance of what Homer was so distasteful about. You could kill him, devour him bones and all and you wouldn’t even flinch.

However, he sees how your rage blinds you, too. Blinds you to his precise movements, making you think you’ve subdued him, only to suddenly flip your positions, pinning you down by your wrists, trying to look into your eyes.

What you see, staring up at him as your last yells escape you, is the strands of silver in his hair. What follows next is his tired eyes. A sea of stories that you feel as if you can almost hear them if the world is quiet enough. However, you cannot deny the warmth to them. The fire that you failed to see in the other men that shoved you in the closet you have been suffocating in. It’s what makes you stop in your struggle as you finally hear his voice.

“Damnit, let me help you, honey, c’mon…”

It’s then that Joel finally comprehends what he sees. You, a mythical being that shifts from merfolk in one instance, to a walking goddess in the next. Perhaps it was what helped your kind survive; camouflaging yourself and disappearing amidst throes of people. “You turn when ya… when…?”

You swallow, breathless and trembling as you grit your teeth. He sees the panic in your eyes, the idea that he can just betray you if he wanted to. If it would benefit him.

“Let me help you, darlin’.”

“W-when I’m…” You breathe in sharply. “When I’m not in water.”

He nods, slowly, watching the lithe legs and your bare body, spotless and perfect in every way. “I see.” He removes himself from you, moving away from your periphery. You gather your breath, turning over to see him, kneeling over an upturned washtub, somewhat filled with some form of water or another. “Those men up there? They can’t see you like this, otherwise…” he trails off, preferring not to picture what they’d do. What they’ve all once done before at sea. “Ya hear me?” He looks back at you, watching the way your hands gripped your bleeding shoulder wound, evidence of what he had already done to you. “You don’t know what else they can do to a pretty girl like ya.”

So, gently, he kneels beside you with a pained groan from the ache in his knees. You flinch under his touch and he gives you a stern look. “Why did you do this?”

He shakes his head, opening the bottle he brought down with him to pour it over the gaping flesh. Your soft fingers grip on to his arm, the softest whine escaping your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut. “You’re not the only one fightin’ to survive in this world, honey.” He shushes you gently, moving to wrap what pieces of cloth he could find, using them to bandage your wound as you finally soften in his hold. He helps you into the tub, and he tries not to look into your eyes again.

You spoke again when he turned away, giving you the privacy he assumed you needed. “Just because you need to survive doesn’t mean I need it any less.” He stops in his tracks, looking down for a moment before clearing his throat. “Are men always this wretched? That one must tear down the innocent to survive?” He moves to answer, turning back momentarily, before sighing, turning back to continue cleaning up the mess. “Thank you, though. For… this.”

You know exactly how to describe it. You just don’t want him to hear it. The gentleness that comes, not in the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.

Joel hears the noise in his head, clouding his thoughts and drowning them out as he moves from one place to another.as he tries not to think about you, quiet in a tub of water, pretending to ignore him. Men are so quick to blame the gods…

He hands you a plate of scraps. The trimmings from a loaf of bread. A slice of some meat, and the last pieces of cheese he could find. “Eat,” he orders gruffly, moving to sit by the side of your tub, while he seats himself with a slice of bread. “Can’t have ya dyin’ of starvation either.”

You obey, weakened by the struggles of the evening, disheartened by your imprisonment, so close to freedom and at the same time so far away from it. You eat slowly, as if considering each little fragment you were handed, as if the world is unfamiliar in the presence of someone else.

Joel couldn’t help it. Perhaps it was your charm. Whatever it was, he started to tell you things.

He tells you of his life, so far away from the ocean, landlocked. He tells you how they make a living with animals. But he also tells you about Sarah. Sarah who dreamt of the world. Sarah who he was doing all this for. Sarah who asked him as a child to read to her every night. Sarah who was growing more and more with each passing day, the gap between the two of them becoming wider than he could ever comprehend.

“My survival may not mean much,” he says, “but hers is the most vital thing in my life, doll.”

He feels your gaze on him, becoming easier and easier to see as the sun slowly grows higher in the sky. In thirty minutes, his watch will end, and you do not know how the next man will treat you next. Will he be kind? Will he have Joel’s eyes?

He turns to leave, taking the plates with him as he stands up with a pained groan. “Don’t cause too much trouble, girl.” He only stops when you say his name, his gaze catching the blurry image of you, your tail sinking beneath you in the tub. “Yeah?”

“Will you read to me when you return?” you whispered, afraid to show fragility in your own internment.

He nods after a moment of thought, clambering up on deck to report back to the Captain.

Men are so quick to blame the gods.

—

For a while, a week or so, you believed things could be nice with Joel somewhat in your corner. Everyone else seemed to care less or cower in fear of you. Maybe because you do try to scare them away. At least, if you were going to be betrayed, it was Joel doing the betraying.

He returned at the same time just as he did the night before. And slowly, a routine emerges. He cleans your wounds, he feeds you whatever he finds. Then he reads to you. His eyes are too weak to read without you holding the lantern. So you learned that second night to emerge from your tub and to hold the lantern for him. He reads to you with the skilled words of a bard. He reads to you as if he’d read this tale before. Perhaps to Sarah? Perhaps to someone else?

You feel your stomach curdle at the thought of there being someone else in his life. You swallow down the bile and listen more closely.

When he leaves at dawn, you lie in the tub, dreaming of the words he had read to you, turning your back to the man that comes next. They do not bother you. You do not bother them. You become a ghost until he brings you to life.

Sing to me, Muse, of the Man of many wiles.

By the third night, he brings with him a blanket for you to wrap yourself in as you sit closer beside him, trying to follow the words he read, only to surrender because the letters are too rigid, too unnatural. You began shutting your eyes as he reads to you, learning of Odysseus, a once too familiar name you have heard in others of your kind before…

Sing to me, Muse, of these matters. Daughter of Zeus,My starting point is any point you choose.

You begin to talk to him too by the fourth night, observing your transformed toes as he hammered little areas he figured needed repairs. You tell him of the world beneath the waves, the languid distances you’ve traveled, never truly feeling as if you have found a home. You tell him, too, of wonders big and small.

You spoke of all these things, pretending to be unaware of the way he listens with such interest. It’s like you wanted him to be interested. How could you not, when night by night his eyes become warmer and warmer whenever they fell upon you? How could you not when he’s the only one that cared?

You try to read his thoughts, sometimes, when it’s quiet and he prefers to sit by himself, finding a few winks of sleep while you ate your food. He’s rather good at hiding them. You wonder if it makes his life easier. You wonder if any of it is easy for him.

Then he asks you something on his fifth watch.

“Is the whole singin’ thing somethin’ you actually do?”

You turn your head over your shoulder, setting down the snowglobe you’ve taken an interest in the last couple of hours. You saw it on a shelf this afternoon. And you had been impatient for Joel to arrive ever since. You consider the question, Then you smile and nod meekly.

“Do…” you pause, moving to face him instead. “Do you want to hear?”

He smirks, moving the chair closer to your seated frame, seating with the backing pressed to his front, legs straddling the seat, arms atop, covering that sliver of chest you had been sneaking glances from all evening. He had that thin linen shirt on again— the one that swoops down his chest. The one you see in your dreams.

“Only if it won’t kill me, sweet cheeks.”

You like that. Sweet cheeks. You barely understand what it means. You nod slowly, moving to lay on your back as you stare at the ceiling, monotonous and unchanged since you last looked. As you sing, you try not to look him in the eye. As if you cannot bear the sight of him seeing your capabilities and forever changing his perception of you. The hymn is warm, almost homely. A relentless Odyssey that means to take you home. A song that’s said to bring forth memories of home. You know Joel does not understand the language. Nor do you want him to. You won’t admit it, but you’re still terrified of what he could do if you remind him of how much he misses his home.

But what is even more surprising is this: instead of reminiscing about the tropics from which you have loved so deeply, all you can think about is him. All you can picture is his face. All you can see is possibilities of how he’s looking at you now.

When you finish, dawn is already breaking over the horizon. He has to go.

Quietly, you rose and slowly return to the tub with your snowglobe, watching as your body metamorphosizes— your last line of defense for survival. The shine of your scales so familiar, but never this clear under the water. The light is always so diffused— as distant as a foreign planet. Joel, on the other hand, stays there for a few minutes more, looking at the spot where you just were—at the plank of wood bearing the wet shape of your body. You started to think maybe he won’t leave when he swallows, rising from where he sat, and approaching you to hand the cheese he couldn’t eat from his portion of the meal.

“I quite enjoyed that,” he confesses, tucking the food into your palm. Just then, he encloses your hand in both of his, taking a moment to savor the feeling of your cool, changed skin against his. He wonders momentarily if you’ll feel different without your tail. “Thank you.”

He leans down, bringing your hand up to his waiting mouth, his lips pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. A shiver runs down your spine as you comprehend the sensation. His lips. How warm he is… the scruff of his beard against smooth skin. You feel him smirk against your hand, pulling away as he makes his way above deck.

And on your hand is the reddened skin that evidenced the smidgen of affection you were giving. And for now, it’s enough.

You turn your back to the world once more and into your own dream world, staring at your hand as you dream of Joel all morning long.

—

You suppose everything that goes around does eventually come around. You wonder why you're so optimistic. But, you supposed, just as things were getting better, the fates had other plans in store for you.

The call came just as you were coming of the stupor of sleep. From what you can tell, it was barely midday, and someone was yelling above where you resided. All hands on deck.

The thunderous noise of heavy feet trundle above head. The man watching you grumbled, muttering something along the lines of, "don't you dare think about running, li'l bitch."

You watch him slam the door, and curiosity gets the better of you. You rise slowly from the tub, slinking along the floor, struggling to lift yourself enough to peer out from one of the windows. But when you do, you've come to realize the gravest sin of your naivety.

There is a ship to be plundered. Slowly, the masks worn by the men where you are melt away. You see familiar men with their swords drawn, laughing maniacally, screaming and terrifying the ship they've found to appease their hunger.

You feel your body changing, and you begin to turn away from the window when you catch sight of silver hair and scruff. A visage that you finally see in broad daylight.

Joel is one of the men who almost seem to dance to the song of violence. Perhaps the stories were true. Perhaps the secrets of the shadows are laid bare in the light. Even Joel's secrets cannot escape the midday sun. When you see him, he is in battle with some toughened fisherman, their duel witnessed by cowering passengers and well-dressed women. For a moment, you think Joel will come to his senses, see how senseless all this violence is.

But then he takes the man by his hair, holding his head and facing him to the sun. His sword arches across the expanse of his victim's neck, rivulets of blood bursting forth in gush, an unstoppable stream. A squeal escapes you, the violent image burnt into the recesses of your brain, forcing you away from the window.

You run on shaky legs, screaming and yelling, reaching the doorway and attempting to push the door open, only to find resistance. Your fists pound the hard wood, your body pushing and shoving, unable to accept the fact that you can't call to him— show him that you saw and you demand an answer why.

For the first time, ever since Joel shot you with a harpoon, you truly understood something you tried so hard to ignore.

You sleep under the shelter of murderers. You think you felt affection from the hands of a man who just as easily took someone's life away. You are only loved because you're something else. Something not human.

You are only loved because you'll ensure their survival.

—

The blade itself incites the deeds of violence.

When the carnage ended, Joel raised his head to see the sky beginning to paint itself in bolder strokes of colors. He stretches his arms, only to feel the sticky plasma of drying blood sticking to his arms, his torso, spotting the expanse of his face. He is the last to leave their conquered ship, and he takes his time. He walks along the scattered piles of bodies, putting whoever hasn't perished out of their misery with the very same blade he wielded in battle. He's alive. He can go home. He watches the revelry on their vessel: men roasting the spoils from the kitchen, barrels upon barrels of ale and mead slowly being chewed through.

The stage is set. All they need is a little shock of entertainment.

But what he worries about is you. You who probably cowered from fear at the sudden influx of noise. You who definitely saw the things they are capable of doing. You with the wound on your shoulder, healing at a snail's pace with your imprisonment. So, he takes the time to find supplies to help you. He finds antiseptic. He finds needle and thread. It will have to do.

When he returns to his ship, He has spread oil across the deck where the bodies lay. With one bloody hand, he strikes a match to burn away the evidence of their carnage. The burning ship drifts further and further into the horizon, drowned out by the sounds of cheering. Joel is handed a mug of better than average mead.

As he watches the lights flicker and consume the rest of the ship, one question remains at the forefront of his thoughts, echoed and repeated by every voice in his head.

Do I dare?

Clarity comes when he's two mugs in, everyone else fucking off to see how much treasure piled up. He looks at the door that leads directly where you are and the question becomes clearer. It is in the iambic beat of his heart. I am, I am, I am.

It's in the excitement at the thought of seeing you tonight and having a good meal to offer. He begins to smirk, taking two plates and finding food he thinks you'll like.

Do I dare disturb the universe?

—

You do not look at him when he enters. You cannot, knowing the things you’ve seen today. Especially when you hear he’s happy, humming as he sinks down the stairs from the deck. The jump on his step was not there before. And instead of finding that itching curiosity to see if he was smiling or if you were responsible for this joy, you feel your stomach sour at one thought.

Perhaps the slaughtering of others brought glee to his bones.

“You must be hungry,” he says softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. You feel a strange stickiness to his touch. So strange that you finally look, only to be horrified by the sight of his bloodsoaked hand. You yelp helplessly, shrinking away from his touch. You shed tears, luminescent in the semi-darkness, as precious as pearls that only he can see. “Darlin’...” His hand comes to cup your face gently, trying to make you look him in the eye. In this form, your skin is cold, the warmth of his hands turning your skin red.

“Y-you killed them,” you finally manage, the iron smell filling your senses. Seeing you panicked, Joel reaches down into the tub to slowly bring you out of your tub and into his willing arms, slow shushes escaping him. “Are you going to kill me, too?”

So that was what you were so scared of.

You bury your face into his chest, his shirt smelling of him— of sandalwood and musk, tobacco smoke, and underneath it all, a few specks of blood. Meanwhile, he lets you, cradling you in his arms as you continue to shed your tears. He lets you, knowing you wouldn’t listen to him with so much emotion in that pretty little head of yours.

But when you do eventually calm down, he doesn’t miss a moment. He couldn’t.

“I can never harm you, honey.” He breathes in through his nose, finally close enough to smell you. The sea air in your hair, sunshine and honeysuckles from lands he can only dream of. “I can’t even if I tried.”

Slowly, he lays you down where he had dropped his sheet—the sheet you’ve been wrapping yourself around. The sheet that smells like the both of you; that way he could imagine waking up to you the past few times he had gotten sleep. Slowly, he straddles your changed form, naked and so fucking divine it has his head spinning. “Can I take care of ya, darlin’?” He waits for you. Even when everything is pushing him to kiss you— he has to know you want this.

He has to know you’re not miserable.

Seeing this, you take a deep breath. You hold his face. Your skin, smooth and not exactly human, bright against his, earth-marred, bloody, and burnt from days in the sun. And yet, you do not see those flaws. All you see are his warm eyes, so desperate to tell you he wants you, and yet so willing to walk away if you asked. So you grip him by his shirt, pulling him against you in a wanton, desperate kiss.

It is the first kiss you share. The first of the hundreds you’ll share that night. But you will always remember that first.

Because it’s burning against your cool skin. Because the scratch of his scruff is a sensation you have not felt in the long life you have lived. He holds your face, bringing your head closer to him, pressing against the front of his skull, making you whine from want as he deepens the kiss. You’ll always remember it because you know this kiss.

You can already see the ending before the two of you ever began.

His hand slips into your hair, his mouth pulling away from yours, only to drift down  your cheek, your jaw… He chuckles against your skin when you gasp so meekly, melting like butter in his arms.

“Let me take care of you, sweetheart,” he whispers, marking the crook of your neck with his mouth. “Let me show you how ya have me wrapped around your pretty li’l finger.”

Already, you can see him in your memories, tangled up in him. His kisses on your neck, his spit drying against your skin. His fingers reaching and tearing you apart. In the eternity you’ll be facing alone… he’s there. Just there, a willing invitation to a dream.

He’s pushing your legs up, now fully transformed, and he comprehends everything. Without words, it seems, things simply come naturally to him. He cups your cheek with one hand, folding your body in half as your legs drape over his broad shoulders. His thumb brushes your lips, and you part them for him. You let him fuck his thumb into your wet mouth, groaning at the way you suck on him. “Good girl…”

Just then, his other hand reaches down, a warm sensation cupping your cunt as you whine softly against him, looking him in the eye. “Good God, are you always this soakin’?”

You slowly pull back, shivering softly from the sensation of him parting your folds. Only you, Joel. No one else can do this to me. He comprehends, and he groans again, leaning down to kiss you. His cock aches in the confines of his pants. Just like that, everything dulls out and he can only comprehend this: to have you. You, you, and just you.

“Guess I have some makin’ up to do to ya, huh?”

Just then, his head disappears between the valley of your breasts, marking a trail of blood-red hickeys down to your stomach, one hand pinching a nipple harshly enough to make you squeal, to which he shushes you again. Gonna get us caught, doll. He continues his way, finally finding your sweet cunt. He shifts his hands so he can slowly part your folds. He kisses the inside of your thighs just as you clamp one hand over your whining mouth. And, with nothing left to do, he takes a deep breath, looking at your face as he sinks his tongue down between your folds, tasting you with a longing groan of delight.

Even his griefs are a joy long after to one that remembers all that he wrought and endured.

All you can feel is the flurry of rhythm Joel sets. His trembling jaw, as if whispering prayers to whatever powers may be. His tongue splitting you open and fucking you raw in a way so obscene, you think it’s unbecoming. Perhaps it is. Perhaps by letting him have you this way, you have turned your back on your world. But he fucks one finger into your surprisingly warm cunt and everything else fades away into the silence.

“Fuck, baby…” It’s so easy, you whining urging him on, calling for him and begging to just keep going, dear God. One finger becomes two, then three. Then he raises himself so he can see your face better. So he can see the way your features contort into a heavenly amalgamation of beauty and pleasure and wonder in one full spectrum. But there is nothing more beautiful when his fingers brush against something that made you keen closer to his touch, eyes wide open with your mouth trembling.

“That’s it, isn’t it, darlin’? It is, huh?” He chuckles, the rumble of it vibrating from his chest, echoing to the backs of your thighs, and finally, straight to your wanting cunt. He smirks, his upper body shifting so his arm was much more free— just so he can keep aiming for that one spot that made you keen so beautiful he gets a glance of your otherworldly beauty.

A long forgotten poem comes up from the back of his head, just as he was pulling your orgasm from your willing frame, his other hand covering your mouth before you get too loud just so you wouldn’t be interrupted, caught, and possibly separated.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. “Good fuckin’ girl. Such a good girl, honey…” I did not think they’ll sing for me.

You shut your eyes, grinding your hips into his touch, chasing a sensation you can’t even dare put into words. You whine into the palm of his hand, feeling as if your skin, normally so cool, set on fire with the desire you have for Joel. You peer through your damp lashes, making out the silhouette of his smirk, his warm eyes somewhat swelling with pride.

“Joel… there’s… there–” you barely get the words out when you feel it. Your vision going white, the electricity flowing through your body, and coming out of you in warm bursts.

Heaven, you think, from how Joel so lovingly described it.

When you come to, he’s pulling his fingers away, and a spurt of fluids follow in the wake of his absence. He chuckles, the sound of it emanating the very depths of your consciousness. “Didn’t know ya could do that, pretty girl.”

It leaves you warm, slightly sleepy. Slightly drifting in and out—the way the ocean climbs and recedes from the shore.

You don’t notice the way Joel watches you. The way blood smeared your perfect face. You do not notice his hand tracing down your torso, coloring it a faded, rusty red. Marked by him, and for him.

And yet if some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep, even so will I endure. For already have I suffered so much, and much have I toiled in perils of waves and wars. Let she be added to the tales of those.

“Please eat,” he finally says as he kisses your forehead. “I saved a plate for you.”

So you do. You sit up, trembling, the cool porcelain pressed against your thigh as you feasted. Grapes, expensive nuts, and meats you could only dream of. You try not to think of the price he paid to lavish you with such an offering. Because now, instead of the guilt, you feel the rumblings of power in your veins. You have become his very god, the one he’d slay men for. The very god to which he offers a plate paid for by carnage. And if you’ve become god, what can you offer him?

Heaven was not fit to house a creature such as I.

—-

He makes love to you after dinner. Slow, careful. He doesn’t want to terrify you. He doesn’t want to get caught, either. He has you on his lap, your cool hands cupping his heated face, spineless from pleasure as he fucks up into you, giving you a moment to accommodate him and get used to the feeling of his cock stretching you wide open. Every vein, his very length, arching and filling you up in the best way there is to be filled.

“Tell me you want this,” he asks, and you oblige him. You whine for him, calling, biting your lip and throwing your head back. You lead his hand to your chest, heaving with slow, shaky breaths. He knows what you want without ever asking it of you. And that is why he squeezes the curve of your breast, sitting up to press his mouth to your collarbone. The kisses set your skin aflame, his fingers pinching and pulling the pleasure from your willing body.

So he gives you everything. You cum once again with you on top of him. You cum again after he bends you over the nearest table with his rough fingers rubbing circles on your needy clit. And on the third time, somewhere when it’s quiet, you both lie on the blanket, your back to his chest, his cock unmoving inside of you.

It’s a moment of respite. A lull. A moment to catch breaths.

“How much did you see earlier?”

His arm is around your waist, his mustache brushing against the back of your ear. It’s nice. It’s almost domestic, a word so foreign to you. Perhaps domesticity is something innately human. But he makes you have a taste of it. And it tastes so sweet. You hum softly, tilting your head so he can kiss more of your neck.

“I saw the first man you killed,” you tell him, to which he groans, pulling you closer. “I couldn’t watch any more after that. It was… too much.” You feel his teeth brushing against the curve of your ear. Then he bites gently just to hear you squirm.

“I don’t want you lookin’ anymore, sweetheart,” he whispers, “not if it’s going to upset you this much.” He leans up, peering over your peaceful face, with your eyes shut and your body languid. “But… I suppose I’ll try.” You open one eye, peering up at him. “Less murders, my queen, yes ma’am.”

You giggle, pressing your palm to his mouth as he continues to tease you with such pet names. He speaks behind your palm. Angel baby, cutie pie… Other pet names you don’t comprehend because the sounds disappear into your cool skin.

And then he’s fucking you again, with you on your side and him above you, caging you in his arms. You catch your lip between your teeth, gritting out half-choked moans. Already, the pleasure has begun to border the line between pleasure and pain. Already, you feel your legs quaking, but you feel the tremble in his spine as well.

He’s close. He’s so fucking close.

That’s when you notice how sporadic his bursts of movement are becoming. Fewer and shorter in between. So, you begin to give back, maneuvering your bodies so you’re laying on top of him once more, digging your blunt nails down against his biceps. You feel his hands on your waist. Bloody hands that have taken an infinite number of lives before you. Bloody hands that will take who knows how many lives after. Bloody hands, that, despite their track record, hold you as if you are so fragile in his grasp.

Gentleness incomprehensible. The best of the world in the palms of his hands.

The both of you, flying into deep, empty space. Alone with Joel in the aether.

Watching his orgasm wash over him just as yours does for the fourth and last time. He pulls you into his chest, letting you moan into his chest. The only thing that betrays his release is the stuttered breaths, the shaky fingers. That is all. And then you feel the warmth of his seed, buried deep within you, treasured and tucked away. It’s so much, you feel it reach places you didn’t expect it to be.

Even when he’s ending things, he’s giving you everything he’s got.

In the afterglow, he takes care of you. Already, the sun is rising  Once again, you won’t see him until it’s dark again. You’ll be turning away from the world and dreaming of those eyes and his smile. But for now, he wipes you clean, kissing your forehead as he brings you back to your tub. For now, you hold his hand for another minute.

“Y’know… Sarah loved playing siren as a fuckin’ kid,” he finally says, cleaning up the plates in silence. “She loves the sea.”

You peer over the lip of the tub, smiling up at him dreamily. “She must be so beautiful. With your smile?” You sigh, leaning back as you look up at the ceiling. “You must miss her much.”

He brushes your cheek with a sigh, shrugging. “Every fuckin’ day, baby.”

He walks away from you, and you wait for him to look back. He does, with a shit-eating smirk at your dazed eyes, neck marked up by his own doing. “Don’t kill anybody today, Joel.”

He nods slowly. “Get some sleep, squirt.” As you turn away, the smile drops. He cannot show that vulnerability out there, amongst the men he’s shared blood, sweat, and tears with. Men he killed from and men he killed with. Men who’d want to tear you apart and swallow you whole. Men who’d kill him if they knew what the two of you did all night.

Then how should I begin to spit out the butt-ends of my days and ways? How should I presume?

He doesn’t have to presume for long. Not when he emerges on deck and he sees the dark shadow of land specking the endless sea of blue he had grown accustomed to. There stands the rise and fall of a mountain, a jagged line breaking the skyline.

The Captain speaks, and the shock burns through him so rapidly that he tries to hide it by leaning against the starboard side.

We hit land midday tomorrow. Our li’l baggage ‘bout to finally bring in some fuckin’ money.

The clock is ticking, what else can he do? Go, go, go.

—

When Joel returns, he’s waking you from a long, languid sleep. You turn to smile at him, but there’s a different look in his eyes. An urgency, a finger pressed to your lips to ensure silence. He carries you from the water and you’re brought up close to see the crease on his forehead. When he wraps you in the sheet, that’s when he speaks.

“Need t’get ya out of here, baby.”

The great escape. The prison break.

Now you feel the tension.

He waits for you to turn, to become inconspicuous. Meanwhile, he’s hot on his heels. He’s gripping a rucksack in his hands, heavy with some inconceivable baggage, muttering to himself. You start to understand the madness. You start to wonder if there’s two versions of Joel waiting behind every door. One of them is the lover— the man who’d kiss you as he introduces you to a world of pleasure. Then there was the monster— the man who sliced open the throat of the person he was robbing blind, the man who fired the harpoon that caused your imprisonment.

“So the monster has come to set me free of my bonds.”

You rise, shaky on your legs and clothed in that sheet that kept you modest. It’s when he stops in his tracks, looking you in the eye before sighing, tearing the cloth away from you to introduce a linen shirt of his. It smells of him; perhaps it even reeks of him.

“They’re going to butcher you if I don’t try, sweetheart.”

You do what you promised to yourself you’ll do when he asks you something. You put your blind faith into his hands and take a leap.

He leads you through a maze of rooms you cannot comprehend. You stop at the crosshairs. You duck under tables when he asks you to. And you know why. Because the men who thirst for your blood can be found on every corner. Because you’re running out of time. Because he’d rather lose you to the waves than those who shed blood like he does.

In a matter of minutes, you find yourselves in the cool evening air. It’s a blind spot, and it’s far enough that he helps you to the raft while it’s almost silent. The sounds of men beginning to have dinner so distant and far away, it’s like an entirely different world. Skillfully, Joel lowers you both into the ocean, the distant beating of the waves masking the sound of him cutting the rope that tethered you to the ship.

He keeps one hand on the behemoth you’ve escaped, and he audibly counts. Quiet enough for you to hear. Tens. Hundreds. Then, a thousand seconds passes.

He pauses, straining to hear. In the flickering light of the lanterns, you see the silver in his hair and his beard. You wonder, momentarily, if it’s the last you’ll see of him. That’s when you hear it.

Yells. But not of alarm. Not of you, their treasured prisoner, missing from her cage. It’s the yells of panic. Of suffering. Of pain.

Upon seeing your features, Joel finally reveals the hidden card up his sleeve.

“I poisoned them. I poisoned them and robbed them blind so they’ll never come after you.”

You look to him, waiting for another shoe to drop. But there is none. This is who he is, laid bare for you to see. Your devotee, giving you the ultimate sacrifice. This is not the monster nor the lover. This is Joel. All masks have fallen to their knees and prostrated themselves before you. Every post abandoned and conquered, only for you.

“Go.”

You blink, and his trembling fingers hold your cheeks, his shaky lips kissing the crown of our head.

“No one’s coming for you as long as I’m there to stop them.”

When you don’t move, he grits his teeth, as if caught between a rock and a hard place. A second passes, then his arms take you, throwing you overboard and into the familiar depths of an ocean below.

The waves welcome you with a surge of power, relentless and enduring. More immortal than you. More divine than you can ever hope to be. The moment you are released from Joel’s hold, the saltwater licks clean the wound on your shoulder. It washes away the scent of Joel’s shirt.

He’s already being erased from you.

From beneath the depths, everything comes back to you. The kiss on your hand, the scraps of food. His sticky, bloodmarked fingers marking you. All of it, slipping through your fingers like sand. In the cool darkness of the open sea, all you can see is a flame starting from the base where you last saw Joel. A fire spreading amongst the ship which you once hailed your prison.

You can see Joel’s boat, smaller in comparison, already racing away towards the shore.

All you can do now, with the power of Poseidon surging and bubbling beneath your veins, is to sing. To sing a hymn that begs before the very gods themselves. But it’s a song that begs Joel, too. Begs him to remember you.

Don’t forget me. You do not know if he hears you. Don’t forget me.

You attempt to follow him beneath the waves.

Don’t forget me.

—-

Against all odds, Joel Miller disembarks from the train to find himself in a farmland so familiar to him. Against all odds, it is three weeks later, and he’s followed all the roads and finds himself home.

He breathes in the smell of wheat under the scorching summer heat. He embraces it. He puts one foot ahead of the other, sea legs no longer present. The ground is too still that it still sometimes unnerves him.

A few meters away, he catches sight of the house. The windows wide open, the breeze making the curtains dance within. And on his porch is a familiar figure that had lowered her book and peered in his direction. He sees her face, and relief encompasses his bones. Sarah.

She’s running to him, yelling, loud and youthful and her face is like the sun. He feels himself smiling, too. The first time in weeks. Miles of walking and sleepless nights fade away with each step you take closer together. Then she’s running to his arms squealing as he embraces her.

Tell me. Is this really then Ithaca?

Finally, the years that separate the little family are slowly bridged. He rebuilds. He tells her stories. He tells her about you. When the sun sets, he tucks Sarah in and kisses her forehead.

Now, here he is. A couple of months that feels like decades have passed him by. He dreamt of you every night for the past three weeks. He sits in his bath, wondering if this was ever how you felt in those long, terrifying days. Did you feel peace, too?

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea, by sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown.

His eyes fall shut. His breath slows.

A moment of peace as he sees your face, smiling at him, languid hands reaching and asking him to follow you.

He hears your voice, singing into his ear as he chuckles.

Until human voices wake us, and we drown.

-

taglist: @tuquoquebrute @boofy1998 @persephone-girl @lunxramour @none-of-this-makes-any-sense

[kaiserin-erzsebet]

So, here are my long thoughts on The Last Voyage of the Demeter because I'm jetlagged and trying to keep myself awake.

I'm going to organize it from my biggest issues to my smallest nitpicks. Because I am aware that some of the things that bother me are nitpicks. Also this movie is old enough that I don't think spoilers are out of line.

Anyway, here are my thoughts:

I don't think I can fairly judge the movie as an adaptation of Dracula. This would be a short review if that was my standard, because it is a bad adaptation. There's a laundry list of reasons why, and I'll get back to one of them because I think it is indicative of how this movie fumbled the story. It takes a very loose approach to the book, and that wouldn't be entirely fair to fixate on. But I will point out where I think the book executed a theme or tone element more effectively.

I fully went into the movie ready to judge it on its own merits as a self-contained horror story. That's why I was surprised that I disliked it so much, because it doesn't hold up as a piece of horror media. I think the core issue is that the screenplay fundamentally was thinking of itself as a movie about people fighting a monster.

In that respect, it does away with something that makes the Captain's log such an effective part of the original book: The mystery.

The original section is an exercise in dramatic irony. You, as the reader, have already seen the thing making the crew vanish, because you read Jonathan's diary and know what is in the boxes (even if you were reading it for the first time and didn't have the cultural osmosis of knowing who Dracula). You know why they are in danger. The captain doesn't. He spends most of the log trying to figure out what is going on and if it is misfortune or something really on board with them. He only sees Dracula at the very end of the log, when there is little he can do except tie himself to the wheel.

The book answers the question of "why don't they make port or throw the boxes overboard?" with saying that the captain doesn't know for sure if it is actually something malicious related to the cargo. The Romanian first mate has to slowly come to the realization that he does know, because he's resisting believing in superstition. Only when the knife passes through Dracula without harming him does he panic because it's undeniable that he's facing a folklore monster.

That build up is entirely absent from The Last Voyage of the Demeter. Anna just tells them within the first half hour of the movie (she's also a very inconsistent character, but I'll get back to that), and within days the crew has literally seen Dracula multiple times. People aren't mysteriously vanishing; they've been killed pretty clearly and there are survivors with bite marks. The deck is littered with body parts at points. It makes the voiceovers about "some doom" being on the ship seem comical, because the captain has seen with his own eyes what is going on.

The only reason given for why they can't make port to deal with the issue is that they're too far away, I guess? Which is also not the case for a ship sailing that route. This isn't an open sea voyage.

While the pacing of a movie and the pacing of a show are different, The Terror did this so much better. You don't get to see the Tuunbaq clearly until quite late in the series. People just vanish or get mauled by...something. That sense of mystery is just gone in The Last Voyage. And it is disappointing because that was a huge opportunity to nail the tone.

If I had to come up with the key elements of what the Demeter section is, it would be: A Horror Story about a ship with a tragic ending.

They didn't nail the horror, but what about the other two?

There's also a puzzling lack of understanding of the dynamics on a ship throughout the movie. One glaring example is that the First Mate and Clemens make the decision to sink the ship without even asking the captain first. I know this is the merchant navy and not the navy, but that is still a galling lack of discipline. The captain is in charge and his duty is to the whole ship and the crew.

The original captain's log makes use of this. Dracula more or less kills his way up the chain of command because he's a sadist. He's forcing the commanding officers to feel more desperation as they fail in their duty to protect their crew.

The Last Voyage makes the captain a very minor character, which at least to me reveals a misunderstanding of how hierarchy works in a ship. While I don't think including new characters is necessarily bad, Clemens and Anna make most of the important decisions, and neither of them particularly have standing with the crew. It undercuts the idea of responsibility and letting people come to harm under your care (which carries through later to Lucy and Mina).

I'll return to other ways the ship setting feels incorrect later, because those are closer to nitpicks.

So, third element: is it a tragedy? Does everyone on board die by the end?

The opening scene may make you think so. But no, actually they don't. Clemens escapes and ends the movie vowing to hunt down Dracula. For one, this is where it is a bad Dracula adaptation because that simply cannot happen and maintain the plot of Dracula. Unless he was rather dense when he read about the Bloofer Lady in the paper and decided that wasn't related. But additionally, the tone of the ending radically changes. It isn't a tragedy where the last act of a brave man is to stay at the wheel, because he isn't the lone survivor left to be battered to death by either the storm or Dracula anymore. In fact most of the crew is still there for the multiple people vs Dracula fight.

This is where the tone really failed for me: the story has a winner, a hero, someone who can make it out alive. And it's the new character. That just did not sit well with me when the original is such a poignant tragedy.

The First Mate, who is the character most primed to come to a realization, hardly has an arc in The Last Voyage.

The insistence that they can fight and maybe even win also makes both Clemens and Anna incredibly inconsistent characters. She especially suffers from this, because she should in theory have the knowledge of how to repel a vampire (the villagers certainly have some idea in the book), but then she says things like "do you think I have the faintest idea how to kill him?" and in the next breath is urging the crew to kill him before he reaches London. She also says Dracula is going to London because "there is no one left in my home country to feed on" but her backstory is that she's on the ship as a deal so Drac can have a snack. So, clearly, he can get people to feed on if he wants.

Clemens is the "too smart and rational" character. But he also never thinks maybe they should expose the boxes to sunlight even after seeing people combust in sunlight after turning. It's all terribly inconsistent.

The decision to not write the story as a tragedy ends up cascading, and that's the root of the issue. They can't win and kill the monster without completely changing the story of the novel, so they are only competent to a point. It makes it a worse horror movie, even disregarding it as an adaptation.

Now for the nitpicks, including quite a few about boats that probably only I noticed:

The aesthetics are all over the place in terms of period. Clemens spends a large part of the movie (which is set in the 1890s) running around in a lace up pirate shirt. No one on this ship owns a period appropriate boat cloak. None of their shirts have remotely the right collars, giving the sense that nautical fashion was sort of vaguely consulted over the long 18th to 19th century-ish.

Please look at this and tell me that it is even remotely late 19th century:

Here's Olek from 1899 for comparison (note the correct high collar and undershirt):

The dialogue suffers from this too. More than one person uses the word "heathen" which just feels wildly out of place in something that is supposed to have rationality and superstition as the key touchpoints (at least if it wants to be like Dracula). It sounds weird coming from a time period 20 years before World War 1. Sailors especially were more likely to be vaguely Christian but mostly superstitious, not zealots using terms like "heathen."

Additional aesthetic nitpick: The ship looks way too old for the period. That is an early to mid 19th century ship sailing in the 1890s without any retrofitting. There's a throwaway line about the captain not wanting a fancy new steamship, but that doesn't account for how antique the captain's quarters are or the lack of metal on the hull. Again, the nautical aesthetics are all skewing too early. If this ship was still a Russian ship like the original, an older sailing vessel might have said something about the lag in Russian shipbuilding, it works less with an English merchant ship.

There's some functional issues about understanding sailing: The ship is way too spacious inside. Really tall men are standing up straight and walking around the hold with no trouble. That may seem like a small point, but imagine what actually exploiting the claustrophobic feeling below decks could have done for the ambiance.

The ship is definitely undercrewed given the number of masts they are showing. That many men would really struggle to reef all of the sails in a timely manner (which would matter in a storm). The writers put a crew of a small fishing vessel on a ship that is much larger and requires more hands. And it is puzzling because more people would mean: more kills and disappearances as well as giving a progression of being unable to raise and lower the sails and also keep someone at the wheel. Which, I will note, the original log does.

My first red flag about this movie was having seemingly no Slavic characters on a ship that was Russian in the original. But now that I've seen it, I'm even more annoyed that the one Russian character exists to: call a woman a slur, call a black man a slur (a rather British one imo), and then immediately be murdered on screen. Can't have nuance in how we portray Slavic people in Western media, huh?

I also get the sense that the screenwriter didn't know the difference between Romanian and Romani, because the first mate is vaguely hinted to be Romani (the kid mentions "Wojchek taught me some words in Romani") and has a Western Slavic first name, not a Romanian one. When in the book he is explicitly Romanian.

Rapid fire ways the movie gets the book wrong on a nitpicky level: Dracula doesn't get more human looking as he nears London, a vampire who prides himself on being aristocratic isn't going to drink from pigs or rats, the vampires in the book can go in sunlight but are weaker, religious artifacts are way more powerful deterrents in the book, and Clemens is way too casual about transfusions. It makes Van Helsing doing it seem less like an act of desperation. Anna gets Mina's ability to sense Dracula without putting in the effort to reverse engineer the connection.

Someone please tell me that Nosferatu is better. This was honestly very frustrating.

[nikosama13]

"I'll let my luck do the rest.." (Part 2! Law x Reader)

Description: Law couldn’t hold the secret of what had happened between you and him any longer.. He knew you’d hate him for it so he’d let his luck do the rest for him. (Please read part one if you haven’t already) <3

Side Notes: Hello my pretty loves! This is my first time continuing a fan fic I’ve created so please go easy on me. ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕 (My requests should be open + Probably spelling mistakes)

\-> Part one here /

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~~~

It was the next morning after you and Law shared a passionate kiss..

Law laid on his bed staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. His fingernails clawing into a pillow as he tried to re-think over what had happened last night. If what he did was a mistake or whether you’d even remember what had happened.

He slowly sat up and traced his fingers over his lips, trying to remember the feeling of you. Then he stood up and left his room, walking towards the dining room. Maybe a small snack could help him clear his mind a bit..?

Well that was a mistake..

You, out of all the people. You were there, eating breakfast on the table in front of him. He attempted to flee but you spotted him before he could.

“Oh hey Law!” you smiled at him warmly.

It seemed like you didn’t even have a slight clue on what went down last night.

His cheeks flushed at the thought of you two even touching. Law wasn’t very fond of physical touch.. Or more that he knows in his heart that he wouldn't have the will power to control himself which would lead to other things..

“G–good morning y/n-ya..” he looked down at the wooden floor.

“Good morning, Law!” you stuffed your face with your favorite breakfast.

Well you were doing that.. until you noticed something off.. you could sense the tension in the air but didn't know were it came from.

“Uhm.. law.. Did something happen? You seem down..” you shot him a concerned look.

“No it’s nothing..” he continued to look at the floor, hoping that his hat was covering his flushed face.

“Well it sure doesn't seem like nothing.” you stood up and placed your dish in the sink.

“If you wanna talk I’m here..” you were face to face with him now, well more like face to his hat..

He leaned on the door frame and pinched the middle of his nose.

“I’m alright..” he stayed the same.

“Okay then suit yourself..” you walked off and thought about what Law was going through.

Little did you know that it was all because of you and his lack of self control.

The day went by and the ocean became calmer.. However Law’s mind wasn’t. Thoughts of you and him raced through his mind as he sat in his room. He felt guilty, Law couldn’t just simply keep such valuable information from you like that..

After all, you should know what happened.

So that's it.

That’s when he decided that he was going to tell you.

How? When? Where?

Law let his luck do the rest.

He stood up from this chair and took a deep breath in. Then he walked across the hall and stood in front of your door, contemplating if he was actually going to do this. Just like the night before where he was contemplating if he should kiss you or not.

Law knocked two times on your door, his heart aching and mind racing as he awaited your response..

You did in fact open the door, there you were as beautiful as ever standing in front of him.

“Oh hello.. what brings you here..?” you gave him a small smile.

In your mind you just thought that Law had come for your assistance to deal with whatever he was going through. But boy, was it going to be more than that..

“Y/n, we need to talk.” he gave you a glare.

“Ah.. I see you’ve come to your senses and want my assistance. Come on in.” you opened your door wider to allow him to pass through, shutting it behind the both of you.

“Sit anywhere you’d like..” He was the Captain after all, and this was his ship.

He took a seat down on your couch and you sat on the edge of your bed, both of you facing each other.

“Listen closely because I'm only going to say this once.” he said firmly.

The tone of this voice showed that he meant business.

“Last night… something happened.. I suppose the thunder woke you up and you sleep walked to my room. I was shocked and didn’t know what to do, so I brought you back here. But then.. You asked me for something..” his voice was getting softer by every word he said.

“What did I ask..?” you said in an embarrassed tone.

You didn’t want to believe what you did..

His blushing grew stronger, which you noticed but weren’t going to question until you got your answer.

“You.. you.. asked me to kiss you. So I did..” he looked down immediately and started playing with his thumbs, waiting for you to say something more.

“I- I-.. i’m so sorr-” he cut you off.

“No, I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” he told you and himself.

He stood up and began to walk to your door.

“Wait..” you said, now flustered too.

He stopped, took a breath and turned to face you.

“What do you want..?” he said coldly.

“What makes you think that my sleep-walking self lied to you or something? I don’t think I would have just asked you to kiss me out of the blue in my sleep. There wouId have to be a reason.."

"That reason is because I wanted you to.” you smiled and blushed.

His whole tone and body language changed in a snap.

“I- I-..” he didn’t think of it like that.. His body froze up.

“And before you go Law.. I still wouldn’t mind a kiss from you.” you giggled.

Then all of a sudden he truned around and locked your door, walked up to you and picked you up in his strong arms.

"Then that's what you'll get." Law gave you a mischievous smile.

He kissed you.

Your legs tightened around his waist as he kissed you deeply.

Let’s just say tonight.. Law wasn’t going to let you go or for that matter.. ever.

~~~

The End~

(Thank you so much for reading this!) <3

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[wolkemesser]

Everything Nice

Please also check out the full fanfic on Ao3. Tremendous thanks to Juana da eel for the terrific art!

little damn marines.

bad enough I'm out here sailing to godforsaken wano. bad enough that little rubber brat and his little tub of bratty little pirates made a fool out of the Big Mom pirates. bad enough their useless little cook ruined my brilliant plan to wipe out those awful vinsmoke fools. my daughter my flesh and blood my beautiful pudding and he just runs away and they insult me like this and-

and now there's marines to deal with. annoying.

ANNOYING!

the island is a little speck on a speck on the horizon ahead but I can already see the marine sails in port. three? four? probably more floating out of sight, damn them.

what a bother; we’ve got to sail past to get to wano. to stupid wano and that idiot kaido useless useless USELESS.

and these marines right in MY ship’s way. at LEAST four ships.

it won't be enough to save them. there's no sailor in all the marines who I can't put in the ground, whose ships I can’t sink straight to the bottom of the…

...hmph...

...well…

...IF we have to deal with these marines...

...I could stand to burn off a bit of stress, actually.

it's been a miserable few days. I could use the distraction. remind these seas why Big Mom is destined to be King of the Pirates.

perospero has already ordered the ships to sail full ahead. what a good boy.

crack my knuckles. tell the cooks to prepare some tea for the harbor.

mmmm...hungry too...some cakes and refreshments will do as well, before we get to cracking heads.

what a bother...marines...so annoying.

but what's annoying can be fun.

sometimes. 

* * *

Rear Admiral T Bone paced the deck of his flagship, eyes fixed on the horizon, back turned to, but mind very much on, the quartet of marine vessels bobbing in the harbor.

“Sir?”

His charges. His privilege.

His serious responsibility.

“Sir?”

T Bone turned at last. Lieutenant Commander Culver stood there at attention, hat tucked under his arm, forehead bare and shimmering with beads of sweat from the hot afternoon sun. He looked agitated, which was understandable given the approaching threat, but could also mean-

“Have you been hydrating, sailor?”

Culver nodded, curt. “Every hour, Admiral.”

“The sweat does not bother me,” he added, before T Bone could even offer the sleeve of his jacket to clear the perspiration from Culver’s brow.

T Bone nodded. “Report.”

“Estimates put the Big Mom pirates at less than twenty minutes from the port.” Culver nodded toward the stern. “We’ve sent an emergency call out on the transponder snails, but with the state of things-”

T Bone nodded, grim. “Unlikely we’d see reinforcements any sooner than sunrise tomorrow. Have Captain Makota send fifty of her sailors to the town square in case the pirates decide to attack the town. Have the citizens ready to evacuate on my flagship if it comes to that."

"Understood."

T Bone glanced toward the sea again. The ship approaching the island was large beyond imagining. Not the biggest in all the seas, but it made his fleet look like lily-pads. That it was bright pastel colors and covered clearly even from this distance, in cakes and ice-creams and sweets, was no comfort whatsoever.

The Big Mom Chanter, flagship of the Big Mom pirates, and emperor of the Sea, Charlotte Linlin.

"We will fight if it comes to fighting. If Linlin threatens the citizens here, we will intervene. Otherwise..." T Bone looked over his ship, and the other marine ships anchored at harbor. "...I cannot guarantee a sporting chance against her crew, and I will not risk my sailors initiating a battle this unpromising."

He winced as a tight pang twisted his stomach. Danger was to be expected on the Grand Line, but this...an emperor of the sea...this was something else entirely.

You better resolve this peacefully or people will get hurt. You better be ready to fight for them with everything you’ve got

"I will parlay with her myself. If anything should happen to me, Captain Tikker is to take command of the remainder of the armada and defend the village at all costs, until the evacuation is complete."

Culver saluted and moved to go.

“Wait.”

Culver turned on his heels. There was a pained look on his face. Concerning, but first things first.

“Sir?”

“There’s a tear in your jacket, Marine. Right under the armpit.”

Culver did a double-take at his arm, and flushed.

“A-apologies sir! It’s from the skirmish yesterday morning; I haven’t had a chance-”

“No apologies needed, Sailor, but you must be cold with a hole in your clothing.” T Bone produced a needle from his pocket. “I haven’t got any thread left, but perhaps-” He reached up and tugged at one of his hairs. It would do in a pinch.

Cold leads to sickness, sickness to death, the death of even a single person must be avoided at all costs

“No!” Culver held up his hands. “With all due respect sir, it’s just a small tear. And, well...” He pointed over T Bone’s shoulder. The ship was drawing closer by the moment. "...It's not necessary, sir."

T Bone frowned. It certainly seemed necessary, but time was of the essence. 

“We’ll see to that jacket later, Sailor.” T Bone put a hand to his own sword. “Go. Quickly. We need to get the villagers to safety.”

“Sir!”

A good Marine. They all are.

* * *

sniveling marine fools in their childish neckerchiefs and caps stamping around their toy boats like ants.

amusing enough to make the smile on my face feel real after grimacing through the indignity of running myself ragged after that straw-hat rubber brat and his little friends.

and here I was ready to have fun and open fire on their sorry little tub fleet and then they send up a flag to parlay. stupid marines. stupid rules of engagement on the high seas. when I’M King of the Pirates no formalities will stop me from taking whatever I want.

but the children get SO disagreeable and bratty when it comes to the marines and if it were just a captain there wouldn’t be a problem but now perospero and the older ones will insist we make parlay with the Marines to avoid trouble and ooooh!

I just know they’ll be all “with how bad things are with the world government and the celestial dragons getting all riled up there’s no need to bring down the attention of the navy if they’re not offering battle first.”

as if the world government scares me one bit.

so now I’m just sitting here and I’ll have to TALK to one of them and find a way to trick them into attacking US first so that we can just flatten the little rats and there won’t be any fuss from the children.

why can’t things just be NICE?

My fingers are itching but if the children want to deal with this then I guess its fine but UGH.

I HATE it when the children fuss it’s so much nicer when everyone is just HAPPY.

right now there’s only biscuits to snack on at the table and the tea is still cooling down and the children are off seeing to the marines. The only homies I have with me are Napoleon and Hera and Prometheus and they’re being dull right nor so the only entertainment I have is watching these little dull marines run back and forth they’re even evacuating the town AS IF I WOULD OFFER A NEW ISLAND ANYTHING OTHER THAN PROTECTION and they all look the same in their stupid white uniforms and-

THERE!!

one of the little marines looks MUCH more interesting than the others. I'm sure I've seen him before and I remember he looks like that great little creature I found when I was trying to marry pudding to that miserable little vinsmoke boy and then I lost it and it made me SO angry.

a little skeleton marine. how delightful!

I tell perospero to bring me THAT marine. damn the admiral, this one is the most interesting one and I don't want to speak with any of the other little sailors right now. perospero says that IS the admiral and I don't know why he's telling me useless things and not bringing me what I want. he's usually such a good, clever boy. 

* * *

Charlotte Linlin’s ship was a cheery place, at least. It smelled pleasant: scents of baked goods and sugar, and the walls below-decks were painted with bright colors.

Not how T Bone would have chosen to decorate a war vessel, but it had its charm.

He stopped to offer rations to his modest entourage of Marines several times as they traversed the walkways of the massive ship, in case the smell was making them hungry.

Hunger leads to distraction leads to carelessness and carelessness kills

They mostly declined the food, except for one who took a packet of dried meat after the third time he offered. She did not chew it with much enthusiasm, but T Bone nonetheless felt relieved that he had made the wise choice to keep a small satchel of snacks on hand for his hungry lads.

They were so far maintaining the veneer of meeting on equal terms, but a quick assessment of Big Mom's ship made it plain that T Bone’s current armada of marines would be unsalvageably outmatched if it came to battle.

His stomach felt unsettled in a way he'd not felt since he was a raw recruit to the Marines, barely a month fresh and undergoing basic training.

Hunger, maybe? It wouldn’t do to eat through his snacks with such an important diplomatic task ahead of him. And what if his other marines did become hungry while they were here?

His entourage turned a corner, and a tall fellow all in yellow hailed them with a broad grin on his face. Linlin’s oldest – T Bone recalled the pattern of his hair from an intelligence brief years ago. Linlin Perospero.

“Welcome, Marines, to our mother’s ship! She's prepared tea for your parlay, admiral.”

Perospero led them down another walkway and up the companionway, to the quarterdeck and back into the open air. 

T Bone was used to the shock of Haki, but even so he had to take a half-second to steel himself against the wave that struck him even before he took the final steps up and into the afternoon sun.

His marines faltered behind him as they emerged onto the quarterdeck, one almost falling back down the companionway. The man's fellow sailors caught him, and T Bone extended a hand to the foremost one and pulled them all back up, while they supported one another’s shoulders.

Looking after each other. Such fine Marines.

They helped each other to their feet. To T Bone’s surprise, Perospero, and another of Linlin’s children, a long-legged pirate with white hair, aided them as well, although Perospero kept that strange, cruel smile on his face while he did so.

Once he’d looked them over, T Bone nodded to his escort of marines. “Remain steady, and do nothing to risk the safety of yourselves or our comrades on the ships.” He turned back to Perospero and nodded. “I’ll be back presently.”

He ascended to the forecastle.

"Lucky you!"

Linlin waved a hand at the empty chair nearest her, set at the side of the table adjacent to he own.

"Today, you get to dine at the table of the future King of the Pirates!"

It was one thing to hear tales of Charlotte Linlin, Emperor of the seas. Plenty of Marines, from admirals to corpsmen, had anecdotes of glimpsing her in some pitched battle or island raid. 

None of it prepared him for the truth of her. She radiated power. She was tremendous in stature, yes, but it was not her size that made her presence awesome, it was more as if...as if the majesty inside her could not have been contained by an average person's frame. 

And her face – there was a predator’s gaze in her eyes, no mistaking it – a sharpness that extended to her smile and her deft movements, even if those movements right now were mostly just moving scones from her plate to her mouth.

New generations of pirates had come and gone in her pirating career, but there was no doubt in T Bone's mind she was a match for any one of them.

She felt like the sun falling out of the sky, down on his head.

“Well?”

T Bone blinked. Perospero had descended back to the quarterdeck. There was nothing between him and Linlin’s table but a length of plush purple carpeting.

Linlin was tapping her fingers along the edge of the table, a shark’s smile radiating from her face.

Charlotte Linlin was so arresting, so striking, that T Bone did not even begin to take in the rest of the forecastle until he took his first step toward the table.

The sweet-themed decorations had been obvious even from a distance, as had the size of the ship, but standing on it felt like what he imagined standing in a theme park as a small child must feel like. The entire forecastle was shaped like a massive mound of pudding, and titanic sweets loomed in every corner. The entire quarterdeck of the vessel was so large they’d be able to conduct their parlay at a shout without those even a third of a way across the ship overhearing.

T Bone’s seat was not across from Linlin, as he had expected, but at the side of the table adjacent to hers. The arrangement left him forced to turn slightly in his chair to meet her eyes – an intimidation tactic planned deliberately by the Big Mom pirates, perhaps.

To their credit, if that was the case, he was completely unable to take his eyes off of her.

This is for the best; an averted gaze is weakness. Weakness kills where pirates are concerned.

Doubly so for emperors of the sea.

* * *

the little marine has good eyes. takes everything in before he's even taken three steps toward me. an observant type, not like some of these other fools.

observant, but we'll see if he's appreciative.

we'll see if I even let him live.

he sits properly and politely and takes his hat off at the table. good. he has a pleasant smell to him, but austere. like smoke and incense in a church like Mother Carmel used to smell like. 

hm.

(She’s safely set in a padded chair across from me.

where she cannot topple over.

good. 

can't be too safe)

he sits and I let him know just how PLEASED I am that he and his bunch of tugboats were here to greet us and how it’s brave of him not to turn tail and run like the cowardly dogs most marines are and-

oh! snacks! finally!

cakes and candies and pastries and cookies. AND, as I remind streusen as the fruity cream puffs (so tasty!) hit the table this is of course just the first of many courses.

after all, pirating is hungry work!

I tell that last bit to the intriguing little marine sitting at my table. good to remind them you’re a pirate.

anyways, let’s test his mettle.

* * *

“Will you fight like a man, or surrender?” Linlin speared a cream puff with her fork and tore it in half with a snap of her jaw. “Put yourself at my mercy now and I might just let you and your fleet depart if you can work out a proper tribute.”

T Bone shook his head.

"I can do neither. I have a duty to protect the people here." He paused, thinking over his next few words. "It would be...unacceptable for me to surrender, or to leave a defenseless village while a pirate of your caliber has anchored in port."

“Then why are we even talking? What other options do you think you have? If you mean to be difficult, let’s have a fight.”

“I’m obligated to pursue any pirate that we cross in these seas, but my priority is the safety of my crew and the people here. I have no reason to offer battle if you take no hostile action against them. But if you do take hostile action, you should know that I can bring significant marine forces to bear on this location.”

The second half of the cream puff disappeared.

“But not before I sink you and your ships here now to the ocean floor. Right?”

“Maybe not.” T Bone nodded his thanks to one of Linlin’s chefs as he filled a cup of tea. “But if you leave me no other choice, then we’ll fight to the last man to defend this place. You can count on THAT.”

“Defend it from who?” She leaned in, and, without looking, thrust her fork into the center of another puff, and held it aloft. “They’re in no danger. This is a lucky day for this island! Today they get a taste of the wonder of Totto Land!”

“...and what would that mean for them, exactly?”

"It can mean many things, little marine. For now it means that if the islanders do as they're told, they have nothing to worry about."

"Pirates rarely make reasonable demands."

"That's a pirate's privilege." Linlin smiled broadly. "Protection comes at a price."

T Bone shook his head. "This island is not part of the Big Mom pirates protectorate, or Totto land."

"Not yet. That’s exactly why today marks such a wonderful opportunity for them." Her eyes shot up, past his head. "Your marines seem nervous." 

T Bone didn't pivot to look over to where his escort stood. His men would of course not betray any fear, but it was difficult not to worry about them. 

"Marines face the danger in front of them no matter the threat." T Bone spared a glance to where Linlin’s children were idling about. "And marines at least pay attention when the situation demands it."

At the mention of her children, Linlin did look up from her food, and scowled. Perospero, the white-haired woman, and a clutch of other colorful-looking characters were the only other people on the deck, save for his marines. None of them seemed especially interested in the happenings around them, and they were simply chatting amongst themselves.

“You lazy louts,” she shouted, Haki palpable in her voice, “we have guests! Get a table and some refreshments.” Linlin’s children cringed under the rebuke, and sped into action. “When would we ever let Marines stand around unchaperoned on our ship?”

She turned back to T Bone, shaking her head.

"Children - no matter how much love you show them, you've got to keep scolding them."

He nodded. Rebuking, to be fair, was part of a leader’s duty, whether it was chiding a pirate for not keeping guard or reprimanding a Marine for not getting enough sleep while off-duty.

The tightness in his stomach was growing, but it wasn't a queasiness, and despite it all he felt it wasn't fear. Looking at Linlin didn't make it worse, he was sure, but it had been growing since he'd set foot in the ship.

He'd felt the pain before, during his first real action at sea.

An evacuation of an island in the North Blue. They'd had to bunker down in a cave while a volcanic eruption had filled the land and skies and sea above with ash and burning hot avalanches of rock and dust.

The heat had been unbearable. The crowding was miserable. Half the marines down there had died before the end.

But it hadn't been fear then. He knew it hadn't been.

And it wasn’t fear now.

“My sailors are worried. Of course they are – it’s our job to be worried about people. That’s what it means to be a protector.” T Bone glanced at Linlin’s chastened children. “I’m sure you know what that’s like.”

“Obviously.” Linlin took a long draught of tea from a cup the size of a bathtub. “It’s a bigger responsibility than people give it credit for.” She set her cup down, and leaned over to peer at T Bone. The smell of sweets, and something floral that was not food, drifted from her hair to his nose.

Not at all unpleasant.

“YOU look uneasy too, admiral.” She grinned. “Frightened?”

T Bone blinked. He wasn’t. Not really. In awe of her, maybe, but not scared. Why-?

Focus.

“My only concern is for the safety of my Marines and the public. Again, I’m sure you feel the same way about your own crew.”

“Only concern? I’m not small-minded like that.” Linlin set her teacup down with a thump. “I have many, many concerns on my mind at any given second. I rule an entire kingdom, as you might know.”

“There’s nothing small-minded about good leadership.”

T Bone flinched. His voice had risen without him meaning to.

But I have a point to make. If I can make the point well enough, maybe this goes well.

“Overseeing, anything, be it a kingdom or a ship, means being concerned for the people in it. First and foremost and always.”

“I am always concerned about people.” Linlin’s smile thinned. Like she was also peeved. “No-one in the world is better taken care of than the Big Mom pirates, or the citizens of Totto land.”

He couldn’t help but scoff at that. “All the world? Really?”

“That’s right. I’d challenge any parent, any captain, anywhere in the world to match the care I offer.”

“I guess every good captain or parent worth their salt feels that way,” T Bone offered as riposte. “I have my own pride as an admiral, you know.”

Linlin cackled. “You may be a good leader, little marine, but my crew are practically pampered!”

“You might have me there.” T Bone gave a wry smile, despite himself. “Although, you should see how well the World Dragons are looked after.” His smile wrinkled a bit with his own distaste, again, despite himself. “Their pampering might have us both beat.”

Linlin laughed so suddenly and loudly at that, and slapped the tabletop with such force, that her children looked up from their table-setting in momentary alarm.

“Mamamamamamamaa! They are quite the self-pampered bunch!” Then, just as suddenly as she had laughed, she spat with pointed venom over the rail of her ship.

“Self-centered, useless bores, all of them. Does it make you proud to serve the world they’ve made?”

T Bone pursed his lips. “It makes me proud to serve the people of the world. Whatever nobles happen to benefit is besides the point.”

“It really isn’t, and you’re dodging the question.” Linlin grabbed a fistful of cookies and dunked them in her tea. “Do you like serving the world nobles? You weren’t afraid to bring them up, but now you’re mincing words. Answer me and answer me honestly.”

She threw back her head and tossed the fistful of cookies past her lips.

It’s impressive, actually, the gusto she eats with.

T Bone regarded her a moment as she chewed.

A Marine doesn’t bow to pirate threats, although...

“You’re right. It’s wicked behavior to mince words during an honest parley. That was beneath me.”

“It was!” She seemed satisfied that her point had gotten across. “Well, I’m glad that you see your mistake! A lady like me shouldn’t spit either, I guess, but there you go.”

T Bone shrugged. “If you’re disgusted, spit. It’s an honest reaction.”

That seemed to please her, too. At least, she was smiling even broader now.

“I have a difficult time fitting the World Nobles into a just picture of the world.” T Bone paused, considering his next words. These were thoughts that had been with him for some years, but that he hadn’t said aloud before. “I have seen how they behave, admittedly only a small handful of times, and I hope the behavior I saw was an exception, and not the rule.”

“If you saw them acting like foolish, cruel, selfish bores then you saw them the way they are.” Linlin dunked another handful of cookies, sending up a splash of tea when she pulled her hand back. “They want all the world in chains, and people follow them?”

“As opposed to a pirate?”

Linlin smacked her belly. “As opposed to a pirate like ME. I am building a world with no prejudice or outsiders! Where everyone is embraced in the great big hug of Big Mom!”

“A genuinely admirable goal,” T Bone offered, “And feeling the way you seem to feel about your people and your crew, you’ll understand why this parlay between us must end peacefully for all.”

“Oh, must it?” Linlin picked up a cookie and spun it on her finger. “If you had me outgunned, not that such a thing is possible, would you be talking peace? Would you just let pirates in your power go?”

“…no. Not if I could capture you with no risk to civilians. But that is not the situation we’re in, and I don’t see the point in talking hypotheticals when real lives are on the line.”

“Honest. Good.” She smiled at him, and he had to catch himself before he nodded in thanks.

It’s simply right to try and make people happy, even if they’re a pirate. So long as it does no harm.

“So you fancy you’re an Admiral of the people, huh?”

“Whenever I can be. If ever they need anything.”

“Anything?”

“Well, if they need help, I give it to them. If I can patch a Marine’s jacket, I’ll do it for them. If I can feed them when they’re hungry, I’m happy to pick up a spoon. When...”

* * *

isn’t that sweet. a caring marine. and honest, if you just prod him right.

well, the world is full of stranger things I guess – like three-eyed girls and long-legged people. and how tasty the world is to be full of such strange things!”

still!

now he’s going on and on about the things he’s done for his marines! and what petty things!

what a bore, what a bore! who needs someone fussing over them like that, like some mother hen? even I let my children see to their inconveniences on their own; how else are they supposed to become strong?

this is no way to live

the little marine is so interesting to look at though. I'm STILL bitter about LOSING my wonderful little skeleton, and now the world puts another one right into my clutches. I'll not let this one go. I think that’s what I’ll do. probably have to kill all these marines if I take their admiral but maybe we just leave with him and they’ll be grateful we didn’t level this whole island.

they’d better be grateful.

and of course when I come back to add them to the Big Mom family they’ll be so grateful.

hmph.

hungry still.

streusen!

it takes the chefs a full three minutes and thirty-one seconds to bring up cupcakes and I’m about hungry enough to eat my own tongue by the time the silver platter and a bouquet of hot cake and frosting in rainbow colors hit the table.

the marine creature makes a remark in praise of my cooks and I’d scold him for saying nice things to THEM when they’ve just made ME unhappy, but it’s more fun to delight in sweets than be sour about the failings of useless people so I show him my favorite flavors.

the skeleton remarks that we treat our guests well and I tell him of course. the bounty of Totto land is unmatched. I tell streusen to send pastries to their ship for his other little marine friends and when the marine creature makes sounds to object I poke him in his chest and tell him someone who clearly does not eat enough himself is in no place to refuse food offered to others.

(it is odd though despite his emaciation he has a firm chest, proud and supple with muscle, not unlike some of my more proper husbands).

he just nods and says that’s fine, but when I ask him why he isn’t eating he says he isn’t hungry.

fine.

enough pleasantries, then. I ask him what he plans to offer the Big Mom pirates.

he plays coy. pretends the debts owed by the weak to the strong does not exist. pretends that the umbrella of protection offered by a mother does not deserve reciprocation.

fine. fine.

fine.

We'll play this game.

I tell him I will order my children to bring his marines up to the foc’scle and I sweep napoleon off my head, blade out.

the little marine doesn’t draw his sword, not quite, but he's shifted in his seat and his sword is in his lap and his hand is on the hilt and he's looking right at me to let me know that his hand is on the hilt.

I don't sit back down, but I do crack my knuckles and grin down at him to ask what he plans to do with that strong, straight sword of his.

* * *

"Whatever I must do with it to protect my fleet and this island."

Linlin laughed. "What about diplomacy, huh?"

"If diplomacy fails, swords must be drawn." T Bone gestured to his crew, far across the deck who were on their feet, hands on their own swords. 

Brave Marines, one and all. 

He gave them a gesture to be at ease and they sat again, though they shot anxious glances at the table. Neither of Linlin’s children had risen from the table, or seemed to think there was anything out of the ordinary about blades drawn during a parlay.

“Mamamama! Don’t fret, admiral. I’m having too much fun to cut our talk short.” She thrust the blade of her sword into the deck of the ship, and returned to her cupcakes.

T Bone appraised her, looking for a sign that she intended to go for her sword again. It seemed not, but she was fast and strong enough that he could not be sure of getting his blade out in time to stop her, or that he was even strong enough to meaningfully delay her.

If she cuts through you she cuts through the crew and she cuts through everyone the crew protects and you will have FAILED if she cuts through you.

“You lied.”

“Lied?”

“You wanted me to think you were about to kill my Marines. You made me dread for their safety, and therefore the safety of this whole island.”

“I guess so. So what?”

“You asked me to be honest. I ask the same of you. Lying is beneath a pirate as powerful as you are.”

He didn’t know what to make of her face as he said that. She was still smiling – does she always have that wonderful...that powerful smile? - But it didn’t look quite the same just then. Her eyes looked different, like she was trying to look into his head.

Maybe it was just that she looked different without the hat on. Even with just a bandanna on, her soft pink strands rolling out from beneath it like sunrise sun through the clouds, they looked imposing. Mighty.

She sniffed, and sat back in her chair, tossing a cookie into her maw.

“Fine. Honesty. I’ll tell you any truth you want. You're right; I’m strong enough to not need lies.”

"What brings you sailing this way? Away from Totto Land?"

"Trying to gather a bit of marine intelligence?" Linlin snorted. "I've always thought that’s an oxymoron, don't you think?"

T Bone said nothing.

"Hmph." She chomped down on a peppermint cake roll, and chewed it slowly, eyeing him. "I'm chasing that little rubber brat. The pirate with the straw hat."

"Why?"

"He offended me. He and his little rat crew." She snatched another cake roll and squeezed it in her fist. "That's all you need to know."

“You’re chasing him across the seas yourself for giving offense?”

“I’ve chased after less for less.” She considered the mass of sweets in her hand staring at it, then glanced at T Bone. “I might even chase after a tasty morsel like you if I could spare the time.”

Then she shoved the mashed cake into her mouth.

* * *

he’s fun to tease and not like the way the fools that get scared are fun to tease but more fun than the other stoic bastards who defy me when the time comes to spin the wheel and pretend they’re not scared of me when I KNOW they’re scared of me.

not this one though.

honest actions honest reactions and when he defies me he means it even though I know he knows I know I could crush him like cake.

so I ask if he wants to be a husband.

he goes quiet and I think after a minute I even see a bit of pink on that pale face and that makes my next bite of chocolate taste all the better and it’s already pretty good, creamy and sweet and nutty and a hint of mint.

he wants to know why. Mamamamamamamamama. sometimes they are confused and ask why. don’t understand why they’ve gotten so lucky.

I like taking things from the marines and that’s all he needs to know right now.

* * *

His face felt like it had been shoved into an oven. A very sweet-smelling, but uncomfortably warm oven.

Where did that come from??

“Is-is there even a place for a father on Big Mom’s crew?”

“Like you say, Admiral, it’s a big family. I’ve got.” Linlin shrugged, and helped herself to a newly-arrived plate of red-bean buns. “There’s only room for one Mom, but no limit on uncles, aunts and fathers.”

“No limit on fathers?”

“I’m very open-minded,” she said, giving T Bone a massive, conspicuous wink.

T Bone suddenly had a powerful urge to pull back his collar, which had become spotted with sweat, and was sticking to the nape of his neck.

"I've heard husbands and fathers don't last long in your kingdom."

She frowned. "Nonsense. There's plenty of husbands and fathers! On all the islands!"

"Your husbands. Your childrens' fathers."

"What about them?"

"...Where are they now?"

"Who cares? What are you getting at?"

"I don't think I want to share their fate."

Linlin scoffed. “Those were husbands for making babies. Who holds onto a cupcake wrapper after the you eat the cupcake? I want amusements now, and you, admiral, are amusing.”

“A genuinely flattering offer,” he managed after several seconds longer than he would’ve preferred it take him to form a response, “but I believe a sailor should see the commitments they’ve made through, and should see to the end what they’ve started. I will be a Marine until the day I die.”

Linlin snorted, “And I say a man shouldn’t be allowed to turn down a life that would make him happier, just because he’s too thick-skulled to see it.”

“...happier how?”

“I know people like you.” She leaned forward and prodded him on the shoulder with a single finger. “Only good at taking care of other people when they stop taking care of themselves, which is just another way of saying that you’re bad at taking care of your family.”

T-bone pressed his lips together

“I’ll accept criticism, but I won’t be told I don’t look after my sailors”

“I didn’t say you don’t look after your sailors, I just said you’re probably no good at it”

* * *

the little marine is all confused. normally, I can’t be bothered to explain myself, but he seems brighter than most so I give him a chance.

I explain how a dead person can’t take care of a family. he doesn’t say anything right away to that, but he is paying attention at least, so I explained further: a corpse is a terrible mother, and a corpse is what a mother will become if she doesn’t feed her herself while she’s feeding her family. I, obviously could never be accused of not feeding myself, and as he can see, there is no stronger or more robust a mother than ME.

now he’s thinking about what I’m saying. maybe he’ll see.

maybe he’ll see. 

well, if he wants to sit and be silent and think I might as well take a good look at him. less of an amusing novelty than the straw hat skeleton. delightful as that little thing was, it was like a toy clown or a jack-in-the-box, and this marine is more of a man. emaciated, but he just needs to eat more and find some cheer in his life.

he’s looking at his crew now and he’s talking again all soft-like in a whisper and he’s asking what good he is to them if he doesn’t lay down his life for them and hmmmm.

that’s sad. that’s a sad way of thinking. doesn’t he understand that that’s no good?

I ask him also what good it does him to throw his body in front of a cannonball if what he wants is to protect his crew. after the first cannonball comes another and another and another and the captain who uses their body to shield against that first fire can do nothing to protect his crew from the hundreds that will follow. 

then I help myself to some crème brulee. the spoon sinks into the sweet, smooth stuff with just the right amount of resistance, and the cream melts on the tongue slowly, notes of vanilla and cardamom and hazelnut and-

he tells me I have a point just as I'm scooping up my fourth bite which makes it taste twice as sweet and yummy. I tell him of course I do, which delays my next bite but it's worth it to tell him.

then he asks me what I do to protect my crew. 

* * *

“I’m the strongest in the whole world.” She didn’t even seem offended by the question, more like she was confused that the answer wasn’t obvious to T Bone. “And I’m building the strongest family in the whole world. Who would dare harm my children?”

“But your children have been harmed,” T Bone said. “The straw-hat pirates...the very ones you're chasing now...didn't they hurt your children? Isn’t that why you’re pursuing them? Besides...taking care of our crews...our families...there’s more to it than just fighting for them. They could catch cold, or they could get lost at sea, or they could eat spoiled food and get sick, or they could-”

“I've raised 85 children; you don’t think I know that?”

T Bone trailed off. She looked vexed still, and more than a little annoyed.

Right. Whatever else she’s done, she’s raised strong children.

“...I think you know that better than most. So one caretaker to another, don’t you agree we have to do more than just draw our swords for them?”

“That’s true when they’re children children,” She said, shaking her head. “You’ve got to let them be their own people – fight their own battles – once they’re grown.”

T Bone looked over to the table Linlin's children had set up, where they and his marines were now sitting, slightly awkwardly, and making small talk. Someone had brought them tea, but only the white-haired woman had partaken so far.

“It’s different when we’re not their parents, though." He turned back to Linlin. "Or not just their parents, in your case. We’re their captains. Their leaders. Their lives are to follow us, and we owe them to return some care for their lives.”

She didn’t answer that right away. She looked like she was considering what he said, but she might have also been considering the taste of her funnel cakes.

T Bone creased his brow.

How to say this?

“Would you give your life for your children?”

“What??”

The question looked like it vexed Linlin, and hopefully threw her off balance enough for him to regroup and get a handle back on the conversation.

“I accept your proposition – that a parent-”

“You accept my proposal?”

Linlin was grinning at him and T Bone belatedly remembered he had technically been offered a marriage earlier in the conversation.

“N-no. I mean...that is, I am not accepting that proposal at this time, but what I mean is-”

Linlin’s brow furrowed.

“I mean your conversational proposition that a good parent needs to be alive and healthy to best take care of their children...or subordinates or crew or whatever the case might be.”

She shrugs, and falls back into her seat, scooping up a handful of chocolates as she goes, spreading it on a heap of funnel cakes, and popping it all into her mouth.

“But I think a parent should be prepared to die for their children, if it comes to it.”

She crossed her arms. She was chewing. Frowning.

“Death should be avoided, obviously-” T Bone began.

“By keeping yourself hale and healthy.”

T Bone nodded. “Of course, but if your child was about to die-”

“I would kill whoever was about to kill the child and be on my way.”

“What if it was you or them?”

“Then I still have dozens of others,” Linlin said, waving at the cluster of children clustered down on the quarterdeck, “and a nation that depends on me for protection and leadership. I can’t be dying over one child if I leave so many behind.”

“Yes, but what if-”

“And when would it ever be me or them?” Linlin's brow was raised, and she was leaning toward him.

“Well, imagine in my-”

“You’re making up situations now; why would I be made to give up my own life for all of my children? When would I even be in that situation??”

“I’m in that situation right now.”

“And I’m not. I thought you didn’t like hypotheticals.”

“I’m not asking you to consider a hypothetical, I’m asking you to consider me. Humor me and the situation I am in now. I'm just asking what if"

She looked offended now. T Bone felt a prickle across his shoulders. Had he overplayed his hand? Not just diplomatically, but had he been rude to push the question too far for her comfort?

"They're my precious children. Try and hurt them and you'll see what happens to you."

"Mm." T Bone looked away from her, and at the settings in front of him. He could see the faint reflection of her in the glaze of the teapot, and the sheen of the icing on the cinnamon rolls the chefs had just deposited on the table. "That's a strong answer."

She didn't respond. She was gazing at her children on-deck. Perospero was sitting and laughing with T Bone’s marines, who were variously uneasily participating in the conversation and genuinely laughing at whatever the pirate had said. There was still a frown on Charlotte's lips, but her eyes looked merry.

Sharp. Harsh. But merry.

He cleared his throat.

"A marine should only threaten if they plan to act on it. I spoke without considering that my words could seem a threat."

She kept her eyes on the far table. On his Marines, as best he could tell.

"Like your children, huh?" She said, finally.

T Bone nodded. "My sailors. my charges. My responsibility." He took his teacup from the table. The heat from the porcelain felt soothing under his sore fingers. "My privilege. Children...something like that. But they're grown and capable men and women."

"Even when they're grown, they're still your children." Charlotte swiped a chocolate from the table, and held it between two fingers, not looking at it. "Even when they're grown, you still want them to be safe from the world."

"And sometimes we stifle them, trying to protect them."

Linlin looked back at him, and the smile returned to her face. “Maybe.”

“Those marines down there...” T Bone shifted in his chair to look toward the docks. “I could not love them any more if they were my own sons and daughters. There is nothing I would not do to protect them.” He met her gaze. “Nothing. I’m sure you can understand that.”

“Like family.”

“Exactly. Like family. You’d protect your children if they were threatened, of course?”

“Well, if it happened right in front of me...” Big Mom frowned. “Can’t your little marines fight their own battles?”

“Of course they can, but I will be there by their side, fighting the battles with them. We are one fleet, and one cause, and if I can stand alongside them while they risk their lives, I will be there.”

“But what if you die?” She jabbed a fork, laden with pie, in his direction. “Then you’ve left them without a leader! Irresponsible!! A leader should avoid risks like that. That’s the whole point of a hierarchy, whether it’s a family or a crew!”

“That...that is true, but...”

“But nothing!”

“I have able subordinates who I trust. When I am gone, I am confident they’ll be able to take over-”

“You’ve babied them all this time. How could they be ready?”

T Bone laughed with a wry scoff. “Well, the Marines know my nature. They’ve been giving me self-sufficient captains to serve under me.”

“Well, lucky you to have as wide a choice of crew as the Navy gives you.”

“Yes, I…I am very lucky.” He glanced over at his marines, and gave them a reassuring gesture when a few responded to his look with creases of concern. “Still, my question to you – how far would you go for your children?”

* * *

of course I would never let a marine lay a single filthy finger on by children. what kind of mother does he think I am…?

* * *

“I’m building an empire for them. I’m building a whole swath of the world for my children to thrive in. My children and other people’s children. If that’s not enough dedication to make you happy, well, then that’s your problem.”

“For them or for-”

“It’s for all of us. Why can’t something nice be for me AND for them?”

“...No reason. That’s a fine point.”

“But I see you’re not in the business of making yourself happy.”

“We all have work to do-”

"Exactly! We’ve ALL got work to do. You. Them. And they can’t always be doing it with you holding their hand. You've got to let them fight their own battles sometimes. Isn't that what you Marines sign up to do in the first place?"

“We do.”

It was true. That had always been true. But not every marine understood that when they joined. He had had an idea of what it would mean, but the truth of service was something else.

The worst that could happen...

His stomach thrummed with discomfort. 

The meat rations had been the first to go, despite their best efforts. Then the bread. Then the water.

Then it had just been them, underground in the dark, listening to the sounds of the eruption and landslides above.

The heat killed.

The thirst killed.

The hunger killed.

When at last they were rescued, he and the other marines that had survived were little more than taut skin and empty stomachs.

He should have been used to it. He'd had hungry times as a child, but they'd never lasted that long. He'd never been so tempted to take what wasn't his.

He shook his head.

Back to the present.

His stomach’s state was not improving.

"We should be looking after each other," T Bone replied. "You're right. I can be protective. And it’s not always welcomed. And there's a time and a place for it. But there IS a time to lay your body on the line for those we protect, and what I hear and know of Charlotte Linlin…”

He fortified himself with a breath.

"...Everything I demand of my Sailors, I demand because I believe it is in their interest as much as mine. Every risk I ask them to assume, I ask of them because I believe we are making the seas...the world, a better place. I think the world benefits, ultimately. When you demand tribute from the islands under your protection, whose benefit is that for?"

"Mine."

She didn't spare even a moment considering the answer. In fact, the way she was looking at him expectantly, T Bone was sure she thought that was a prelude to a second question.

Better weave one, then.

"That's selfish, then."

Hm. Not a question. Oops.

"What the hell did you say to me?"

"Isn't it?" he folded his hands in front of him. "If you had to explain the point of demanding tribute, what would you say?"

"I do not have to explain anything about what I do."

"But I'm curious. Truly. You've accomplished incredible things as a pirate. I want to know what there is to how you operate. You seem too driven a person to do something for no good reason at all."

Big Mom smirked. "Don't you Marines believe in Black and White? Good and Evil? Maybe I'm just evil."

"Maybe." T Bone clasped his hands a little tighter. "But I know you don’t think that, and...this world we live in becomes more complicated with every day I spend in it. I would like things to be black and white, but I've learned at least that what seems black on the surface can contain a multitude of layers below."

* * *

he's a thoughtful one this little marine and that's a refreshing gulp of tea, sure, but I've seen this sort of thinking and it's a trap of thinking that just because YOU'VE changed your mind about something and thought more about it you suddenly think everyone else has had those deeper thoughts too and it's just not true.

the world is still full of fools and dullards even if you make yourself smarter.

so I tell him he's an idiot if he thinks all marines think like that. the marines are full of bullies and cowards and idiots and I ask him doesn't he know that?

the thoughtful little marine looks at me and he looks sad when I say that but it's the truth so why shouldn't I say it?

but he nods still and says I'm right (of course I'm right) and that makes it all the more important for him to put all of himself into being a just marine.

foolish. if an apple is rotten you can't fix it by putting more caramel on it. 

I tell him that.

* * *

"The alternative is giving up. I won't do that."

"Hmph." She didn't seem satisfied by that, but she plucked up a candied cherry and chewed it in silence.

When given an opening, sail ahead.

"The Marines can do better," he continued. "We can all, always, do better, but it has to be...that is, I believe it has to be the Marines. I take your analogy about apples, but you can't throw away an institution without hurting the people it protects. And whatever you think about the Marines, we protect more people than either you or I could imagine."

Linlin twisted her lips. “But even a bad parent can protect their children sometimes. It doesn’t mean they’re not a bad parent. It doesn’t-”

She fell quiet, then reached for another cherry, frowning to herself.

“Hm.”

She didn’t eat the cherry right away, but stared into the glossy, sugar-coated shell, pressing her lips together and relaxing them. Her brow was furrowed.

She seemed...frustrated? But also like she was thinking about something that had nothing to do with the here and now.

Do I reach out in this moment?

Maybe?

How do I address her, to begin with? Not captain, certainly. Linlin feels insulting. Big Mom feels...wrong.

“You’re right, of course,” T Bone said, finally. “But even a bad parent is obligated to keep protecting their children. Just as they are obligated to try and be a better parent.”

“That’s what you do is it?” She glanced at him, and though her face focused, her eyes took a longer time returning from wherever she’d gone. “Protect.”

“It is the first and most important of our responsibilities, in my humble opinion. The just world we seek can’t exist unless we protect.”

"That's fine. I'd almost say I respect it, if I respected anything you marines do." She tilted toward him, leaning her arm over the side of her chair. "So why is it you marines have such a problem with a pioneer like me, trying to make a just world in my own way?"

“You think you’re just?”

“Of course!”

“You have many virtues, I am sure, Charlotte Linlin.” T Bone set his palms against his legs. “Strength. Courage. Ambition. High intentions, even. But you are not just.”

“Nonsense. I might have been a Marine myself, if I had been born without glorious vision. I build. I give. I protect and I fight. I do not compromise.”

“But you take.” T Bone’s fingers dug into his knees. “You take as well, from anyone who isn’t your crew. You can’t tell me you don’t.”

He thought that would have made her angry. Maybe it did. The way her grin returned and broadened as she leered over him, it was hard to tell.

“I take. That’s right. I take to feed my dream and my kingdom and my family.”

She waved her hand, indicating toward the decks of her ship. Over the colorful, whimsical, yet inarguably intimidating sails and rails and gleaming cannons.

Over the table where marines and pirates were sharing tea and cakes and, for better or worse, enjoying each other’s company.

Then she pointed to T Bone’s fleet in the harbor.

“But it’s the same with you marines.”

He blinked. Frowned. “We don’t rob whole countries blind to serve our own ends.”

“Now you’re being dishonest again. I can open any copy of one of Morgans’ news rags and find reported cases of marines disgraced for extortion.”

“Disgraced, though. A Marine who extorts is a disgrace. A pirate who extorts is doing exactly what everyone knows they intend to do.”

She waved that comment away. “The marines recruit. I’ve seen how aggressively the marines recruit. That’s taking in it’s most dishonest form. How many of your sailors were press ganged into service? I don’t do a single thing that the marines haven’t done a million times over.”

“Recruiting isn’t-”

“Look at me and tell me the marines don’t lie and coerce and use every tool of guilt and jingoism when you get young people to throw away their lives. I believe that you believe in the marines, but you can’t tell me they don’t throw the youths of the world into the damn sausage mill every day, every week, every year.”

T Bone crossed his arms. “I am looking at you, and I’ve acknowledged the Marines have sins on their hands.” She grunted. She hadn’t gone for a sweet on the table for several minutes now.

Was she feeling alright?

Charlotte Linlin tapped her fingers on the tabletop rapidly.

“I’m asking you seriously. What’s the difference? The Marines say that they fight for Justice. I am trying to build a world where everyone is welcome. aren’t those equally wonderful goals? And so what if I want to be the King of the Pirates? A pirate can be any damn thing these days, apparently.” Charlotte scowled as she said that last part. T Bone thought back to his own encounters with the newest generation of pirates. They certainly had...unique and varied perspectives on what it meant to bear the title. “I can’t speak for the marines,” he said. “I can only speak for my own self and my own corner of the world.” He gestured at the ships in the harbor. “I’d like to think I’m doing a good job, so far. If I joined, you, became one of your pirates…”

He paused. His mind sprinted down a dozen rabbit-holes at once of falling dominoes – the cause and effect of the harm possible if he were to ever leave his station...leave his Marines behind.

He shook his head, more to clear it than anything. “If I joined you, I’d have no honor. I’d be irresponsible in the extreme. When someone starts a job, they should see it through to the end, don’t you think?”

She didn’t respond right away. She looked peeved, but she also looked like she was thinking. “Wouldn’t you?” he ventured. She crossed her arms “I would.” “Well, that’s what I’m trying to do here. That’s what I’d like to keep doing, if we could see our way to live and let live.” Charlotte raised her eyebrow at him. He stared at her a moment, and then a small laugh fell past his lips “That wasn’t very honest of me, was it?” She laughed. “At least I didn’t have to say it. Live and let live? if there was anything of consequence worth fighting over on this island, I’d have squashed you an hour ago.”

“Of consequence?”

“What do I care for the people here?” It was his turn to raise an eyebrow at her. “So no need to add them to Totto Land?” She scowled again, but laughed through grit teeth. “Fine. People are worth fighting over, if only to make sure they join the right side.”

* * *

We’re laughing. it’s wonderful to laugh.

laughter from the tables, too. My children are being good hosts. good. these marines will see how nice it is to live Big Mom’s way and they’ll tell others and people will want to come live in the kingdom of the King of the Pirates.

and his marines are having a good time laughing and eating as they should but their hands still stray near their swords and they still look nervous and all up at the table at me.

hm, well not at me I guess.

at him?

him?

hm.

hm!

they’re worried about him. he must be a good admiral, I guess.

* * *

“Snickerdoodle?”

Charlotte was holding out a plate for him. Brown, soft cookies, still palpably warm from the oven and giving off a scent that made his mouth water.

Those would probably taste lovely.

"I don't go in for that sort of food."

“You said that before.” Linlin frowned down at him. "But really, sweets? You don't like sweets??"

"Nothing against sweets, but cookies have eggs in them. I don't eat eggs. or meat. Just a personal preference."

"Hmph." Linlin flipped the cookie up into her own mouth. "Suit yourself. I'll have them bring some gelato or something for you instead."

"Gelato has eggs in it."

"Must be why it tastes so good!" She popped another cookie between her lips and chewed with that blissful relish of hers. “I’ll send some down for your crew, if it’s wasted on you.”

“Very kind, but-”

She waved a hand, dismissing his objection. “Sweets are best at a party, and it’s hardly a party if only one person is having fun, sourpuss. No, you sit and enjoy your tea. I will dine. You’re so concerned that your marines are well and looked after. What about you? What’s good for them isn’t good enough for you?”

“I’m happy to see them happy...” T Bone glanced at his marines. There were already a modest helping of refreshments at their smaller table, and Charlotte’s cooks were bringing more cookies just then. “But earthly joys, food and wine and company and leisure...well, they’re all fine things and I’m happy to make sure my crew has the chance to enjoy them but...they’re fleeting...”

He was holding his cup of tea just then. A fine, rosy blend, but probably better with milk and honey. He could not remember the last time he’d had tea with milk and honey.

Only when he had decided he wouldn’t do so ever again.

Hot, it had been. Hot, dark, and frightening.

“...I decided a long time ago I can go without them. Too many people have caused too much harm to themselves and others in the pursuit of fleeting joys.”

“Mamamamamamama! Earthly joys are fleeting? Of course they are! So you go out and find new pleasures to delight your tongue once the old ones have fled!”

She spread her hands across the table. “Candies! Cakes! Fruits and jams and creams! And these are just the delights of the tongue! I won’t have people who are sour grapes and wring themselves in knots being guilty about feeling happy tell me I can’t find new joys every day of my life! I won’t let someone else tell me I shouldn’t seek out a delicious life just because nothing tastes good to them.”

“Life can’t just be the pursuit of pleasure-”

“No, you listen, admiral. It is good to make yourself happy. It is healthy. I know what small-minded people say about me. And yes, I eat more than most. I enjoy life more than most. But most people I’ve met outside my kingdom could stand to enjoy life a little more than they do. It’s like you said. The world out there is big and scary and life could end suddenly and horribly at any moment. And people like you go around spouting this dangerous idea that people who live in this scary, dangerous world should shirk pleasure?? That it’s a virtue to shirk pleasure?? Bah! Just because the celestial dragons have made life all about their pleasure doesn’t mean the rest of us have to give pleasure up. I wouldn’t give those arrogant bastards the satisfaction!”

She beat the air dismissively, then turned back to her cookies, dunking one daintily into her teacup.

T Bone watched her for several silent seconds.

"You want people to be happy."

"Of course!" Charlotte leaned in, fixing T bone with a stern look. Something about it sent goosebumps drifting across his shoulders. "People should be happy, shouldn't they? Or do the Marines endorse misery?"

"No, no I was just thinking..." He did his best to match his gaze. it was easy enough, for all its intensity, as her eyes were quite pleasant. "I pride myself on the happiness of my sailors. It's an admirable thing to want."

"Well, thank you."

"But it’s like you said before. It's entirely possible to be...overbearing? In looking out for others." T Bone glanced toward the pirate ship looming over the port. "As an emperor of the sea, you must have had just as many innocents reject your brand of happiness...that is, your protection, as accept it."

“Fools who don’t know what’s best for them.” Linlin raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m overbearing?”

“I was thinking more about myself,” he said, shoulders sagging a bit. He worked the movement into a stretch, and re-tensed them. “I do push what I see as a virtue on my sailors, and I do it because I do really think it’s the right thing to do, but it’s...it soothes my soul as well, to do it.”

“Well do it then; I’m not telling you to stop doing what makes you happy.” She took a sip of her tea. “But-”

“-but it’s no less selfish to force something on people because my conscience tells me to than it is if it were my own...cupidity telling me too.”

Charlotte didn’t comment on that, but she was smiling broadly as she took her next sip.

T Bone cleared his throat.

“I don’t know if I’d call you overbearing. I don’t know if that’s the right word, and I don’t know your relationship with your children. But I do know you demand a price from those in your kingdom, and I know the cost of not paying that price is steep. It’s too...it’s too transactional for my taste.”

“Too transactional...” Charlotte set her teacup down. “They pay tribute to me, but they also pay tribute to each other. Totto land must feed itself, and that doesn’t happen if all the parts aren’t doing something for each other.”

T Bone nodded at that, templing his fingers.

A fair point, but...

“Let them be motivated by helping each other, then,” He said. “Better we work out of love for each other than fear.”

“Love!” Charlotte’s smile looked strained now. “Love...love is not enough, admiral. Do you really think it is?”

“I think…I think it feels good to do good for others. Don’t you feel good when you provide for your kingdom? Whenever you protect them from other pirates, or from want?”

“Hm.” She pressed her lips together, frowning.

T Bone sat forward, wrists resting on the edge of the table.

“I’d be proud, in your place, having established a kingdom that provides for so many. Aren’t you proud? Doesn’t it feel better to have given to so many than any other accomplishment? I think it’s magnificent.”

Charlotte blinked. She looked taken aback, but smiled.

“I could ask the same of you? Aren’t you proud of your fleet? Don’t you feel good leading them? You don’t allow yourself any other pleasures, so you must enjoy it.”

“Yes. And I understand what you mean about a table for all. Anyone could be a marine-”

“Anyone?”

He shrugged, nodding. “Acceptance. Another place where the Marines could do better. But I like the ideal you fight for. Letting anyone join and contribute-”

“Or be protected.”

"Or be protected. Exactly. It's why I do what I do. For anyone and everyone. If my Marines came from hell itself, it would not increase or decrease the care I extend to them one bit."

"Right. That's right. Anyone can join a family!" Linlin slapped the tabletop. "My family, your family. All that matters is that the one in charge is strong enough to protect it!"

"The problems you point out with the Marines..."

"...it's because we strive to aim higher than our means. Often. Which is...which is not bad, I don't think, but...there are repercussions. I think the whole world isn't meant to be ruled by one power, sometimes, but I trust the Marines most of all."

"Out of EVERYONE?"

"...everyone who I think could actually pull off guarding the world."

“Watch me. Keep watching me.” She snatched up her spoon as all sorts of iced creams and pudding treats were whisked out onto the table by her chefs. “I’ll match them soon enough, and the world will be better for it.”

There was something about the way she ate that he didn’t think he’d grow tired of watching. The joy of the act radiated from her every movement and expression. Her smile, which had felt like staring down a shark's grimace, glowed with a real warmth every time she took a bite.

“I don’t doubt that you could,” T Bone said, softly. It wasn’t something an Admiral should concede to a pirate, but it was the honest truth of how he felt, just then.

She smiled at him, and it seemed like an amplification of her joy at the desserts in front of her.

“But you don’t trust me.”

"Well...” He frowned to himself. “My point is...even if I did trust your intentions and your methods...and I don't, not fully...the world is too big for any one person to oversee. Even someone as magnificent as you."

"As magnificent as me?"

"You've nurtured a mighty empire, no-one can deny it - but what works for your kingdom is not necessarily what will work for the world. And if you are anything like the other pirates I've met in my career, I would bet my bones there's those in your empire that are less than content. Why just two months ago-”

* * *

He called me magnificent again.

He's got good judgment, this dapper little marine. not enough people recognize my magnificence, and too many of the ones who do recognize it are just cowards or ass-kissers or just useless.

there's NO good reason to want to impress this little Marine, but I DO want to and even though his questions are ANNOYING I want to have good answers for them anyways because he's right I AM magnificent and he makes me feel MAGNIFICENT (because I am), but then also asks these questions that make me feel not so good and make me think about how the Big Mom pirates can best operate and-

oh blast, he's been saying something and I haven't been paying attention at all.

the little marine, the one who called me magnificent.

he’s trailed off now, and I don’t know what he was saying just now but obviously there’s no way to ask him to say it again and now he’s not saying anything so hmm I guess I’ll tell him about growing up with Mother Caramel.

that’s a good story, and an interesting one, and he’ll like it.

but for whatever reason once I’ve told him he isn’t smiling, even though he smiled once or twice WHILE I was telling the story but now he looks sad and I don’t like him looking sad at me like that so um we should talk about something else what about something from when he was growing up? what about the marines?

so he tells me a story. 

it's a story about his childhood? no, when he joined the marines? a volcano? something about being trapped?

hm.

oh, he lost his friends. 

that *is* sad. it's terribly sad to lose friends. I hate losing friends, but it happens so much.

oh.

oh NO.

he was hungry...they were all hungry.

that's sad

He looks sad.

I want to embrace him. it is horrid to go hungry. to go denied. I want to embrace him but I obviously won't.

a bowl of pistachio ice cream cheers me up. I push one in front of the little marine but he says that there are eggs in it and he won't be having any. I hiss at streusen to find or make food something anything with no meat or eggs or milk or that sort of thing, but the sad, dashing little marine says that he’s okay.

that’s obviously not true. He’s obviously NOT okay. look at him.

but he wants to fight his own little fights. I guess I should let him?

hmph.

still I see how beloved a father he is. or admiral. same thing. I’m looking at his crew again and they do seem content and healthy and better fed than him not that that is a high-hanging fruit. he’s doing something right, maybe.

something to think about I suppose. it’s a headache, to be honest, but It’s something to think about.

it IS nice to make my family happy. but a person has to have their ambitions, after all. that’s what separates the cream of the crop. and what is nice, anyways. I ask him that. doesn’t he carry a sword, after all? is he nice to people when he uses that sword?

the little marine tells me that if he could just make his way in the world being kind that he would – but the world doesn’t give him much choice but to wear a sword and I nod and I let him know he’s making sense – even I carry a sword, after all.

(a better sword)

but wouldn’t it be nice if we could just give without having to take, and he’s talking not just to me I think because he’s looking down at his plate when he says it and he hasn’t been afraid to meet my gaze so far so it can’t be fear.

it would be nice. it’s frankly a bother to have to swing a sword sometimes, even though it’s fun at other times. do people really think I wouldn’t rather just sing and eat sweets sometimes than have to bother with all the unpleasant sorts of people that insist on getting in my way all the time? of course it would be nicer, obviously.

now I’m annoyed again. why can’t life always be tea parties? everyone would be much much much happier if it were.

the little marine is looking at me again and he says that I’ve probably made life for some people such that they can’t have tea parties because they’re worried about making me happy.

hmph.

hmph.

what does he mean by that?

I’ve been called cruel.

I don’t think I’m cruel. The world is that way, and if I match the way the world is how can I be called cruel in comparison?

I am proud of what I’ve provided to my crew. to my Kingdom.

well, don’t I do everything in my power to keep my children happy? isn’t Big Mom’s crew the best crew a pirate could be blessed to join?

obviously yes. obviously. but the little marine doesn’t say yes right away.

now we’re both quiet again and while it’s nice to have a sip of tea in quiet now and then I don’t like this silence because the conversation isn’t going as well as it should be.

He asks me what I’m thinking.

hm!

yes!

so few people ask me that! and there’s such wonderful things in my head to share!

I'm deciding what to do with him. with his little tub of marines. there's not even a drip of sweat on his brow when I tell him that.

what resolve! too many men don't even have a drop of it. but this amusing little marine...this charming man...I'm smiling, and for the first time in a long time, I'm thinking about the fact that I'm smiling. a smile like this deserves a sweet, and as luck would have it there is a fresh plate of lovely plump candied cherries in front of me. the red sugar splits neatly in my hands, and half of a half is already coating my tongue in its sweet tartness as I set the other half in front of T Bone.

no eggs in that. He takes a bite and seems like he enjoys it.

hm.

sharing.

I could have him spin the wheel but I don't really feel any desire to. he might agree to do it and I don't like the thought of that; it wouldn't suit the flavor of man that I'm sure he is. how distasteful if an Admiral groveled in that sort of way. 

he might say no and I'd have to kill him. that would be a waste. you don't throw away good food, or a good man. 

if only he would smile

I'm enjoying the warm sweetness of a sugar cookie. plenty of butter and such in these and that comes from cows so the little marine probably doesn't want that but I think of something else that will make him smile again instead and I tell him I won't bother with asking anything of the village people.

He doesn't smile at that so I say it again. He probably didn't hear me.

"Ah"

that's the sound he makes, and he doesn't quite smile, but something about him seems not so disagreeable anymore and that is quite nice as well. A man shouldn't look so sour all the time, anyways.

I’ll probably actually leave the villagers alone anyways. why not? they’ll love me and what do they have that I REALLY want, anyways?

* * *

“That would be good.”

Charlotte nodded. “Obviously it will be good. It’s all you want, isn’t it?”

“Right now, more than anything.”

“More than anything,” she smirked, but it seemed like a smirk of real amusement. “Not very ambitious, are you, admiral?”

“I’d say I enjoy simple things, but as you pointed out, that’s not often the case.”

She laughed.

“I’m ambitious. It’s a wonderful way to live.”

“I suppose...I suppose I admire ambitious people, in a way. But I don’t understand how ambitious people think, so I can’t ever truly trust them.”

“But you trust me?” Charlotte asked. “To leave this place unharmed?”

“It’s not my place to say what is yours is not beneath you,” T-bone said, “but it is beneath an emperor of the seas, and beneath the future king of the pirates, to exact terror on villagers who have done nothing wrong to them? “Little marine,” she replied, “someone less gracious than me might think that you were trying to speak for me.” “Like I said,” T-bone replied, meeting her gaze, “it would not be my place to assume anything like that.” “My ship will restock supplies, and that is all. We’ll take what we need and we will be on our way. No terror or harm will come to the people here.” “That’s comforting to hear.” “I will need you and your fleet to sail away first, of course. It will do no good to let people think Big Mom was chased away by any admiral, even one so fine.”

She twirled her finger in his direction, and he felt his cheeks grow warm.

“...I will trust you, Charlotte Linlin, because I think you are genuine. But know that if I learn even the smallest harm came to this island because of you or your crew-”

“You’ll pursue me?” She fanned herself in mock embarrassment, winking.

“I will. With all my resources and energy.”

She set an elbow on the table and leaned on her own fist. “As much as I think I might like that, you’ll hear nothing but the most glowing reports of how the citizens here are treated this evening. I won’t even mention them joining the kingdom, though they’d be lucky for the chance. I might even have my chefs whip them up desserts as a treat.” T-bones gaze wandered back to the table on the far side of the deck, where Charlotte’s children and his crew still sat, speaking and laughing openly now, despite it all “I can say confidently that your chefs are unmatched in all my experience on the Grand Line. If the smiles on my Sailors are any indication, a gift of food to the island, whatever your ship can spare after taking on supplies, would be tremendously welcome.” “And that would make you comfortable with leaving first?” T Bone’s fingers tensed. The rabbit-holes of consequences bore into his mind for several seconds, before he banished them with an effort.

“As comfortable as I can hope for.” He tipped the last of his tea past his lips. “I think, when this island and village are left peacefully by a pirate as renowned as yourself, I think the Marines can only call that a victory. “Based on what Marines and pirates tend to think of each other, of course,” he added. “Glad to hear it,” Charlotte said, hefting another cherry. This one she took a smaller bite of, but savored for second longer than previous bites.

* * *

well that’s good and settled.

good.

see what happens when people can be REASONABLE and make deals agreeably? why can’t all men be as agreeable as this dashing marine?

well, he’s almost reasonable.

He's quiet and he still isn't touching any of the GREAT sweets I've set out at my table. more for me. but still. 

surprising that even the marines can produce something...someone sweet. 

He turns his chair around on the deck. He's graceful about it. doesn't drag the legs on the deck or anything crass like that, put picks the chair up and turns it and sets it down again so here's not some dreadful scraping sound that would ruin teatime. 

rude to turn away from the table, though.

but I'm enjoying crumpets and jam just now so I turn my own chair around to see what it is he's looking at.

ah.

that is nice.

mm.

He’s still looking out to sea, but it doesn’t annoy me.

it’s nice.

beautiful pinks and reds and oranges under deep blue. the sky on fire as the sun sets and lights the horizon up all sorts of candy colors. warm winds drift in from the port behind us and it's one of the most comfortable afternoons there's been in a long, long time. I don't even care about the little straw-hat twerp and his rats for a moment.

the little marine looks peaceful. Smiling. It suits him.

this is what it’s all about.

He agrees.

I remember what the colors make me think of and I call for the cooks to bring us some bowls of sherbet and sorbet. 

He looks confused when it comes and I put a bowl of the beautiful rainbow stuff in his hands. I tell him there’s no eggs in the sherbert and even if there is a bit of milk in the sherbert the sorbet doesn’t have any of either so he can eat that and that it will go nice with the lovely sunset and I hope he tries it at least.

He reaches for the spoon.

yes!

He gives it a taste.

yay!

He’s smiling.

:)

* * *

T Bone was melting.

How could something taste this good?

It was nothing like the iced cream rations he’d had as an ensign – mealy, gritty stuff they’d usually eaten lukewarm and half-spoiled. This was like cool snowclouds made of fresh fruit.

And she was right – it did suit the sunset. In appearance and in loveliness.

It was, for whatever reason, the lightest he’d felt in months. Maybe years?

Lovely.

…

If only he didn’t still have this ache in his stomach.

“When will you leave?”

He didn’t want to spoil the moment with the question, but it was necessary.

She didn’t look over at him, but, using thumb and forefinger, slipped a spoon into his bowl and scooped up a small bit of his sorbet.

“As soon as you’re past the horizon. Enough time so these islanders don’t get the wrong idea about who is mightier than who.”

“And the islanders themselves will be left comfortable with dessert to warm their bellies tonight.”

He didn’t say it as a question. It wouldn’t do to insult her like that. He didn’t want to insult her like that.

"I have bigger fritters to fry than terrorizing backwater islands." Charlotte tapped a stack of syrup-crystalled flapjacks in front of her with that little spoon for emphasis. "There’s plenty on my plate right now, and when I deal with this island, or with you, admiral, it will be with my full attention.

“Now, can I trust you won’t send your marine friends after me to Wano?” She slipped the spoon under the top pancake and flipped it into her mouth.

“Rely on it.”

“Mamamamahaha! Can your sense of justice stand letting me go, then?”

T Bone smiled, thought tightly.

“I suppose...one pirate going after another solves a problem for the Marines without us having to endanger Marine lives.”

“Efficient.”

“Yes.”

They sat that way a while longer, eating and silent, watching the sun shift lower in a cloud-streaked panorama of blues and pinks and brilliant oranges.

No sound but the seas and the wind. The waves and the gulls.

Sailor’s music.

.

.

.

“I suppose,” T-bone said at last, “that concludes our parlay.” Big mom frowned, but nodded. “I guess so.”

* * *

the little Marine is up out of his chair before I can say anything else, and before I can even start to rise, he has put his hand on the back of my chair and is pulling it out for me as I rise. a marine gentleman. will wonders never cease. I’m frustrated negotiations are ending, and frustrated that I’m frustrated because negotiations are boring, especially when I don’t have a delightful little scheme in place to undermine them. it’s been a long while since it’s been just nice to talk to someone who isn’t one of my children or a homie or a sycophant. the little marine starts to say goodbye, but I don’t want him to say goodbye, so I’m telling him that I will go down to the jetty with him to see to our agreement and our arrangements. I call for my son, and he gets up, and he’s always a smiler, my son, but it’s…. … well it’s always nice to see your children getting along with other peoples children, especially the children of such a gentleman.

or sailors. same thing. the marine gentleman(who called me, magnificent, by the way)’s children look nervous again, but something about him is reassuring to them, and when we tell them what is to be done, everyone looks quite relieved, which is good. it’s good that I am so good at negotiations, and that this dashing little marine is a reasonable sort of man.

they look very relieved actually, and when the sailors on the other marine ships look over and see we are letting the dashing handsome little marine go they look relieved and happy as well.

hmph, well

I’m sure MY children look at me the same way when I’m not looking. they just know I don’t like simpering fools.

hm

I guess he does take good care of his marines. I hope he takes care of himself too, though.

that’s his business though, obviously.

a short walk of the ship and no we’re on the jetty and he’s offering me his arm. he’s too short for all that but he’s offering his arm and I almost wish he was tall enough that I could take it with ease.

he knows this too so he shifts his arm and instead he’s offering me his hand, raised just above his head and (very very graciously) I accept it and we walk down to the end of the jetty, toward where the sun has tucked away under the water and the line between sea and sky glows red.

I expected him to rush off and start fretting over his crew while his ships make the needed preparations to re-settle the locals and cast off and my crew works on distributing cakes (soaked in yummy honey and rum with fresh cream and starfruit! LUCKY!), but clearly he is a proper gentleman and knows a lady should not be abandoned like that even after a parlay is over.

and besides the ocean is too lovely this evening not to relish.

He’s enjoying the colors over the water I think but he’s antsy and he’s fidgeting with his fingers. not everyone would notice it, but a mother and a captain learns to have a keen eye for these kinds of things.

* * *

“Let them do their jobs”

T Bone glanced up at Charlotte, who nodded toward the horizon. He returned his gaze to the ocean. “I do trust them, I just worry.” “Quietly then; if you want to sacrifice yourself for them so badly, then look at it like this: you being uncomfortable with letting them work without you is that sacrifice.” “Something about discretion being the better part of valor,” T-bone muttered, half to himself, though Charlotte laughed at it “Sure. Sometimes children should be let alone to do their chores. Some children like the lack of supervision.”

T Bone smiled. “Some even thrive off of it?”

“Now you get it.” She put gentle pressure on his hand. “I don’t dislike that part of you though, admiral. That part that wants to help. Good help is so hard to find these days.”

“Hm.”

In the distance, maybe a mile out, a massive dolphin slipped above the waves, flicking up a spray of water that caught the red light at the horizon.

Charlotte cleared her throat.

"I meant what I said. You could leave the Marines and join your fleet to my kingdom. There's a sweeter life you could live."

"I know you were serious. But I will not accept. These Marines are not mine to give, only mine to protect and to guide.

"But I thank you for the kindness of your offer,” he added. To his surprise, he found he meant it.

"I've killed men for defying me. I just wanted you to know that.”

"And I thank you for your honesty as well."

Another stretch of silence. The air was stirring pleasantly, the smells of saltwater and sweets mixing in the wind. When he broke the silence again, it was with the utmost reluctance.

“We’re too far apart, you and I.”

Charlotte pursed her lips. “We’ll be far apart for a long time.”

“Possibly forever.”

“Maybe forever.”

“The world might change.” T Bone felt a lump in his throat saying it. He wanted to put a comforting pressure on her hand, but that felt…

..selfish?

“Neither of us will. Even if it does.” She grasped his hand slightly firmer. “My way is my way.”

He nodded. “Mine is mine.

“Still,” he added. “I will allow myself the comfort...the luxury of hope. If that’s not too presumptive.”

Another squeeze of the hand. “Just take it. No need to ask.

“What use do I have for hope, anyways?” She added, with a smile.

Their hands parted, and returned to their respective sides, slowly. T Bone’s fingers hummed with the lingering warmth.

“Well, thank you. I’ll feel better, leaving a loose end, if I have hope.”

"We're both leaving loose ends." Charlotte sniffed. There was a tint of disdain in her voice, but a smirk still on her face. "You could betray me as easily as I betray you. Of course, against an emperor of the sea, one Rear Admiral is no meaningful threat."

"Soon to be Vice Admiral."

"Eh?"

T Bone did not respond right away. Why did I mention that? Bragging was not in his repertoire, and unbecoming of a Marine.

But he wanted her to know.

Well, what's the harm?

"There's a great need in the Marines for capable leaders at the higher ranks." T Bone paused. "Piracy is on a sharp rise, after all."

"Mamamamama!" Charlotte's laugh shook the docks. "Upstarts and brats! Not real pirates like back in the day. You're wasted on chasing after this new generation."

"I'll leave them to you, then?"

* * *

He took her hand and pecked her forefinger, so quickly she didn’t even realize he’d done it until he was already straightening up, though he still held her hand a moment longer.

sly

sly!

I’m blushing, I know. slick little marine.

I’m being underestimated. I know men. I know a thing or two myself.

I pull my hand back to myself, slowly, so he doesn’t get the idea that I’m not pleased with what he’s done.

I lick the finger. Not sloppily, not over-eager. demure and quickly, but not too-quickly. lingering over the kissed spot like it had frosting on it.

the red on his face is not just from the setting sun’s light, I’m sure.

so, a Vice Admiral, huh?

* * *

“Ah...yes.”

"Impressive." "The Marines aren't good for much, but at least they know how to recognize talent."

"Kind of you to say." T Bone pulled a handkerchief from his pocket - the crew insisted he keep at least one on his person at all times these days - and mopped his brow. Odd. he hadn't exerted himself much at all this afternoon, but now he felt the exhilaration of having just finished a sprint.

He realized, belatedly, that it was just the two of them standing on this stretch of the jetty. His crew was largely aboard, and those not yet on the ships were making the final preparations to cast off. Charlotte's crew, even the most closely hovering of her children, had made themselves scarce. 

Beyond them, the last light of the long-ago-set sun glowed with a deep red hue - a fire ceding the sky slowly, peacefully to the falling night. The breeze of the land had cooled, making T Bone's cape and Charlotte's hair billow out toward the sea. 

"Well," He said at last. "I'll take my leave. There's work to be done."

"Hm."

“Don’t be glum, Charlotte.” He smiled. Smiled, so she wouldn’t feel so bad. “We may see each other again. Marines and pirates clash all the time, and the world is getting smaller every day.”

Hopefully it comforts her. The thought of having to meet again in battle...

He turned and strode off. The twilight breeze pushed past him, and he frowned as he considered the report he’d have to make of all this. And his marines...hopefully they would not be too shaken by this afternoon’s encounter with an Emperor of the Seas.

...having to fight her crew or being unable to protect my own-

“T Bone!”

He stopped, almost faltered a step, but recovered to spin on his heel (hopefully?) gracefully.

She was turned back to look at him, the sky a smoldering line behind her. She was smiling, as ever.

“Don’t you look glum either, admiral. You’ve saved an entire island today.”

* * *

I'll have him, eventually.

what Mom wants, Mom gets. even if Mom has to wait for it. even if Mom HATES waiting.

I’ll have Admiral T Bone. count on it.

the ship is sailing away from the island and its shrinking in the distance but I can still smell the sweet scent of cakes rolling toward us over the waves on that inland breeze.

a small price to pay to win the hearts of the people from the marines – who wants guns and guardians when Big Mom offers you treats and sweets?

still, I wanted those cakes, and my mouth is watering and the bakers are NOT working quick enough to get me my evening snack. this chase keeps getting worse and worse. I’ll use that little rubber brat for dental floss when I find him.

but now I’m thinking about what T Bone and I have said would be good to do in a situation like this, and now I want to know what my children would like to eat and perospero is here on the foc’scle but I know that if I ask him, my eldest son is too clever not to know that it would normally be a test.

so instead, I have to cross my arms and act all frustrated and say that I am too tired to think of what to eat, and say that I want him to decide what we will eat tonight, and he’ll probably to figure out what I want, because he is such a good son, but maybe it will be a good start for a different kind of relationship.

He’s looking at me now and I don’t know what to make of the look but then he calls his siblings up to the foc’scle and they are all talking excitedly and chattering about what dishes they’d all like for the evening.

He's smiling now and so are Smoothie and Citron and Nusstorte and Snack and Amande and Raisin and Galette and Angel and Kato and Cornstarch and Basskarte and Broye and Dosmarche and Daifuku and Compote and Mont-d’or and Custard and Tablet and Mobile and Cinnamon and Flampe and it’s not the shark smiles my brave little children face the world with but the smiles I remember from when they were wee and new in the world.

I'd like to see them smile again, that way. 

I’d like to see admiral T Bone again.

I'd like to see him again, he's given me a lot to think about. some things I'd like to talk about more, maybe.

maybe.

I guess I'll see. it'll probably be a while until we see each other again.

but a face like his, I'll remember. 

I don’t forget easily.

* * *

"This arrangement must look strange."

T Bone had convened a meeting of his fleet captains not long after the mast of Charlotte's ship had sunk beneath the horizon behind them. The captains of each vessel were there in his quarters, along with Culver, debriefing on the afternoon's events.

"I hope I have not given any of you a reason to think I would be anything but fully loyal to the Marines and our duty to protect the seas, but I understand if you have questions about what transpired here today."

If I am court-martialed or sent elsewhere I will be fine but my crew might be demoralized and then they would be in danger of being unprepared the next time they have to protect the innocent and then there could be suffering all because of-

"It will look strange," Captain Gills said, after a moment's silence. "Are we making deals with pirates now?

"I mean," he added quickly, as Captains Tikker and Makota side-eyed him, "I'm relieved it did not come to fighting, and that the village is safe, but-"

"No one will question your motives, Vice Admiral" Makota cut in, ignoring Gills' half-stuttered attempts to continue his point, "And no one can question the result. If I ever truly thought you were planning to betray the Marines to the Big Mom Pirates, I would have cut you down with my own cannons."

"Your honesty is appreciated, as ever," T Bone said, nodding to both of them.

"What are they about, anyways?" Tikker asked. He was leaned up against the far wall, arms crossed. "Odd to see Linlin herself out sightseeing, rather than sending a toady."

"Pursuing Straw Hat Luffy and his crew. In the direction of Wano." T Bone unrolled a map of the New World onto his desk Gills and Makota leaned over it and followed his finger as he traced out a likely route for the Big Mom pirates’ pursuit.

Makota laughed, humorlessly. "Kaido will eat that boy alive before she even makes it to the shore, assuming either of them can get anywhere near the mainland."

“One can only hope,” Gills muttered with a grin. That got him another sharp look from Makota.

"Strange times," Captain Olome muttered. She was reading over a report that had come via transponder earlier. Something about strange activity in the South Blue. “Pirates liberating slaves. World Nobles getting socked in the jaw. Topsy-turvy, and not always to my disliking.”

T Bone sighed mightily at that. His stomach was not so tight any more. It wasn't sitting quite right, either.

If things go poorly in Wano there could be great collateral damage and upheaval and what if people suffer because of it? What if-

Culver seemed to sense his unease. “Well, our job is the same as ever, yes?” He looked from face to face in the cabin. “We fight for justice, and there’s injustice yet for us to chase down.”

“Maybe things aren’t always so simple.”

“Sir?”

T Bone shook his head. “Pay me no mind.” He looked Culver over. “You’re pale, Marine. Let me fetch you some food from the canteen.”

If he grows weak or sick, not only will he suffer, but also the others will think me a feeble leader and they might think I won’t look after them and when they’re in trouble they might not come to me for help like they should and I won’t be able to help them and-

Culver was indeed pale, and if anything, went paler when T Bone made the offer. The young lad made to sit at the admiral’s table, while the other captains looked on.

“Actually-”

Culver looked up. The lad did look tired. But there was nothing for him to do in this cabin but sit and fret. That wasn’t doing him the least bit of good.

“Please fetch me a plate for dinner, Culver. And one for yourself. You can take your supper in the mess.”

Relief, unmistakable relief, flooded the young sailor’s face.

“Right away, admiral.”

"Not going to cook for us tonight?" Tikker ventured, as the door closed behind Culver. He said it with the cadence of a joke, but flushed and fell silent when every other captain in the room shot him a look.

“Not that I need. it. Good to see you looking after your own self, Admiral.”

No-one else commented on that, but Olome did smile at the remark.

“And well done today after all, I suppose.” Gills yawned, stretched, and scratched at his beard. “Maybe the Straw Hat brat will hobble an emperor of the sea for us before all’s said and done.”

Makota slammed a hand on the desk.

"When pirates clash, the innocent suffer."

"The Straw Hat Pirates have solved a problem or two for the innocents of the world," Olome offered. She shrugged as Makota rounded on her. "Well, for what it's worth."

"They stir up trouble, that much is sure." Tikker observed. "Innocents are getting hurt every day in this damn world. If there are fewer pirates in the world on the other side of this...one less emperor of the sea,' I'll call it a win."

T Bone continued to examine the map as the captains squabbled. It was a dangerous situation Charlotte was sailing into. It had been easy to forget being in her presence, but no pirate, no marine, was invincible. No one was beyond the danger of harm and death.

It made not just his stomach, but also his chest, tight to think about it.

She is a pirate but she does protect a kingdom and if something should happen to her what happens to the citizens of Totto Land? It is not always so simple as removing a pirate from power, and she does care, I think.

Culver broke the argument a minute later, striding back into the room with a steaming plate of supper. T Bone found his mouth watering as the smell filled the room, his captains likewise fell silent, and the gurgle of Olome’s stomach betrayed everyone’s thoughts just then.

Makota tapped her pistol, and sighed. “We’ll leave you to supper, Admiral?”

“Thank you, Captain.” He nodded to her, and the others. “And thank you, Culver. Make sure you feed yourselves before it gets too late.”

They filed out, the chatter between them resolving into more productive-sounding discussion. Something for them to make bricks from tomorrow.

He sighed and sat, then frowned. The wooden chair was rough and worn, and hard on his legs. He got up and took a pillow, dusty and unused, from under his cot, and set it on the chair.

Much better. Soft. He pushed open the window of his office to let the warm breeze in.

After a few mouthfuls of stew, he found his stomach felt perfectly fine.

[midala-of-the-valley]

Your Heart Pulling Against Mine - Pt 10

David 8 x Reader Words: 2668 Warnings: Character death, Trauma Crossposted on Ao3 Chapter 9 is here a/n: I'm sorry

Sprawled out over the seat, huddled in your sweater, you look up as the familiar scent of chamomile tea drifts your way. Janek approaches with a steaming cup in hand, offering it to you. “You know, you can really go to bed. I’m sure they can take care of themselves.”

Taking a small sip of the hot beverage, you shake your head. “I’m not letting them wander those halls without someone keeping an eye on them. Elizabeth said we were changing the atmosphere in the room with all those weird vases. It’s not safe.”

Crossing his arms, he leans against the table displaying the holographic spectrograph of the pyramid. You swivel your chair around to face him. “But staying awake won’t change that, Kid. You need your rest, especially after what happened outside.”

Pursing your lips, you reply, “You know I’m 27, right? Not exactly a kid anymore.” He shakes his head with a small smile. “Still one of the youngest on this ship.” A comfortable silence settles between you as your eyes drift to the camera feed, watching the boys pass by some corpses again.

The sound of an accordion pulls your attention back to Janek. He’s wrapped in a blanket now, sitting comfortably as he strums a few casual tunes.

Closing your eyes, you sip your tea, humming softly as you piece together the melody. It’s from the last century, very old, over a hundred years - but some songs never fade away. When the next verse comes around, you join in, your voice barely above a whisper as you remember the lyrics. “Love me tender, love me dear, tell me you are mine. I’ll be yours through all the years - till the end of time.” You smile over the rim of your cup, savoring a moment of shared simplicity. As Janek begins another tune, the warmth lingers in the air.

As you open your eyes again, something catches your attention: one of the red orbs - the pups - pings an alert on the spectrograph. “Janek? Janek, what does this mean?” You quickly set your tea aside and move to the table, pointing to the source of your growing unease. The Captain stands, pulling his blanket tighter around himself, his brows knitting together in concern. “It’s detecting a life form.”

Your heart sinks, and you rub a hand over your forehead. “Oh no.”

Janek hits a few buttons on the side, opening another channel on the comms. But before he can say a word into the mic, you raise your voice. “Millburn, Fifield? Can you hear me?” On the screen, you see them stumble backwards, the new frequency must have startled them. “Damn it, Botany, I almost had a heart attack!” Fifield snaps.

Ignoring his complaint, you press on. “Guys, move east. We just picked up a signal, there’s a life form in the tunnels to the west.” A brief silence follows before Millburn replies, “Okay, what do you mean, a life form ?” You let out an exasperated sigh. “No, Millburn. No. ”

“Is it moving?” Fifield cuts in, his voice sharp with anxiety.

You glance at the orb, hesitating for just a moment. “No, it’s not,” Janek answers for you, his voice calm but tinged with confusion.

“I don’t know if you’re seeing this, but we’re surrounded by dead bodies. Where the fuck is a life form supposed to come from?”

Suddenly, the signal vanishes from the map. You exchange a confused glance with Janek before focusing back on the comms. “The ping is gone,” you inform them. “What do you mean, the ping is gone ?”

Unsure how to respond, Janek jumps in. “Maybe it was a glitch. The connection’s been unstable with the storm raging.” “A glitch?” Fifield’s voice rises in disbelief. “You can’t just tell us there’s a life form and then call it a glitch! Botany-”

You interrupt him, using your first name. “What?” “That’s my actual name,” you say with a hint of a smile. “I thought you guys should know, even though I don’t mind the nickname.”

Silence lingers over the comm as you keep a watchful eye on the pup that flagged the signal moments ago, ensuring it doesn’t reappear. Finally, Fifield’s gruff voice breaks the quiet. “Sean.”

The corners of your lips twitch into a faint smile. “Hello, Sean,” you reply softly. Before you can say more, your favorite biologist chimes in with a cheerful quip. “And I’m Rafe! Can’t believe I know your name now!” You’re fairly certain he’s directing that at Sean, who you imagine is rolling his eyes.

Janek, meanwhile, retreats to his spot, drumming his fingers absently along the edge of his instrument. “Thank you, Sean, Rafe. I’ve got an eye on the map, but please, move east. I don’t trust this place.” You watch their markers on the map shift, moving steadily away from the direction of the ping.

Back in the Captain’s seat, you secured the seatbelt around yourself, propping your legs up on a section of the console where you wouldn’t accidentally press anything. Leaning your head back, you stared sleepily at the screens, their faint glow the only light keeping you at least somewhat awake. You had exchanged a few words with Sean and Rafe, another attempt on their part to convince you to take a break, but your answer had remained firm. No .

Your eyelids grew heavy, and you were on the verge of drifting off when a sudden, crooked note from the accordion jolted your eyes open again. “How much longer is this gonna take?” Ah, Vickers had entered.

“I don’t know, I’m just a captain,” Janek replied, a trace of amusement in his voice, as he casually strummed a few more notes. “That thing sounds like a dying cat,” Vickers snapped. You didn’t need to look to imagine the irritated expression on her face. Instead, you kept your eyes closed, feigning sleep to avoid drawing attention to yourself.

Janek, unfazed, leaned back slightly, his fingers idly working the keys. “Well, I’ll have you know, this ‘dying cat’ once belonged to Steven Stills. And I finally managed to lull her to sleep with it.” “Her? Oh. Has she been here the whole time?” She must have noticed your slumped form on the chair.

“Yep, wouldn’t leave the screens. But you know, if you wanted to get laid, you could just ask instead of pretending to be interested in the pyramid scan, or her.” A quiet snort followed, and you had to bite your lip to keep from huffing out a laugh at that comment as well. “I could, couldn’t I? But if I wanted to get laid, why would I fly myself half a billion miles into space?”

You heard her shift, likely turning to leave, but Janek stood up, moving quickly yet quietly so as not to disturb what he thought was your sleep. “Hey, Vickers, wait. I was wondering...” He paused briefly before asking, “Are you a robot?” For a moment, you wondered if you had misheard, but no - Meredith Vickers actually spluttered in response before catching herself.

“Why? Interested in how that would be, since our Botanist decided to screw that secretive piece of furniture? Find out for yourself. My room. Ten minutes.”

Ouch. Good for Janek, but ouch.

You listened as her footsteps disappeared down the hall, and then heard Janek’s voice,  softly singing in an elated tone: “If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with~”

His footsteps grew closer, and when he draped his blanket over you, you blinked up at him, raising a brow. “Can’t believe you got her with that pickup line,” you said, smirking. He blinked down at you in surprise. “Were you awake the whole time?”

“Yup.”

“That stays between us, okay?”

You grinned and nodded slightly. “Aye aye, Captain. It stays between us.”

As Janek left to freshen up, you turned back toward the screens, only to widen your eyes in shock. The boys had entered the mural room, the one filled with vases that had been leaking black, oozing liquid ever since you had hurriedly left that place. “Ohhh, gazpacho!” Rafe quipped sarcastically, taking a sip from the stored food in his suit as he glanced at the goo. You couldn’t believe it.

Scrambling to your feet, you unbuckled your seatbelt and slammed your hand on the communicator, opening the channel. “Get OUT of there, immediately!” you practically screeched, your voice startling both of them yet again. “For fuck’s sake, (Y/N), stop surprising us like this all the time!” Sean grumbled.

You caught a bubbling sound and saw smoke in Sean’s helmet via Rafe’s camera feed. “Is that tobacco in your respirator?” Rafe asked. “Sure, tobacco,” Sean replied with a hint of sarcasm. “Are you smoking fucking weed in there!? Guys, LEAVE this room immediately. Get as far away as possible!”

Why were they so calm? Oh, right - they hadn’t been there when you ran from the room, escaping as the atmosphere started to change. But still, who looks at black, gooey liquid and decides to stay ?

“Don’t worry,” one of them said. “We have our suits. Nothing’s getting through that.” You felt hysteria bubbling in your chest at their nonchalance. “No, you don’t understand! Those vases were closed when we first entered. They started sweating when we stayed too long. Please, just get out-” Your plea was cut off by a shocked cry from Sean. “What’s that!?”

You quickly expanded his camera feed, watching as his flashlight illuminated something moving through the goo that had started to fill the grooves in the ground. “Oh, hang on! Okay! Stay calm, I can handle this,” Millburn interjected, his tone irritatingly confident. You were about ready to rip your hair out. Why did no one on this fucking crew ever listen to you!?

The creature lifted its head and upper body out of the goo, its translucent skin glinting  from the flashlight pointed at it. You quickly switched to Rafe’s feed as he got a better view. “I am begging you,” you said, your voice trembling with desperation. “For the love of everything holy, get away from it and out of there now!”

“Don’t worry, (Y/N), I’ve got this under control,” Millburn said, kneeling down to get a closer look. His voice carried a tone of excitement that made your stomach churn. “This is big! Can you note that down? We have an elongated, reptile-like creature - maybe 30 to 40 inches - transparent skin, and... it’s beautiful.” As he leaned closer, the creature perched up even further, and another one broke free from the liquid. “I am begging you, please get away from it!” you cried, panic lacing every word.

“We need to stay calm. Everything’s fine. Look, she’s beautiful!” Millburn said soothingly, extending a hand toward the creature. Your heart lodged in your throat. “Hey, Millburn, maybe she’s right-” Sean tried to intervene, but it was too late. The reptile unfolded its head, hissed, and struck. Its teeth sank into Rafe’s suit.

"Okay- maybe I was wrong!" Rafe exclaimed, his tone laced with panic as he tried to stay calm. That composure quickly crumbled when the snake coiled fully around his arm. "I could use some help now, Sean-" "I'm not touching it!" Sean shouted back. "It's getting tighter- touch the thing, man, for god’s sake! " Rafe yelled, his voice a mix of anger and fear.

You weren’t sure if you supported Sean’s hesitation or if you should urge him to act, but there was no time to think further. The sickening sound of a crack echoed through the comms as Sean tried to pull the creature off with his hands. The snake had broken Rafe’s arm, just like that. Your stomach churned, and you retched up some of the tea you had drunk earlier, the sour taste burning your throat.

"Cut it off! Cut it off!! " Rafe screamed in desperation. Sean fumbled with a knife, attempting to free Rafe, but that was the last thing you saw on his camera feed. Acid sprayed from the snake as Sean struck it, splattering onto his suit. It hit the camera lenses and melted through his helmet. You clutched a hand over your mouth, a scream of fear and pure desperation ripping from your throat as you helplessly watched the horrifying scene unfold.

The screens automatically switched to Rafe’s feed. You could now see, in horrifying detail, Sean falling headfirst into the goo. The snake, relentless, found a corroded spot on Rafe’s suit and slipped inside. "It’s in my suit! It’s in my suit!" Rafe shrieked, his voice breaking into raw panic.

And then - silence.

He fell forward, the feed cutting out, leaving you staring at darkness.

A bloodcurdling scream tore out of you as you collapsed in front of the console, pulling your legs close to your body. You had just watched two people die, and you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t save them.

You never could save anyone.

Why couldn’t you save them?

You gasped for air, your chest heaving with the weight of your sobs. Tears blurred your vision as you rocked back and forth, snot joining in, your mind consumed with a torrent of self-blame. You should have tried harder. You should have convinced them. You should have gone with them when they asked. Maybe if you had been there, they wouldn’t have lost their way.

Maybe they would still be alive.

Your breaths came in sharp, shallow bursts, and your throat burned from the force of your screams. You hadn’t even noticed how hard your nails were digging into your arms until someone forcibly pulled them away, leaving some bloody prints. Still crying, your vision swam as you looked up. Through the haze of your tears, you saw David and Holloway standing over you, both wearing expressions of deep concern, not knowing what you just witnessed.

You tried to speak, but your voice was broken by sobs. Finally, you managed to rip one of your hands free from David’s grasp and weakly pointed toward the screens, now filled with static or blackness. "They... they-" You choked on the words and took a shuddering breath. "They’re dead," you finally gasped, your voice trembling as fresh tears spilled over.

You kicked and thrashed as they pulled you up from the ground, clinging desperately to the console. “No, no! I want to stay! Leave me!” Suddenly, Holloway grabbed your shoulders and shook you lightly, trying to snap you out of it.

“Listen, (Y/N), listen to me. You’re staying here, okay? We’re just moving you over to lie down on the seats over there, alright? Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

You didn’t see the glances he exchanged with David as you continued to struggle in their grip. Eventually, David lifted you into a secure bridal carry, ignoring your protests, and gently placed you on the seats Janek had been using earlier as a bench.

Just then, more people entered the room, apparently drawn in by your screams. You noticed how David subtly moved to shield your tear-streaked, red face from view. Holloway followed suit, standing in front of you like a protective barrier, giving you a moment to collect yourself. Gripping the blanket- one they must have carried over with you - you tried to wipe away the tears and snot that wouldn’t stop coming.

“What happened to her? What’s going on?” You heard Elizabeth’s voice, filled with concern.

“She said Millburn and Fifield are dead,” David explained calmly.

The words hit you like a dagger, and you broke down into fresh sobs.

“Is she sure about that?”

That was Vickers, her tone skeptical, her composure sharp and unaffected. You must have interrupted her and Janek.

“The chances of survival are extremely low,” you managed to choke out, your voice trembling as you fought through the overwhelming grief to form the words. But then the dam inside you broke again. You curled into a tight ball, clutching the blanket, as uncontrollable sobs wracked your body.

[magickgarlick]

the demeter

Ok actually? I'm *obsessed* with The Demeter Like being in Dracula's castle is it's own horror; you've entered the Evil Domaine

But on a ship?? Hello???

A) you're not alone. You've got a bunch of your sailor friends, and the captain, and the navigator, and you're British. Ignoring the horror of having to be British, you're protected by the most dangerous navy in the world. Fuck, you've probably been to India

B) this is a short journey. It's a quick stop shop type thing. And you're not transporting anything big or important, this isn't like. Spice. Or silk. It's just a bunch of weird boxes. Some rich guy is building a botanical garden. This is the least important thing you've done in YEARS.

C) you're alone, of course. Like. It's a ship full of friends but also. There's no radio, that's not invented yet. Your best bet for getting outside assistance is like.... Setting your ship on fire and hoping someone sees the smoke and comes to investigate and manages to rescue you before you either burn, suffocate, or drown. You can't swim. You're as alone as any modern astronaut. It doesn't matter what direction you face: there's just the water and the wind. You don't know which direction home is, but hopefully the navigator does

D) someone dies. Not uncommon. Between the scurvy, alcohol poisoning, malnutrition, infection rates, brawls, and other nonsense, some percentage of sailors are gonna die on every ship. Sorta embarrassing for someone to die so quickly, but it's fine. The dead guy looks weird, but it's fine

E) someone else dies

F) someone else dies

G) someone else dies

H) it's your turn to work at night. You don't want to be the next one.

I) someone else dies

J) there's a storm. You're scared. Sailors are a superstitious lot, but people are praying a lot more than usual. Someone's hands are shaking. Someone died last night, and someone will be dead tomorrow

K) you start doing math. Basic math. How many sailors on the ship? How many days until the ship docks? Is there gonna be anyone left? Is the ship just going to float, full of dead bodies, until it capsizes on something and sinks?

L) maybe it would be better to capsize now. On purpose. Bring whatever is haunting them down to the bottom with them rather than bring it to England.

M) maybe the daily funerals are just kinda getting to you. With more dead, your food portions are bigger, and there's more alcohol aloted to you. It's not so bad.

N) maybe it's some weird plague going around?

O) the latest body has bite marks. This is not a plague. You are being hunted and there's nowhere to go

P) the mast reaches towards the sun. There's not that many of you left. You can feel your heart beat in your ears. You've grown inured to the salt in the air, but now you can't get rid of the taste. You bite your lips. The taste stays the same.

Q) you're thirsty. The captain has been taking more of the drink, and his writings have gotten more anxious - nervous scribblings in his diary and wary eyes peering through the dark of the ship. The eyes of the sailors peer back. You don't count them. It wouldn't do much good. You can't remember how many are left, anyways.

R) rust, you think, looking at a smear

S) it's not rust.

T) goodnight

Separately - there's also the question of vampirification. Did Dracula take "snacks" from other sailors? Did they slowly start turning into vampires before they were killed?

[twisting-echo]

So... I watched Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End last night.

Okay, I've been watching the Pirates of the Caribbean film franchise for the last couple of days. Mind you, I only watched the first three when I was a kid and couldn't remember much, so now watching them as an adult is a real treat. I absolutely adore Curse of the Black Pearl and Dead Man's Chest, but last night I watched At World's End and, sadly, I couldn't help but feel a little frustrated and disappointed with it because it was all over the place. It started off strong, then got a little bit stale, picked up again, and then went pfffft.

There was so much crammed into it, and I still feel like I learned nothing about what happened between Davy Jones and Calypso.

I understand that Cutler Beckett was using Jones’s heart as a bargaining chip to force him to do his bidding, but I don't understand why Beckett kept Davy Jones’ heart aboard The Flying Dutchman, Davy Jones's ship. Isn't that a plot hole or something? I know that Cutler Beckett has the whole British Navy behind him, but Davy Jones is a supernatural being who is nearly immortal. He could have potentially taken out the guards holding his heart hostage and retrieved it (thus nullifying Beckett’s power over him), or he could have gotten any (or all) of his many crew members to do so. I just don't know how a pompous asshat like Cutler Beckett made Davy Jones his little bitch.

Moving on, when they reveal that Tia Dalma is the goddess Calypso and free her from her human body, she just turns into a pile of crabs, and we don't see her again? Kinda disappointing considering that they built up this whole past lovers thing between her and Davy Jones.

And then they did James Norrington dirty by killing him off at the hands of Bootstrap Bill (Will's father), who seems to have dementia now even though he was fine in Dead Man's Chest. So he was basically useless. Captain Sao Feng was a new character they introduced, and he was barely in it, and they killed him off too. They also killed off Elizabeth's father, Governor Weatherby Swann, and she discovers that he's dead in the most heartbreaking way imaginable. And then they flat-out do Will and Elizabeth dirty too by having Davy Jones stab Will in the chest. To save his life, Jack gives Will Davy Jones's heart to stab and take his place as the new captain of The Flying Dutchman, allowing him to see Elizabeth only once every ten years!

Also, I'm just going to say it: Cutler Becket's death was weak sauce, and he deserved worse. I wanted blood for all that he did!

Sorry, I got a little salty there, you guys. I probably just need to let it sink in more. Despite all my grievances, I still enjoyed the movie nonetheless. It had a lot of funny moments.

Highlights: Captain Barbossa was just a delight; I can't help but smile when he's on screen. I love Davy Jones, especially the way he talks. Mr. Gibbs, Ragetti, and Pintel are also favorites of mine. Elizabeth becomes the pirate king and has Will's baby. And you bet your ass I love Jack Sparrow; he is such a fun and kooky guy. He's the reason why I wanted to watch these movies again, lol.

Final note: I've never seen On Stranger Tides or Dead Men Tell No Tales, so I'm really excited to watch those, and I hope they don't end up being disappointing like some others have said.

Welp, that's all I had on my mind.

[orangeocelotmartyn]

Part Two of Four ? Of the Ren, Apo, and Martyn drama

Mratyn comes to terms

One | Two | Three | Four

Martyn: So, let me get this straight. Okay. Let me--lemme just, think aloud for a moment, okay? So, first and foremost, I come--here, with the Captain. He pulls me out the ocean, I come here, with the Captain, in search of a new crew. He says yes to literally the first person we find. I think nothing of it. No worries, every crew has a bad apple, this is ridiculous. Think, "no worries, we'll flesh out the crew with some other good guys, good girls," whatever. I'm just--makin' our house, makin' our home, makin' our base of operations, trying to instill confidence in other rats, and other animals that we might come across to join our crew. Turns out, one of them...has got a gripe. All because, I took an inanimate object, and used it for parts. I-I don't get it. I don't get it. (a few seconds of silence) And then the Captain just stands there. And just watches. And bear in mind, the last couple of days, he's just--been willy-nilly inviting everybody into the--into the ship. And not even necessarily in the crew! But they're gonna weigh us down, they're gonna sink us, and every single rat leaving this attic with us--is probably going to end up at the bottom of the ocean. (the screen cuts to his datastream loading stream animation).

[mandiemegatron]

ᴋɪʟʟᴇʀ x ᴄɪꜱꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴋɪᴅ ;

ʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ; 18+ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴏɢʀᴀᴍ ᴅᴇᴀʟꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ꜱᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ, ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴡʀᴇɴᴄʜɪɴɢ ꜱᴏꜰᴛɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴋɪᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪʟʟᴇʀ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ. ᴠɪᴇᴡᴇʀ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ ɪꜱ ᴀᴅᴠɪꜱᴇᴅ.

“Stay in bed a little longer…”

Your words barely escape your lips, but you know Killer had heard you by the way he turns to face you and gather you in his embrace.

“I gotta start breakfast soon, sweet girl.”

You grunt into his chest - he can't help but chuckle, the sound eerily similar to the one Kid always gives when he's unimpressed. He peppers the top of your head with a handful of light kisses as one of his hands traces over your bare back.

“You can always come with me and keep me company in the kitchen?” He offers, giving your side a little tickle that pulls a squeal of laughter from you before you go back to pretending to be grumpy.

“Mm… no.” You grunt again, and he pulls away to lift your chin to stare into your eyes.

“I think you've been around Kid a little too long,” he jokes, his heart feeling so incredibly light as you flash him your loving smile.

“Lies, I don't think I've been around him enough actually,” you tease back, only to let another peel of laughter escape you as Killer pins you to the bed and tickles your bare sides until you're begging him to stop.

“Call me a liar in my own bed,” he snickers, grinning wickedly down at you as happy tears pool in the corners of your eyes. “I'm telling.”

Your mouth drops open in fake shock and you're quick to whine out jokingly, “Nooo, Killer, that's so mean, don't tell on me! I wish you would just tell me you hate me instead!”

There's a moment of silence from Killer. While you've always joked those same words to pretty much everyone on the ship, he didn't like how his heart seemed to sink directly into his belly and churn unkindly.

You picked up on the change and cradled his face in your palms, thumbs gently caressing over his cheeks as you asked softly, “Where'd you go, my love?”

His eyes stopped staring past you, refocusing on your bright eyes. It's another moment before he replies thickly, “I could never hate you. You are so integrated into my heart and soul that it would be like hating myself.” He captures your lips in a deep kiss, pulling away after a moment to softly rub the tip of his nose against yours. “You are my everything… and Kid's, too. Neither of us could ever hate you.”

Honest tears welled up in your eyes this time. Killer was just like Kid, a man of action when words would to fail him, but ever since your first shared night with them both, Killer seemed to open right up and spill his true feelings whenever he felt the need to.

“I love you.”

You sniffled softly and gave your blonde lover a wide, watery grin as you murmured back,

“I love you with every piece of me.”

Killer's mouth ticks up on one side slightly before he leans down and kisses you again.

“I suppose breakfast can wait…” He murmurs before collecting you against him once more with a content sigh.

It's not five minutes later when Kid kicks the door open with a shout of, “Oi, you're just gonna let us STARVE? Is THAT what you want?!”

You and Killer both give an over-exaggerated sigh before he pulls himself away from you to get up and get dressed. He leans down to kiss you one last time before sliding his helmet on, ignoring how Kid gives a cheeky chuckle before ripping his coat off and kicking his boots to the side of the bed. He flopped next to you, his metal arm resting over your body and keeping you from moving.

“Ack! Get this thing offa me!” You tried to get out, pretending to be crushed by it.

Both men ignored you.

“The usual for breakfast, Captain?” Killer asked as he slipped into his shoes. Kid grunts, the sound causing you and Killer to laugh. Kid lifts his head just enough to glare at you and then his best friend and first mate.

“Care to share with the rest of the fuckin’ class?” He snarks half-heartedly, raising an eye ridge at you as you laugh a little harder.

Before you could even reply, Killer chuckles out, “Our girl's been around you too long. She grunted at me like that not twenty minutes ago.”

Kid turned back to you and gave a whisper of a smile, though his eyes shone with adoration clear as day. “Hm.”

You smiled back, letting your arms curl around his metal one and clinging to it lovingly. You grin to yourself as Kid pulls you to his chest in a gentle but clearly possessive grip. “That's my girl,” he murmurs before placing a loud kiss on your forehead.

“Don't fall back asleep,” Killer warns, crossing his arms for a moment before he stalks towards the still open door. “You have about an hour before breakfast is ready. I'll see you both up there shortly.” You and Kid looked at each other before nodding at Killer, promising him you'd both be there.

The second the door closed, Kid sighs deeply and lets his eyes shut. You grin and pinch one of his nipples, pulling a curse from him as his eyes snap back open to glare down at you.

“The fuck is your problem?” There's no bite behind his words but you still snark back with another grin, “Killer just said-”

Your words are cut off with an undignified squawk as he pushes you back onto the bed and hovers his larger form over yours, a hint of a challenge in his eyes as he leans down to nip at your throat.

“I don't give a fuck what he said, but if you're gonna be a brat, then we can find something else to pass the time with.”

Your grin widens and you're quick to wrap your naked legs over his still clothed hips, grinding your core against his growing chub with a breathy, “I'm also sure we could find something to do…”

Kid grins in return, his flesh hand moving to pull his pants down and freeing himself just enough to slide over your slick folds.

It's not long until your voice echos over the ship, causing most of the crew to groan or sigh heavily with a mutter of, “God, they just never stop…”

[providing-leverage]

hey you! did you see this headline?

I did, and I wasn't happy about it. Luckily I also did some further research. This article was posted today on goal.com and contains basically zero actual information, just a lot of empty words and more photos than necessary.

They credit the quote to 'a showbiz insider' on Twitter named MyTimeToShineHello. Last week, the Direct also ran a 'story' with this quote, though they're more skeptical about the source that, as far as I can tell, has no affiliation with Apple of JSudakis.

So we can all calm down. We don't know anything new about s4 and likely won't for a while, until they start filming and the involved parties are given permission to.

That said, here's what I want to see from s4 of Ted Lasso/the new show centered around the women's team

For it to not be called Ted Lasso. He made his choice to go back home, as controversial as it may be in certain corners of the fandom. Let him stay there. Leave him out of this, or maybe flash between crazy football stuff and Ted at the zoo or something.

Definitely do not let him coach a women's team. I don't think he's got any experience with female athletes and would be so underqualified. This time Rebecca is not trying to sink the club.

Speaking of Rebecca: give her screentime. Give her complex plots that don't hinge on her asshole ex-husband or have her dating one of her much younger employees. Flesh out Danish boat guy, that's fine, or skillfully write him out.

Keeley! I don't care what she's doing, as long as she has so much screen time! (I'm not a roykeeleyjamie shipper at all but I recognize that I'm in the minority here so I'm not going to talk ships right now, partially because I haven't made up my mind)

New characters on the women's team. And at least three of them have to be gay. There are several out female footballers, so I see no reason why we can't have So Much lesbian drama happening: exs playing together for the first time in years, new romances, hidden relationships, fake dating, whatever. Maybe get Colin and Trent in there for community friendships

Speaking of Colin, I want cameos from the entire AFC Richmond men's team. Maybe one of Dani's girlfriends is also a football player (it would fit him well, since football is his life) or maybe they share training facilities? They should for sure do some press events together.

I want to see the pub lads not liking the idea of a women's team but then Mae plays nothing but women's matches for a week straight and they come around to it, eventually becoming the team's biggest supporters.

Oh I also want Isaac to be friends with (maybe fall in love with?) the captain of the women's team, who should for sure be bisexual.

As for who should coach since Ted is not on the table: for sure get a woman in there. I like Beard and Roy and Nate together at AFC Men's but of them, I can only see Nate transferring to work on the women's team

Roy is head coach, after all, and Beard is always part of a set. Nate had his issues with respect and boundaries but he's learned his lesson and we already know from his success at Westham that he's capable of being in that leadership role. But this time he'll have a real support system and not Rupert manipulating him.

Back to Trent: PR and journalism are really closely linked so if my department head can go from a career in sports journalism to a PR professional, then I see no reason why he can't do the same. Maybe as a member of KJPR, which is an agency employed by AFC Richmond, or as an internal PR specialist.

Okay that's all I can think of right now bye