#anchored ashore

[sabrina-valerie]

Imagine hearing your f/o singing under their breath, thinking you can't hear them, and getting startled when you start singing along to their tune. The two of you make quite the duet!

[ltwilliammowett]

Old naval slang

A small collection of terms from the 18th - early 20th century that were and probably still are known among sailors.

Admiralty Ham - Royal Navy canned fish Batten your hatch - shut up Beachcomber - a good-for-nothing Cape Horn Fever - feigned illness Cheeseparer - a cheat Claw off - to avoid an embarrassing question or argument Cockbilled - drunk Cumshaw - small craft - Chinese version of scrimshaw Dead Marine - empty liquor bottle Donkey's Breakfast - mattress filled with straw Dunnage - personal equipment of a sailor Flying Fish sailor - sailor stationed in Asian waters Galley yarn - rumour, story Hog yoke- sextant Holy Joe - ship's chaplain Irish hurricane- dead calm Irish pennant - frayed line or piece of clothing Jamaican discipline - unruly behaviour Knock galley west - to knock a person out Leatherneck - a marine Limey - a British sailor Liverpool pennant - a piece of string used to replace a lost button Loaded to the guards - drunk Old Man - captain of the ship One and only - the sailor's best girl On the beach - ashore without a berth Pale Ale - drinking water Quarterdeck voice - the voice of authority Railroad Pants - uniform trousers with braid on the outer leg seam Railway tracks - badge of a first lieutenant Round bottomed chest - sea bag Schooner on the rocks - roast beef and roast potatoes Show a leg - rise and shine Sling it over - pass it to me Slip his cable - die Sundowner - unreasonable tough officer Swallow the anchor - retire Sweat the glass - shake the hour glass to make the time on watch pass quickly - strictly forbidden ! Tops'l buster - strong gale Trim the dish - balance the ship so that it sails on an even keel Turnpike sailor - beggar ashore, a landlubber claiming to be an old sailor in distress Water bewitched - weak tea White rat - sailor who curries favor with the officers

Sailors' Language, by W. Clark Russell, 1883 Soldier and Sailor Words and Phrases. Edward Fraser and John Gibbons, 1925 Sea Slang, by Frank C. Bowen, 1929 Royal Navalese, by Commander John Irving, 1946 Sea Slang of the 20th century, by Wilfried Granville, 1949 The Sailor's Word Book, by Admiral W.H. Smyth, 1967

[oxymorayuri]

❞𝐍𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬❝

ShortFic

here the storys masterlist. ♡♡♡

✦ Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Reader ✦ Warnings: cussing/language, use of alcohol, mature content ✦ Spoiler: none

wordcount: 6328

It annoys you that you're starting to develop feelings for Ace. Unlike you, he's just unreliable, messy and has no brains. Sure he's hot as the sun but how can a woman like you be into a guy like him?

! ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ !

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: Xuan

"Hey gorgeous, watcha doing?" With his stupid big grin, he steals the sun you were enjoying a moment ago. You exhale a little annoyed but don't look up from your book. You calmly flip the page.

"Isn't it obvious?" It comes from your lips. You sound rather bored by his unnecessary question, but it's impossible to ignore the displeased undertone.

"Mmm bitey as always…" Any other man would be offended, would insult you and leave but Ace finds it quite amusing. He finds it rather fun that you're not throwing yourself at his feet.

Your eyes remain on the words in your book. You won't grant Ace the satisfaction of giving him a single glance. You would only be forced to look at his sly smile and his splendid torso. Gross.

"Okay, let me see what you're reading?" Ace's hand reaches for your book and now he is the one flipping through it. You are a little perplexed, your hands still in the air as if you had the book in your hands, but the confusion quickly fades and you stand up, annoyed.

You want to take the book away from him but all your efforts are in vain because he skillfully keeps you at a distance. You accept your defeat and cross your arms in front of your barely dressed chest.

You just wanted to sunbathe a little before you drop anchor ashore, but Ace has to annoy you again.

Your eyes rest on his utterly beautiful lips. You despise yourself for your thoughts while he reads a few lines from your book, but you listen to him intently and after each sentence you have to laugh a little at his comments even though you roll your eyes. He looks pretty hot as he tries to analyze your book... with a strained expression, he thinks about those things he read.

"…That's why Cunt describes the awakening, or rather: the awakening, of reason as a second birth…." he quietly mumbles the rest to himself "…a beginner who is able to begin for himself….????" He frowns very hard and gestures at the book.

"Who the hell understands that!" You put one hand on your hip and snatch the book from him, with a puff of annoyance.

"First of all, I understand it and secondly, it's pronounced Kant and not Cunt!" - "Yea sounds the same…"

He seems confused but doesn't quite understand that he has just named one of your favorite philosophers a cunt. You roll your eyes again, you've done that so many times now, that you should be getting dizzy.

Arrogantly, you walk past him and toss your hair over your shoulder. Ace's confusion quickly fades as he inhales your sweet, floral scent, which has a pinch of salt from the fresh ocean breeze.

"I'll soften you up, y/n." He calls after you and without you turning to face him, you flash him your middle finger.

Once in the kitchen, you made yourself a drink to calm your nerves. You know that you're a pretty deep woman, but you've experienced several times that men aren't interested in woman like you.

As soon as someone realizes how smart or intellectual you are, they simply turn their back on you. You are sick and tired of people only liking you for your appearance but not your inner self. Why is that? Is it too exhausting for them? Are they too stupid?

You exhale in frustration and throw a straw into your drink. This is the very reason why you are not happy, that you like Ace. He's not exactly the brightest candle on the cake, but he has that special spark, that makes you want to keep your eyes on him. What if he just wants to get his hands on you and then throws you away like the others?

"You're groaning a lot again, little lass…" You flinch as if lightning struck you and you slowly turn around, only to see Marco drinking his coffee and browsing through the newspaper without looking at you.

"Gosh Marco… Tell me you're here, jeez!" You put your hand on your chest while leaning against a wooden plank.

The man looks up at you from his newspaper with an raised eyebrow.

"I was here first." He rustles the paper briefly to get it back into shape and turns his attention back to the latest headlines.

"Besides, how can you be so blind and not notice me? It's not like I'm hiding here…" Mumbles the commander of the first division. You stop as you sip your drink.

He's right. He's obviously sitting at the table. You should have seen him when you came in, but you seem to be too absorbed in your own thoughts.

"Whatever, sorry."

You wave him off as you walk back out the door.

The sun greets you directly and you notice that the deck is a little busier. Apparently we'll be docking ashore soon. You're walking across the deck towards the railing when someone calls out to you.

"Hey y/n you should start getting ready, we'll be in Mocktown in 10 minutes." Says Jozu, who is hauling in the sail with a few shipmen.

"Thanks boss!" You call out to your commander.

You could already see it in the distance, the island of Jaya. You quickly made your way to your private cabin. Of course you don't want to go ashore completely in a bikini, even if the weather is good, but Mocktown is still a criminal city and you have no desire to be seen as a cheap prostitute.

You quickly put on a short pleated skirt, attach your gun holster to your thigh and for a moment you think about whether you should just leave your bikini on or put on a shirt. You shrug your shoulders and think to yourself, why not?

Even if some idiots whistle after you, you'll always be at the safest place in the world with your crew members. After all, you're one of the Whitebeard pirates.

Just before you were about to go ashore with Whitey, you stop on your heels.

You watch as Ace is already on land, in the company of a few lightly dressed girls. You can see how much he enjoys being wooed by the beautiful women. He's such a show off. You think to yourself as you roll your eyes.

"Well well, where are your eyes going again, sweetie." It wasn't a question... Whitey knows exactly who you're watching as she stands next to you at the railing. She rests one elbow on the railing and puts her chin in one hand.

"Just look at him… The way he flaunts himself in front of those chicks and acts like a clown... bleurgh..." Not in a million years would you admit that the show Ace gives these women is fucking dope. He plays with his devil fruit power like a fire eater, juggling fireballs, surrounding himself with flames and giving the ladies a little show.

It clearly annoys you and somehow you don't like it, that the ladies are allowed to admire Ace so obviously.

You don't think twice and start to act. You point one finger in Ace's direction and move your index finger in small circular movements.

Behind Ace, who is still playing with his fire, the water on the shore rises without anyone noticing. When the water is high enough, you pull your finger slightly to the right and all the water falls on Ace and extinguishes him.

Steam rises from Ace as he stands in front of the women, drenched in water. He tries to shake some of the water off him, which makes you laugh.

You quickly leave the ship with your friend and together you go to your troop of the third division.

Whitey hooks her arm into yours and comes a little closer to your ear so no one can hear her words.

"You jealous, beastly bitch…" You give her a humming laugh. You may be jealous, but what does it matter? That crush will soon fade away anyway.

While you and Whitey ran a few errands for the whole crew, Jozu waited for you and watched who went in and out of the store. Two beautiful women like you need to be protected in a shady place like this. It's not that you're weak, it's more like a rule.

You came out of the store with a lot of bags. Jozu's eyes widened as he looked over the bulging shopping bags.

"What have you bought again? Do we really need all this?" He questioned but also grabbed all the purchases to carry them for you.

You look up at the tall man with a raised eyebrow.

"Well listen Jozu. You're lucky we do this shopping, if we didn't, we could wipe our asses with meat because food is all YOU think about!" You boldly point your finger at your commander, who shrinks back a little with beads of sweat on his face.

A nervous laugh escapes his lips and he apologizes quietly.

"Save it boss. At least we can decide what quality the paper is. The last person who was responsible for this basically bought sandpaper!" You complain with your arms crossed as you walk down the street. The commander and Whitey laugh at your little tantrum, but your walk is suddenly interrupted when a small child falls in front of you and different items fall from his arms.

Bread and fruit rolled across the ground and to your feet. The boy hastily jumped up and picked up the food. You didn't hesitate and went straight to the ground to help the child. You immediately notice how anxiously the child looks around and seems to want to get away very quickly.

"Hey are you okay kiddo?" You ask carefully with so much care in your voice, which is rarely heard from you. You are known for being quick and merciless, but with children you become a big sis.

The boy, no more than 8 years old, looked up at you with fear in his eyes when he saw the Jolly Roger on your skirt. Again he dropped his food, fell to the ground and frantically scrambled backwards. Meanwhile, you can hear an angry mob in the distance. You suspect the boy has stolen the food by the look of him.

No shoes, torn clothes and a dirty face. The sight makes you sad; it reminds you of yourself. You were just like him before Whitebeard took you in.

You stand protectively in front of the boy and Jozu and Whitey also stand around the boy so that he is protected from all sides.

You keep your hand ready to draw your revolver in case of need. The angry people shout and demand that you hand the boy over, but you're definitely not going to do that. The little boy didn't even steal much and from the looks of it, the food seemed more like scraps that the stores threw in the trash.

You click your tongue. You can't believe they get so angry when it's just a few pathetic scraps. You lose your patience and in the blink of an eye you've already shot all the angry people in front of their feet. The people were visibly frightened by your speed and people around you started whispering.

"Oh my god it's the Whitebeard pirates!" - "Look! Jozu, the commander of the third devision…" - "And isn't that the right hand; the Revolver?"

By Revolver, they mean you. That's your nickname, but only for the rest of the world. In fact, you have to thank the Marines for that cool nickname. They didn't know your real name because you were just a teenager living on the street, you were born without a name.

Back then you were already pretty good with a revolver, it helped you keep yourself afloat but it was a dirty life. You quickly became known to the Marines and had your own wanted poster with the name 'Revolver'.

Then one day you came across Whitebeard and you set your mind on robbing him... You knew who he was but you were ignorant and thought you were faster than him but you were definitely no match for Whitebeard... You could count yourself lucky because he saw potential in you and asked you to join his crew.

Whitebeard was also the one who gave you your name and since then you see it as your duty to make him proud as a daughter.

You suddenly heard a man's voice calling from above and your gaze went up to the roofs.

"Hey, what's with all the ruckus?" The sun blinds you a little and with squinted eyes you could make out Ace's silhouette. Ace landed in front of you with a wave of fire and the people froze, no longer looking angry but more like they were shitting their pants. One of them took to his legs in his hands and screamed as he ran away.

"Nope, the commander and the revolver are already a big deal, but you can't survive Ace's devastating fire!" Ace just laughed like a fool and held his stomach as he watched the wimps make a run for their lives.

Your attention was on the boy who threw himself crying into your arms. You stroked his head and Jozu and Whitey picked up the food again.

"Hm, unfortunately the food is already pretty dirty… you can't eat that." Whitey whispered to Jozu.

When you notice a shadow above you, you look up at Ace, who was looking at the boy with a serious face. The look surprised you quite a bit, There is no trace of his usually playful expression that Ace always has.

He crouches down to you two and reaches into his pocket to pull out a bag.

"Hey little guy, do you live alone?" The little boy sniffled heavily before answering him.

"No, I live with my mother and two brothers..." - "Heyyyy, I have two brothers too!" The boy turned around. The fact that Ace was talking to him seemed to calm him down a little. No wonder, Ace had once again made a unique appearance and looked like a cool superhero. You watch Ace interact with the boy.

"Really?" - "Yeah, I'm the oldest of the three of us!" The boy wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes.

"I'm also the oldest of us…" - "Yeah, that's what I thought… You just wanted to look after your family, didn't you?" Ace said as he looked at the food. The tears rolled down his dirty cheeks again as the boy nodded in agreement.

"You know what? This should be enough for now... buy plenty of food with it and make sure no one catches you with that much money!" Ace placed a sack full of money in the boy's hand. The weight caused the boy's slender hand to drop a little and his eyes widened with tears.

"Are you serious?" Ace just smiled at him with a nod and patted him on the head. He straightened up again and your eyes went up to him, mesmerized by his kindness. He gave him quite a lot of money and once again you found another reason to like Ace. The way he treated the child warms your heart, but inside you curse yourself...

When you arrived at the pub, you took a seat in a corner, where a few others from your division were already sitting and the waiters brought you your drinks.

Ace, on the other hand, begged and pleaded with the owner of the bar to let him pay later, but the owner knows the area and doesn't trust anyone to pay their debts.

You could no longer stand to watch your second commander beg a measly bartender and with an annoyed groan you made your way over to Ace.

"What do you want Ace." You say coolly, not even looking at him. Ace quickly realizes what you're up to and his sad face turns to joy.

"Food and booze!" He puts his hands together as if worshipping you. You somehow like that he makes himself small and a tiny smile appears on your face.

"Let the man order what he wants, I'll pay for it." - "Awww y/n, you got something good with me!" You raise an eyebrow as you look into his wide grin. He's pretty close to you and you draw in your breath inaudibly as your heart threatens to explode but you don't let it show on the outside.

Before your face turns completely red, you turn around and go back to your seat.

How you missed just sitting in one of those shabby pubs, laughing with your comrades while prying ears tried to listen to the stories you could tell.

But today it's all about fun and relaxing, so there's nothing important for the shady characters around to catch. Anyway, you wouldn't be stupid enough to discuss important things in public. Maybe their eyes are only on you because they are curious or even tense.

With every sip of your drink, the desire to mess with one of the dark figures increases. You're in the mood for a bar fight, because the last few weeks have been pretty quiet.

You were undercover in Alabasta for a long time and two weeks ago your crew picked you up again. You're glad to be out of there. All that sand and the dry air has damaged your skin and you've really missed life on the Moby Dick.

You realized that a lot had changed during your absence, because suddenly there was a new commander. The commander of the second division to be precise. Jozu had informed you about the latest events from time to time, but you hadn't expected Ace.

"Hey doll, I've never seen you here before…" A halfway attractive guy blabbered at you from the side while swaying and leaning onto your table.

Your eyes shift to the side without moving your head. That guy reeks of alcohol... Brave of him to talk to you, but maybe this could be the entertainment you've been looking for?

Your lips are curled in to a malicious smile. You look up at him with your dreamy eyes.

"What's up, big boy?" you wink at him in a seductive voice. You can probably get a few drinks out of him while thinking about how much money you've already spent, since Ace drinks like a hangover is just a rumor... If the drunk refuses, you can always blow a bullet through his head and be done with him.

It was easier than you thought to wrap the rascal around your fingers and he bought not only you a drink but also the others! You almost felt sorry for him when you pulled his wallet out of his coat but well… you're a thief and a pirate. It's his own fault because he couldn't take his eyes off you. It was just too easy.

"Ohhh y/n that was really nasty again. The poor guy really thought you fancied him."

You answer your commander with a little dirty laugh. Unconcerned, you shrug your shoulders and sip your newly snatched drink, paid with the money you stole from the guy whose name you don't even remember.

"'Aww come on… it's funny. The 'poor' guy, as you call him, will arrive at the hotel, go to the room and meet whoever the hell is there!" you laugh diabolically until tears gather in your eyes. You're not the only one laughing… the others are laughing too and even Jozu has to admit to himself that it's hilarious.

You've done this a couple of times and every time you've proved how dick driven guys can be...

You really played with that guy's mind when you flirted with him. Little random touches and your laughter sounded so sincere as he told his stories... But in the end, guys usually want more than just to sit in a pub with you, so you always come up with something new.

On the way to the pub you saw a hostel… So you wrote down that exact hostel and a room number on a piece of paper. You told him that you would meet him there later at 8 pm because you still wanted to have some fun with your crew and the idiot believed you.

Whitey started to laugh, she seemed to be imagining the whole thing.

"I wonder who he'll run into in that room?" You all burst out laughing. Too bad you won't find out.

The evening went pretty well and you have to admit that Ace is a pretty cool guy. He was one of the few who raised the mood and you kept catching each other sneaking glances.

The table gradually emptied until only Jozu, Whitey, Ace and you were left. Jozu told you the story how Ace wanted to kill Whitebeard at the beginning. The stories made you laugh like crazy. You were already stupid, but killing Whitebeard? That's crazy.

You caught Ace blushing a little and scratching his head in shame while Jozu was talking, but he let Jozu talk about his stupid actions. Because of his sweet expressions, your laughter slowly died down as you looked up at him. Over time, your seats had changed so that you were sitting between Whitey and Ace and you press your elbow into his side.

"Oh don't make such a face Ace. I think that makes you really likeable!" Like the buddy you are, you raise your drink to him and symbolize that you want to clink glasses with him.

Ace froze for a moment because of you. He wasn't used to you beeing like this but he actually likes this side of you. He returns your grin and clinks glasses with you.

Usually you're not that bitchy. You get along with everyone. Ace is the only one you were so distant with from the start, and not just because he swept you off your feet. It sounds shallow, but from the first moment you saw him, you felt a spark inside you. A slight tickle in your chest.

The real reason for your cold manner is rather because he was given the position of commander of the second division. You worked really hard for the position and were one of the few candidates, but suddenly he comes along aaaand gets the job. You didn't even know that Ace was the one when he stood in front of you. It was only later that Jozu told you that he was the one who got the job and the spark in you shattered like a mirror.

But you have to admit that Ace is still doing a good job. He's actually pretty strong. You remember how some wannabe pirates tried to attack you, but Ace quickly wiped them out by setting their ship on fire. It was kind of beautiful… this burning ship in the middle of the ocean…

"Hey girl what are you thinking about?" Whitey nudges you while you're lost in thoughts holding your chin in your hand.

"Ace…" you babble, responding directly to her question but in a rather absent manner. All of you react immediately to your answer…

Whitey looks at you with a raised eyebrow while Ace freezes as he drinks. You quickly realize that you've somehow admitted that you were thinking about Ace. Oh dear, you probably had a little too much to drink… You straighten up and clear your throat.

"…Ace… tell me… where are you from?" You try to rock the boat, even though you think it's in vain, but luckily for you, the dark haired man answers you and joins in ignoring what you just said. The mood is a little awkward, but from the outside you don't allow to show any signs of embarrassment… On the inside, however, you're ripping the hair from your head in humiliation.

"Oh dear, look at the clock, it's almost 8pm… I think I'd better get back to the Moby before that guy comes back after he finds out I'm not staying at that hostel." A little slyly, you laugh into your hand as you stand up.

"I should go with you…" Ace gets right up and wants to follow you "…you know, in case you run into him and need some firepower." You look back over your shoulder at him and grin as he forms a finger gun with his hand and shoots little balls of fire.

"Do what you gotta do Firefist…" You voiced his name a little sexier than you intended, but you're so drunk right now that you don't give a fuck.

As you walked side by side through the dark alleys, you had the feeling that you didn't want the evening to end. You are alone with Ace. No one would tease you for it, seeing how well you get along with him all of a sudden…

"Hey Ace… Wanna go flick some rocks on the waterside?" He looks at you a bit surprised, while you continue to look ahead.

"Yeah sure, sounds fun!"

And so it came that the two of you were flicking stones over the water's surface a little away from the city. You made it a competition to see how many times you could bounce the stone on the water and you expected nothing less than Ace to have a good hand.

You watch him as he skillfully swings out from the hip to throw the pebble. His muscles twitched slightly as he released the tension in his body. It's a good thing he runs around without a shirt…

As you both watch the stone splash across the surface, Ace breaks the silence.

"Listen y/n, I know you were supposed to get the commander's spot and I think you would have pretty much rocked the position…" You perk up at his words…

I would have got the position? You've never heard that before. Ace had to grin a little when he saw your questioning face.

"Yes, Edward told me that he wanted to leave the second division to you… But in the end he decided against it." You both took a seat on the beach and you looked thoughtfully at the open sea.

What made him choose Ace as commander and not me? What does he have, that I don't?

Ace finally gets a chance to look at your face in peace. You look so harmless and gentle as you gaze out to the sea. Your eyes literally shine due to the moon's reflection in the water.

"Do you want to know why?" You turn your head and look directly into his black eyes.

"Sure…" you answer a little absently as you look repeatedly at his lips. Ace leaned back, propped himself up on his elbows and looked up at the starry sky.

"He told me a lot about you, how he took you in and how he views you. He treats us all like his children, but he once said to me that if he had a daughter, she would definitely be like you…" You pull your legs towards you and hide your smile. You know he treats you a little differently from the others, that's definitely no secret.

Even though you were thirteen when he took you in, he was the parent you've always longed for. He raised you and taught you your values. He has a great influence on you…

Even though these words flatter you, they don't satisfy you. You lean back and cross your arms behind your head.

"Well, if I mean that much to him, he should name me commander of the first division!" You say cheekily, but more in a funny way. Ace bursts out laughing and lies on his side to look at you.

"I don't know why either… I think you're super strong…" His praise is like music to your ears and it makes you even happier that he doesn't stop.

"I've heard the name Revolver a few times, but your wanted poster didn't reveal much about your appearance… There were stories told around the taverns… about the legendary Revolver shooting faster than his shadow and being quick as lightning." You start to laugh.

"Sounds like a cowboy." Ace looks down at himself, smirking, and you stop laughing when you notice him taking off his hat.

"The only thing missing is the hat…" he whispers to you as he puts his hat on your head. For a moment, you find yourselves trapped in the endless silence. You have already blocked out the sound of the waves and the only thing you can hear is Ace's breathing.

You think you've never looked into someone's eyes for so long before and if you're honest, you don't intend to look away. You catch your breath as Ace brushes a strand of hair out of your face and as a response to his warmth, you slightly open your mouth.

"The first time I saw you on the Moby Dick, talking to Whitebeard, I knew you were the special daughter, but I would never have guessed you were also the Revolver." - "Ah yes?" You ask him a little provocatively, meanwhile you've also rolled onto your side so that you're both facing each other with your upper bodies.

Ace is giving you a hard time, as he absently goes with his teeth over his lips, while looking down to gather his words.

"I actually thought the legendary Revolver was a guy who could be a good mate." His eyes glance past you as he grins a little sheepishly.

"Oh are you disappointed that I'm not a guy?" - "Quite the opposite…" He carefully moves his hand over the sand until he touches your fingers like it's just pure coincidence. You don't quite react to his touch, you're more interested in what he says next.

"You're also not from bad parents, Firefist…" The heated atmosphere between you is hard to ignore. Ace finally dares to lean down towards you and you can already see what's coming. You place a finger on his lips and gently press him back.

"But I don't have time for playing games with boys…" Your words escape your lips in a whisper as you search his eyes for a reaction.

"I'm not a boy y/n, I'm a man." He couldn't have said it better. His words trigger feelings in you that you desperately want to explore and lightly you support yourself to rest your lips on his.

The kiss is so gentle and innocent, as if your lips have to get used to the incredible feeling. The fire that Ace ignites in you is a thousand times stronger than anything you've ever felt before and yet your lips barely touched.

Your chest expands with excitement as Ace increases the pressure on your lips and grabs the back of your neck with one hand. You lean back slightly and enjoy the feeling of his hold.

"Ace?" You break the kiss and speak softly against his lips.

"I don't want to share a man. I want you all to myself, you understand?" You know that Ace is a womanizer and you have the feeling that he could break your heart… no matter how much you enjoy this… you're still crew members.

"I'd be crazy if I didn't take Whitebeard's favorite seriously…" Ace's words on your lips make everything in your stomach twist and somewhat out of control, you lean against him. You want to feel his fire.

You don't hesitate for long and your lips quickly meet again. This time neither of you takes the time because this rising feeling is so strong that you both have to let it out.

Ace's other hand wanders along your side while still holding the back of your neck. The tingling sensation gathers directly in your lower middle and you throw your arms around his neck, causing Ace to fall backwards a little. Eagerly, you explore his upper body with your fine fingers and go up and down his muscular frame.

While Ace gains access into your mouth, he pulls you by your arm onto his lap so that you sit on him without your lips parting once.

You begin to feel like you're craving another body for the very first time and slightly out of breath, you pull away from his lips.

You look down at Ace as he stares up at you with hungry eyes. His gaze is already so fucking hot and you long for more reactions in his face.

Your hand goes lightly to your back to undo the bow of your bikini but Ace stops you.

"Let me touch you y/n…" His voice is deeper than usual and there's something so playful about it that you can't help but surrender to him completely.

Ace's hands wander along your side until his hands are on your breasts. You've been used to the cool air for a long time, but it's Ace's hands that gives you goose bumps as they brush against your bare skin. Your nipples harden as Ace brushes your bikini top aside.

For a moment, he enjoys your womanly curves and the way the moon glistens on your skin.

"You're so fucking hot…" Ace suddenly comes up to you and pulls you into an intense French kiss. You rest your hands on his shoulders and moan slightly as he places skillful kisses on your neck. His hands rest on your hips only to push you back and forth on his lap with circular movements to relieve his arousal.

Ace knows exactly the right moves to get you going and caresses one of your nipples with his tongue while lightly pinching and pulling the other.

These overwhelming sensations make you laugh like a dirty whore as you start to move your hips to feel his erection against your wet panties. You are happier than ever that you are wearing a skirt today. But you don't want to have a dry fuck as you are far too wet for that. You want to feel Ace's dick sliding inside you…

You push Ace backwards and force him to lie down while you undo the belt of Ace's pants with your free hand.

"So we're about to get down to business, huh?" he grins dirtily at you as he crosses his arms behind his head. You run your tongue over your teeth and return his grin.

"We'll have plenty of time to explore each other thoroughly, darling." You wink at him and his breathing quickens a little as you grab his member to get it out of his pants.

Fascinated, you run your hand up and down his shaft, causing the otherwise ruthless man beneath you to whimper in relief. His cock gets a little firmer as your hand touches it, to which your cunt reacts in equal measure.

You lift yourself up a little, pull your slip to the side and place Ace's already hard cock in front of your entrance. As the tip of his cock touched your soft folds, a shiver ran down your spine and you slowly let its entire length disappear inside of you. As he filled you completely, Ace moaned in a deep, satisfied voice.

"That's never felt so good as it does now y/n…" His broken voice sends the next shiver down your spine and the growl in his voice runs through you.

At first you wanted to move slowly to get used to the filling sensation of his glory but Ace had other plans...

He bent his legs and started thrusting into you, sending you into bliss over and over again.

You're really glad that you're far away from anyone because you can fully indulge in the sensation and moan to your heart's content.

You have no idea how long this up and down has been going on, but you have the feeling that hours as well as just seconds could have passed.

You lean down to him to taste his lips on yours, but you pull away again because you enjoy it more when you straighten your back as Ace fills you up completely. You don't even think about stopping riding Ace and when you see his hat you somehow have the urge to put it on.

With some effort you reach for Ace's hat which was lying in the sand and put it on while you enjoy riding him to the fullest. The sight of you topless, in just your skirt and his hat, is enough to drive Ace crazy. He can barely contain his voice and moans like he's never done before.

"Mhhm yeah, ride me, cowgirl." His voice a little hoarse and dangerous.

That's probably the second nickname you really like.

Masterlist

Oh Ace.... ♡

➽ Next chapter

[madschiavelique]

you know those perfumes that are supposed to be based on “pheromones” or whatever that are supposed to make you more attractive?

imagine that… with Miguel… who already has extra sensitive smell… I’m just— 😳

OMG anon i TOTALLY see what u referenced right here. the man will be on his knees

summary ➤ you got one of these pheromones perfumes that went viral and Miguel notices it pairing ➤ miguel x gender neutral reader

content warnings ➤ none in particular, just miggy sniffing u word count ➤ 841

You had seen some reels on instagram or some tik toks where lots of people, especially women, were trying on these perfumes with pheromones, and you'd managed to get hold of one of these famous things out of sheer curiosity. You examined it a little, wondering what effect it might give, then decided why not give it a try? After all, that's what it was created for. So you applied it to basic heat points, focusing on your wrists, the inside of your elbows and, of course, your neck. Determining for yourself whether it worked was impossible, you needed someone else to try this, so you simply wandered around the society as you would do on the basis, a few glances turning towards you as you strolled to Miguel's office. You entered the office as if nothing had happened, making your way to the platform where Miguel was silhouetted in his usual busy-man way. Most of the spiders in society had a keen sense of smell, as did you, but this scent was designed to attract the noses of a targeted audience, so you wondered how he would react. "Hi gorgeous," you smiled, the platform slightly raised just three meters above you as you walked towards it. He did not even turn around, his eyes deeply anchored on his holopad and mind burried in work, mumbling all the same as you came within a few steps of the platform, stopping in your tracks: "Hey cariño,” he sighed, sliding something from one holopad to the other, “how are-" But he immediately stops his sentence, and you can hear him inhaling a sharp but short breath. You smile, he noticed really quickly. He pivoted slightly on the side, showing you his profile, eyebrows furrowed, sniffing again a little more slowly, his chest swells as his lungs fill with the slightest ounce of it. His head turns to yours on the spot, his eyes immediately landing on yours. "What's that?" Touché. He'd taken the bait, and hard. He turned fully towards you, beginning the descent from the platform. "What's what?" you asked, concealing your excitement incredibly well, as if the questioning made you genuinely confused as you pulled every string of your web to perfection for your little prey to get stuck. He didn't even wait until the platform was completely ashore before stepping off, pressing the pace towards you. "That," he repeated, his eyebrows furrowing as each step closer to you made him smell that inebriating scent. "What do you mean 'that'?" you say, a little laugh that's half confused and half amused taking hold of you. "You changed something," he said, fluttering his eyes as he finally reached your height and the smell became more and more powerful.

Once he was close enough to you, he closed his eyes, taking another deep breath as he opened them again the next second. Is it you, or has his pupil dilated? He took hold of your wrist, bringing it close to his lips and smelling the perfume on it, pressing his nose against your skin until it wrinkled and closing his eyes tightly just to be poisoned by the smell that seemed so exceptional. He opened his eyelids again, a slight tinge of red beginning to take hold of his irises. He gave you a look of new interest, lips parted as his eyes locked on yours. "Did you... buy a new lotion?" You let out a little breath of laugh from your nose, pretending not to understand a single thing he was saying. Most of the spiders in society had a keen sense of smell, as did you, but this scent was designed to attract the noses of a targeted audience, so you wondered how he would react.

"'No? What's the matter?" you ask as he listens intently, "What's changed?"

He stepped closer, his body towering over you as he tilted his head, bringing you face to face with him. Yeah, his pupils were truly dilated.

"There's something new, you..." he seemed to consider his words for a moment as he inhaled, moistening his lips, "smell different."

He came to smell your cheek, the skin of his nose brushing against yours and sending little shivers down your spine.

"Really?" you asked, smiling softly. You weren't regretting this discovery at all, and Miguel seemed to be of the same opinion. "How so?"

His eyelashes placed butterfly kisses on your cheek as he moved down a little further into the crook of your neck, the sensation of his breath spreading over your warm, scented skin sending little tingles up the back of your skull.

"It's..." he breathed, coming to place his hand previously on your wrist at the small of your back and pulling you towards him to get closer, "intoxicating."

You felt the warmth of his lips kiss tenderly down your neck, the distinct sensation of his canines tracing the warm skin of it as he let out a sigh.

"Lyla," he grunted against your skin, "Lock the door please."

Definitely a good investment.

[i-was-today-years-old-when]

i learned what is the most recent large animal to be discovered

Photo taken aboard the Navy vessel AFB-14, sailing off the coast of Kaneohe, Hawai'i. It's November 15, 1976.

Sea anchors are being hoisted , when you see something tangled up in the device..

It's a shark, and a huge shark.

This is the bigmouth shark (Megachasma pelagios).

These fish can grow very large - although not as impressive as, for example, a whale shark or a basking shark, large mouth sharks can grow to almost 6 meters in length.

It is impressive that these alien-looking sharks were able to remain hidden for so long.

Most of the huge creatures of the deep, such as sperm whales, scorpionfish, giant and colossal squids, etc., have long been known to scientists, albeit rather poorly. Scientists have long known about most deep sea creatures, even if not in detail. We've had carcasses that were washed ashore, specimens caught in nets and, in the case of the sperm whale, we've been hunting them for thousands of years.

Also, it's not like megamouths are super cunning and sneaky. They are relatively poor swimmers, even in deep water, and most of the time just float through the water column, sifting sea plankton into their cavernous mouths. Their bodies are flabby and fragile , such that sperm whales destroy them.

You'd expect such a poor swimmer to take to land all the time, but no. In 2018, fewer than 99 whale mega-specimens were recorded, most of which were carcasses washed ashore or entangled in nets.

Follow my Twitter/X account for more: www.x.com/noparkingtv

[shiftersroom]

how to shift through a lucid dream, according to neville goddard

this method was inspired by neville goddard, and my friend @urlocal-limitesshbic’s dragon tales method. please check it out 💛

in neville goddard’s book “out of this world” he talks about shifting realities through a lucid dream.

“I have discovered that, if I surprise myself dreaming, I can lay hold of any inanimate or stationary form of the dream (a chair, a table, a stairway, a tree) and command myself to awake. At the command to awake, while firmly holding on to the object of the dream, I am pulled through myself with the distinct feeling of awakening from dream. I awaken in dream. I awaken in another sphere holding the object of my dream, to find that I am no longer the servant of my vision but its master, for I am fully conscious and in control of the movements of my attention.”

in another lecture neville talks about grabbing onto a piece of driftwood in a dream and when he woke up, he was in a reality actually in a body of water holding that piece of wood.

“Years ago I felt myself dreaming and I was swimming. I knew it was a dream. I looked up and saw the shore of a primitive island, not the little island where I was born, for that is well cultivated and in no way primitive, but this was primitive. I saw it was an island and I knew I was dreaming, and I saw these strange things like cement posts driven down through the water but they were in a state of decay. They could have been at one time part of a jetty. I could see this peculiar primitive beach and I prolonged the dream, for if you know you are dreaming you need not wake. Something in me began to tell me, as memory began to return, that if I would take hold of one of these pilings and not let it go, and awaken, I would awaken there. I felt it and it was solidly real, just as it would feel here, and my hand did not go through it, and I held on to it and made myself awake; and I awoke in that water on that beach and then I waded ashore. I was no more asleep in that sphere than I am here in this one.”

“It taught me a lesson that if I could touch anything in another world and compel myself to awaken while holding it, I would find it was real. So you do it for your world. A job you want, the home you would occupy, the marriage you want. Sit at the desk at which you would sit, live in the house you want to live in, be married to the sort of person you want to be married to, and if you hold to it in your imagination, then you will make it real in your outer world. The Ancients called this capacity the Western Gate, and tied it in with the sense of touch. If you can hang on to the thing you touch and then awaken, you will find that the thing has become real.”

how to use this method:

1. find an object that you will be holding onto when you wake up in your dr. make it something that would fit in your dr. for example, in my dr it’s 2014, so i’ll wake up holding my old iphone.

2. find that object in your cr. in your cr, it has no power. but in your dreams, it has the power to shift you.

3. use that object as a reality check throughout the day. hold it and ask yourself if you’re dreaming.

4. when you become lucid in a dream, find that object/manifest it (i find it easier to say that when you turn around, it’ll be there - trying to manifest things in dreams can use too much brain power and wake you up)

5. affirm that you are dreaming FROM your dr, and when you wake up, you’ll be holding your item IN your dr.

6. wake up!

the item acts as an anchor. sometimes when we shift through lucid dreams we feel disconnected and like we’re battling to wake up in our dr, but we have nothing firm to grasp to bring us through. but the item is a lifeline to your dr.

—

lmk if you use this method and how it goes!

[warpedpuppeteer]

Can we talk about how Buck shows his distress in a visceral physical way; shouting Eddie's name, insanely single minded intensity in rescuing him (his eyes during the sniper arc goddamn), saying out loud again and again about how he's got him, shaking hands, broken sobs but Eddie show's his distress in a more quieter way, almost folding it into himself; yes he does shout for Buck but also, when he saves Buck, he immediately becomes more subdued, he drove the truck even though I'm sure everything in him was screaming to be with Buck, he stays with the team and hugs them first and when he sneaks Chris in and cries, it's subdued too-wiping it off immediately, quiet. Even after getting shot when he asks Buck if he's hurt, it's more quiter and gentler (it's probably the blood loss but you know what I mean). Buck grieves with his whole body and heart and Eddie grieves with his soul is what I'm saying. They even complement each other in the way they grieve. Buck needs an anchor to keep him steady while he rages like a storm and Eddie needs someone whose arms he can quietly fall apart in, carrying him ashore gently.

[lopposting]

guys.

I think I did it.

I think I cracked Lies of P.

(me rn)

i keep going back and forth on carlo's death.

i know i was adamant before, on him dying from the petrification disease. i think logically he would have to have had it because of ergo.

but here's another weird point about his death,

i just realized why we intrinsically think he was killed.

Carlo is wearing his school uniform when his stalker finds him, and on the floor at that. That's quite odd. Maybe not being on the floor, but the uniform. Why the uniform?

"He didn't even come to your graduation?"

For the son of an aristocratic family, would this be the image of a deathly ill son in care? Did Geppetto know? Wouldn't he be in palliative care, as Lady Antonia could afford?

Why wear the uniform after graduating?

"Oh, she's here! Grab her!"

"...Gemini, get rid of them! I'm off!"

Was his death literally right after his graduation, on the same day?

And also, Gemini is a little lamp guy. (She doesn't look to be carrying the lamp.) Why does she tell him to take care of the boys? What can he even do? Tell them off?

Here's another funny thing... We NEVER see Carlo outside of his school uniform. (at least, in the "past", "real" Carlo time line).

And as we know, the school uniform has a prominent Sailor collar, the type that is associated with nautical outfits [down to the three stripes, supposedly called a "naval collar"]. The Graduation pendant that he gives to Romeo is of an anchor. [I know that these are all artifacts of the charity house. but they are nonetheless associated in tangent with Carlo]

When we find Carlo's painting, it's right next to this one of a ship. [also, two bottles on the counter, perhaps representing the "two lives" of Carlo and Pino]

also... when Carlo's memories materialize... it's in the sand. Only on the seaside.

Remember, Romeo seems to be associated with a fire element, and Pino with water, the same seems to go with Carlo. The original novel of Pinocchio itself seems to have a strange fixation on the ocean.

And now, might I present to you:

The DLC images are also of a ship and some kind of water turbine.

Director Choi (in pre-release interview): "I'll put it this way: there are more stories I want to tell in Lies of P, so I hope [it] does well."

Also: "There sure are stories we could not introduce in the game" (talking about the story being adapted into another form)

[basically, that there was more to the story than what was really present in the final game.] I'll leave all this to your consideration without adding my own just yet. (I'll add it in a reblog on my own blog without tagging it) Just kidding I want to keep wasting everyone's time

Perhaps after the events of the game,

This is some sort of effort by Pino to either learn more about the deceased Carlo or try to remember his "previous life" as Carlo, by taking to the sea.

Maybe even after the game, Pino will STILL attempt to "awaken" as him so to speak [:(].

[Maybe he actually will.]

Again, Carlo is strongly associated with nautical elements. Again, he is never seen outside of a sailor suit, basically. Also, when we gain the memories of Carlo, they materialize on the sand, at the seaside. Remember, he DIED in the sailor outfit

Maybe we are to take the "sand memories" more "literally" as they are in the sand?

Did Carlo drown and his body wash ashore, which is why these memories materialize in the sand? Why is he so associated with ships?

Pino is also depicted in the water, remember, including what looks to be concept art that was used for the OST? Maybe it isn't "just" a motif? [even simple things like his "official" coat and his eyes being blue, blue blood's tailcoat, and him being associated with the colour blue in general]

Which is why Pino is pictured in the water, since he was "born" from Carlo's death... He was birthed in the water the same way Carlo died in it?

[more notes in reblog]

[sabrina-valerie]

Imagine sweeping your f/o off their feet, regardless of whether you can actually lift them off the ground or not.

[ltwilliammowett]

A sailor’s embroidered “Going Ashore” Belt, circa 1880, fully embroidered with American, English, Scottish, and Japanese flags, thistle, hearts and anchors, leather ends with heart cut-outs, backed with twill, with interior coin pocket.

[anonymousewrites]

Pearl of the Sea Chapter Five

Found Family! PoTC Cast x Teen! Reader

Platonic! Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann, Jack Sparrow, Tia Dalma x Reader

Chapter Five: Arriving at Isla de Muerta

Summary: The Interceptor catches up to the Black Pearl, which means it's time to save Elizabeth. Or die trying (But hopefully not).

            Despite Jack’s compass not pointing north, though Gibbs insisted it still worked, and storms, the Interceptor made its way towards Isla de Muerta. A heavy fog covered the sea, and wrecks lined the way to the island itself.

            “Dead men tell no tales,” cawed Cotton’s parrot as they sailed in.

            “Puts a chill in me bones, how many honest sailors have been claimed by this passage,” said Gibbs.

            (Y/N) looked down and watched sharks pass by the shipwrecks below. Indeed, many lives had been lost in these waters.

            Will frowned and looked at Jack, who was steering the ship while glancing at his compass. (Y/N) was curious how it worked. If it didn’t point north, where did it point?”

            “How is it that Jack came by that compass?” asked Will, looking at Gibbs.

            “Not a lot’s known about Jack before he showed up in Tortuga with a mind to find the treasure of Isla de Muerta,” said Gibbs. “That was before I met him, when he captained the Black Pearl.”

            (Y/N) tilted their head. “He captained the Black Pearl?”

            Gibbs choked as he took a swig of rum. Clearly, he hadn’t meant to reveal that.

            “He didn’t mention that,” said Will suspiciously. He didn’t like how much Jack was hiding from them. It was dangerous. He’d have to keep an eye on (Y/N) in order to keep them safe.

            “He, uh, keeps things closer to the vest now,” said Gibbs. “A hard-learned lesson it was. Three days out on the venture, the first mate says, ‘everything’s an equal share. That means the location of the treasure, too.’ So, Jack gives up the bearings. That night, there was a mutiny. They marooned Jack on an island and left him to did, but not before he’d gone mad with the heat.”

            “Ah,” said Will. “So that’s the reason for all the…” He imitated Jack’s strange mannerisms.

            “Reason’s got nothing to do with it,” said Gibbs.

            “I think it might just be a Jack thing,” said (Y/N).

            “Now, Will, (Y/N).” Gibbs sat down on a barrel, and (Y/N) and Will sat with him. “When a pirate’s marooned, he’s given a pistol with a single shot—one shot. That won’t do much good hunting, nor to be rescued. But after three weeks of a starving belly and thirst, that pistol starts to look real friendly. But Hack escaped the island and still has that single shot. He won’t use it, though, save on one man. His mutinous first mate.”

            “Barbossa,” said Will, having heard the name floating about.

            “Aye,” confirmed Gibbs.

            (Y/N) leaned forward and tilted their head. “How did Jack escape the island?”

            “I’ll tell ya!” said Gibbs excitedly. “He waded out into the shallows and waited three days and three nights till all manner of sea creatures came acclimated to his presence. On the fourth morning, he roped a couple of sea turtles, lashed them together, and made a raft.”

            “He roped a couple of sea turtles…” repeated Will.

            “Aye, sea turtles,” said Gibbs with a grin.

            (Y/N) frowned. “What did he use for rope?”

            Ahem.

            Everyone looked up to find Jack standing before them.

            “Human hair,” he said. “From my back.”

            Gibbs nodded with a grin.

            “Let go anchor,” ordered Jack. They had arrived. The Isla de Muerta and danger waited for them. “Young Mr. Turner and I will go ashore,” said Jack.

            “What? No. I’m coming, too,” said (Y/N). They weren’t leaving Will, and they weren’t abandoning Elizabeth now. Now that she was close, they were determined to help.

            “No,” said Will.

            “Do you want me to stay with you or with all of these people?” said (Y/N), waving their hand at the pirate crew. They hated to manipulate Will, but they were clever, and they could tell Will had been keeping them close due his suspicions of the others, so…they used that to their advantage. Perhaps they did have a bit of pirate in them.

            Will grimaced. “Fair point.”

            “Oh, good, the more the merrier when we march into near-certain death!” said Jack, grinning.

            Will had a feeling he’d regret letting (Y/N) come with him, but he also wanted to keep (Y/N) close in case of danger. He wasn’t leaving them with untrustworthy pirates.

l

            Will held the lamp while Jack rowed the small lifeboat into the caverns of Isla de Muerta. (Y/N) sat in the middle and watched as they approached a larger tunnel. Voice echoed from in front of them—the crew of the Black Pearl.

            Will cleared his throat as he saw a skeleton lying on the rocky shores. “What, uh, code is Mr. Gibbs to keep to if the worst should happen?”

            “Pirate’s Code,” said Jack. “Any man who falls behind is left behind.”

            “No heroes among thieves, eh?” said Will.

            Jack rolled his eyes. “For having such a bleak outlook on pirates, you’re well on your way to becoming one. Sprung a man from jail, commandeered a ship of the fleet, sailed with a buccaneer out of Tortuga…” A golden shine illuminated the channel, and Jack looked at Will as he gazed at the golden coins. “And you’re completely obsessed with treasure.” He grinned and looked at (Y/N). “Whaddya think?”

            “I like sailing, I like the sea.” (Y/N) looked at the coins. “I’d rather not be weighed down with that.”

            Jack tutted. “We’ll make a pirate out of you yet, treasure-seeking and all.”

            (Y/N) chuckled.

            “You won’t,” said Will forcefully. “Neither of us will be obsessed with treasure, and everything we’ve done is for Elizabeth.”

            Jack grinned and led the way up to a cliff where they could look down at the cavern below. “Not all treasure if silver and gold, mate.”

            “Gentlemen, the time has come!” Barbossa stood in front of his crew atop a pile of gold. “Our salvation is nigh! Our torment is near an end!”

            Elizabeth stood next to him in a burgundy gown, glowering at the men. Leave it to Elizabeth to never back down in the face of possible death.

            “Elizabeth,” said Will worriedly.

            “For ten years we’ve been tested and tried, and each man here has proved his mettle a hundred times over and a hundred times again!” declared Barbossa. The imposing crew shouted in agreement. “Punished we were, the lot of us, disproportionate to our crime! Here it is!” He kicked open a chest of coins. “The cursed treasure of Cortes himself. Every last piece that went astray, we have returned. Save for this!” He pointed at the medallion around Elizabeth’s neck, the necklace she’d worn for years.

            “Lizzie,” murmured (Y/N) worriedly, narrowing their eyes.

            “Jack!” said Will, getting to his feet and drawing his sword.

            “Not yet!” Jack pulled him back down. “We wait for the opportune moment.” He moved down the cliff.

            “When’s that?” asked (Y/N).

            “When it’s of profit to him,” spat Will.

            Jack paused and turned back to face them. “May I ask you a question? Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” He didn’t wait for an answer, which likely wouldn’t have been a good one. “Do us a favor. I know it’s difficult for you, but please stay here and try not to do anything stupid.” He grinned at (Y/N). “You, too!” He darted off.

            (Y/N) crossed their arms. “I find him fun, somehow, but I don’t trust him to not have something up his sleeve.”

            Jack narrowed his eyes. “I agree. Let us focus on saving Elizabeth and escaping.”

            (Y/N) nodded. Elizabeth was the first priority.

            And so, Will and (Y/N) crept down the cliff around the back of the treasure pile.

            On the pile of gold, Barbossa continued his speech. “Who among us has paid the blood sacrifice owed to the heathen gods?” Everyone cheered. “And whose blood must yet be paid?”

            “Hers!” They glared at Elizabeth.

            “You know the first thing I’m gonna do when the curse is lifted?” Barbossa grinned. “Eat a whole bushel of apples.”

            Curses? (Y/N) frowned. So magic is real. They could have smiled. Everyone claimed it wasn’t that myths were silly tales, but here was the truth. Magic was as wild and beautiful and dangerous as the sea, and (Y/N) found themself oddly energized by the idea. Something else free like they wanted to be.

            Barbossa pushed Elizabeth over Cortes’s gold and grabbed a knife.

            “Blood, blood!” chanted the pirates. “Blood, blood, blood!”

            “Begun by blood,” said Barbossa. “By blood undone.”

            Will and (Y/N) arrived behind Jack. Will grabbed an oar, and before (Y/N) could ask what he was doing, he swung. It hit Jack in the head, and he crumpled.

            “What was that?” said (Y/N).

            “We’re not becoming his leverage,” said Will, narrowing his eyes. “He needed us—me—for something. I’m not giving him that satisfaction.”

            “I feel bad leaving him behind for Barbossa to find,” said (Y/N), frowning and hesitating.

            Will’s gaze softened. (Y/N) was a good kid. “It’s what’s necessary.” He gently took their arm and pulled them farther into the cavern. “Come on.”

            They snuck around the treasure pile while Barbossa drew his knife across Elizabeth’s palm. Her blood dripped onto the medallion and dropped into the treasure chest. The pirates went silent, anxiously awaiting some sign the curse had broken.

            None came, and they looked at each other in confusion.

            “Did it work?” muttered one.

            “I don’t feel no different,” said another.

            “How do we tell?” asked a third.

            Barbossa rolled his eyes and shot the third. The pirate jumped, but he did not fall. The bullet rocketed through him with no harm done to him.

            “You’re not dead!” cried a pirate.

            “No!” said the shot pirate in relief. He frowned and looked at Barbossa. “You shot me!”

            “It didn’t work!” shouted another pirate. “The curse is still upon us!” An angry clamor went up.

            Barbossa grabbed Elizabeth roughly, and (Y/N) nearly jumped out in anger. Will grabbed them, silently cursing their wild nature.

            “You, maid! Your father, what was his name?!” demanded Barbossa. “Was your father William Turner?!”

            (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. That would explain why Jack was so concerned about Will’s name. His father was involved with the curse.

            “No,” said Elizabeth, smirking.

            “Where’s his child that sailed from England eight years ago and in whose veins flows the blood of William Turner?!” interrogated Barbossa.

            He needs Will’s blood to end the curse, thought (Y/N). Jack had fully intended to use Will to his advantage due to that. That upset (Y/N).

            Elizabeth just looked at Barbossa, smug at having tricked him. Furious, he backhanded her. Elizabeth fell down the back of the treasure pile. (Y/N) slid into the water and swam to the pile while Will tried to pull them behind him. He intended to lead the way in case the pirates noticed, but, as always, (Y/N) just forged ahead according to their own whims.

            (Y/N) shook Elizabeth, and when she jerked up, they put a finger to their lips. Elizabeth’s eyes widened in shock, and Will smiled and gestured at her to follow them into the water. While the pirates argued behind them, the three swam for the exit and the rowboat awaiting them.

            “The medallion! She’s taken it!”

            (Y/N) moved faster as Barbossa’s shout echoed towards them. He had noticed Elizabeth’s escape. They paused as they arrived at the rowboats.

            “(Y/N), come on,” said Elizabeth.

            “I have an idea,” said (Y/N), grabbing all the oars they could hold.

l

            Behind the lifeboat Will rowed furiously, a trail of oars led the way to the Interceptor. Hopefully, a lack of lifeboats would slow Barbossa and his men down.

            Elizabeth groaned as she looked at the men on board the Interceptor. “Not more pirates.”

            “Welcome aboard, Miss Elizabeth,” said Gibbs.

            “Mr. Gibbs?” Elizabeth hadn’t expected to ever see him again.

            “Hey, boy, where be Jack?” said Gibbs to Will.

            “Jack? Jack Sparrow?” Elizabeth was surprised to hear his name.

            “He fell behind,” said Will.

            Gibbs was silent, and the crew murmured until he lifted his head. “Keep to the Code.”

            (Y/N) remained silent and looked back at the island. They hadn’t wanted to leave him behind. They couldn’t trust him, but they hadn’t wanted to harm him. Truly. If only Jack hadn’t been so intent to send them all into danger…

l

            “What sort of man trades a man’s life for a ship?” muttered Elizabeth after Will recounted the story of how they arrived at Isla de Muerta and she had recounted her own trials against Barbossa. “Pirate.”

            “I don’t know,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

            Will carefully wrapped a cloth around Elizabeth’s wounded hand. “You said you gave Barbossa my name as yours.” He looked up. “Why?”

            “I don’t know,” said Elizabeth, avoiding Will’s gaze.

            Because you two are in love with each other, that’s why, thought (Y/N). Honestly, it was obvious.

            Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Thank you for making sure (Y/N) was safe.” She looked at them. “Though I do not know why they insisted on running into danger.”

            “Because you were already in danger,” said (Y/N). “I couldn’t leave you there.”

            Elizabeth smiled gently. “Thank you. Both of you.” She cleared her throat again and lifted the medallion from around her neck. “Allow me to be honest. This is yours, Will.”

            “I thought I’d lost it the day they rescued me…” said Will. “It was a gift from my father. He sent it to me.”

            “Why did you take it, Lizzie?” asked (Y/N).

            Elizabeth looked down in shame. “Because I was afraid that he was a pirate. And then Norrington and my father would have…” She trailed off. She didn’t need to finish her thought.

            (Y/N) interjected in order to keep them from all breaking down. “That coin is cursed. And Barbossa wanted the child of William Turner. That means they need Will’s blood.”

            Will’s hand curled around the medallion angrily as the truth settled in. “The blood of a pirate.”

            “I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me,” said Elizabeth, guilty for having taken the medallion.

            Will slammed the medallion down on the table. Jack had told him he was the son of a pirate, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it. Now he had to.

            (Y/N) rose and walked out of the room. Elizabeth quickly followed. They’d give Will the moment he needed to process everything.

            (Y/N) stepped out onto the deck of the Interceptor, and they felt the air whip around them. Something dark and bitter was carried in the air. They looked back at the direction of Isla de Muerta, and (Y/N) frowned. They had a feeling that the sea had more in store for them.

Taglist:

@slytherinroyalty16

@aew-kun-age-regression

@grippleback-galaxy

@andsoigotabutterfly

@insomniacneedssleep

@painstakingly-juno

@kitkatlover015

@chronicallybubbly

@froggyisfriend

@elliottheidiot2007

@paastaboi

@urlocalsabito

@speckle-meow-meow

@dmitrytherat

@vanessa-boo

@ohimjustagirlidrathetnotbe

[gege-wondering-around]

Summary:

They had always been this way.

Stiles was the only one to pull Derek ashore,

Guiding the sailor through the storm.

Derek was the only one Stiles looked for,

Searching for a boat to call his own.

So, what would happen if a ship was in need of an anchor all along?

(or Stiles makes his way through Derek, thick skin and scarred past)

Rating: Explicit Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Rape/Non-Con Category: M/M Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski Characters: Derek Hale Stiles Stilinski Scott McCall (Teen Wolf) Cora Hale Peter Hale Minor Characters Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence | Slow Burn | Minor Character Death | Angst and Hurt/Comfort | Omegaverse Omega Derek Hale | Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski | Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con | Past Rape/Non-con | Getting Together | Excessive use of pet names | Blood and Injury | First Dates | Aftercare | Blow Jobs | Anal Fingering | Anal Sex | derek hale loses the alpha status | Religious Imagery & Symbolism | very minor tho | Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship | Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf) | could or not get a redemption ark | Bathtub Sex | Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things | Time Skips | Violence| Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD | Explicit Sexual Content | Wolf Instincts | My First Fanfic | Stiles Stilinski Has Scars | Soulmates | Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Language: English Status: Ongoing

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

tags of people who made this possible: @jayjay55655 (the sweet reason we are here today) @dontcallpanic (you might not know it, but you did a lot) @aurymochi (my savior) @catniploverrrrrr (i wanna hear your thoughts on this so bad once its completed and thank you for your amazing support)

so! have a nice read and stick around to find out more (i'll post every 2 to 4 days) and thank y'all for the support i've already got from you even when this work wasn't even out yet. ( @seaweed-water @oldefashioned @hellameyers @fuji09 so many more that followed along or simply said something nice once). You made me sure enough to post this. thank you🫂✨

[monstersandmaw]

Laces for a Lady - 18th century poly shifter romance (Part one, sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me. 

Well folks, here it is. You said you were interested, so I hope it meets expectations! Here's part one for you, of a multi part story. If you want to kno wmore about it, you can find some more info here, as well as a little 'mood board'.

Content: sfw, the daughter of a country gentleman from Sussex relocates to a sleepy fishing village in Cornwall in order to become the paid companion of a young widow, and meets some of the locals on her arrival. Wordcount: 3972

Five and twenty ponies, Trotting through the dark - Brandy for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk. Laces for a lady; letters for a spy, Watch the wall my darling while the Gentlemen go by! ~ from ‘A Smugglers’ Song’, Rudyard Kipling (1906)

In the cool, lavender light of a late spring dawn, a gaff-rigged cutter drew into the sheltering arms of a small bay at high tide, and quietly dropped anchor. As if the soft splash had awoken him, a cockerel spluttered to life in a farmyard somewhere inland, but most of the villagers were already up and awake and steering their small, secret fleet of boats out from the golden crescent of sand beneath the cliffs to meet the waiting ship fresh from Roscoff.

Beneath the waves, where churning kelp moored itself in unyielding handfuls to the ancient granite of the sea floor, a long, serpentine shadow snaked between the stalks, and the currents of the coastline subtly shifted. Any revenue men trying to sail along the coast from Fowey to catch the smugglers would have found the wind and tide set dead against them, and in the subtle wake that wafted from the mottled, eel-like tail as it passed unseen, the waters of the secluded inlet calmed beneath the keels of the scurrying fishing boats. The drag of the oars through the waves lessened, and muscles already tired from heaving and hefting goods up the cliff moved a fraction easier for the unexpected boon.

Between them over the next hour, the gathered men and women shifted their haul of half anker barrels and dozens of crates and boxes of goods ashore. The small kegs of rich, French cognac would fetch a pretty price all across Cornwall, and along with the liquor came smaller luxuries like lace and silk, and bundles of tobacco and spiced tea, all meticulously wrapped in oil cloth to keep the sea and the salt and the water out.

And when the speedy, slender ship was riding noticeably higher in the water, the locals simply melted away into the countryside like so many mice from a late summer granary before the excise men even knew the ship from Guernsey had visited the cove at all.

Fifteen miles away, as the sun breached the horizon and cast its first rays of warmth along bellies of fleecy clouds and the flanks of blossoming hedgerows below, a stagecoach lurched and rumbled westwards along potholed roads, and a young woman stared out of the grimy window as the horses carried her into a new chapter of her life.

After leapfrogging some two hundred miles or so along the staging stations that dotted the South Coast, with nothing but a small trunk of her belongings and a thrice-read, dog-eared novel for company, Eleanor Bywater was more than ready to see the back of that infernal stagecoach. Had it not been for the small but inconveniently bulky travelling case sitting at her feet, she might have hired a horse and ridden from the last staging inn at Plymouth to reach the secluded fishing village of Polgarrack, but given that the trunk held all her worldly belongings, she had not been quite desperate enough to escape the discomfort of hard seats and poor suspension to abandon it.

Bouncing along in the nearly-empty stagecoach, she studiously tried to ignore the older woman sitting opposite her. She’d stared intently at Nel since they'd left Plymouth behind that morning, and her scrutiny had begun to make that last twenty mile stretch feel much, much longer.

Finally, after jouncing over a pothole deep enough to start prospecting for copper ore at the bottom, Nel gasped and then raised her eyes to meet the woman’s openly curious stare. She found sympathy for her own discomfort, and a small degree of kindly amusement too. 

“Where are you headed, miss?” the stranger asked after Nel raised the hint of an eyebrow at her as the silence stretched.

“Polgarrack.”

At that, the woman’s grey eyes narrowed in confusion. “Now what takes a young miss like you to an old fishing village like Polgarrack?”

She looked to be in her fifties, though a life beside the harsh sea had weathered her features somewhat, and her wiry grey hair was covered by a simple linen cap. Her dress was dark and plain, though there was a hint of tired lace around the neck and cuffs. Her hands had the tough, reddened look of someone who scrubbed pots and salted fish, while Nel’s own hands were smooth and soft, if a little ink stained from sending a letter to her friend before leaving the inn that morning.

Nel laughed quietly and shrugged. “There’s no mystery to it,” she said. “I am to be employed as a companion to the widowed Lady Penrose at Heath Top House. I am expected there this afternoon.”

Given that only ladies of relatively high social standing themselves tended to become a ‘lady’s companion’, the older woman made a hasty re-evaluation of her fellow traveller, and her already ruddy cheeks flushed a darker shade as she cleared her throat and looked away.

“Begging your pardon, miss,” she said. “We don’t get many new faces in Polgarrack, is all. I didn’t mean to pry or cause offence with my questions.”

“No harm in a little curiosity,” Nel said, trying to put the stranger at ease to avoid any further awkwardness between them on the remainder of their journey. “I take it you’re from Polgarrack yourself then?”

“Oh, born and raised, miss,” she chortled. She eyed the forest green redingote Nel wore, with its rather masculine high collar, wide lapels and small, gold pocket watch dangling on a chain, and the contrasting sage green skirts beneath, and no doubt made one or two judgements of her own about the young lady. “And yourself? You don’t sound as though you’re from these parts at all, if I may be so bold.”

Nel smiled. “I’ve come from Sussex.”

The woman’s watery, grey-blue eyes widened almost comically and she gasped. “’at's a bloody long way, miss! And all on your own?” She shook her head but remembered herself and mumbled, “Begging your pardon.”

“You’re right,” Nel sighed, letting her gaze slide to the window to watch the countryside roll past in a blur of salt-bleached grass and vibrant yellow gorse flowers. “It is a bloody long way.” And her spine and backside felt every lump and bump and lurch of the stagecoaches from Sussex to Cornwall. With a warmer smile, she turned back to the woman. “My name is Eleanor, but most people call me Nel.”

“Agatha,” she replied with a grandmotherly smile of her own for the young woman. “But everyone calls me Aggie. My husband, Martin, is the village carter and smith, and we’ve got four boys, all of them either fishermen or miners. They all married too, so I’ve got nine grandchildren, if you can believe it!”

Nel offered Aggie her congratulations and another little smile, and then ventured to ask, “Will you tell me a bit about the place? I should like to know more about it, since it is to be my home for the foreseeable future.”

Aggie brightened even more and shuffled her plain, dark skirts, giving a wince and a grunt as the coach lurched over a pothole and the driver cursed audibly above them. Settled, if not entirely comfortable, she began.

“Well, see now. Folks has been fishing these waters for time out of mind. Pilchards is our mainstay, o’course, but the folks over St. Austell way mine clay, and obviously there’s copper and tin mines all over in the north of Cornwall. Mining here is as old as fishing, but it’s starting to dry up here and there now, o’course.”

She barely paused to draw breath before barrelling on, and Nel sat and listened while the older woman talked.

“Now, your Lady Penrose married into the Penrose family — see, she’s from Bath herself originally, though I can’t rightly remember what her family name was, but…” Nel let Agatha's potted history of the fishing and mining community wash over her, paying just enough attention to make polite sounds at the right pauses, but the discomfort of the journey and a decided lack of sleep was beginning to wear her attention span down to a single, fraying thread.

After two hours in the swaying, rolling coach, she felt woozy and weak-stomached, but with Aggie’s near-constant chatter, she at least had a better understanding of the politics of the little village than she’d ever have gained in six months on her own. She’d also learned why Aggie had been in Plymouth, since most folks never had any reason to travel further than the bounds of their own parish. Agatha’s sister’s husband had apparently been killed in the American Revolutionary War some ten years earlier, and since the widow’s health wasn’t the best these days, Aggie made the trip along the coast when she could to see her and take care of her.

Nel’s ticket took her as far as Whitcross, a desolate intersection of paler roads on a clifftop overlooking the tightly-nestled fishing port below, and away across the heather and tufted grass of the heath, she could just see an old manor house in the distance, flanked by tall copper beeches and ash trees. It looked slightly further away than she had anticipated, and she glanced apprehensively down at the travelling trunk at her feet.

Still, she was aching for fresh air and to be free of the sickening motion of the carriage, so she took the driver’s hand and allowed him to guide her safely down onto the hard-packed surface of the road before he lifted her case down for her as well.

From inside, Aggie peered out and scowled disapprovingly. “Now just you wait a moment,” she barked at the driver, who cocked an eyebrow but did pause. “Did they not send someone for you, dearie?” she asked Nel, still leaning out of the doorway and peering about like a disgruntled badger, and using the endearment freely. Apparently, two hours of talking non-stop at Nel had removed any pretence of formality or sense of social distance. Nel might as well have been adopted into Aggie Carter’s family as a niece by that point, and she couldn’t help but smile at the warmth it conjured in her chest.

“I… I never thought that far through,” she admitted, with her hand atop her bonnet as the wind gusted up from the sea below, soaring delightedly over the edge of the cliff and racing on inland as if to continue the momentum of the great rolling breakers that foamed and thundered against the shore. The coachman glanced at his pocket watch and groused something about a schedule that was almost immediately lost to the next inward gust.

“No, no, dearie,” the old woman scoffed. “No, you must come into the village. It’s far too far to go all by yourself, and with that case as well. Here, let me —”

“I can manage the case, I assure you,” Nel said with a gentle smile as Aggie half-toppled, half-leaned out of the coach to pick up the case. “How far is it to the house?”

“Two miles up that hill yonder,” Agatha said, pointing with one gnarled and arthritic finger towards the house on the rise to the north. “Come to the Lantern, and we’ll have one of the lads take you up once you’ve caught your breath.” The Lantern, as Nel now knew thanks to Aggie’s detailed prattling, was the inn at the centre of the village, right on the water near the harbour.

She had been about to protest, but with a sigh, she simply nodded. The constant journeying and jolting had worn her down more than she cared to admit, and while she wasn’t the kind of wallflower she’d met any number of times in London during the Season, a life led mostly indoors with few opportunities for physical activity had not prepared her for a two mile walk in heavy, too-fine clothes, carrying an unwieldy case in gusty conditions. Her family had been invited a number of times to Goodwood House to walk the large park there, and she had frequently ridden a rather spirited mare through the parkland of Lavington Hall with her dear friend William, so she was not entirely unused to the great outdoors, but she did have to admit that her experiences had been rather more curated and sanitised than the wild expanse of heathland visible on all sides of the stagecoach from Whitcross.

“You’re kind, Agatha,” she said, and let the woman heft her case into the otherwise empty coach.

The thing about a tiny village was that an outsider stood out a mile, and a young lady in her mid twenties and dressed in impractical, rich green clothes, stood out like a beacon in a dark night. Everyone turned to watch her as she disembarked from the coach. At home, she had barely garnered a look from anyone. Being the centre of everyone’s curiosity there was novel and, in a word, horrifying.

She almost blurted aloud that one would think she was a revenue man come inspecting for smuggled goods, but she bit it back just in time. Cornwall’s so-called ‘free trade’ and smuggling rackets were absolutely none of her concern as an outsider, infamous though they may be, and it would do her no good to start sticking her nose where it did not belong.

The Lantern was a half-timbered, two-storey building that faced the walled harbour. Its painted sign was peeling and sun-bleached, and it squawked something dreadful as it swung back and forth in the squalling wind. Mullioned windows glinted and shimmered, though the small, diamond panes were caked with a haze of salt spray, and alongside the inn, a hand-cart rumbled down from a narrow side alley towards the harbour beyond, where fishing boats bobbed on their mooring lines at the lapping high tide.

Agatha pushed open the black-painted door but came to an abrupt halt as someone appeared to be leaving the inn at the exact same moment, and nearly barrelled into her and Nel.

“Oh, excuse me,” came a young man’s hoarse tenor, and he stepped aside within the inn’s small porch to allow the two women to enter before he left.

Nel noted briefly that he wore well-made but plain clothes, and carried a hefty looking cane in his left hand, upon which he leaned while he waited for them to pass. He was pale and thin, his undyed linen shirt hanging loosely off his shoulders, and his light brown hair was tied back at the nape of his neck into a horsetail. The moment he met her eye, he inhaled in surprise and almost immediately looked away, his large, dark brown eyes turning shy and uncertain. “M’lady,” he mumbled without looking up.

She didn’t have time to correct him and tell him she had no such title, because the moment she had stepped inside, he was off out into the day beyond, limping markedly on his right leg as he went.

Nel turned back to find Agatha waiting for her, watching. “That there was young Edmund Nancarrow,” she supplied as Nel caught up with her. “Local lad. Lots of Nancarrows in this area,” she chuckled. “Can’t move for tripping over a Nancarrow. He was a shy, skittish thing even before he went off to war in the Colonies and came back with a bad leg,” she added. “But he’s a sweetheart if ever I saw one. Tailor’s ’prentice he is now.”

At that, Nel just nodded. Something in her ached when she realised she probably wouldn’t have much to do with the folk from the village once she was ensconced up at Heath Top House, and she half wised she could. They already sounded far more interesting than the Lady Winnifred Penrose, with whom Nel had only exchanged a short flurry of letters before becoming formally engaged as her ‘companion’. 

Still, an unmarried woman of Nel’s age and social standing was considered almost past her prime, and given that the few marriage proposals she had received had faded into the mists of her very early adulthood, she had had to find another respectable way to support herself. Hence, Heath Top House.

Aggie bustled her into the main room of the pub, and their arrival caused a flurry of activity that drew the eyes of a good few patrons. 

Seated at the wooden bar inside, hunched over a pewter tankard, sat a tall, bulky man in his late-thirties or early forties, with long, thick, dark grey hair shot through with a shimmer of silver white. He had it tied back off his face in a low ponytail at the nape of his neck and as he turned to regard Nel’s arrival, she met unusually deep green eyes surrounded by a web of crows’ feet lines in a tanned, weathered face. His scowl was dark and full of suspicion, but even the storm clouds in his expression couldn’t mask the fact that he was handsome, in a rugged, rough-hewn kind of way.

When she saw where Nel’s attention had snagged, Aggie let out a little gasp and snatched her by the upper arm to steer her towards an empty table in a bay window, about as far from the wooden bar where the man still sat and glared at them as it was possible to be. 

“And that’s Locryn Trevethan,” Aggie hissed as she saw Nel settled into a seat. “Can’t say as I’ve seen him in here more than a handful of times this year though. He’s usually out on the water. Lives alone in an old stone cottage round the bay from here, up at Pilchard Sands. You’d probably best be giving him a wide berth, miss. Not that he should give you any trouble, mind,” she amended carefully, “But he’s not for the likes of you to go mingling with.”

Nel smiled at the protective tone in the older woman’s voice, and nodded once.

With her warning given, Aggie raised her voice and called over to the old man behind the bar. “’ere, Tom! This young lady needs a ride up to Heath Top. You think you can arrange that for her?”

The stoop-shouldered, white-haired man nodded and knuckled his forehead at Nel across the space. “Not the finest, but we got a cart.”

“If you have a horse, I could ride,” she said, trying to be helpful.

“Ain’t got a saddle for a lady,” he said regretfully.

Memories of galloping through the leafy trees of Lavington Hall’s parkland with William flashed across her mind and she suppressed a smile. She certainly hadn’t ridden the grey mare side-saddle while keeping up with her childhood friend, and although it had been a year or so since she’d sat astride a horse instead of side-saddle, she thought she could manage well enough. “I know how to ride a man’s saddle,” she said, “But I do have a travel case I’d need to send someone back for.”

“I could get one of the lads to bring that up for you after,” said Tom, “But it’s almost as much effort to hitch up a cart as it is to tack up a horse for riding, ma’am.”

“Whatever is the least trouble for you will do fine,” she said, and the stoic, weather-beaten old man’s red cheeks darkened and he ducked his head.

While Tom left to sort out transportation to the house, Aggie flapped about getting some refreshments for Nel, leaving her to wait at the table alone.

In the wake of the hubbub and pother Agatha left behind her, Nel took a long, deep breath looked around to find Locryn Trevethan still staring across the room at her. Taken aback by his directness and the intensity of his glare, she tried to smile, but his expression remained thunderous beneath strong, dark brows, and she quickly looked away, embarrassed.

In a face turned to leather by the sun and sea-wind, wide cheekbones and a heavy brow framed his piercingly green eyes. Never mind that marked crow’s feet around his eyes that made him look like he would rather have been laughing; the contrast between the dark, hostile glower and the soft laughter lines unnerved her and made her feel off-balance, as though her stranger’s presence in their local pub had unknowingly raised the ire of a usually gentle man. 

He had a short, neatly-trimmed, salt-and-pepper beard around full lips that were currently turned down at the corners and which bore a silver-pink scar across the middle. Despite the warm day, he wore a fisherman’s dense, woollen sweater, and when she risked another look back at him, she found him still frowning openly across the bar at her.

Nel didn’t relax until Aggie returned, at which point the man snapped abruptly out of his trance, slammed a coin down on the bar, and strode from the pub on long legs that were thick as tree trucks at the thigh. The door bounced back off the plasterwork in his wake and his boots rang on the flagstones outside.

“Not one to welcome strangers, I take it,” Nel muttered, and downed half of the cheap, watered-down wine that Agatha had set on the table for her.

“Oh don’t you pay him no mind, miss,” Aggie scoffed, settling herself down into the seat opposite her like a brooding hen and glaring at the pub door. “He don’t seem to like no one in Polgarrack save for sweet Ned Nancarrow, strangely enough. Then again, I ain’t met no one who’s taken a disliking to sweet Ned. Now, Tom will have the horse and cart ready for you in just a moment, but you just take your time and recover after your journey.”

Nel, who had felt ten times better the moment she’d taken her first proper lungful of sea air on stepping out of the swaying stagecoach, looked across the table into the older woman’s face and found a mother’s kindness and compassion in her wrinkled face, and something twisted in her gut. “You’re very kind,” she whispered, unable to muster anything more. “Thank you.”

She chuckled. “You know, and don’t you take this amiss, but you remind me of my niece a little, though she’s a little younger than you.”

Nel’s eyebrows twitched in wry amusement, and Agatha blushed at the impropriety of her words. Nel didn’t get the chance to reassure her because Tom shuffled back in and told her the cart was ready for her.

She laid a coin on the table for the wine and stood, following the innkeep out into the yard and clambering up with her case into the back of the cart. It was hardly a very dignified mode of transport for someone of her station, and when Tom said as much while they rumbled out of the inn’s yard, Nel just laughed and said she didn’t mind.

“Anything is better than that awful rolling stagecoach,” she beamed, and swung her legs back and forth like a child off the back of the cart bed while Tom clucked his tongue at the horse to hurry up.

As they trundled up the narrow, cobbled street from the harbour, they passed Edmund Nancarrow standing outside a tailor’s shop, talking with the beast of a man from the bar. Both men looked up and watched her pass like she was some kind of rare spectacle.

In a way, she supposed she was. 

Still, she smiled at them despite her nerves, and Edmund knuckled a non-existent cap at her with a shy smile, while Locryn just glared.

She sighed and wondered what this next chapter in her life would bring.

___

Next chapter ->

Well, what did you think of it so far? I can't wait to hear your thoughts on it, as always!

I hope you’ll consider reblogging as well as leaving a like if you enjoyed it. Take care, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

[blues824]

🦈Can I request the uppermoons with a female Floyd s/o.

🌊Her iskaid from the coral sea/twisted wonderland .

🦈Many they met her while she was squeezing a person because they broke a contract or pissed her of (her finally getting to squeeze her lover. )

🌊How whoud they react her being a Moray eel/mermaid and her tru form(them seeing her sharp teeth and not freeking out ) listening to her story of her learning to walk on land for the first time about her twin and Azul.

🦈Whats their opinion on her mood swings and calling everyone sea creature names

Akaza those mantis that punch calling daki srimpy because she is smaller than her and her brother sea snake kokushibo sea lion daki a blanket octopus.

🌊Her getting to squeeze the lower moons because what can they do when she is dating the uppermoons and especially if she dating muzan.

Just make it how you like I love you destie

Love you too! Female Reader.

A few of you have been getting on my ass about not including Hantengu and Gyokko, so here you go.

Muzan Kibutsuji 

He had met you when he took a small vacation to the beach. You had washed up ashore and you were struggling with your tail. Muzan was enchanted, as he thought mermaids were just myths. He prepared a spell that would allow you to have legs while you were on land.

The two of you surprisingly got along very well. He tested the strength you have by allowing you to squeeze one of the lower moons. The rip-off Michael Jackson was a bit shocked to hear the spine snap, as well as your sharp-toothed smile after the poor unfortunate soul collapsed.

I feel like he wouldn’t particularly like your mood swings, but he loved you so he put up with them. I feel like your mood went along with his: if he was upset, you were upset. However, your emotions were more expressive than his. You would be more prone to violence if either you or him were provoked.

Since he’s like the apex predator of demons, you call him White Pointer because the Great White Shark is an apex predator of the ocean. Muzan is very interested in your stories from your childhood, especially your twin brother (his future brother-in-law) and Azul (who Kibutsuji thought was a possible rival at first).

Kokushibo

He had met you when Muzan was testing your strength and you snapped the spinal cord of one of the lower moons. As unlikely as it sounded, it was love at first sight for the two of you. He admired your strength just as you admired his (who wouldn’t? I mean, have you seen this fine demon?).

Speaking of, you both work side-by-side in enforcing the rules in the demon ranks. You were a surprisingly formidable opponent, even though you were “human”. Kokushibo, however, wanted to keep you as you were rather than turning you into a demon.

This demon is very emotionally stable from a day-to-day basis, so he acts kind of like your anchor whenever you go through mood swings. I think he’s kind of indifferent towards them, and he acts as your voice of reason. When you seek him out for comfort, he can’t help but feel some pride swelling in his chest.

You call him ‘sea lion’ because he’s very agile in battle, and because he’s very loyal to you and you both live in a “raft”. He does like to hear about your life in Twisted Wonderland and about your twin and your boss, but he is greatly saddened about the prospect of you wanting to return.

Douma

Muzan had brought you back to the Infinity Castle, and he was immediately entranced by your smile and your overall beauty. Don’t get me started about when he found out you were a mermaid. When you showed him your mer-form, he was so excited.

He was surprised by the amount of strength you had, since it could rival some of the lower-ranking demons. You even snapped someone’s spinal cord, and it sent him rolling on the floor laughing. He can handle your squeezes, though, and welcomes them with open arms.

This man doesn’t feel emotions until you’re right next to him. You both feed off of each others’ moods. If you’re happy, he’s happy. If you’re upset, he’s upset. Same thing vice versa as well. It’s an emotional roller coaster for everyone.

You like to call him ‘blanket octopus’ because they’re just as colorful as his eyes, and he loves to hear what they were like in the ocean as well as your life in the Coral Sea. If the two of you decide to go swimming at night, he loves the way that your tail wraps around him because you love to cling to him.

Akaza

His head turned so quickly when he heard someone’s spine snap, only to see that it was you with a lower-ranking demon in your grasp. Muzan had told them about how your mer-person strength would benefit demonkind, but he didn’t know you held that much power.

Because of your strength, he was immediately attracted to you. He eventually got to know you better, and you turned out to be a very spontaneous person. He doesn’t mind it though, since it always keeps him guessing. This makes a nice segway into…

Your mood swings! Akaza doesn’t get too annoyed by them, especially if they end up in you being clingy towards him. Since this demon loves you oh-so-much, he encourages clingy behavior. Oftentimes, you are sat upon his lap and he’s holding you around the waist as he leans his head upon you.

He quite enjoys the nickname you’ve given him: mantis shrimp. You’ve explained that it was because they were as strong as he was, and could even break aquarium glass. This led him to asking about the ocean and about your family. He wishes he could remember his life as a human.

Hantengu

Mans let out an audible squeak when he heard a spine snap, and when he turned around to see where the sound came from you had a wide smile and a folded up demon in your arms. Muzan gathered everyone’s attention and introduced you to the group.

He honestly let you do as you wished, considering you scared him. This eventually developed into romantic feelings being the cause, but at that point it was because he very much valued his own spinal cord. He always goes stiff whenever you want to squeeze him.

As for your mood swings, he doesn’t mind them. You have enough confidence for the two of you, and he serves you. If you randomly want or need something, he will go and get it for you with no questions asked. Anything to make his darling moray eel happy.

Speaking of, he absolutely adores your mer-form. The way you moved so quickly in the water was spectacular. You call him ‘squid’, considering they’re one of the more shy creatures of the sea but the bigger ones are still very strong (take that as you will).\

Gyokko

His morbid fascination really did wonders for his art, especially when he saw how much strength you actually had as you snapped the demon’s spinal cord like a KitKat. You served as his muse even in your human form, let alone your mer-form.

Your mer-form was very intriguing to him, and his art usually had you as the subject. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, considering a lot of artists loved to paint the love of their lives. He’s just painting the love of his afterlife. Don’t mind him as he’s carrying another canvas to his studio.

If your mood swings make you clingy, he is absolutely happy about it. He’s a very jealous demon, so this works out for him. However, he hates it when you yell at him to leave you alone. It leads to a yelling battle that leads to him apologizing.

You’d probably call him ‘Fantasia’, after the Pink See-Through Fantasia. Both were very weird creatures in your mind, but both were loveable. One time, as he was painting you, he asked you about your life in the sea, and you happily told him about your childhood with Jade and Azul. The work ended up being a more nostalgic one.

Daki 

She was jealous of you at first because you were taking the attention of Muzan away from her, but she eventually learned that you cared more about her than him. You’ve even snapped the spine of a lower-ranking demon for even trying to talk to her.

When she first saw your moray eel form, she thought you were so majestic. It reminded her of the stories she often heard in the villages and even from her older brother. You gave her an ounce of hope that she hadn’t felt in a while.

Your mood swings upset her greatly. If you’re upset for no reason, then she’s gonna be upset at you for being upset. It’s a hot mess. The only way she puts up with them is when you go to her first to cling to her. She gets very insecure when you demand time alone.

Daki has a love-hate relationship with your nickname for her: shrimpy. She knows that you nicknamed her after the sea creature, but ‘shrimpy’ can be used as an insult. You call her that because she’s much smaller than you, but she eventually grows to love it full-time, and even gets concerned when you don’t call her that.

Gyutaro

He was definitely impressed when you snapped the spine of a lower-ranking demon, considering you weren’t a demon yourself. Then he saw your smile, and his non-beating heart fluttered and soared. Muzan introduced you as a new enforcer, and said that you were a moray eel mermaid. To be honest, he thought there was only one type of mermaid.

When he first saw your mer-form, he was amazed at how quickly you moved through the water. You seemed truly at peace in the water, and he thought you were very graceful. He once accompanied you, and you wrapped your tail around his very small waist and clung onto him, which made him very flustered.

You reminded him of his younger sister whenever you went through a mood swing. He’s also the only one who knows how to properly deal with them, but he will most definitely call you childish. He acts like it’s such an inconvenience, but he actually likes helping you because that serves as reassurance that you would never leave him. His ocean-themed nickname was ‘sea snake’, and you would even tease him by dragging out the s in the words. You called him this because he was very curious about mermaids, but especially about the different kinds.

[aeliesa]

SILENT GESTURES OF AFFECTION

Synopsis: It has always been his greatest desire to voice out all of his devotion to you. However, whenever he tries to, things don't always go the way he wants, all he could do is hold onto you because he's always voiceless.

• Relationship: Charlotte Katakuri x female reader

• Content: fluff

A/N: Just came back from my cave to post the remaining part of the recent fan fiction I posted. This second part is lengthier than the previous as I added some parts which makes it 10k words (together with the first one) so, heads up for the long post. In order to know the gist of the plot I suggest heading over to the first one which is here. Either way, both parts can serve as standalone, so read as you please.

Errors are to be expected as I really do not have enough time to check everything.

I hope you enjoy! :D Edit: I edited some portion as I noticed the errors, but still there is a possibility that I have overlooked some of it. So, excuse for the errors.

When the ship finally anchored ashore, the leader of the crew quickly made its way to the ground, and without a second look, he gave his command. Right before his staff could answer, he left without another thing to say. His assistant would handle everything. After all, the eldest brother, Perospero knew what to do; in that aspect of his responsibility, Katakuri was at ease to leave the main island.

“Oh, not that,” he muttered with frustration.

He saw it, the moment he’ll stay for another minute, a future that he must avoid at all costs. Some of his siblings were there waiting for Katakuri and his brother, but before he could escape their presence, one held his arm, making him pull back to their circle. A low grumble escaped from him, but it was overshadowed by the laughs of his siblings.

Katakuri knew where this conversation was going, and he didn’t like it.

“Hey, big brother, why are you so adamant?” Cracker grinned, clearly aware of Katakuri’s abrupt departure. “You know that you have to report to Mama.”

Katakuri pulled his arm from the grip of Daifuku, “I believe that Perospero can handle that very well…” he excused himself,” I must leave.”

Before he could step, his brothers quickly blocked his path, and one of them looked over at their big brother Perospero who had just climbed down from the ship. “Hey, big brother Peros, can you handle it?” one of them asks with a tone implying teasing.

All of them glanced at their brother, who innocently stared at each of them, and a grin slowly crept from his face, “I cannot… no.”

The brothers burst into a loud guffaw while their big brother Katakuri just silently listened to them, thinking of ways he could leave.

Katakuri lowers his face down to his scarf, trying to maintain composure at the banters of his siblings. Most of the time, he’s the subject of the conversation, and as much as he wants to avoid them, he just cannot bring himself to. He loves his siblings, but sometimes he wants to hang each of them till they stop teasing him.

Katakuri cleared his throat, and in a low, calm voice, he turned to his brother Perospero who was standing behind him. “Are you sure?”

Right before his elder brother could respond, the three boys chimed in, “He is indeed sure!” they both exclaimed, putting their arms around Perospero, who nodded along with their answer.

Katakuri sighs, it is already late, but his siblings are still full of energy.

“Then let’s get this thing over,” he surrenders, breaking the laughs of their siblings.

Perospero paused in between laughs, “When are you going, to be honest with yourself?”

Katakuri gave him a confused look which made him receive another laugh from his siblings. Really, he loves his siblings, but when all of them are together, it will be a nightmare for him.

“If you could tell us what you want, then we’ll let you go,” Oven says with wriggling brows.

The rest nodded with wide grins on their face; clearly, they were ganging up on their brother, and as Katakuri observed their demeanor, it would be forever before they let him go. Their big brother knows what they are up to; Katakuri is well aware of their intentions but, knowing his reputation as the perfect and calm brother, sure as hell he won’t cave in.

“There’s nothing to say,” Katakuri responds, which made him receive a look of disappointment from the four, almost a look of hopelessness from their brother’s firm behavior.

“You can just say that you miss her,” Daifuku cracks, oozing with confidence regarding the demeanor of Katakuri being inept around women.

The boys shared a cackle, shaking their heads and patting the back of their big brother, who’s been restraining himself not to smack each of his younger siblings. Sure, they do know what buttons to push.

It’s always been like that since he married you. It is peculiar for them to see their big brother Katakuri being so calm and composed, yet in a blink could shake the Totto Land when it comes to you. The actions may not be obvious, but they are not dumb to ignore them. Katakuri could tell that in the early days of being a newlywed, his brothers kept interrogating you regarding Katakuri's treatment which you would just shut them out with laughs.

To see you being close with his siblings gives him a sense of relief. He knew how marriage works in this family. Most of the spouses would just suffer. His siblings are complex to please, let alone his mother - the Yonkou. It will always be a mystery to him how you were able to capture them with the sincerity that led you to be a famous wife in the family.

“Anyway, big brother… to give you a heads up I -”

“Cracker, we talked about this!” the two quickly butted in with their annoyed expression.

“Okay! Okay!”

Katakuri ignored the claims of Oven and Daifuku. His undivided attention was all over Cracker, who proudly stood before him.

“What is it?”

“We…” Cracker turns to his brother, emphasizing the start of his sentence, “I said it, okay?” he turned to Katakuri when his brothers nodded, giving him thumbs up. “Well, earlier, there were pirates who entered the territory of Mama, and they seemed to attack the land where the big sister is residing.….”

Upon hearing the news, his brow quickly furrowed. “Tell me she’s safe,” he thought as he stared at the figure of his brother, that was relying on the events of earlier.

“I made sure that the weaklings are taken care of!”

Cracker frowned at the sudden unison of outburst, “That is not what we talked about!” He walks up to Oven and Daifuku, who are also surprised by their unison and start to debate.

In an instant, the three were now fighting over who was who, clearly everyone took pride in the ruckus that was handled well, especially in ensuring his wife’s safety. Perospero shook his head, staring at the three while Katakuri’s mind drifted to the news that Cracker broke.

“It was me who got there first!”

“Okay, Cracker, take that credit, but I was the one who took care of it.”

“Are you definitely forgetting the fact that I was also there?”

The rambling goes on and on; their brothers Katakuri and Perospero are just staring at them with no intention of stopping their bickering. It is a perfect moment for Katakuri to escape the shackles of the three. He knew that Perospero would let go of him quickly. He’s tired, after all.

“She’s safe,” he heaved a deep breath.

To see his brothers fighting over the credit of taking over the task is something he always sees whenever it concerns you. As a matter of fact, most of his siblings took a liking to you - especially the youngest, who always asks about you whenever he’s on the main island.

Katakuri is well aware that his mother is fond of you - especially your dishes. He could even remember very well the first hunger pangs that you witnessed; Big Mom craved your dishes, and in those seconds, he couldn’t think properly, especially when he saw you running towards his mother carrying the dish she’s been craving.

He can still feel the warmth of your body against his palm when he carries you and jumps midair to throw the food right into your mother-in-law’s mouth. That was the first hunger pang attack that you put a stop to with him, and the pride he felt how fearless you were in those seconds; indeed, he married the right woman.

Katakuri is well aware that everyone respects him, but to see how his brothers are close to you to the point of interrogating you just to find something that could be used against their big brother - Katakuri, at some point, they are convinced that everything is just pretension, but when they hear your genuine laughter their thoughts just disperse. Katakuri knew all of it because he’s been watching you from afar whenever he couldn’t bring himself to be close to you.

He cannot stand your presence; you are a breath of fresh air, and he cannot see himself encasing his lungs with such gaiety. You were the polarity to his being, a complete contrast to his character. He does not know what to say nor to react whenever you’re within his range: you always leave him voiceless. Those were the earliest memories of him meeting you.

“Hey brother,” he shifted his gaze towards Perospero, who grinned. “I can handle everything here; you can now go.”

Katakuri nodded, and without any fuss, he continued on his track, leaving Perospero with the work. He knew he had chosen the right person to accompany him in his missions; if it were between the three, it would be endless chaff.

His brother Perospero understands him, maybe because of what he witnessed during those trips. Katakuri is well aware that he was eavesdropping on their conversation with his little sister Brûlée through the mirror. Before they left, Katakuri entrusted your well-being to your siblings, which they happily obliged. Brûlée was the one who updated him about you; she even went to the length of asking Katakuri to speak with you, to which Perospero nodded behind closed doors.

“Big brother, why don’t you check on her? She sometimes fell asleep in the living room with a book in her hand,” Brûlée once said. “I have come to notice that she frequently brings doughnuts with her tea. Are you influencing her with your love of doughnuts?”

As much as he was eager to hear your voice and talk with you, Katakuri restrained himself. It is not because it might taint his mighty image, but rather, with you around, Katakuri could lose his tongue, leaving him voiceless, not to mention how privy his siblings are. He does not want you to endure the same intensity of teasing as he does.

Katakuri took the shortest way possible, avoiding his siblings, for he could not waste another second. Cracker, Oven, and Daifuku took so much of his time poking fun at him. There is only one thing that his very essence has been telling him, and that is the woman he left for too long. Katakuri could see his mother tomorrow, but for now, his sanity would be at peace to see the person he longed to share the bed with. 

He’s been itching to step on the land that you were residing on. Despite the protest of his brothers for his sudden action Katakuri knew that no harm would be done. He could see the future, after all. Although they were told by their mother to rest on the main island, Katakuri’s firm resolution is evident; he could not wait for the sun to rise - he had to see his wife. In every worse, best, and in-betweens to be in the grace of his wife is what he needed the most.

In a span of months, he yearned for the voice, the warmth, and presence - he longed for you. 

Of course, he won’t leave without his wife’s knowledge, so when he asked for your permission that he’ll be on a five-month voyage, he could see the fear and unsettledness in your eyes, which disturbed him. The word of his mother is absolute, but if you had protested in those seconds, he’ll make his way and convinced his mother that his other brothers shall lead the voyage. He knew that you believed your words had no power over him, but in truth, he could alter his mother’s decision for your sake.

You are the other half of his identity, one way or another, you have the power over Katakuri; your words are important to him. It is as absolute as his respect towards his mother and loves for his siblings. 

However, you didn’t. In lieu, you gave him your blessing. He was hesitant, but when you assured him, Katakuri just could not bring himself to say it; rather, he planted a soft kiss on your forehead. A way of him saying that he’s just thankful that you exist.

Katakuri sped up in his tracks when he saw the familiar house. The lights were still on, “Is she still awake?” he wondered as he made his way to the door.

A part of him wishes that you were awake, while the other one hopes that you’re resting in your room. Carefully, he entered the house with complete silence and made his way to the living room, only to see someone sleeping on the sofa with his head buried in his knees.

There, Katakuri knew who it was; he could tell from the color of the hair alone. In the distance was the person who he kept on thinking about. The person who accepted him wholeheartedly without any sign of hatred or prejudice, a woman of sunshine that didn’t faze when he was seen without his scarf.

The lady who was never scared of his appearance, bounty, or his identity as a wanted man. The person that Katakuri found comfort with, he could lower his guard around you. Ironically, he is known by his siblings as the strongest one, but within your grace, Katakuri’s knees wobble, he trembles, and eventually weakens. Indeed, he can be the firm person in the eyes of his family; however, in your vision, he’s always on his knees – constantly needing your shelter.

He slowly made his way and stood behind you, thoughts running wild as to why you were resting in an uncomfortable position with only a blanket to fight the coldness around the living room.

The woman that could make him do everything, even if it means bringing the world into chaos, just to see her beaming with blissfulness. You were just too pure for the world, for everyone on the island – including him but as much as he hated to admit it, Katakuri can be the most selfish man to exist when it comes to you – he wants to be your first and last. 

There’s no day he had never thought about you. Throughout his voyage, he constantly thinks about that one woman whom he’s looking forward to seeing once he’s back.

His wife.

You fell asleep waiting for him, which means the thought he wished for a while ago is far from the sight that greeted him.

It was you. His wife, covered in blankets, fell asleep waiting for his arrival.

“Waiting for my arrival?” Katakuri dismissed the idea. His wife doesn’t know his arrival. If it were the first month of marriage, he would be able to understand it. Every night you fall asleep waiting in the same living room, and Katakuri has to carry you back to your chamber and tuck you to bed while he prepares his stuff, as he must take a shower before sleeping beside you. But he knows that you’re aware that he’s been away for months; there is no way that you were doing it every time.

“Did she do this even if I’m away?”

Thinking about the time that her sister Brûlée once said, everything finally connected. His wife has been doing it all the time! Not because it is your routine, but rather because you were waiting for him – every night.

Your actions never fail to leave him tongue-tied. Be it the little things, but Katakuri notices all of it, the little laughs, the glances, and even how you would giggle whenever he breaks eye contact, your reactions when you flushed… of all those things are being seen. But what he likes most is your way of showing affection; it will always be in the most unexpected way.

You – as his wife, continue to defy his expectation that he had come to surmise that it would just waste his time to think about your possible actions; whenever he tries to, it always differs from what he thinks.

Katakuri noticed the book half-opened, then the cup, which was almost half empty, and the doughnuts seemed to be untouched. Tea and doughnuts, these are what you usually prepare while waiting for him; Katakuri recalled the first time how he was caught dumbfounded on the dessert on top of the table while you were asleep on the same couch that he found you now. He could even hear you saying that it was his food to eat.

To witness that you’ve been doing the same thing despite the fact that his arrival is uncertain pours a great amount of rapture and love all over his being. You do know how to make him feel weak.

Katakuri took one doughnut and ate it in one bite; of all the doughnuts he tasted, nothing beats your own creation. It is his favorite. During his voyage, the staff that prepares his merienda tries their very best to imitate your way of making the dessert, but they always fail. Katakuri would just be lenient with them as he understands how hard it is. As much as possible, he just wants to eat doughnuts because once he’s back in his homeland, he knows he’ll be pampered by his wife with his favorite.

He turned to your figure, which eventually caused his smile to fade away. He saw how you were holding the jewelry that he inserted into your finger. That simple position made him recall everything; his silent vows as he held your hand to insert the ring, he suddenly thought of it.

I am not the easiest to love, but your kindness made me feel like I do. On this day and forever, I am yours to hold, to love, and to own. To be tied with me is exasperating, but I am eternally grateful for you to accept me as a piece that shall be with you always. The heaven and the sea may meet, but my affection for you remains superior above it.

Katakuri realized how two-faced he was to make such a vow only for you to suffer. He silently said his vow because he could not stand being listened to by the crowd; nonetheless, whether he uttered it verbally or not, the weight of his promise remained unchanged. 

Despite the ray of sunshine his wife brings, he knows to himself that there are times of darkness, and it irks him that he wasn’t there and most of those negative emotions you were dealing with were caused by him. His responsibilities are just necessary for him to work with, but he knew that while he was engrossed with it, you were cast aside thinking you were going to understand. It was unintentional, he never meant it, but it is still his fault. 

A pang of guilt hits him. He may appear as an obedient and perfect son in the same manner he was an irresponsible husband. To add salt to the wound, you never rebuked him for his shortcomings; rather, you showered him with the understanding that he believed he did not deserve.

The two of you knew each other way back. As a matter of fact, you’re the friend of Katakuri, where he can be the truest version of himself. He knows and is well aware of how kind you are, but it never crossed his mind that you were capable of sheltering him despite being hurt by the same person.

He could make his mother happy with his accomplishments, but that thought didn’t make him feel any amount of blithesome. Sure, he loves his mother, but his happiness lies with your being; to see you wrapped in pure felicity is Katakuri’s greatest desire.

As much as possible, he dare not cause you any pain. However, ironically he was causing you immense struggle in this marriage. The first month, he’s constantly away with interaction almost rare, and in the last five months, he was sailing the sea, conquering island to island while his wife was constantly waiting for his return.

Katakuri felt terrible. He knew that he was hard to love. But to see you being so patient with him, he felt ashamed that he was constantly taking your love without giving in return.

He bends, removing the blanket slowly to not wake you up. When he successfully did, Katakuri lifted you up, and he noticed how you felt, almost like a feather in his grasp.

“She lost weight,” he thought, eyeing you.

There’s almost nothing that changed; you were still a beauty to him. The long lashes, soft lips, the bouncy hair that he loves to twirl in his finger, and the warmth of your body. The wife of Katakuri sleeping peacefully in his arms, the doughnuts and tea, these are the regular scenarios he always encounters in his home. To experience it once again, Katakuri can definitely say that he is indeed back.

He plans to carry you back to the bed shared between you two, but right before Katakuri can take another step, he is surprised that you are staring at him, clearly disturbed by the sound of his steps.

“Was I too loud?” he whispered gently.

Perhaps it was because you were still in a daze; it was quite late for you to process everything. But when you did, Katakuri noticed how you beamed brightly just by laying your eyes on him; still, the traces of fatigued were visible throughout your face.

“You’re back!” eyes wide open, you squealed in excitement with a voice that denotes sleepiness and quickly jumped from his arms. “Have you eaten?” you turned to him, rubbing your eyes, and did some stretch with a wide smile.

Oh! How Katakuri missed that energy and demeanor. He cannot help but stare at you for a while before answering.

“I have eaten,” he softly answered.

You nodded, acknowledging it, and headed back to the living room. Katakuri follows his wife from behind, only to see you picking the doughnuts and tea. Just a while ago, you looked tired. But when he studies how alive you are in front of him, he cannot help but think how joyful you can be.

You picked it up only to notice your husband taking it from your hands. “Did you just arrive? Why don’t you take a rest first? Let me brew tea for you to relax while I prepare your things for the shower.”

“That’s not necessary,” he replies, following you around.

Katakuri couldn’t put himself at ease. The turmoil that’s growing inside of him just keeps getting worse, especially to see how you are so hands-on towards him. You tied your hair in a bun and took the things that Katakuri was holding, but he refused to hand them to you.

“Let me carry it… and please, I am not hungry,” again he says in a low tone.

“Oh shut it, I know how tiring it is to sail.” you took his hand and dragged him to the kitchen, “I know that looks very well, darling…” you grinned at him. “I can smell how weary you are from traveling… Anyway, Mama asked me earlier to bake donuts, so I made some extra.”

Katakuri could shut everyone from his family, but between the two of you, he is an open book. It astounds him how you can easily read him while he’s been concealing his emotions from everyone. But well, you’re not his wife for nothing.

“Then let me at least help you,” he volunteers.

Your bubbly face gave him a firm refusal, “I really want you to just take a break from your responsibility and let me handle everything here. At least in our home, you’re being dependent on your wife.”

Right before he could protest, he saw the determination in your eyes. Katakuri just sighed in defeat; he could never say no. Your treatment towards him is like he’s not the big shot of the family, where everyone respects him. But Katakuri also has his own weak points, and it just so happens that it is you. With you around, he feels good to be counting on someone.

You quickly took the plate of donuts and the cup of tea, “why don’t you have your shower while I prepare your food?”

“Nah,” Katakuri utters, pulling a chair and watching you as you maneuver around the kitchen. “I prefer to sit here and watch you.”

He tilted his head to the side when you looked away, saying nothing. As Katakuri loves to notice the little things, it didn’t escape from his sharp eyes the tinge shade of red that is evidence against your skin. At your reaction, he lowered his face, suppressing a smile.

Clearing your throat, you spoke without looking at him. “Take off your scarf for you to be more comfortable.”

Katakuri observes the surroundings, but right before he can see into the future, his focus is cut off by your voice.

“The servants are already resting in their chambers… I told them that they must take rest by ten in the evening as I also prefer to be alone. They must refrain from going out during the night,” you explained, placing a plate of donuts. “They are already bringing their necessities, so there will be no one to disturb you.”

“Oh,” was all he could answer before removing his scarf.

His worries dissipate for you to know how to keep them at bay. Katakuri met your gaze. He couldn’t read you - he may be able to see the future, but your thoughts seem to be harder for him to penetrate. Instead of looking away, Katakuri’s vision was still all over you until you pulled a chair and sat facing him.

You bend towards his direction, eyes still focused on him. “This is our home; you should not be wary whether someone can see you or not,” you continued with an unwavering tone of assurance and comfort and pinched his nose. “I am here, and I shall ensure that nothing will happen to you.”

He winced at the pain and rubbed his nose. Katakuri glanced at his wife; enough about everything about him. He just wants to be near you while you’re spilling all of your thoughts. 

“How is your day?” he queried.

“Fine,” you answer, walking up to him carrying his freshly brewed tea. 

“Your siblings visited me earlier, and I also got to see Mama since she wanted to eat the donuts that are baked by your wife,” you smiled proudly, aware that his mother is fond of your dishes. “I also spent some of my time with your mother as we talked about stuff - mainly about desserts.”

Katakuri took a bite of his donut, “Did her hunger pangs attack earlier?”

You shook your head, “Thankfully, no. But yesterday, it did. She was craving for a sfogliatelle, but it was taken care of by Smoothie.”

He was worried. As much as he wants you to roam around the main island, he fears your safety, especially when he’s not around, or his siblings aren’t there to accompany you. Of course, he tries to bring you with him, but when Big Mom’s hunger pangs attacked and you were almost one of the casualties, it struck him that above everything, his wife’s safety is what he must secure. When he saw that you fainted from helping a civilian and almost being crushed by Big Mom’s hands, he had to change the future because a life without the woman he fought tooth and nail for is simply a world of him – existing with nothing to look forward to.

Those moments are a nightmare he dares not relinquish again. He could withstand the idea of his mother going berserk and destroying the islands of Totto Land, but not when his wife was around.

As he starts to dig into the food, you stand up and say, “I’ll just prepare your stuff while you’re eating,” but right before you leave, Katakuri’s hand quickly wraps around yours.

You looked down only to see his eyes, almost pleading for you to be with him. “Stay with me,” he asks, holding your hand. 

Sighing, you nodded, and he let go of you. Katakuri observed how you made your way to bring yourself a cup of tea and sat in front of him. He pushes the plate of donuts to the center, an indication that he’s inviting you to share the food with him.

You picked a donut, “How’s the voyage?” 

He shrugs, nonchalant at the thought of his journey. “Just the usual, nothing too grand.”

“You must have been to different places and fought ships.”

“You could actually say that,” he nods, savoring his favorite dessert. “Life at sea is full of uncertainty, but to live with it is an assurance that a life of adventure awaits.”

“I could tell….” 

Katakuri is well aware that you were watching him; if there were any other people, they would not live to tell the tale. He stole a glimpse at you where he saw you with eyes twinkling in ecstasy while staring at him.

He looks away. He cannot stand the intensity of your affection. 

“I hope my siblings didn’t give you a hard time.”

“No, not at all! They are such a bundle of joy, they are also my family, and I am elated that they are always there whenever you’re away.”

Whenever you’re away. Most of the time. 

“Anyway, umm…” he lowers his hands and looks at you. He could sense your anxiety, and Katakuri halts in savoring his favorite donuts. His undivided attention is now all over you.

“What’s our problem?” 

Our problem. It is his usual line whenever you are hesitant to say something; Katakuri knows how important communication is, and although he’s terrible with it, he tries his best to meet you halfway.

Your troubles aren’t yours to carry alone. Now that he married you, it is also Katakuri’s dilemma. For better or for worse, he’ll be with you in every way, sharing everything, be it the best or whatnot. Of course, the same goes for his wife.

Eventually, you sighed, “I just want to know your thoughts about our marriage,” you paused, contemplating your sentence. “No, I mean, uh… do I suffocate you with my —”

He doesn’t like the end of it; Katakuri’s hand holds yours and gently squeezes it. “I am aware that I am difficult to deal with, but your patience is unwavering, for you to stay with me despite my shortcomings… I am eternally grateful that you chose to be with me. In each second of our marriage, I am silently thanking you for staying.”

It is the truth. But he never thought he could say it out loud; it is embarrassing as Katakuri is known among his siblings to be shy with women. This is the reason why Daifuku, Oven, and Cracker love to tease him for being married to you.

If it could ease your thoughts, then he’s willing to swallow the recessiveness just to assure you. 

You didn’t respond; rather, you placed a hand on top of his, “I could never trade you for the world.” 

A soft chuckle escaped from you as Katakuri quickly evaded your gaze, lowering his face and trying his best to avoid getting flushed. If his siblings know what buttons to push in order to annoy him, you do know what to do for him to walk in the air.

Katakuri just gently tightens his hand around yours. “I’m sorry,” this time, it was his thoughts that unraveled.

At his sudden apology, you looked surprised and confused at the same time. Instead of asking, you wait for him to finish.

Katakuri heaved a disappointed sigh, “I have come to notice my shortcomings as your husband… I promise I’ll be better for you.”

It’s been troubling him, and he dares not to spend a night with you without the worries being settled. It was his promise that you two swear; no one will sleep if there’s something to be discussed. 

There are no words he could say; he’s at fault. Katakuri is not the type of person to sugarcoat his misdeeds; he owns up and takes responsibility for them.

“The past months of being tied to me, you had to bear the struggle alone. I am sorry that you have to deal with all of it.”

His worries were met with a gentle laugh, and your husband lifted his gaze. “I understand how difficult it is to be the dependable brother, and please don’t say as if you had never done something for me… I do also have my own faults, but you never resent me for it, that I am thankful.” Katakuri noticed you suppressed a yawn. “Our marriage may not be perfect, but certainly it is one of a kind, and don’t be sorry for things that I am willing to do for you,” you replied, squeezing his hands. 

There was no hint of resentment in your tone, just a sincerity of understanding. Katakuri felt more guilty about how his wife seemed to be too perfect for him. Your patience is on a whole new level.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

His transponder snail rang; Katakuri was hesitant to answer, the two of you were just talking about the worries one another, and now, one of those worries just entered the scene. He glanced at you, to which you nodded in answer.

“Katakuri! How is the transaction? Mama is very adamant about knowing the full details,” it was his brother Perospero, who seems to be agitated. His mother’s voice can also be heard asking for his response.

“You can head outside; I’ll be here.” 

“Excuse me,” he says before leaving the kitchen; he lifts your hand and places a kiss.

It is not because of confidentiality that made him ask for privacy. Rather, he does not want you to see how everyone seems to be dependent on him. As much as possible, Katakuri also wants his wife to also depend on him; however, it is the other way around.

It was a lengthy talk with his mother, and when it ended, Katakuri went back to the kitchen only to see you drifting to sleep with your head on top of your arm. 

“I told you that it wasn’t necessary,” he mumbles under his breath, feeling mixed emotions regarding the effort of his wife.

He picks the empty plates and cups and washed them before placing them where they should be. As soon as he was done, Katakuri carried you in his arms as you leaned against him, finding comfort in your position.

“You’re indeed tired.” 

With you in his arms, he made his way to the room and gently placed you on the bed, and you moved, seeking the perfect position. Katakuri pulls the duvet to cover your body, and he proceeds to prepare his stuff before entering the bathroom.

Despite being tired, it is one of the general rules that you implement: if one hasn’t showered, then one cannot lie in bed. You are particular with cleanliness which Katakuri must obey.

After all of it, as he rested against the soft mattress, Katakuri could almost forget the discomfort in the ship, how the bed was too different to his liking, and how it was always lacking, for you were not by his side.

He ponders for a while, but later on, he just turns in your direction gently. He pulls you to his side and smells your hair, and places a kiss on it. He yearns for this. A night like this with you in his embrace is just what he needs after a dreadful journey of being far away. Despite being tired, he cannot bring himself to sleep; Katakuri drowned himself in his reveries while playing with your hair.

Contrary to popular belief, your political marriage was different because you were not forced… rather you also wanted it, which your husband is aware of, and unbeknownst to you, Katakuri was never the first choice to be wed to you, but he fought for it. Perchance, time will lead you to this information, but for now… it is his secret to keep and his family to conceal, for they wanted you to hear it from their big brother’s voice.

Tucking a hair behind your ear, he stared at your peaceful feature; he couldn’t help but trace his finger on your nose, down to your lips, then gently placed a kiss on your forehead when you gave him a smile without opening your eyes. Your hand made its way to his cheek, smiling – still in a daze, aware of the surroundings but too tired to open your eyes.

Every night since the two of you were married, he’s been doing it. That little habit of his has always been his secret; he makes sure that you are in a deep sleep prior to doing it. Apart from the fact that he does not want to disturb you, Katakuri has come to love this routine of his. In every edge of your features is for his finger to trace and for him to adore – alone. 

“Good night,” he whispers gently.

Eyes half-open, you tried to fight back the drowsiness to utter the words that you had longed to say for the past months. “Welcome back…” you groggily muttered, running your thumb on his cheeks, finding its way to his scar.

He can be the most reserved man in his family, but he’s the gentlest, another half that; you couldn’t ask for more. As he tries his best to meet you halfway in this marriage, all he can do is shower you with his fidelity in the silent gestures that bespeak how he devotes himself to you.

Katakuri traces the edge of your eye and buries his head on your neck, and drowns himself in your fragrance. He pulls you in a hug, and you do the same. In all places of the world, from the other side of it down to the islands of the New World, he saw almost everything; the beauty in each corner of the world and experienced the sense of satisfaction in every victorious battle he encountered, but there were no traces of peace in it. It didn’t comfort his very essence. Rather, it left him hungry for more. However, since the day you shared your world with him, Katakuri found his greatest treasure; in between your embrace is where his solace lies.

“I’m home,” he says.

fin.

[focsle]

Music on Whaleships

Because how else will you power through the boredom AND the horrors!?

Two men aboard the Wanderer, photographed by Pardon B. Gifford in 1906 (New Bedford Whaling Museum)

Music featured quite frequently on whalers, though not necessarily in the same way as it might on a merchant vessel. The quintessential musical contribution of sailors—the sea shanty—didn’t hold as prominent a place aboard a whaler as it did on other types of ships. Some captains were particularly strict about keeping noise down while cruising to prevent gallying any nearby whales. Shanties were also less necessary for performing the work: Whaleships tended not to carry a great deal of sail, had a lot of hands aboard available to handle it, and were quite leisurely in their pace as they lolled around the globe for years at a time. This was unlike merchant ships that tended to have smaller crews, larger ships, and tighter schedules, all for which shanties were used more often to coordinate that work effort. However, music was still vital to maintaining good morale during a whalers' work that was, in turns, extremely demanding and dangerous, and extremely dull and mind-numbing. Both of which could really plague a fellow's soul if there was no relief. A panacea for a whaleship's ills, music rang out in the fo'c'sle during idle hours, was sought out during shore leaves, was copied down in remembered songs in the backs of men's journals, and any fellow who hazarded to pick up an instrument or lift his voice was a prized member of the crew.

Read on, under the readmore, since this is also quite a long one with many a photo, journal entry, recorded music, and whalers' original written songs! I really REALLY enjoyed pulling this one together.

Even though they weren't as utilized, there were still occasions when shanties burst out on deck. Greenhand William Abbe of the Atkins Adams (1858) recalled them first being used several months into the voyage. This speaks to the fact that shanties weren't a regular part of whaling work, but rather an instance of one shipmate finally venturing to include them:

“We began to sing shanties last night in hauling aft sheets or bowsing on halliards — Jack leading in 'Johnny Francois' + 'Katy, My Darling' and all hands taking up the refrain + pulling with a will. This pleased the Mate who told us that pretty well for the first time that he liked to hear us make a noise—as it showed that Jack —not Allegany [surname of a crewmate on board] — but any one of us was awake. He laughed—waved his hands— + cried out 'that’s the way sailors'.”

Johnny Francois, aka Boney

They were later "obliged to avast singing + haul away without the "Shantie" as the crew’s singing was so "ludicrous" that they were all laughing over it rather than effectively hauling. But even if shanties weren’t often used aboard the Atkins Adams to set the pace of the work, they still featured during downtime in their watches:

“Jack leading sung the watch out in Shanties 'Johnny Francois' 'Santa Anna' 'Katy, My Darling' +c. Mr. Gorland + Tripp came forward and joined us. It was very cold and wet — but our singing warmed our hearts while we were free from the spray and warm from mutual contact.”

On whaleships, shanties were more frequently employed—though still inconsistently—during more demanding tasks such as weighing anchor or working the windlass to haul up blubber.

While greenhand John Perkins’s ship, Tiger, was lying at anchor at the Hawaiian islands in 1845, he mentioned hearing another whaling crew strike up a shanty upon leaving:

“When called this morning we heard the Neptune’s crew weighing anchor to the tune of ‘Tally hi o you know.’ After breakfast our watch went ashore on liberty”

Tally-I-Oh

Music was also greatly sought out during whalers’ shore leave. Thomas Nickerson, cabin boy of the ill-fated Essex, 1820, wrote about a dance hall in Talcahuano that he was quite unimpressed by, but his other shipmates enjoyed tremendously.

"There we found a few young women seated around the hall on wooden stools, and playing off some Spanish airs upon their guitars to dance by. There did not seem to be either melody or music in their touch, but after such an interval of confinement our men were ready to dance to anything had it even been a corn stalk fiddle. With their guitars were an accompaniment of an old copper pan used as a tambourine. To this music did our men dance apparently with as much satisfaction as though it had been the finest music in the world.”

Music was also one of the first ways whalers and locals at various ports of call built camaraderie between each other, where potential language barriers were no object if someone had along with them a fiddle (and maybe some alcohol). Such an interaction was recorded by Albert Peck, greenhand on the Covington that stopped in Guam in the 1850s:

"Having our fiddler with us, we went from one hut to another giving them a tune at each, which would please them very much, and to show their appreciation of it they would produce a bottle of aquadiente [Aguardiente] or brandy, and treat us to a glass which would consist of a coconut shell, until it became evident that this would not do if we intended to walk to the town, as before long we should be incapable of walking anywhere. So we started for the town."

Whaler-made fiddle c. 1835-50, inscribed with the name Daniel Weeks. (New Bedford Whaling Museum)

But liberty always came to an end. When the Tiger departed Hawaii 10 days later, Perkins noted that they were too glum to accompany their leaving with a shanty:

“We weighed anchor without a song all feeling to bad at departing from summer islands to the cold Norwest sure of hard labor, absolute suffering & danger.”

Amidst that hard labor, absolute suffering, & danger, music served an essential function of bringing in levity and acting as a pressure release valve aboard.

Clifford Ashley, who joined the bark Sunbeam in 1904 on part of her voyage for research, described the music of his dog watch:

"Two misfit concertinas every night sent up their dismal wail to a tune that never varied, often keeping time with the strokes of a couple who pounded up hard bread in a canvas bag to be mixed into a molasses mush for their watch."

A whaler's concertina, c. 1850 (Nantucket Whaling Museum)

Any man who had a bit of a voice or could play a bit of an instrument quickly became a favorite among the crew, even if he only knew one song. Foremast hand William Stetson, of the Arab (1850s), was delighted when a new man they shipped aboard during a provision stop had some faint musical inclination.

“in the dog watches we enjoy ourselves very agreeably by stepping off a lively measure to the tune of “roads to Boston” as performed on the violin by Moody, one of those lately shipped at Lahaina. This is about the only tune he can saw off decently, but he is the first that has belonged to the bark this voyage who has made any pretensions to being a fiddler, and consequently the ‘doleful music’ of the skipper’s cracked violin is usually heard in the evening between the hours of five and seven P.M"

Moody's go-to, Road to Boston.

Even in the absence of an actual musical instrument, crews made do with whatever they could get. William Abbe writes about one such time on the Atkins Adams:

Last night while gamming with F. Willy in the forecastle I was called on deck to help make up a set for a cotillion — being honored as the lady of Curly — we were at a loss for music + were stepping to the hummed air of Johnny the Boatsteerer + the orders of the dancing master — Jack — when Shanghai rushed up from the forecastle + jumping up on the oil cask looked forward of the windlass + squatting his long legs on the cask head began a toot toot on an old tin funnel, followed by Johnny Come Lately on an old tin bread pan for a drum — We greeted our band with shouts — + to the music of our mimic french horn and kettle drum chased up + down + joining hands by partners promenaded with double quick steps round the forecastle deck making the deck ring with our laughter — + the rattling music — both music and steps getting quicker + quicker till Tarpsechorz [Terpsichore] herself would have fled agast — + home belles and beaus would have fainted at the sight —our fun was suddenly interrupted by the order to shorten sail — + our quick stepping was only rivaled by our agility aloft for we reduced sail in unusually short time.

The captain, enjoying their sense of play but finding their makeshift music particularly disagreeable, then came up on deck to give them something to better it:

“Old Man liked the fun but didn’t like the music for Old Woman — brot up on deck a new accordion + calling Charley aft consigned it to him with the injunction to use it well — Charley came forward — delighted— + mounting the spars struck up Fisher’s Hornpipe + the strums sounding through the calm evening animated us till Jack or Molly [a crewmate currently crossdressing for the role] + our barefooted stepping got the whole Ship’s Company in a roar — from the Old Woman to Cabin Boy.”

Crew members of the Charles W. Morgan, 1906, taken by Pardon B. Gifford (New Bedford Whaling Museum)

Sometimes music was a little less favorably received. J.T. Langdon, greenhand on the St Peter, 1840s-50s, had brought his fiddle aboard to entertain himself, and at one point taught the Captain how to play it. On the homeward bound stretch--with his patience with the job and everyone on board strained to the limit--he grumbled about music-making halting getting home quickly:

"There seems to be an little disregard to sailing the vessel on the part of the Captain and the Mate. The 'Old Man' will saw away on his 'old fiddle' and the mate will tinker and the ship goes where she likes. I have sometimes almost cursed the day that I learned the Cap'n to fiddle."

Sometimes, sailing be damned, it was time for an entire musical production, as on veteran whaler John Martin's ship, the Lucy Ann, 1841. He wrote out the Program along with the nicknames of the performers.

"We finished this day with a grand concert given by the whole crew. The audience were sea gulls. The following is the programme of the concert. Programme Part 1st Song. One eyed Riley With chorus by whole crew. - By Chub. "There was a Sheppards daughter, Kept sheep on yander hill" - by Lightning Song. I hit her right on her stinking Machine - by Hominy Head Solo. On Kent Bugle by - myself Part 2nd Song. Cant you wont you stay a little longer - by Turpin "Turkish Lady - Black Leg Duette with Drum & Fife - Chub & [left blank] Part 3rd Song. My dogs eyes makes mince pies - Steward "Morgan Ratler - Spunyarn "The Meremaid in three parts by - Hardy "Trayum with chorus by crew Part 4th Song. Kelly the Pirate - King David "Tally ho - Spunyarn "Lord Lovell that went strange, countries for to see - Hardy Solo. on flute by - Young Norval Part 5th Song. Fanny Blair - Turpin "French Lady - Mizen "All the girls in our town - Steward Part 6th Song. So early in the morning, the Sailors love the bottle O. - by Mocho a color'd Gentleman "Milkmaid - Hominy Head "Two little sisters walking up the street" - Jersey Grand Chorus by the whole Crew on Bugle, Drum, Fife, Flute, Violins, Triangles, &c. & wound up by The mate telling us if we did not quit making such a damned noise he would heave a bucket of stinking water over us. Ends the same.

An excerpt of John Martin's above program:

Often, in the backs of journals whalemen would write songs that are still known today. Rolling Down to Old Maui, Blow Ye Winds, Coast of Peru, Homeward Bound, Saucy Sailor, etc. These were learned on the job, or exchanged between crew mates. From the journal of William Buel of the Wave, 1856, the lyrics to Saucy Sailor which he learned from a fellow greenhand:

"I am young my love and I am frolicsome Good natured kind and free And I don't care a single toss my boys What the world says of me ~~~~ Learnt from my friend Joseph F Horan"

There's something quite lovely to having a shared thread from their lives into the present. We might be separated by a gulf of over a century, but we know the lyrics to the same songs.

Some whalers composed their own songs, too. I'll close with one written by career whaleman Joseph Dias, when he was captain of the St. George in 1853. He ended his lyrics with the note 'Read and Circulate', so I see it as my duty to do him a small kindness 170 years later by circulating it now.

Paradox Come all ye shipmates lend an ear And the truth you soon shall hear Of the Ship St. George in the zealous sea Who is raiseing hell it seems to me — The way we try to get our grease So to strike three whales and save a piece Beside two whales of india ruber The boatsteerer swore to be slack blubber — Very poor advice I freely lend Of a way I highly recommend To take a crowbar and punch a hole Drive in the iron and the pole — Hang to your line till all is blue Either kill him or he kill you We want a man upon the docket To go ahead like david Crockett -- Promoting men at our expense Takes our dollars with our pence Besides it throws our work away This thing For sure will never pay — To see the whales was once the cry They are here where e're you turn your eye They have raced for rise to sitting sun Been on a dozen and killed but one — To man that’s taught in a bowhead school Will find himself here but a fool Read and Circulate