#captain's logbook

[dxppercxdxver]

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anyway!! age of sail heads get in on this!! thank you!! i love you!!

[falcie5]

[kaijuboarcreations]

Quotes from Relic for the EOS Logbook @thunderversary-rewatch-party

Scott: What do you think of our chances Captain?

Capt Taylor: 73?

Scott (muttering): oh ok 73

Scott: Which way??

***

Scott: I'll drive! ............ on second thought I don't know what any of this does.

***

Capt Taylor: So tell me again which one's Max?

Scott: You didn't read the list did you?

Capt Taylor: I'm not much of a reader.

Scott: It's five names on a piece of paper...

[quatregats]

I'm rereading Master and Commander and I'm deeply in danger of just posting every single passage from it ever but I did love the way that the capture of the prize in Chapter 6 was framed on either side by the logbook's entry, and also the way he transitions out of it to set the scene and tone:

Sunday, July 1 … Mustered the ship’s company by divisions read the Articles of War performed Divine Service and committed the body of Henry Gouges to the deep. At noon dº weather. Ditto weather: but the sun sank towards a livid, purple, tumescent cloud-bank piled deep on the western horizon, and it was clear to every seaman aboard that it was not going to remain ditto much longer. The seamen, sprawling abroad on the fo’c’sle and combing out their long hair or plaiting it up again for one another, kindly explained to the landmen that this long swell from the south and east, this strange sticky heat that came both from the sky and the glassy surface of the heaving sea, and this horribly threatening appearance of the sun, meant that there was to be a coming dissolution of all natural bonds, an apocalyptic upheaval, a right dirty night ahead. The sailormen had plenty of time to depress their hearers, already low in their spirits because of the unnatural death of Henry Gouges (had said, ‘Ha, ha, mates, I am fifty years old this day. Oh dear,’ and had died sitting there, still holding his untasted grog) – they had plenty of time, for this was Sunday afternoon, when in the course of nature the fo’c’sle was covered with sailors at their ease, their pigtails undone. Some of the more gifted had queues they could tuck into their belts; and now that these ornaments were loosened and combed out, lank when still wet, or bushy when dry and as yet ungreased, they gave their owners a strangely awful and foreboding look, like oracles; which added to the landmen’s uneasiness.

[...]

Jack leant back against the curved run of the stern-window and let Killick’s version of coffee down by gulps into his grateful stomach; and at the same time that its warmth spread through him, so there ran a lively tide of settled, pure, unfevered happiness – a happiness that another commander (remembering his own first prize) might have discerned from the log-entry, although it was not specifically mentioned there: 1/2 past 10 tacked, 11 in courses, reefed topsail. AM cloudy and rain. 1/2 past 4 chase observed E by S, distance 1/2 mile. Bore up and took possession of dº, which proved to be L’Aimable Louise, French polacre laden with corn and general merchandise for Cette, of about 200 tons, 6 guns and 19 men. Sent her with an officer and eight men to Mahon.

[tenth-sentence]

I dared not go below, I dared not leave the helm so here all night I stayed, and in the dimness of the night I saw It – Him!

"Dracula" - Bram Stoker

[mindless-sailor]

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃⋆｡About Me｡⋆𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆞

𓆉𓆝𓇼𓆟 𖦹°‧𓆝𓆡𓆜

☆This IS a NSFW blog so MDNI!

☆Pronouns are they/them, but you can use “he” sparingly

☆Transmasc nonbinary

☆19

☆beginner photographer

☆mandatory dni list: TERFs, Minors, cis/straight men, homophobes, transphobes, zionists, racists, ageless blogs, pro ED/SH blogs, age play blogs, shota/lolicons, Dd/lg or mm/lg, and others.

[I am trigger happy with the block button, don’t test the waters.]

☆My asks are currently: OPEN

☆My DMs are currently: OPEN

[Please please be respectful in my DMs. I am a human too. Do not come full frontal at me expecting a therapist or straight away being sexual. I will not be put into a corner, you will be blocked.]

[With asks, please stay within the boundaries that I will place further in the introduction. I’d love to have regular anons and visitors but too much will be too much. TRY not to spam ask.]

☆I am NOT looking for someone to be romantically involved with.

☆CIS AND STRAIGHT MEN are not welcome to interact. I do apologize but I have had nothing but unpleasant interactions with them. Everyone under the trans umbrella are welcome however. I love y’all <3.

﹏𓊝﹏

𓇼 As stated before this is a kink blog. Sensitive topics will be discussed. 𓇼

☆I am a switch first and foremost, so most of my content will be all over the place.

Content warnings:NSFW TOPICS?

[G]-> Giving

[R]-> Receiving

[Green(very much yes!)]:Back-handed praise/normal praise[G/R], orgasm control/denial[R], overstimulation[G/R],light bondage [G/R],knives [G/R], public play/teasing [R], free-use/possessive ownership [R], objectification [G/R], corruption [G/R],oral-fixation [G/R], light cnc [R], blood kink, gun kink [G/R], masks, “stupid mutt” but not in the pet play way in the “you’re fucking pathetic and desperate” way yk? [R], Somno [R], cockwarming [G/R], breeding [G/R], Biting/marking [G/R], divinity/worship [G/R], temperature play [G/R]

[Yellow (willing to try)]: Long lasting sessions [G/R], spanking [R], predator/prey [G/R], pictures/videos during sex [G/R],Stalking [G/R],Mommy/daddy (title only) [G/R]

[red (hard no’s)]: toilet play, scat, piss, raceplay, ageplay, morally incorrect situations, heavy impact play, intense pet play, tickling, cheating, feet, rape, vomit, pregnancy fetish, dykebreaking, detrans, sneeze, feederism/ED kink, etc.

I have no struggle with kink shaming.if you pull this shit, there is no remorse.

☆Pet names I’m cool with and highly encourage: sweetheart, baby, pretty boy, good boy, doll, mutt, darlin, lovely, masculine terms of endearment or compliment

☆pet names I’m NOT cool with and are not groovy: slut, anything feminine, really mean ones?

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

Tags

#sailor screams - simply nsfw posts

#siren song - sweet but feral posts

#🪼 thoughts - reposts!!

#🌊 visuals - photo posts

#⚓️ thoughts - serious/vent posts

#captains logbook - answered asks

#crews cabin - my wonderful mutuals

🪼*ੈ｡𖦹°‧🫧⋅˚₊‧ 🐚

[bisexualshanks]

no wonder he always keeps that damn shirt unbuttoned it wouldn't fit otherwise

[nocternalrandomness]

ATP Aesthetics

[its-a-date]

Under way at 4 p.m.

"Dracula" - Bram Stoker

[mnkeydluffy]

i am not immune to the sabo luffy reunion i am on the floor sobbing

[dxppercxdxver]

clean forgot what goes on in 'yuh oh lads'... please do remind me at length?

oh em. oh sweet emmothy.

'yuh oh lads' is Technically my sharpefic document catchall title However it ALSO refers to a bonkers story that came to me in a wave of divine inspiration set right after sharpe's sword. which is. hey what if through a combination of rifleman harris's unkillable little scamp energy and richard sharpe's general wild emotional instability the two of them wound up fucking nastystyle at villafranca.

and also harris is transgender and sharpe is mortally wounded

and they have to Reckon with that :)

Unsurprisingly, Sharpe kissed like he fought, all brute force and astonishing power. Harris could swear he tasted blood as Sharpe slammed into him, knocking his head against the stone wall, tearing at his lip with chip-sharpened teeth. His calloused hands found Harris’s queue and yanked without second thought, while Harris scrabbled for purchase on Sharpe’s uninjured shoulder. Really, it should have been shocking that a man so near death’s door a mere two weeks ago should be threatening to take Harris with him, but this was Richard Sharpe. He had done far more in his career running on far less. Perhaps Harris ought to be grateful.

heehoo this fic is so awful i love it

[arkaiveofurown]

The Only Exception

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Reader

Trafalgar Law, usually reserved and distant, has never been one for physical affection. So why does he let you—naturally clingy and warm—get away with it?

Word Count: ~3,300

tags: clingy reader, fluff, shy law

my masterlist here ♡

The first time you reached for Law’s arm, it was instinctual.

You were walking back to the Polar Tang after a supply run—rain threatening in the sky, your boots slick on the muddy dock. He was a few paces ahead, as always, when you nearly slipped on a loose board. Reflexively, you reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his long coat.

His body tensed instantly, stopping in place.

“Sorry!” you blurted out, pulling back just as quickly. “Didn’t mean to—just almost slipped—”

He looked at you over his shoulder, unreadable as always, but his eyes lingered. His voice came cool and even. “Be more careful.”

That was all. No annoyed sigh, no irritated lecture. Just a flick of his gaze, then he kept walking.

But after that, he started walking beside you instead of ahead.

——

You were naturally affectionate, and Law had learned this within days of you joining the crew. It wasn’t flirtation, not always—it was just how you were. Warm. Familiar. Physical. The kind of person who bumped shoulders when walking, looped arms without asking, and leaned your head on someone’s shoulder without a second thought.

Tonight, after a long day at port, you dropped onto the seat beside Law in the ship’s library. He was already buried in a medical text, as usual. You nestled close without asking—your shoulder brushing his, your legs stretched beside his chair, your presence as calm as the sea outside.

Law stiffened slightly, his eyes flickering from the page. You didn’t see it, but the tip of his ear turned pink.

“Long day,” you sighed, yawning against his arm.

He didn’t say anything—just hummed faintly. The book lowered a little. Not all the way, just enough for him to glance sidelong at you.

He might not have known it, but the warmth of your presence seemed to calm him. In this quiet space, with only the faint sound of waves against the ship’s hull, he was willing to let you stay.

It was different when other people did the same thing. He’d immediately pull away or give a short, sharp remark.

The crew had learned that the hard way—particularly Shachi, who once tried to drape an arm around Law’s shoulder during a card game.

“Oi, get off me,” Law had snapped, clearly irritated. It wasn’t a playful tone, either. It was the kind of irritation that came from someone who didn’t like to be touched—especially by people who weren’t you.

You’d been watching, and when you saw Law’s discomfort, you’d laughed softly. He glanced over at you, eyes narrowed, as though trying to tell you, “Don’t start anything.” But you only smiled, your heart warm at the thought that, with you, it was different.

Now, when you reached to rest your cheek on his shoulder, he didn’t lean away.

Instead, his fingers twitched slightly against the edge of the book.

You didn’t need him to say anything. You could feel it—the way he held still for you, how he never once pushed you off. You weren’t sure if he liked it, but he let you do it.

——

The next day, you were helping Shachi in the storage bay, sorting spare tools and bantering back and forth. He said something stupid—something about using a wrench as a weapon in a bar fight—and you couldn’t stop laughing, slapping his shoulder and leaning against his back.

It was innocent. Harmless. Like how you treated all your close crewmates.

But someone else was watching.

Up on the walkway above, Law’s footsteps paused. He was heading to his quarters with a logbook tucked under one arm—but at the sight of you and Shachi, he stopped.

Just for a second.

Then, calm and deliberate, he called down, “Shachi.”

The crewmate straightened like a soldier. “Y-Yeah, Captain?”

“You’re behind on engine rotation reports. Five hours late.”

Shachi blinked. “Oh, I thought Penguin—”

“I said five hours late.” Law’s tone was even. Flat. Dangerous.

Shachi flinched. “Right! Right! I’ll get on that—sorry, Captain!”

He bolted from the bay, practically forgetting the wrench in his hand.

You turned toward Law, surprised. “Was he really late?”

Law didn’t look at you directly. “No,” he said.

You blinked. “So…?”

He adjusted the book in his hands, still calm. “Just tired of his voice.”

That was a lie. An obvious one.

Your brow lifted, but you didn’t press.

As he turned to walk away, his voice dropped—barely audible:

“Don’t lean on him like that.”

You stared.

But he was already gone.

And later, Shachi would mutter, “I swear I almost got Room’d into the freezer…”

——

Later that evening, the crew was winding down. You sat beside Shachi again, elbow-to-elbow, watching Bepo try to balance spoons on his nose.

Law sat at his usual corner seat—book in hand, drink untouched.

Then came the flash of blue light.

“Room.”

Suddenly, you were gone from the table and seated beside him.

The crew went quiet for a beat, startled. You blinked at your new surroundings.

“…Really?” you muttered, turning to Law. “You Room’d me?”

“You were in my seat,” he said blandly, not looking at you.

“This isn’t your seat.”

“It is now.”

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious.

Across the room, Bepo coughed pointedly. Penguin mouthed, jealous.

Law didn’t look your way, but his fingers tapped against the tabletop—close to yours.

You didn’t move away.

——

A storm rolled in that night—the Polar Tang rocked gently, water pattering against the hull. You found Law still awake in the infirmary, sitting near the window, watching lightning flash over the ocean.

He didn’t react when you entered, just glanced over.

“I thought you hated distractions,” you said softly.

“I tolerate some.”

You stepped closer, pulling your blanket tighter around your shoulders. “You can say you missed me. I won’t tell.”

His lips twitched. “I didn’t.”

You sat beside him anyway. For a while, you just listened to the storm.

Then, you reached out—slowly—and took his hand.

He didn’t move.

“Y/N,” he said quietly. “You really don’t notice, do you?”

You tilted your head. “Notice what?”

He stared at your joined hands. “That I only let you touch me like this.”

Your heart stuttered.

“You think I’d let anyone else pull this clingy crap?” he muttered.

You blinked, caught off guard by the statement. “…I didn’t think you liked it.”

“I don’t,” he said immediately.

There was a pause. His mouth opened like he was going to say something else—then closed again. He shifted his weight, suddenly restless.

“…But I like you.”

The world seemed to slow.

You stared at him, wide-eyed. For a second, you weren’t even sure you heard him right. Law didn’t say things like that—not plainly, not easily. But there was no mistaking the way his gaze dropped, or the faint flush climbing up his neck.

“Wait—what?” you said softly, heart hammering. “Say that again.”

He stiffened, eyes snapping back to yours, and in that exact moment, you saw the regret flicker across his face. Like he wished he could suck the words back in, stuff them into a drawer and lock them away.

“…Say what?” he asked, but his voice lacked its usual edge.

“That you like me,” you said gently.

He turned his head away, one hand flexing at his side. “…You misheard me.”

A smile curled at the edge of your mouth. “Liar.”

A long, tense silence.

Then finally, he sighed. “You’re persistent.”

“I am,” you agreed, stepping closer.

He didn’t move.

“I’m annoying,” you added, pressing your palm to his chest.

He looked down at your hand. “Definitely.”

“And clingy.”

“The worst.”

You leaned up, whispering against his jaw. “But you still like me.”

He hesitated.

Then, barely audible: “Yeah. I do.”

You smiled.

“Then prove it.”

And this time, he kissed you first.

——

Not much changed after the confession—at least not in public.

You still clung to Law whenever you felt like it. When no one was looking, he’d reach for your hand first. He’d Room you to his side without a word. Let you nap on his chest, fingers tracing his tattoos like they were secret maps made just for you.

And one day, when you leaned teasingly on Shachi during a crew card game, Law didn’t interrupt.

He just walked over, placed a quiet hand on your shoulder, and spoke without looking at anyone.

“She doesn’t belong to anyone else.”

You turned, startled by the sudden words.

Law met your eyes. Calm. Certain.

“Only exception,” he murmured, so soft only you could hear.

You stared at him, heart skipping. Then you smiled—slow, warm, full of affection—and leaned into his side where he let you stay, unbothered and unwavering.

Captain Trafalgar Law might not have liked touch.

But with you?

He made room.

[mydearlybeloathed]

"do not kiss me again"

Whenever you leave a room, you leave a kiss on Zoro’s cheek. It’s become such a habit that you do it without ever thinking (and he’ll deny everything, but he leans toward you when he sees you get up to leave).

Sometimes you did it without ever saying a word, eyes still on the logbook Nami had you double check as you stood to put away your coffee mug. Zoro, still sat in the chair beside yours, barely acknowledges as you cradle the back of his head, angling his cheek toward you to press a chaste kiss there. 

It’s somewhat of a ritual, a way for affection to be shared without the need for words, which neither of you were particularly good with. Sure, the crew rolled their eyes and gagged nearly every time, but they thought it was sweet for the most part (save for the stupid cook).

Luffy would think it's sweet too, if he actually understood, that is. He knows you and Zoro are exclusive cause you love each other and all that jazz, but he doesn’t get that the affection you’ll show each other is reserved for that type of relationship. So after the first ten times he sees you leave a kiss on Zoro’s cheek as you leave a room, he assumes this is some new thing to do. A new way to say goodbye.

Safe to say, Usopp was less than receptive to his farewell leaving breakfast that day.

“Gah! Luffy!”

“They started it!”

You froze at the sink, trying so very hard to not smile, but then you looked at Zoro, and laughter bubbled out of you. “Luffy—” You giggled “—that’s a me and Zoro thing. Like, a me and Zoro thing.”

He blinked slowly, nodding even slower. “Psh, I knew that.”

Usopp was still wiping his cheek with his napkin, shooting his captain a narrowed look. “Do not kiss me again.”

[inseobts]

weird request but reader biting laws ear like to mark him??? not in a sexual setting like in a cute way..weird but cute

Bite-Sized Affection

law × gn!reader

words count: 1.0k

tags: established relationship, fluff, affectionate biting

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

“You’re gonna what?”

Law raises an eyebrow, pen paused mid-sentence, the logbook in front of him left hanging as he gives you the look... somewhere between exhausted and amused, like he’s still deciding whether to sigh or smirk.

You stare him dead in the eye “Bite your ear.”

He exhales, slow “Why?”

“Because I love you,” you say, far too casually, leaning forward over the arm of the couch in his quarters, your chin on your folded arms “And also, your ear looks biteable.”

Law stares.

You grin.

“…That’s not a reason,” he mutters, but there’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth. He’s pretending to go back to his writing, but he’s not fooling anyone. You see the flush crawling up his neck, just barely “You’re weird.”

“You’re dating me.”

“I’m reconsidering.”

“No, you’re not.” you chirp, and without another warning, you lean forward and gently nibble at the shell of his ear. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to leave a ghost of teeth, like a kitten might.

Law flinches “Oi—!”

“Shh. I’m marking my territory.”

“You’re not a dog.”

“Cats do it too. And I’m cuter.”

He groans and drags a hand down his face, leaning away but not too far “This is why I don’t let you into my office during reports.”

“But I’m your emotional support gremlin.”

“And yet, I still write in peace before you show up.”

There’s a knock on the door. Law glares at it like it offended him personally.

Shachi sticks his head in “Captain, you—”

Then stops. Blinks. Eyes you, your suspicious proximity to Law’s head. Eyes Law, who looks mildly exasperated and a little pink in the ears.

“…Did you just bite him again?”

“Maybe.”

“Again?!” Penguin yells from the hallway.

“I’m closing the door now.” Law mutters.

“Marking her territory again—” before they can finish the door shuts with a loud thunk.

You hum, pleased, and lean back against the couch like you’ve done nothing wrong.

Law sighs “You’re gonna drive me insane.”

“You love it.”

He glances at you, expression unreadable “Unfortunately.”

“They’re doing it again” Shachi stage-whispers, crouched behind a crate with Penguin like they’re on a stakeout.

Bepo, sitting calmly with a cup of tea, sighs “They’re not doing anything bad.”

Penguin peeks over the crate “That’s your opinion.”

From their vantage point on the deck, they have a perfect view of you casually sitting next to Law, who’s trying to read. Trying being the key word.

You scoot a little closer.

Law glances at you “Don’t.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re thinking about it.”

“Maybe.”

Law exhales slowly, eyes flicking back to his book “This is harassment.”

“This is love.”

“Your love is invasive.”

You grin “It’s customized.”

And then you lean in and bite his ear again.

It’s soft, playful. Familiar. Like a ritual at this point. Your teeth graze gently against the top curve before you pull back, satisfied.

Law doesn’t even flinch this time, just closes his eyes and mutters “You’re gonna start a rumor.”

From behind the crate “TOO LATE!”

You both look up.

Shachi waves “Hey Captain, if you wanted us to stop walking in on this, maybe lock the door!”

“This is the deck” Law says, tone flat.

“You knew the risks!” Penguin yells.

Bepo takes another sip of tea “I warned them not to follow you around.”

You chuckle and lean into Law’s side “You didn’t stop me.”

“I’ve stopped trying” Law replies. But his voice is softer now. Quiet. You can feel the warmth radiating off him even though he pretends to be annoyed.

You rest your head on his shoulder “You love it.”

“Again, unfortunately.”

The crew watches in stunned silence as their stoic captain doesn’t push you away, doesn’t scold you, and instead just… lets you stay there.

“Holy crap,” Penguin whispers “Y/N has domesticated him.”

“He’s been bit into submission,” Shachi says, sounding half-impressed, half-disturbed.

“I think it’s cute” Bepo offers.

Law groans “I’m moving the ship without any of you on it.”

You smile “But then who’ll watch me bite you?”

His glare could kill a man. It never works on you.

You’re lying on the deck this time, sprawled across Law’s lap like you have zero sense of personal boundaries, which is fair, because you don’t.

He’s trying to act uninterested, one hand flipping through a medical journal, the other resting idly on your back like you’re a cat that wandered into his life and refused to leave. You’ve been there for twenty minutes now, quietly humming to yourself.

The sun’s warm. The waves are calm. The ship rocks gently beneath you.

You stretch like a satisfied houseplant “You know what I haven’t done today?”

Law doesn’t look up “Bitten me?”

You sit up, mock-gasping “How’d you know?”

“I live in fear.”

“You live in love” you correct.

He finally looks down at you, unamused but soft around the edges “You bite me again in front of the crew, and I’m gonna perform minor surgery in your sleep.”

You narrow your eyes playfully “You wouldn’t.”

He tilts his head “Try me.”

The tension doesn’t last. You grin, lean in and he braces for it but instead of biting, you just press a gentle kiss to his ear. No teeth. Just warm, solid affection.

Law blinks.

“…Huh.”

You pull back “What?”

“I was expecting fangs.”

“Trying something new,” you say innocently “Call it character growth.”

He stares at you, eyes narrowed. Then, finally, he chuckles under his breath. A real one, rare and genuine.

“Disappointing” he mutters.

You smirk “Yeah? So you liked being bitten…”

You lean in and give his ear one last bite.

Soft. Familiar. Yours.

Law groans “You’re impossible.”

“Yet deeply lovable.”

“Debatable.”

“Not to me” you say.

And he doesn’t say anything else, just threads his fingers through yours as the sun starts dipping low.

From somewhere behind the mast “They’re doing it again” Shachi whispers.

“I bet she’s biting him right now.”

“Bepo owes me five berries.”

Law raises his hand and flicks a middle finger toward the mast without looking.

You laugh.

And maybe that’s how it is with you and Law, chaotic, weird, full of strange little rituals and soft silences. But it works. In your own language of teeth and teasing and unspoken love, it works.

[gav-san]

Who's your Daddy? (Beckman Is)

Main Masterlist Here

One Piece Masterlist

Who's Your Daddy Masterlist

Who's your Daddy: Benn Beckman Length: 500 Words You are not good with words.

Aboard the Red Force, somewhere between nowhere and trouble…

The sun spilled across the deck in lazy sheets of gold. The ocean stretched out in every direction, glittering like a drunk god had scattered diamonds across it. The crew lounged in their usual post-job glory, half-drunk and wholly obnoxious. Meat sizzled on a spit. Ale sloshed over the rims of wooden mugs. Shanks was already barefoot and grinning, daring someone to arm wrestle him using only their toes.

You had your boots up on a crate, pretending to read a logbook while quietly timing how long it would take before someone started a drinking contest, a shouting match, or a spontaneous musical number involving a barrel and a mop.

It began, as most disasters did on this ship, with Lucky Roux.

He sat cross-legged beside the fire pit, chewing on something suspiciously shiny and waving a turkey leg like a gavel.

“Alright. Serious question. No lying. No thinking. Just gut reaction.”

Yasopp groaned. “That’s never once ended well.”

Roux grinned, looking around at the crew. “Who’s your daddy?”

Someone shouted, “The sea!” Another offered, “Shanks!”

Laughter rippled across the deck.

And without hesitation, without thought, without any self-preservation whatsoever, you replied aloud.

“Beckman.”

The world stopped moving.

Silence dropped like an anchor. A fork clattered to the floor. A barrel stopped mid-roll. Even the gull circling overhead gave up and flew away.

You blinked. Your mouth was still slightly open. Your soul tried to climb out through your spine.

Across the deck, Benn Beckman looked up from cleaning his rifle. His expression didn’t change, but the raise of his brow was slow and deliberate. It was the kind of expression that caused earthquakes in bureaucracies. He was watching you now.

Shanks nearly fell over.

“Beckman?!” he coughed. “Seriously? What the hell!”

You scrambled for cover. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant authority. Like… command structure. You know. Leadership.”

Yasopp lost it completely. “Oh no. Don’t even try to walk that back.”

“You said it like it was burned into your DNA,” Roux cackled.

Shanks pointed accusingly. “I’m literally your captain. What does he even have that I don’t?”

“Dignity,” someone muttered from the rigging.

You covered your face. “I hate this ship. I hate all of you.”

Beckman stood. It wasn’t dramatic. He moved the way he always did, with the weight of quiet inevitability. The crew parted as he walked, still snickering. You were considering diving overboard.

He stopped in front of you.

“You know,” he said, voice low and maddeningly calm, “if I actually were your daddy, you wouldn’t be allowed to talk to me the way you do.”

Your soul left your body.

Somewhere behind you, Shanks screamed.

Beckman’s smirk widened just slightly as he turned and walked away, the sea breeze tugging at the edge of his coat like it was proud to know him.

The crew erupted. The teasing was immediate and merciless. Yasopp dubbed you “Little Miss Beckman” on the spot. Shanks protested so loudly that the figurehead vibrated.

You didn’t live it down for the rest of the month.

[tenth-sentence]

His stronger nature seems to have worked inwardly against himself.

"Dracula" - Bram Stoker