#cruise ship for ducks!

[suckmyskinnyballsmia]

So I was scrolling on Facebook (I only scroll at like 1-3 am) and I came across this picture and it got me thinking!

We need a cruise ship for ducks! 🦆🛳️🦆🛳️🦆

Think about it…

We get a cruise ship, (it can be on the smaller end because like they’re ducks, and humans are bigger than ducks)

We make it duck friendly! (We take out most of the human things that ducks don’t need, but keep the cute stuff like comfy chairs for them to take pictures on)

We do a test inspection (with a mama duck and a bunch of cuties aka baby ducks)

We staff it (with 2 vets just in case, and some duck lovers)

We record it! (Get the running and tapping of the little feet on the different floors and we can see what they like about there vacations)

Send it on an actual cruise with actual people that love ducks and just chill with ducks for a vacation!

And it shall be called: “The duck boat”

Ok have a good night 💖

(It’s 3:51 am in January 2024)

[bob3160]

Quack Quack Waddle - The Carnival Duck Hunt Craze

[ltwilliammowett]

Glossary of Nautical Terms - as used in the late 18th and early 19th centuries

Aft: at or towards the stern or after part of a ship, the opposite of bow.

Aloft: overhead, or above.

Athwart: across.

Bank: a rising ground in the sea, differing from a shoal, because not rocky but composed of sand, mud or gravel.

Becalmed: to halt through lack of wind.

Bow: the foremost end or part of a ship, the opposite of stern.

Bowsprit: a large mast or piece of timber which stands out from the bow of a ship.

Burthen: the older term used to express a ship's tonnage or carrying capacity. It was based on the number of tuns of wine that a ship could carry in her holds, the total number giving her burthen.

Chase, to: to pursue a vessel in wartime with the aim of capturing, acquiring information from her, or destroying.

Colours: the name by which the national flag flown by a ship at sea is known, used to determine nationality.

Dead reckoning: a system of navigation where the position of a ship is calculated without the use of any astronomical observation whatever.

Fair wind: a wind favourable to the direction a ship is sailing.

Fathom: a measure of six feet, used to divide the lead (or sounding) lines in measuring the depth of water; and to calculate in the length of cables, rigging, etc.

Fore: the forward part.

Hail, to: to call to another ship.

Helm: the instrument by which the ship is steered, and includes both the wheel and the tiller, as one general term.

Jib: a triangular sail set by sailing ships on the boom which runs out from the bowsprit.

Jury-mast: a temporary makeshift mast erected to replace a mast that has been disabled or carried away.

Jury-rudder: a makeshift arrangement to give a ship the ability to to steer when she has lost her rudder.

Keel: the lowest and principal timber of a wooden ship - the single strongest member of the ship's frame.

Knot: the nautical measure of speed, one knot being a speed of one nautical mile (6,080 feet) per hour. As a measure of speed the term is always knots, and never knots an hour.

Landfall: the discovery of the land.

Land-locked: sheltered all round by the land, so that there is no view of the sea.

Lead: an instrument for discovering the depth of water, attached to a lead-line, which is marked at certain distances to measure the fathoms.

Lee: the side of a ship, promontory, or other object away from the wind; that side sheltered from the wind. It is the opposite side to windward.

Lee shore: a coastline on to which the wind blows directly - consequently it can be dangerous as the wind tends to force the sailing ship down on it.

Leeward: with the wind; towards the point to which the wind blows.

Letter of Marque: a commission issued in Britain by the Lord High Admiral or Commissioners of the Admiralty authorizing the commander of a privately owned ship to cruise in search of enemy merchant vessels. The letter of marque described the ship, her owners and officers, the amount of surety which had been deposited and stressed the necessity of having all prize vessels or goods seized condemned and valued at a Vice Admiralty Court for the payment of 'prize money'.

Lie-to: to prevent a vessel from making progress through the water - achieved by reducing sail in a gale. The objective is to keep the vessel in such a position, with the wind on the bow, as to ensure that heavy seas do not break aboard.

The Line (or 'Crossing the Line') Sailing across the Equator. Nautical tradition where seamen celebrate the crossing of the equator by dressing up and acting out a visit by King Neptune. Those who have not previously crossed the line are summoned to the court of Neptune for trial, followed by a ritual ducking (in a bathing tub of seawater) and sometimes lathered and roughly shaved.

Mainsail: the principal sail of a sailing vessel.

Mizzen (or mizen): the name for the third, aftermost, mast of a square-rigged sailing ship or of a three-masted schooner.

Muster: to assemble the crew of a ship on deck and call through the list of names to establish who is present and accounted for.

Muster-book: the book kept on board a vessel in which was entered the names of all men serving in the ship, with the dates of their entry and final discharge from the crew. It was the basis on which victuals were issued and payment made for services performed on board.

Pintle: a vertical metal pin attached to the leading edge of the rudder; it is fitted into the metal ring or 'gudgeon' bolted to the sternpost of a vessel. This provides the means for hinging the rudder on the sternpost and allows a rudder to be swung or turned as desired (by use of the tiller); where necessary (ie. when the rudder needs to be removed or repaired) the pintles can be unshipped quickly and the rudder detached.

Port: the left-hand side of a vessel as seen from the stern; also a harbour or haven.

Privateer: a privately owned vessel armed with guns which operated in time of war against the trading vessels of an enemy nation. Each privateer was given a a 'letter of marque' which was regarded as a commission to seize any enemy shipping as a 'prize'. The name 'privateer' has come to refer to both the ship and the men who sailed in her.

Prize: name used to describe an enemy vessel captured at sea by a ship of war or a privateer; also used to describe a contraband cargo taken from a merchant ship. A 'prize court' would then determine the validity of capture of ships and goods and authorize their disposal. 'Prize' in British naval history always acted as considerable incentive to recruitment with many men tempted to join the navy in anticipation of quick riches.

Prize Court: Captured ships were to be brought before prize courts where it was decided whether the vessel was legal prize; if so, the whole value was divided among the owners and the crew of the ship.

Prize Money: the net proceeds of the sale of enemy shipping and property captured at sea - these proceeds were distributed to the captors on a sliding scale from highest rank to lowest seaman.

Road or Roadstead: a stretch of sheltered water near land where ships may ride at anchor in all but very heavy weather; often rendered as 'roads', and does not refer to the streets of a particular port city but rather its anchorage, as in 'St Helens Roads', the designated anchorage for shipping located between St. Helens (Isle of Wight) and Portsmouth, or 'Funchal Roads' at the island of Madeira. (see Elizabeth Macquarie's 1809 Journal).

Quarter: (1)the direction from which the wind was blowing, particularly if it looked like remaining there for some time; (2)the two after parts of the ship - strictly speaking a ship's port or starbord quarter was a bearing 45° from the stern.

Ship: from the Old English scip, the generic name for sea-going vessels (as opposed to boats). Originally ships were personified as masculine but by the sixteenth century almost universally expressed as as feminine.

Shoal: a bank or reef, an area of shallow water dangerous to navigation. Sounding: the of operation of determioning the depth of the sea, and the quality of the ground, by means of a lead and line, sunk from the ship to the bottom, where some of the sediment or sand adheres to the tallow in the hollow base of the lead.

Sound: (1) to try the depth of the water; (2) a deep bay.

Sounding: ascertaining the depth of the sea by means of a lead and line, sunk from a ship to the bottom.

Soundings: those parts of the ocean not far from the shore where the depth is about 80 to 100 fathoms.

Spar: a general term for any wooden support used in the rigging of a ship - includes all masts, yards, booms, gaffs etc.

Squall: a sudden gust of wind of considerable strength.

Starboard: the right-hand side of a vessel as seen from the stern.

Stern: after-part of a ship or boat.

Tack: the nautical manouevre of bringing a sailing vessel on to another bearing by bringing the wind round the bow; during this manouevre the vessel is said to be 'coming about'.

Tide of Flood: the flow of the tidal stream as it rises from the ending of the period of slack water at low tide to the start of the period of slack water at high tide; its period is approximately six hours.

Trade Winds: steady regular winds that blow in a belt approximately 30 N. and 30 S of the equator. In the North Atlantic the trades blow consistently all year round, from the north-east; in the South Atlantic they blow from the south-east, converging just north of the equator. The meeting of the trade winds just north of the equator created the infamous 'doldrums', where sailing ships could be becalmed for days or weeks waiting for a wind to carry them back into the trades.They were known as trade winds because of their regularity, thereby assisting sailing vessels in reaching their markets to carry out trade.

Under way: the description of a ship as soon as she begins to move under canvas power after her anchor has been raised from the bottom; also written as 'under weigh.'

Voyage: a journey by sea. It usually includes the outward and homeward trips, which are called passages.

Watch: (1) one of the seven divisions of the nautical day; (2) one of two divisions of the seamen forming the ship's company.

Wear: the nautical manouevre of bringing a sailing vessel on to another tack by bringing the wind around the stern.

Weather: in a nautical sense (rather than a meteorological) this is the phrase used by seamen to describe anything that lies to windward. Consequently, a coastline that lies to windward of a ship is a weather shore; the side of a ship that faces the wind when it is under way is said to be the weather side a ship, etc.

Weigh: to haul up.

Weigh anchor: the raising of the anchor so that the ship is no longer secured to the sea or river bottom.

Windward: the weather side, or that direction from which the wind blows. It is the opposite side to leeward.

Yard: (1) a large wooden spar crossing the masts of a sailing ship horizontally or diagonally, from which a sail is set. (2) a shortened form of the word 'dockyard, in which vessels are built or repaired.

Sources: JEANS, Peter D. Ship to Shore: a dictionary of everyday words and phrases derived from the sea. Santa Barbara: ABC-Clio, 1993.

The Oxford Companion to Ships & the Sea. (ed.) Peter Kemp. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1976.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

A friend of mine loves cruises and every time she goes on one, she orders a bunch of assorted rubber ducks, b/c apparently, it's customary to hide them all over the ship for others to find.

[sporesgalaxy]

hey I updated the Pierre Document. The document with all the information about which version of events I consider canon to Pierre. the Pierre document where i write down random shit all the time. that document.

posting this as im on the verge of passing out so i dont have time ti regret it yayyyyyyy

•••

Pierra's family are avid travelers, possible for mild-mannered citizens like them due to their home island Old Tool's status as a travel hub and their family history of working in the Marine shipbuilding and sailing industry. Thus, Pierra being taken along on a pleasure cruise with the rest of her family would be an unheard of luxury in most of the world, but it wasn't originally all that big a deal to Pierra.

Things took an unexpected turn after the cruise ship Pierra was on had already crossed the Grand Line (using sea prism stone technology) and entered the East Blue.

Since the East is supposedly the safest of the four blues, the hired Marine guards were lazy in their security measures, drinking and partying to congratulate themselves on crossing the Grand Line without incident.

Therefore the ship's protectors were woefully unprepared when the Buggy Pirates suddenly attacked! The Pirates were on their way to Reverse Mountain, and energized after reuniting with their captain and escaping Marine custody!

The pirate attack happened while Pierra was avoiding her family (and especially her mother) on a quiet part of the ship and quietlt spiralling into despair about how she has no idea what to do with her life. The terrifying pirate attack was almost a welcome distraction.

With no one she knew close at hand to worry about the safety of, Pierra's first instinct was to hide, and she was scared enough to employ the devil fruit powers she swore never to use in order to hide in an impossibly small space! This gambit backfired however, and to Pierra's acute horror, her hiding spot inside a crate of alcohol was taken aboard the Big Top as loot.

Pierra managed to stay hidden as a stowaway on the Bigtop for at least a couple of weeks. Then, the Buggy Pirates met Portugaz D. Ace, who managed to be the first person to notice the giant red centipede sneaking around the ship. Luckily for Pierra (who spur-of-the-moment decided to go by Pierre and "pretend" to be a guy), Ace is nice and believes Pierre when he says that he never meant to cause any trouble. And luckily for the Buggy Pirates, Pierre is down to his very core desperate for approval and has a lot of chitinous helping hands he's delighted to lend as long as you tell him he did a good job.

--------

Tiny Pierra lets ants crawl all over her. She watches them tear apart a dying grasshopper in the garden, piece by piece.

Pierra looks with wonder in her eyes at a rotting fish covered with maggots. At a dead baby bird that fell from its nest too soon. At a bag full of bloody ducks her father shot.

Pierra gets too upset sometimes, and too frightened frequently.

Pierra hides as often as possible.

When Pierra starts getting big, she wishes she was still small. She used to like squeezing into tight spaces; inside a box, under a small desk, under a bed. She doesn't fit anymore. Sometimes she feels like she's stopped fitting anywhere at all.

Pierra sneaks into other people's rooms when she's alone in the house, just to look around without disturbing anything. Just to hear the silence.

Pierra takes food she is not supposed to eat, just to get away with it. Just to test how far she can go without being noticed. Just to be unnoticed and forgotten on purpose, instead of as a reflex.

When Pierra is 16, she goes to the market with her mother. While her mother speaks to someone, Pierra breaks off a tiny piece of the most interesting fruit at the stand. No one notices her do it this time. Pierra chews and swallows the piece of fruit, and it tastes bad, but Pierra is pleased to have learned what it tastes like without permission.

Later that evening, alone in her room, Pierra thinks she is dreaming, or maybe losing her mind. She wonders half-heartedly if the fruit was poisonous and she is dying-- but she doesn't want to disturb anyone if she's wrong again.

So, she does what she always does when she thinks she is losing her mind: distracts herself and waits for it to pass.

It passes, eventually, but this won't be the last time. She learns that it's not madness, but the curse of a Devil. She learns she can't swim anymore. She prays for forgiveness. She tells nobody.

When Pierra gets too upset and admits it her mother a year later, she is begged never to transform again. To hide it forever, for her own safety. Human traffickers could be anywhere, her mother says, and Devil Fruit users fetch a high price. Pierra promises to keep hiding. Pierra wonders if it will be easier now, having someone who understands.

Pierra's mother goes back to acting like nothing ever happened. It doesn't get much easier.

---

"It'll be okay," says Pierra's mother gently, drawing her daughter into her arms. Pierra wraps her arms around her mother as well, because she is supposed to.

"We'll figure this out..." her mother continues, "...we can fix this."

Pierra stares over her mother's shoulder as she feels the last remains of her hope crumble away in silence.

That's it, then. Despite everything, despite so many years of cyclical disappointment and pain... Pierra's mother would not give up on "fixing" her.

She and her mother had been repeating this painful exercise for Pierra's entire life. Over and over, every year, every month, every week, for as long as Pierra could remember.

Pierra is so tired of trying to be fixed. She is tired of trying to be something she isn't. She is tired, so so tired, of letting down people who see something in her.

She had hoped that after such a spectacular failure as this one, her mother might finally give up on fixing her. She had hoped that her mother might start trying to learn how to forgive her, instead.

That hope was gone now.

Now, Pierra can see that her mother will never stop waiting for someone less disappointing to take Pierra's place. Pierra can see that her mother's pity will always be directed at the less disappointing person Pierra is certain she can never be.

Wrapped in her mother's arms, Pierra has never felt more alone.

"We'll figure it out together," her mother adds, squeezing Pierra's shoulders tighter.

----

Humans have to be taught everything. We're very good at learning. It's what we evolved to do.

Some animals have to be taught how to do things. How to hunt, where to go.

But many animals exhibit behaviors that are never taught to them.

Humans have a precious few. Holding our breath underwater, hanging on with our arms.

The less social the animal, the less learning it tends to do.

The more its behavior is ruled by instinct.

-----

Most Observation Haki users learn to tune out the auras of nonaggressive bugs, consciously or unconsciously.

Otherwise, their senses would be overwhelmed by spiritual "noise" from hundreds of tiny auras. The glut of information can make it harder to notice actual threats, and the easiest solution is to ignore typically irrelevant details-- i.e., bugs.

It's something like mentally tuning out the sound of cicadas in a forest when you are listening for a distinctive bird call.

In his centipede form, because of his skittish nature and typical lack of malicious intent paired with centipede instincts from his Zoan abilities, Pierre's aura usually registers as a genuine nonaggressive bug aura. It can therefore go easily overlooked, despite Pierre's large size.

Like if our proverbial birder was listening for bird calls, but Pierre was a bird whose call almost perfectly mimicked a cicada.

It takes a very skilled Observation Haki user and a very sharp mind to take in ALL auras in an area without tuning out small details like harmless bugs. To these sort of people, centipede Pierre can be detected just as well as anything else, and his large size will even cause him to stick out.

In the cicada metaphor, these people are sharp enough to identify any bird calls and count the number of cicadas calling at the same time. And Pierre sounds like a cicada...but not a species of cicada the expert listening recognizes. Thus, Pierre sticks out.

Pierre's attitude can also ruin his bug aura camoflauge. If he is too focused on anything besides his own survival, his aura ceases to be nonthreatening or buglike enough and he will no longer go overlooked.

For bird-Pierre, this would be like accidentally letting out a distinctly bird-ish squawk rather than the mimic-cicada call.

-------

B: [unlocking a chest] This poster better be the best thing since sliced bread or I am completely SCREW--

[Pierre is revealed to be inside the chest. Buggy gawks at him.]

P: I- I know how this looks!

P: But it's not the same as last time!! I'll leave as soon as I--!

B: [snotty, sobbing, frantically grabbing Pierre's shoulders] NO!!!!!! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!!!!

P: !!!! [Pierre is wide-eyed and speechless]

B: [stops sobbing] wait a second.

B: [shaking Pierre by his lapels, angry now] Where the HELL have you been, Chucklehead?!!!

P: [being comically shaken around too much to form a response]

B: I haven't seen you since we got arrested on--!!!

B: [stops shaking Pierre, squints at him] .....OHHHHH.

[Pierre has no idea whats going on, is still being grabbed by the lapels]

B: [angry smile] [lets go of P and crosses arms] I see what happened!!!!

B: [vindictive] The government took back your pardon because they abolished Warlords!

B: [pokes Pierre in the chest] So after two years of thinking you're BETTER than me,

[Pierre's eyes widen]

B: You had no choice but to come crawling back!!! [flicks Pierre's nose] GYAHAHAHAA!!!

B: [patting Pierre's head condescendingly] Don't worry Chucklehead, I won't make you grovel. Much. [mean grin]

P: Wait, what?! [earnest] I-I'm not-- I don't think I'm above you, Buggy!! That would be crazy!!

B: [smug aura cracks slightly] Eh?

P: [sheepish] I'm surprised you even remember my name! A famous pirate like you must meet so many amazing people, I didn't think I'd stick out at all...

[Buggy gets smug again, and a bit flustered]

B: Well, heh heh...

B: [remembers he's mad] Then why'd you ditch me?!!

P: I-I didn't ditch you!

B: Like hell!!! All the Buggy Pirates got pardoned when I became a warlord, but YOU never came back!!

P: Because I'm not a Buggy Pirate?! I was a stowaway!

B: [gawks again, like "are you serious??"]

P: ...you...wanted me to come back??

B: [dodging the question] YOU'RE DODGING THE QUESTION!!!

B: What were you even doing for th last two years that was so much better than ME-- MY CREW!!!!!!

[FLASHBACK PANEL: Pierre on the Snail. He is saying "No, Mom-- I-- I DO want to be here. The science is really interesting, I just--"]

P: ...Well, keheh... [drags hands down face] ...Ugh. Trust me, I did NOT wanna be there.

P: So, when the navy caught the Buggy Pirates, they saw my Devil Fruit power.

P: [before Buggy can ask] I know I told you I've had this since I was a kid, but I never used it before I was with you. It was always this big secret.

P: Anyways, I was really afraid that I'd get in trouble for hiding it, so I told them I got the Devil Fruit on your ship and that I was a hostage.

[Buggy squints at Pierre. It's a good thing Buggy likes him and is exactly as cowardly]

P: They believed it, and I was hoping they would just let me go home, but they really wanted my Zoan powers, so I ended up stuck with the Marines...

[FLASHBACK PANEL: Marine representative says "You've got a unique ability, Ms. Pierra. Opportunities like this shouldn't be wasted! Please, consider our offer, at least--" Pierre interrupts: "I'll do it." He looks terrified and miserable as he says it. What's his problem?]

P: And that's where I've been for...two whole years.

[FLASHBACK PANELS: Pierre thinking "I have to get out of here." "I hate this." "I can't do this anymore." Pierre talking on the snail again, "Yeah, I'll look into research positions." "No, I haven't looked yet." "I've been really busy..." "I just haven't gotten around to it." "I still wanna do something different."]

B: Okay. So how the hell did you end up in my closet???

P: Uh.

P: They sent me with the guys who were supposed to arrest you, actually, but I ditched them.

[FLASHBACK PANEL: Pierre is on a Marine ship looking miserable and indecisive. Suddenly it is chopped in half by Crocodile. Pierre survives by hiding in a barrel & manages to paddle ashore.]

B: And you snuck all the way in here? On an island full of bounty hunters??

P: [manic grin] ...I guess!

P: I'm kind of just trying to not die right now!

P: Thanks for not killing me, by the way! Kehaha!

B: Kill you?? Of COUUURSE not, Pierro-chan!!!

B: [claps Pierre on the back] Why would I kill my own PERSONAL bodyguard!!!

P: ........HUH?

[charcubed]

This show using rubber ducks (with a quacking choral music track in the background) as a method of giving us “you need to know yourself” and “you need to open up to others” character messages for its mains is exactly why it is both so deranged and so brilliant lmaaaoooo

So off the top of my head we have...

Tristan “wears his heart on his sleeve” Silva being the only one of the throuple to paint his duck and then proceed to share things about himself because he knows himself well? Checks out.

Avery not ever painting the ducks but still ultimately using them as an attempted means of communication in a halfway sort of way, while she's trying to determine who she is and what she wants in life? Checks out.

Max never, at any point, utilizing the ducks as a means of sharing about himself... RANTING about how horrible the very existence of the ducks is... and then pulling a dangerously swallowed suppressed extra special duck out of the guts of a guy who is A) running from real life via cruise ship adventures with his wife who's also in denial and B) almost dies from swallowing things down instead of dealing with his issues?? UHHHH. YEAH. CHECKS THE FUCK OUT.

[felicity-worthington]

Why is “Doctor Odyssey” a television show that very cleverly shows the depth of the human condition?

So, I have seen some people say that Doctor Odyssey is fun (especially because of Ody3) but also just a superficial show with no plot and I have to politely disagree. I think this show is the opposite, it's just supposed to look silly and superficial at first glance, as you can see when they repeat the phrase "we constructed a paradise" in the weekly recaps.

It is supposed to look like that, it is the idea of a cruise itself, for a week you escape the real world, you enter a new constructed one, which is supposed to be paradise without problems. But here's the thing, here is why there's a doctor and two nurses on this ship: it's just an idea, it's not real.

We especially see this in the episodes "I Always Cry at Weddings" and "Quackers" and of course in the main storyline of Max, Tristan and Avery navigating their relationship and their constant struggle with what they really want in life.

Let's start with "I always cry at weddings" to deconstruct the idea of superficiality with the weekly funny themes and the show only being silly because it's quite obvious here I think. I mean, a man commits suicide in this episode because he's deeply conflicted about what he really wants out of life and how he thinks there is an incurable darkness within him. And we see him, his bride and his best man as an example of how this construction, this idea of heteronormative happiness is just that for a lot of people: just an idea that doesn't guarantee you happiness, but actually destroys lives (not everyone's, of course). And we start this episode superficially, with a couple about to get married on a cruise, the perfect wedding in perfect paradise. But as the episode progresses, we see the cracks and then it gets very real. The scenes with the groom breaking down in the infirmary, the bride talking to Avery and Max after the suicide and her mother's confession are all absolute tearjerkers in the best way. I mean, watch that scene and then tell me again that this show is just a silly Riverdale for adults:

This is actually one of my favorite scenes of the show because the delivery of the line "we need to help this boy" is just perfect, the actress did an amazing job. Also, the character herself says "she pretended her fears away", which underlines the show's idea that this is a paradise where people should just forget their worries, but actually real life catches up with you no matter where you are, you cannot hide from it.

The other example I was thinking of is the latest episode with the Quackers community, which is super silly in a lot of ways and I love that, don't get me wrong.

And then you have this older couple, the leaders (?) of this community, who seem extremely superficial and silly, I mean, going on cruises to go on a quack treasure hunt? So silly. BUT then the cracks start to show again as one of them, the husband (I don't know what his name was, so I'll just call him the husband and her the wife), shows a serious condition, the compulsive urge to swallow objects. When confronted, the wife literally denies it, unable to face the ugly truth. In her world everything is perfect, she and her husband are on a never-ending treasure hunt on paradise cruises, and when something real, something problematic threatens that, she can't accept it at first. And we see that again later in the episode when she refuses to leave the ship:

She wants to stay in paradise, in denial, on the surface. But that's not possible, you can't ignore real life:

But this is her and her husband's dream, an endless paradise in search of ducks, and it's hard to let go and take a deeper look at life and accept that floating through life is a nice idea and might work for a while, but it can't go on forever:

regarding her husbands condition:

Once again the theme of what we want (superficial) and what is really going on (what is behind the construction of paradise) is mentioned.

All of this, and all of the recurring themes I mentioned, are also at play with the three main characters and their constant struggle with what they really want out of life. In a way, their calling to help people is fulfilled by their professions, but then they keep asking themselves, "Is this enough? Is this what I really want out of life, taking one cruise after another?

The theme of constructed ideas versus what is actually going on is also seen in their throuple situation. Max and Tristan have probably always seen themselves as straight, and now they are getting a deeper look at who they are and what they really want out of life. And that is scary, and it often takes years to deconstruct habits and self-image.

But there is no unnecessary weird teenage drama in this show, it is very real. It is supposed to look superficial, you only have to look a little closer to see that it is not.

So once you deconstruct the idea that this is all superficial, you will see that yes, it is silly, so is life and we need those silly and funny moments in life and in this show, but it is also very, very deeply human in many tragic but also good ways.

[phatburd]

On the first day of my cruise, I found a cruise duck. What is a cruise duck?

I'm on the Crown Princess.

I'd also bought a hardcover copy of one of my fanfics, with the intent of leaving it behind in the cruise ship's library.

It's a fic close to my heart, and one that's easily accessible with only bare-minimum knowledge of Star Trek, and no knowledge at all of the other fandom it's fused with (The Old Guard, if you're wondering).

Here's a note I wrote for anyone who might find my fic in the ship library.

It's not unusual for guests to take books and leave their own books behind on their trips as a sort of exchange.

I tucked the duck's tag in to my fic and left it for someone to find. I hope someone out there enjoys it. 👋

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

This fulfills both my BuckTommy agenda and my Chimney and Tommy are besties agenda. It's Fluffebruary Day Eleven: Double Date! Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary, and you can read this on AO3 over here.

It’s Howie who suggests he and Tommy take their Buckleys out together, and Tommy is happy to go along with it. He and Howie have been occasionally meeting up for a beer or coffee ever since the cruise ship rescue, and they’re currently sitting next to a playground while Jee-Yun goes down the same slide over and over. She lands about four feet from them and waves every time until she runs back to carefully climb the steps back up.

“What are you thinking?” Tommy asks, swirling the last of his coffee in its paper cup to mix it before taking a swig.

“LA County Fair is coming up. You ever go?”

Tommy snorts softly and nods. “Yeah, with Ben.”

“Yeah, fuck that, we’re making new memories,” Howie says, making a face. He’d heard about Tommy’s last serious relationship in all its toxic glory after he’d cornered Tommy in a CVS to ask why the hell he’d been ducking Howie since his and Evan’s (thankfully temporary, then current) break-up. “Just do not tell my daughter, because we’re taking her in a couple weeks and she’s gotta think it’s the first time or she’ll look at me with big, sad eyes.”

“I’ll take it to my grave,” Tommy vows solemnly, and Howie claps him on the shoulder.

They settle back and watch Jee-Yun, happily taking compliments from a couple of other parents and nannies on how sweet their daughter is.

“Yep, we love her, she’s our little angel,” Howie says, putting an arm around Tommy’s shoulders and squeezing.

“Absolutely,” Tommy agrees readily, squeezing Howie’s knee. “Been that way since the day we brought her home.”

“Uncle Tommy!” she shouts, running full-tilt toward them and catching herself on his knees. “Swing?”

“Swing,” he confirms, scooping her up and messily kissing her cheek as she squeals with laughter. “Let’s see if we can get you to go all the way around in a big circle.”

Howie jumps to his feet. “Let’s not do that.”

Tommy turns his own big, sad eyes on Howie as he backs toward the playground. “But Da-ad.”

“Tommaso Gianni, you better not break my daughter.”

Jee-Yun gasps and looks at Tommy. “Uh-oh.”

“First and middle name? I know,” he says gravely. “Okay, we’ll carefully swing.”

She pouts and throws her arms around Tommy’s neck. “Oka-ay.”

He happily pushes her on the swing until Maddie shows up with Evan, both of them having had lunch with their parents. Tommy bites back a grin when he sees the confusion on the faces of the people who’d approached him and Howie as Maddie greets her husband with a kiss.

Evan walks over and waves. “Hey, guys!”

“Uncle Buck!” Jee-Yun shrieks, and Tommy barely has time to catch the chains of the swing to stop it before she launches herself off of it to run to Evan’s waiting arms. He picks her up and kisses her cheeks before settling her on his hip.

He’s listening to her recap about the caterpillar she found when they’d arrived and asking her questions about what it looked like and is in the middle of telling her what kind of moth it’ll probably turn into as he reaches Tommy.

“Hey,” he says, kissing him on the corner of his mouth. “We swinging?”

“Yep, but we’ve been restricted to safe swinging,” Tommy says, and Evan makes a face. “Right? Howie doesn’t know that this girl’s ready to fly.”

“Alright,” Evan says to a captivated Jee-Yun, sitting on the swing. “Here’s how we’re going to do this. You’re gonna hold on real right, okay? And then Uncle Tommy is gonna push as hard as he can.”

She nods and wraps her arms around Evan, and he holds the chain of the swing with one hand and wraps his other arm around her. When he’s settled in, he backs up until he’s almost standing up straight.

“Alright, launching in five, four, three, two, one!”

With that, he pushes off, and Tommy grins when she shrieks with laughter. He pushes them carefully, not wanting to risk Evan losing his grip, but Evan’s pumping his legs to build up a little more height.

“So are you guys poly or—”

The question catches him off-guard, and he looks sheepishly at the nanny who’d been talking to him and Howie earlier.

“No, that’s my boyfriend’s brother-in-law,” he explains. “We were, uh, just messing with people.”

She snorts and shifts the toddler she’s carrying to her other hip. “You guys are going to be the talk of the playground for a couple days. Please don’t clear things up with anyone else, I live for this kind of thing.”

“Uncle Tommy is slacking!” Evan calls over his shoulder.

“Uncle Evan can chill,” Tommy says, stepping back into position.

When they’re ready to hop off, Evan dramatically “jumps” as the swing is coming to a stop, and Maddie comes over to offer her daughter a bag of pretzel chips and some water.

“What’s this I hear about a double date?” she asks, plucking two pretzel chips out of the bag and handing one to each of them.

“Yep,” Tommy says, popping the snack into his mouth. “Tomorrow, actually. Details to follow.”

He gives a meaningful glance down to Jee-Yun, who’s looking up at them as she sips her water. Later, when they’re in Evan’s Jeep and away from little ears, Tommy asks him how he feels about the fair.

“Oh, man, I am so winning you a bear,” Evan says, grinning.

“Uh, I think I’m going to be winning a bear for you.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“I’m one half of the organizing party, it’s my responsibility—”

“To buy me a funnel cake and hold my hand on—actually, no, no ferris wheel.”

Tommy shudders. “Yeah, nothing that, uh, leaves the ground.”

They bicker about who’s responsible for winning stuffed animals for who all the way back to the loft.

–

His last trip to the fair really had been a disaster. Ben had complained about the price of food, Tommy had ignored every attempt at initiating conversation about them attending Ben’s high school reunion, and they’d ended the night in silence and with headaches.

This time, Maddie is six months pregnant and devouring every bit of fair food she can get her hands on, Howie has had three different face painting artists have a go at him and now looks like Spider-Man/Darth Maul/a butterfly depending on which third of his face you’re looking at, and Evan is carrying a stuffed puppy under one arm and has a weird monkey puppet looped around his neck. Tommy has a pink bear the size of Jee-Yun under his arm, and he feels like he’s going to be sick if he eats anything else that’s been fried.

“Alright, funhouse, funhouse, funhouse,” Evan chants.

“Absolutely not,” Maddie says around a fried Oreo. “But you guys enjoy yourselves.”

They hand off their stuffed prizes to Maddie and Howie and run into the funhouse. It’s very old and mostly full of spinning platforms and moving walkways and some mirrors, and Evan has them stop and take a picture in every single one. After, they spot the haunted house and manage to entice Howie and Maddie into joining them on that one because it involves sitting down.

It’s so much goddamn fun. Howie and Tommy hang back while Maddie and Evan try to do a game that involves rubber ducks, both of them sipping on overpriced beer.

“You know, Maddie told me they never went to a fair when they were kids,” Howie says. “Danny was too sick, then everything after. Isn’t that wild?”

Tommy knows he means that it’s something else and nods. “Means we should probably take them every year to make up for it.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

They clink their plastic cups together and exchange grins.

“State fair up in Sac when the kids are old enough,” Howie decides. “Or if we can get a babysitter for the weekend.”

“I know a cheap pilot.”

“Oh, don’t call yourself that, honey,” Howie coos, pinching his cheek.

“Stop flirting with my boyfriend,” Evan says, pressing a small, squishy dinosaur against Tommy’s chest. “Your move, Kinard.”

Maddie hands a Minion dressed like a pirate to Howie. “Meet your son.”

“Howard, Jr,” he sighs, petting its goggled eye happily. “Who wants to go scare the shit out of the person running that thing where you swing a hammer to hit a bell? I’m pretty sure they’ll cry when they see these two muscle-bound freaks.”

By the end of the night, they’re tired and all leaning against each other and carrying more stuffed animals than any four adults should ever own. The big, floppy elephant that Evan is hauling is Tommy’s personal favorite. He also has a tote bag over each shoulder with crafts, trinkets, snacks, and random spice and tea blends from vendors.

“We should do a Ren Faire,” Evan suggests.

“Oh, my god, Jee as a little squire or a princess,” Maddie whines, burying her face in her stuffed shark. “Honey, please.”

“Yeah, alright,” Howie says, leaning in to kiss her hair. She’s already got grease paint smudged on it and her face from him, so she’d stopped batting him away hours ago.

They get to Howie and Maddie’s car, since paying for parking twice had sounded like a terrible idea, and they get a ride back to Tommy’s house.

“We’re the fucking kings of double dates,” Howie says, reaching back to bump Tommy’s fist before they get out of the car. “But maybe just dinner and a movie next time.”

“Go big or go home, Han.” He swoops in for a kiss to Maddie’s cheek and climbs out of the back seat, joining Evan in gathering their prizes from the back of the car. “Alright, let’s get them settled into the guest room.”

They arrange their prizes on the bed and Tommy takes a picture of the frankly ridiculous army they amassed, though there’s one more soldier on his side than Evan’s thanks to that game where you shoot water into a hole to win a horse race. They’d been so close to winning a bear as big as Maddie, but he’s a little glad they didn’t. He doesn’t even know where he’s going to keep all of these and imagines the toy drive will be getting a sizable stuffed toy donation once he lets their friends’ kids pick out a favorite to adopt.

The elephant and bear are staying with them, though.

[oopsallturtles]

I love it when everyone takes the time in the middle of a fight to tell Mikey he's doing a good job.

Now, it's pretty obvious that Mikey is super supportive of his bros,

BUT HIS BROTHERS DO THE SAME THING FOR HIM AND IT'S THE CUTEST THING!

When he threw an entire cruise ship at Shredder?

"Whoa..." "That's amazing, Mikey!"

Look how proud Raph is!

And even when they were taking over the technodrome and all Mikey did was duck at the right time which led to Brother Krang accidently knocking himself out, what does Donnie take the time to say?

"Bravo, Mikey!"

He gave him the credit without hesitation. Told him his instincts were spot on and he made the best move.

You're doing great, little bro! Keep it up! 🧡

[peapodbond]

that was us part eight

aka fuck it friday

tagged by @leashybebes

skipping ahead a few parts because i can and i want to. aka 7x05 as seen through the lens of the former fiancee/current besties abbysaltommy text thread

abby texting, tommy texting, sal texting

so, how was the first date?

turns out evan is not out to anyone.

it was his first 'date with a dude', but he's an ally.

sounds like a train wreck. (sorry, abby)

that part was oddly okay? it was adorable.

his best friend showed up at the same restaurant on a date with his girlfriend. evan said that we were 'going to pick up hot chicks later'.

i ducked out of going to the movie and just went straight home after dinner.

sal, cue us up a grindr best of lineup.

wait, i want to know what tommy said about the hot chicks.

not proud of it but i made a closet joke. the friend's girlfriend is moving in so it wasn't out of nowhere. i don't think any of them caught it, actually. but it made me feel a little better.

that's my boy!

you're a menace, sal. at least it was on the first date, tommy? it could have been worse.

mm. this feels like a sign that i should take a break from dating.

as opposed to the absolute bevy of dates you've been on recently?

sal, don't be mean. when was the last time you went on a date?

all right you two, no infighting. as fun as it is to watch you argue, i'm here for some moral support.

we can do that. hey, at least you can use the helicopter rescue to land dudes.

helicopter rescue? what helicopter rescue?

it's not a big deal.

tommy flew into a fucking hurricane and found a capsized cruise ship.

oh my god. days like this i miss la. nothing like this ever happens in phoenix.

i'm lucky i didn't get fired, okay? and we are not doing a grindr lineup. one bad date is not going to get me back on the apps.

you get one week to mope and then we're going for drinks and you're flirting with someone at the bar.

that's not a bad plan, sal. i approve.

at what point do i get a say in this?

you don't.

you don't.

their text thread sits quiet for a few days and abby debates asking tommy for more details. between jordan and marcus he hasn't had much to smile about, and even though he'd only met evan two weeks ago, the way that he'd talked about him… she'd really thought that tommy's luck was about to turn around.

they're driving tess to tucson for a college tour when she finally has enough time to text tommy separately.

it was one bad date abby, i'm fine.

yeah, but you liked him. like, really liked him.

i've really liked a few guys. and i've survived. we didn't even know each other for a full month. he'll just be a great kiss and a fun evening and that's the end of it.

a great kiss, huh?

i already told you that.

let's talk once we're back from the college tour? it's been a while.

sure, but you're signing up for a party viewing of love, actually.

double feature with die hard?

…evan just texted me.

what did he say?

do you want me to go fight him.

he wants to meet for coffee.

you should do it!

hm. at least you get a free cup of coffee. he is buying, right?

sal. yes, he's buying. i really liked him, you know? up until the hot chicks it was the best date i'd been on in… a while.

definitely go, tommy. you haven't said you had the best anything in a long time. abby thinks the last time she heard tommy say something was the best he'd ever had it was when she still lived in la (but after they broke up). if it's not great, it's just coffee. it's only going to be an hour or so.

i feel like someone should play devil's advocate but abby's got a point.

sal, how about i text you if i need you to fake an emergency and leave?

no, don't approach this like it's going to go badly!

works for me. i've always got you on speed dial, buddy.

you can hide any pitchforks the two of you might have found.

so it went well?

the question is how well it went.

sal.

sal.

what? just because he's not out doesn't mean they couldn't have some fun.

he actually did come out? to his best friend and his sister. we're going to try again and go on another date.

where's he taking you?

better be somewhere fancy.

i am not telling either one of you where it is. one of the delucas would try and pop up to spy on us.

i'm in pheonix, you can tell me separately.

it would be gina. definitely. she's small and sneaky.

they're not even denying it. you can find out where we're going after he's actually out to everyone.

sal, don't ruin this for us.

what? i'm being supportive.

so where's the date?

i'm not telling you.

why not?

because you'll tell gina and gina will tell sal and someone's going to pop up like a demented jack in the box.

i resent that implication.

because it's true?

see if i watch another romcom with you, tommy kinard.

that's a dirty lie, abby clark. listen, if we survive the second date then maybe i'll tell you two snoops more about him.

i'll let gina know ;)

i always regret introducing you two.

me and gina or me and sal?

all three of you.

here's hoping date number two is better than date one.

your lips, god's ears, etc etc.

[rhiannonsknife]

── I JUST WANNA BE A GOOD PASSENGER

— summary: sweetpea book 2&3 spoilers!! you work aboard the cruise ship rhiannon takes to flee the uk.

— warnings: implied canon typical violence. based on the third book. fem!reader. nsfw content. mdni.

the woman has been watching you for days.

you first noticed her during a busy afternoon in valencia, three days ago. the deck was packed with passengers, soaking in the sun and sipping overpriced cocktails. you were darting between tables, balancing trays and weaving through conversations in a dozen different languages when you felt it: an itch between your shoulder blades, a weight that told you someone was watching.

you glanced up and spotted her immediately: seated in the corner, a half-empty glass of something expensive in her hand, her head tilted slightly as if to study you. unable to help yourself, you held her gaze for a moment too long, long enough to see her lips curl into the faintest smile, sharp and knowing.

flustered, you ducked your head and focused on clearing plates, trying to shake the feeling that she’d seen right through you.

the next day, in mallorca, she was there again.

you were restocking the bar during the afternoon when you saw her sitting at the counter. she was sipping her drink slowly, her gaze fixed on you like she had nothing better to do. you’d felt heat creeping up your neck as she raised her glass in a silent acknowledgment.

by the time the ship reached marseille, her presence was impossible to ignore.

the stranger seemed to be everywhere: perched on a chair on the upper deck, strolling through the dining room during your shift, lingering at the bar long after most passengers had retired for the night. and always, always watching you.

at first, you chalked it up to curiosity.

passengers often watched the staff with a detached kind of interest, a casual pastime during their endless hours on deck. but this woman was different. her gaze wasn’t idle or distracted; it was sharp, focused, and unrelenting. it followed you as you moved through the room, as if she was waiting for something. something only you could give her.

now, as you work your shift in the lounge, you catch her watching you again.

she’s sitting in her usual corner, her glass held delicately between two fingers, her gaze fixed on you.

it doesn’t help that she’s beautiful. this exact woman -with hair that falls in flawless waves, a silk blouse pressed to an almost eerie sharpness, and an accent that would probably sound sexy if it wasn’t so obviously fake- has been looking at you like you’re the only thing in the room worth seeing.

it’s unnerving. and, if you’re being honest, a little thrilling.

“excuse me, could you bring me another drink?” she’d asked earlier, flashing you a too-wide smile that made your heart stutter in your chest.

you’d nodded and rushed to fulfill her request, grateful for the excuse to get away from her penetrating stare.

you can’t put your finger on why she unsettles you so much. perhaps it’s because she reminds you of someone. someone from a story on the news, or maybe from a true crime podcast you half-listened to on a rare day off…

the thought doesn’t fully take hold until later, when you’re wiping down a table and catch her watching you again. this time, she doesn’t even bother to look away when your eyes meet. she raises her glass in another mock toast and winks, as if to say, i see you, too.

that’s when it clicks.

rhiannon lewis.

you’d seen her face all over the news just days before boarding the ship: a story about a woman linked to a string of gruesome murders back in the UK.

but it couldn’t be her, could it? rhiannon lewis, whose name is still dominating all english speaking news channels on the cruise, wouldn’t be sipping cocktails on a luxury ship like she’s not the most wanted woman in england, would she? not with her face plastered all over international media.

and yet.

you can’t unsee the resemblance now. the sharpness of her cheekbones, the way she carries herself, and the unsettlingly fake australian accent she’s been using all night.

you tell yourself to let it go. she’s a guest, a passenger. it’s not your job to interrogate her about her past or her identity. you’re here to serve drinks, clean rooms, and, in a best case scenario, collect tips, not solve crime cases.

still, when your shift ends and you’re on your way back to your quarters, your steps falter outside her room. it’s a line you know you shouldn’t cross. using what you’ve picked up from cleaning service schedules to linger here is against every rule, spoken or unspoken.

your shift is over and the night is supposed to end with you back in your cabin, decompressing with a book or a podcast (or, truthfully, with your hand shoved between your thighs and the imaginary voice of a certain someone in your ear…).

your feet carried you here anyway, like on autopilot. like something inside you wanted to see where this might go.

before you can knock, if you would’ve found the courage to knock at all, the door opens.

she’s standing there in a silk robe, her hair loose and shimmering under the dim corridor light. her smile, that exact same, perfect curve of her lips grows wider when she sees you.

“well, well,” she purrs, her accent still awful. “fancy seeing you here. i wasn’t expecting room service at this hour…?”

“i wasn’t-“ you falter, words stumbling under her gaze. “i didn’t mean to-“

she knows. she obviously knows.

“didn’t mean to what?” she interrupts, tilting her head like she’s genuinely curious. “stand outside my door looking like a deer in headlights? or…” she steps aside, gesturing you inside with a slow wave of her hand. “were you planning to come in all along?”

you should leave. there are at least a hundred reasons for you turn around and walk away. rules about professionalism, the nagging suspicion in the back of your mind that this woman isn’t who she claims to be…still, your feet move forward.

she shuts the door behind you, the click of the lock oddly loud in the small space.

“you’ve been staring at me,” she says, leaning against the wall casually. it’s not a question either, she’s stating facts. “not very subtle, are you?”

“i wasn’t staring!” your protest sounds weak even to your own ears, and her smirk widens.

“oh, you absolutely were,” she says, her voice dropping an octave lower smoothly. “i’ve seen that look before, you know…?“

her words send a jolt through you. her accent, on purpose or not, has slipped back into the standard british you’re used to. you step back instinctively, only to find the edge of the bed pressing against the backs of your thighs.

the woman moves closer, closing the distance between you in an instant. “what’s your name?” she asks.

you hesitate, your mind scrambling for a reason to leave. but then her hand brushes against yours, just the ghost of a touch, and every coherent thought slips away from you.

“what’s yours?” you counter.

“hilary,” she says with a sheepish smile, the name rolling off her tongue like she doesn’t even believe it herself.

“hilary,” you repeat slowly. the way she watches your mouth when you say it makes your skin prickle.

in the light of her cabin, she looks even more like the woman from the news. the resemblance is striking to a point where you genuinely wonder if it’s physically possible to look so much like rhiannon lewis without being her.

her gaze remains on your lips shamelessly. when she leans in, your breath catches in your throat.

“you’re not supposed to be here,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat. you wonder if it would make a difference at all if she really was rhiannon.

“neither are you,” you reply, aiming for something. a confession, maybe, a sign that your suspicions are true. the words hang in the air between you like a challenge.

she smiles, pleased with your sudden boldness. if you’re challenging her, then she’s accepting.

her hand brushes your cheek, calloused fingers tracing a line down to your jaw, and you shiver under her touch.

“i think we’re going to get along just fine” she murmurs, the rasp in her voice even more prominent now that she’s no longer bothering to keep up the australian accent.

when her lips finally meet yours, it’s not tentative or unsure. it’s possessive, demanding, all tongue and teeth, and you’re helpless to do anything but kiss her back.

her hands fall to your waist, urging you closer by your uniform, which suddenly seems too itchy and tight. too restricting. you don’t resist until her body is flush against yours. and even then, the world outside this room ceases to exist. the ocean that’s gently swaying the ship, the rules and etiquette about staff and passengers, even the unsettling familiarity of her face: all of it fades into the background.

you gasp into the woman’s mouth, which she uses as her opportunity to deepen the kiss and lick past your lips.

when your back hits the edge of the bed, she presses you down onto the mattress. the silk robe she's wearing parts slightly, brushing against your bare skin, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

her weight settles over you, not crushing, but deliberate, and her hands are everywhere: tracing the curve of your waist, sliding up your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. every touch is calculated, purposeful, and it sets your nerves alight in ways you didn't expect.

"hilary," you murmur, the name foreign and clunky on your tongue, as if it doesn’t quite suit her. you can’t put a finger to it.

she pauses, her lips hovering just above yours, and for a moment you think you've said something wrong. then she smirks. "not thinking of backing out now, are you?"

you immediately shake your head, unable to form proper sentences. she takes that as permission, leaning down to kiss you again, slower this time. her lips move against yours with a practiced ease, like she's done this a hundred times before.

simultaneously, her hands slide under your shirt, fingers grazing the bare skin of your stomach, and you shudder at the coldness of her touch. but then something makes you hesitate-something subtle but impossible to ignore:

as her hands move higher, you notice the slight swell just above her hips, the faintest curve that doesn't quite match the rest of her frame. it's soft, tender in a way that feels out of place with the sharpness of her movements, and when your fingers brush her there, she freezes.

her eyes snap up to meet yours, and for just a heartbeat, the confidence she's been exuding all night falters.

"is that-" you start, but she cuts you off with another kiss, more desperate this time, as if she could silence the question before it fully forms.

you don't push it, though your mind is racing. the swell beneath your hand feels fresh, like the aftermath of something recent, and the pieces start clicking together in your head. the halfhearted accent. the overly polished mannerisms. the way her eyes dart around the room like she's always on edge. and now this.

rhiannon lewis, so you’ve heard, left a newborn behind.

you don't pull away. instead, you soften your touch, letting your hands rest against her sides in a way that feels less curious and more grounding.

she notices the change, her body relaxing slightly, and when she pulls back to look at you, there's something vulnerable in her eyes that wasn't there before.

"don’t," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "don’t look at me like that”

"like what?"

"like you know me at all,” her gaze hardens again, the mask slipping back into place.

you hesitate for a moment, searching her face for something, anything, that might tell you what to do next. but all you see is the same hunger, the same desperation that's been driving her from the start.

so you kiss her again. not because you've forgotten the truth, but because -for some reason you can't explain- it doesn't matter.

her hands are on you again, tugging at your clothes with a kind of urgency that makes your head spin.

when she finally pulls away, her breathing ragged and her lips swollen, she looks at you expectantly. with nowhere to be and the urge to feel more of her, your fingers reach for the robe she’s wearing. it’s doing a terrible job of hiding anything at all anyway. you might not have given yourself permission to blatantly stare before, but now that she -rhiannon, hilary, whoever this stranger may be- is on top of you, there’s no stopping your wandering hands and eyes.

you don’t need to push the fabric off of her to see the outline of her full breasts, her hardened nipples or the fact that she’s only wearing a pair of panties underneath. you do it anyway, satisfied with the shiver that runs down her spine as her bare skin is revealed to you.

she is beautiful. even more so, now that there’s nothing restricting your view anymore. you can look right at her; at the swell of her chest and the marks on her belly that you can’t help but trace with the tips of your fingers. above you, she gasps breathlessly and your eyes instantly dart in her direction, just to find that she’s watching you already, lips parted, eyes hooded as your hand trails upwards.

you don’t falter, looking right at her the first time you touch her, fingers gently squeezing one nipple between them until she starts rocking her hips against you.

moving lower once you’re satisfied with how hard it’s grown to the touch, you whisper: “can i..?”

the woman, who must’ve been on the verge of getting lost in the sensation of your stimulation, looks down at you momentarily. then, her palm pushes you back into the mattress. you bounce on it with the force of her push but hilary rhiannon doesn’t give you any time to catch up. instead, she shifts her weight to her knees and brings one hand to the headboard above you.

“i’ll sit on your face” she says, stating it like it’s a fact. “can you use that pretty mouth of yours?”

mere minutes later, and your find yourself in that exact position.

your fingers are digging into the soft flesh of hilary’s rhiannon’s thighs, your tongue lapping up the arousal that’s dripping from her cunt, down her thighs, and all over your face.

even from this angle and the little you can see, she looks beautiful: her bangs are clinging to the sweat on her forehead, her brows furrowed in pleasure and her lips parted.

you don’t mind the weight resting upon your face. if anything, you enjoy the pressure of her knees on either side of your face, the way she drags her wetness across it until your nose is nestled against her clit and your tongue is buried deep inside her.

you must be covered in her, at this rate, your whole face glistening with her arousal. you can feel it in the way her skin slides against it, taste it all over your mouth.

hilary rhiannon is throbbing, against and around you, dripping more with each pulse of her cunt.

“fucking god-“ she moans from above, wrecked with the pleasure you’re providing. you wonder how long it’s been since somebody has touched her, fucked her like this.

rhiannon’s legs are trembling around your head, knees pushing deeper into the sheets.

with the little that remains of your professionalism, you're aware that she's being too loud for the thin walls of the cruise. and while you know she shouldn't be drawing any unwanted attention to herself, you can't bring yourself to hush her. you don't care when her fingers yank you closer, deeper into her. you don't care when a satisfied sigh escapes her as your tongue delves further.

“right there” she whispers and your eyes catch the way rhiannon’s head falls back, though it’s hard make out the words over the obscene slurping noises from licking broad strokes through her pussy. “oh, fuck, yeah right there!”

she feels so good on top of you, you wonder if you could cum from nothing but your desperate attempts to rock your hips up into the nothingness between them and your body aches with the need to get yourself off. you don’t even have to check for yourself to feel the slick wetness that’s smearing across your own thighs.

rhiannon’s fist tightens in your hair, cradling you by the back of your head. you let her, gladly welcoming the way she maneuvers your lips until they’re exactly where she needs them, latching onto her clit.

“you wanna make me cum?” she coos.

you do, regardless of how badly you need to feel her touch too. rhiannon braces herself against the headboard, her upper body slumping forward so she’s looking right at you.

“mhm” you manage, involuntarily grinding against her, the shift making her bounce ever so slightly.

“oh that’s it!” rhiannon exhales in response, her lashes fluttering. you reach up, one hand daring to hold her hip as she begins to pick up the pace until she’s no longer sitting, but riding on your face.

“that’s it, you’re gonna make me cum!” she cries out between some incoherent words and soft moans.

naturally, you double your efforts, making sure you apply extra pressure against her clit where she’s rutting against your nose as you bury your tongue deep inside her hole all over again. that’s where she seems to like it the most, getting the loudest whenever you enter her.

the first thing you notice as rhiannon cums is the way she tenses. her muscles flex, closing in around your head, and tremble with the sudden tension. her back straightens too and even her jaw locks as she moves. with the last strength left in her, she rocks herself against your face to completion.

then, there’s the way her walls flutter around your tongue, the way her fingers tangle themselves up in the mess she’s made of your hair, the way her lips part in a silent scream before it all comes crashing down on her.

rhiannon’s whole weight collapses on top of you, her cunt throbbing the entire time that it takes for her to catch her breath.

you don’t take her for the cuddling type until she drapes her arms underneath your back and snuggles her face into the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply.

you wonder if she can smell herself there, now that she’s all over your face, or if it’s your scent she is inhaling. either way, you let her and slowly put your own arms around her.

it isn’t until rhiannon’s deep breaths have turned into shaky gasps and the bed gently creaks under the shift of her weight that you notice that she’s grinding against your thigh.

slowly, you lift your head from the mattress, catching a glimpse of closed eyes and parted lips.

“do you-“

“sh,” she harshly cuts you off. then, she blinks one eye open, looking the closest to apologetic you’ve eber seen her -which, truthfully, isn’t all that much.

“just…” rhiannon puts a hand down on your shoulder. “just stay there and…” whatever she was going to say morphs into a soft moan as she drags her center over the length of your thigh.

you can do that for her, you decide, but not without being just a little bit selfish in the process: rhiannon’s legs have fallen open around yours. with the slightest shift of your hips, so insignificant she doesn’t seem to notice, you’re pressed right against her thigh as well. you don’t even have to move, with rhiannon now steadily grinding, pressing herself further into you with every roll of her hips.

involuntarily, you whine and throw your head back into the pillows as she rocks against you.

you knew you were turned on before, but completely oblivious to how close you’ve gotten from her riding your face. now, with your clit rubbing against rhiannon’s skin through your underwear, you become painfully aware of it.

her lips trace your jaw, pressing against it before closing around the tender flesh and sucking.

how long would it take for her to draw blood like this? would she like to see you bleed for her? for your skin to bloom with reds and purples that her mouth left in its wake?

you don’t get a chance to find out, because rhiannon drops her forehead against your shoulder instead, grinding back and forth desperately.

“fuck,” you whine, unable to hold back. “fuck, fuck, fuck!”

rhiannon hushes you again, this time with a kiss. she must taste herself in your mouth because she eagerly licks past your lips for more.

it’s all too much to take; the flexed muscle of her leg against your clit, rhiannon’s spit mixing with the remains of her arousal on your tongue, the little noises she lets out with every roll of her hips.

at a particular good motion of her hips, you can’t help yourself anymore: you feel your abdomen coiling in pleasure suddenly, a ragged “rhiannon!” coming from your mouth as your soaked cunt contracts around nothing.

your fingers reach around her back, nails digging into her skin when you release through your underwear and all over her thigh.

whether it’s the sound of her name or the feeling of your orgasm beneath herself, rhiannon follows shortly after, cumming with a soft cry.

as she recovers from the second orgasm and you struggle to catch your breath, rhiannon stays on your chest.

she doesn’t ask you about the name. in return, you don’t ask for her real identity. whoever she is, you’re sure this is a thing that should remain unspoken.

“that was…” you finally manage, trailing off. your eyes are already scanning the space for the clothes you’ve shed. if you don’t pick them up soon, your uniform will get all wrinkled for the next shift.

“you’re not staying?” she asks, catching you off guard.

“i should be working,” you remind her, trying to move.

she kisses you again, holding on tightly. the first flight of panic you feel vanishes in an instant when you ask: “what is it?” and rhiannon responds: “hug.”

“i have to go,” you chuckle. you’ve already broken the rules by sleeping with a passenger. you can’t afford to fall in love with one, especially not her.

“i know, i know,” she mutters. “just for a bit. please?”

so you do, lying with her until her hold on you releases. you’re still the first to pull away.

“see you,” you can’t help but tell her once you’re dressed again.

“will you?”

“i clean your room once a day,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “i’m bound to!”

— a/n: i‘ve been waiting since november just so i could post this on january 8th 😭😭 (also i couldn’t find a good rhiannon picture for the header, but that one is so book-3-rhiannon-coded)

context: (massive spoiler warning!): in book 2, rhiannon gets caught and is forced to flee the country for a new identity. during the book, she’s pregnant with aj’s baby but decides to leave her daughter behind so she can continue killing. on the cruise, she pretends to be an australian woman called hilary.

[verefex]

Kraken's Cove

Short story where a stowaway meets the kraken himself, who turns out to be less scary than he initially thought.

Content warnings in the tags. Enjoy!

On a vessel cruising along the open seas, hid a stowaway. Tucked under a tarp in the dinghy that hung suspended by ropes and pulleys off the side of the traveling ship, a man rested quietly. After perusing the food, drink, and trinkets from the ship’s stores, he gathered up his haul in the small rowboat and hunkered down for the journey.

Swaying comfortably back and forth, suspended off the port side, Raphael, as the stowaway was named, was quite used to this sort of life. Sneaking his way onto sailing vessels docked at ports, he made his living by stealing. It was dishonest work, he knew that. But as he would often say, “pay your debts with the topsail”, fleeing across the wide seas was the life he was forced to choose.

Seagulls cried overhead as the ship’s wooden hull creaked and cut through the waves, lofty sails billowing in the sea breeze. The sun shined brightly in the blue sky overhead, not a storm cloud in sight over the deep, open ocean; a sailor’s dream.

That is, until a deafening impact sound is heard against the ship’s hull.

Almost immediately, the crew sprung to full alert, scrambling on the deck to man the sails and cannons. Raphael threw the tarp off of himself and held fast to the rowboat’s sides, green eyes wide under his headband and dark, wavy hair.

“That’s my cue.” He muttered as the ship’s crew prepared for attack, completely unaware of their rowboat quickly but silently being lowered into the water by the pulleys.

Raphael was no stranger to close calls and narrow escapes, it was often how he departed from his seaward journeys. From borrowing dinghies to diving into the foamy waters below and swimming to shore, he reveled in the calmness that came with the long journey. But for now, he was not about to go down with the ship.

“Kraken! It’s the kraken!” The voice of the captain bellowed from the decks. Raphael paused, holding fast to the ropes that suspended the rowboat over the disturbed waters below.

Now, it was common knowledge that sailors often told tall tales of sea monsters. Months at sea will do things to ya, was the common response, coupled with the solemn shake of the head. Ships went missing all the time, though that didn’t necessarily mean they were sunken by a leviathan.

And yet, as Raphael peeked over the side of the boat, staring deep below the waves and foam, he spied what could be described as nothing but an enormous snake.

A tentacle.

In a panic, Raphael grasped the ropes and shimmied the boat back up towards the deck, trying to get as far away from the water as possible. Though, as he approached the railing, his cover was nearly blown as a crew mate leaned over and pointed at the gargantuan form below the surface.

“Shit…” the stowaway hissed as he ducked back under the tarp just in time. His heart raced as he realized he was trapped between the deck of the ship and the watery grave just below.

The ship rocked suddenly, and the deck erupted in shouts as the monster’s tentacles surfaced, bright blue appendages thicker than a man was tall. Either side of the ship was grasped suddenly, one on each side, snaking upwards slowly.

Raphael peeked out from the tarp, unable to believe his eyes. The hull creaked and groaned under the weight of the massive tentacle that slithered along the surface, almost meticulously, like it was feeling around for something.

He was not about to stick around for this hellish leviathan to sink the ship. Such a giant creature would not be interested in a tiny rowboat, he wagered with little hope.

Two whacks from his cutlass, and the ropes were severed. Raphael held fast as the rowboat dropped off the side of the ship, plummeting to the ocean below. He landed with a painful splash that jolted his entire body, nearly stunning him for a moment.

The sounds of cannons above him startled him into scrambling along the seats and deploying the oars. He whipped the boat around and started rowing, watching as the enormous ship was dwarfed by another pair of tentacles rising out of the water below.

“Those old sea dogs were right, huh!” Raphael exclaimed as he rowed further and further away from the commotion of the fabled sea monster. As he had hoped, the leviathan busied itself with the ship, leaving him with another successful escape and quite a tale to tell once he reached shore.

However, as he rowed on, he grew quite tired of fighting the large waves with just two oars. He wasn���t sure if he had gotten anywhere by his own rowing, or if the currents and wind carried him. All he knew was the sailing ship was no longer in sight, and neither was any sign of a landmass.

With the sun still bright, the man grew weary, clad with only a black and white shirt, dark pants, and tall leather boots. He stowed the oars and covered himself with the tarp, shading his weathered skin from the sun as he sorted through his provisions.

“More than a week’s worth, so long as this thimble doesn’t sink.” Raphael said as he rationed the food and water that was already smuggled away for the ship’s journey. His only hope now was to find any sort of land or ship that would rescue him before his water depletes.

Since the act of rowing was tiresome and nearly useless against the waves, the stowaway, now captain of the dinghy, resumed the act of hunkering down under the tarp and letting the waves carry him wherever they may lead.

The rowboat drifted for hours, rocking this way and that, a tiny speck in the vast blue ocean. Thankfully the weather was calm and the temperature mild, though favorable conditions never lasted as long as you’d expect them to on the open ocean.

As the sun was nearing the horizon, painting the sky with orange and purple hues, Raphael uncovered himself and leaned back in the boat, taking small sips from his canteen and enjoying a rather unripe pear. He laughed to himself, thinking of how it’s possible that he was the only survivor from that ship, and they had no knowledge of him even being onboard.

As he finished off the core of the pear, Raphael felt an ominous rumble rattle his body. He grew tense and gripped the sides of the rowboat as he not only felt it, but heard it, somewhere deep under the waves. Something immense.

“Oh, no.” He said shakily as a cloud of bubbles erupted around the boat, a phenomenon that often occurred along with a large pod of whales preparing to surface. Raphael flung the oars out and rowed quickly away from the bubbling water, not about to let his dinghy be capsized.

The small boat did not get very far before something surfaced, not a whale or a tentacle, but a face.

A giant, human-like head surfaced before Raphael, as water poured down their dark blue-streaked skin. Bright yellow eyes peered at the castaway, set on a masculine face with long silvery-blue hair and an array of fin-like structures on either side of his head. A massive, towering head.

Raphael stared up in shock momentarily before letting out a terrified scream. First a kraken, now a giant? The odds were not in his favor today, though the oddities certainly were starting to pile up.

The giant, treading the water as he loomed over Raphael and his rowboat, tilted his head and let out a chuff, a rumbling puff of air. An enormous hand rose underneath the boat and lifted it in his palm just as wide as it was long.

The giant opened his lips and said ‘I mean you no harm’, but to Raphael’s human ears, all he heard was a deep, throaty rumble.

“Don’t eat me, don’t eat me!” Raphael merely shouted in response, huddling in his boat that was now captured by the steady hand of the giant. Enormous navy blue fingers with thick claws curved above his head, as wide as a tree.

The giant’s lips curved into a smile, yellow eyes glowing patiently. He held Raphael and his little boat in his right hand, lifted up and out of the water and closer to his enormous face.

‘I am not going to eat you.’ The giant growled. ‘It’s alright. You’re safe.’

“I-I don’t know what you’re saying… are you speaking? Can you understand me?” Raphael said from his captured boat. The man, dwarfed by the giant’s hand around him, stared quizzically at the giant’s glistening face.

‘Yes. Though you may not understand my words, I am speaking your language.’ The giant said calmly, closing his eyes as he nodded and mouthed his words in an exaggerated fashion. Raphael couldn’t help but notice the giant’s mouth was lined with sharp fangs, with a curiously buttery yellow interior.

Raphael started to feel a little more at ease in the ocean giant’s hand. He couldn’t understand why he wasn’t drowned or eaten yet, but the mere premise of being held captive by the towering man was unnerving.

“It must be giant monster day. First a kraken, then you? A giant? A… god?” Raphael said as he gestured to the enormous man.

The giant, named Sithero, let out an airy laugh as he leaned back and lifted the tiny man in his hand higher above the water, giving him a better view of the leviathan’s body. The same blue tentacles that wrapped around the ship rose out of the water around Sithero’s torso, slithering about and swirling the sea.

Raphael stared down for a second, leaning over the side of the boat from within Sithero’s palm. The rest of Sithero’s body began to surface, and the giant angled his hand in a way that the human within could observe the massive length of his tail.

“...You’re the kraken? What on earth… you’re like a mermaid, a giant one… a giant mer… man? I suppose?” The human exclaimed as his eyes trailed down the length of the kraken’s body. He was covered in fine blue scales of varying shades, with his belly and chest lighter in color. From the waist down, his body became elongated, ribbed with hard scutes. He was so large, in fact, that Raphael wondered if he could see the end of his tail at all.

‘I’m Sithero. What are you called?’ The kraken rumbled as he raised his other hand and pointed a clawed finger at the human in his palm.

“What, what’s that about? Me?” Raphael said shakily as the very large kraken pointed and rumbled something at him.

Sithero smiled calmly and pointed at himself. ‘Sithero.’ He growled, emphasizing each syllable before pointing to Raphael again.

“Sss… Slith. Slither. Sith?” The human said, twirling his hands around as he sounded out the guttural growls.

‘Sith… air… oh.’ The kraken hissed.

“Sithero…” Raphael said, and the giant nodded in approval.

“Okay, we’re getting somewhere. Oh, I’m Raphael.” The human said, feeling more comfortable as their strange conversation went on. “Gotta say, I did not expect to be talking to the kraken that, um, attacked our ship.” He said, avoiding to the fact that he was a stowaway, not that Sithero would really care.

‘The ship is fine. I was just saying hello.’ Sithero growled a deep laugh as he waved his other hand in a greeting motion.

“Hello?” Raphael said quietly, waving back. Sithero smiled and chuckled at his new tiny friend.

‘Where are you headed?’ Sithero asked, shrugging his shoulders and gesturing to the vast ocean.

“Uh, I got here by ship. Now I don’t quite know where I am, or frankly, what’s going to happen to me.” Raphael sighed, stretching his arms backwards.

‘I know a place. You can rest there, it’s getting too dark for humans.’ The kraken rumbled and nodded gently, bringing his other hand up and cupping Raphael and his boat.

“I don’t suppose you have it in you to carry me somewhere?” Raphael asked hopefully at the enormous creature, seeing a glimpse of his own reflection in his eerie yellow irises.

‘Yes. But you mustn’t panic.’ Sithero rumbled as he opened his mouth slightly and rubbed his bright-colored tongue along the edges of his teeth.

Raphael winced, leaning away from the giant’s mouth that was quite close now.

“Woah. Hey. We’re on a first-name basis now, you can’t eat me.” He said, clutching the sides of the rowboat.

‘That’s not my intention. Truthfully, you will drown unless I do this… so relax.’ Sithero growled as he angled his head backwards and pinched the boat between his fingers, gently tilting it towards his open mouth.

Raphael, upon seeing the enormous yellow mouth below him, immediately began to panic and flail wildly in the boat that was slowly tipping. “HEY! Stop, stop!!” He shouted, eyes wide at the sight of the kraken’s fanged jaws.

‘If you don’t stop flailing, I might actually bite you.’ The giant growled and tilted the boat upside-down above his open mouth.

Raphael, as nimble as he was, managed to wedge himself under the rowboat’s seats before it was completely tipped over. He wrapped his arms around the boards with just his legs dangling, whimpering as his provisions fell down onto the sea monster’s tongue.

“Cripes…” The man groaned as he gripped onto the board like his life depended on it.

Sithero blinked, expression blank as he closed his mouth, tasting the tiny crates and flasks that fell onto his tongue. He eyed Raphael one last time before gently tipping the boat back upright.

‘Alright. Plan B.’ He rumbled before angling the boat bow-first towards his mouth.

“Don’t… don’t you dare.” Raphael blurted as he righted himself in the bottom of the boat before being plunged into the kraken’s mouth.

The man screamed as the entire rowboat was taken in, sides banging against the monster’s teeth that encircled the cavernous jaws.

Sithero calmly wedged the boat inside, using the tip of his finger to push the stern just past his incisors, which closed together. Raphael was completely sealed inside, along with all of his belongings.

The air inside the giant’s mouth was humid, smelling of seawater. Raphael hunkered down in his little wooden boat, eyes wide as he took in the situation. Though the kraken’s mouth was shut tight, the interior of his mouth glowed a faint, soft yellow. It was quite beautiful, Raphael found himself thinking, as the ridges of Sithero’s palate above him were dotted with bioluminescent photophores.

“Quit messin’ with me… are you gonna eat me or not?” Raphael shouted from within the giant’s mouth, gripping onto the boat as if it was about to rock back towards Sithero’s gullet.

Instead, he was rocked forwards as the kraken dove under the waves. The leviathan took his little friend along, safely sealed in the air pocket in his mouth. His enormous body arched past the waves as the end of his tail raised above the water, then was gone.

Sithero kept Raphael in his jaws for the ride, traveling swift and deep. Though his movements were heavy, he leveled his head carefully to make the trip as comfortable as possible for the human. Deep rumbles of reassurance echoed in his spacious mouth, where Raphael sat hunkered down on top of the giant’s tongue.

Time went on, and Raphael started to relax as best as he could in the humid mouth of the kraken. He hadn’t been swallowed, and instead remained on Sithero’s tongue as the giant carried him into the depths.

“I suppose… this is necessary. I doubt I can hold my breath as long as you.” Raphael said as he laid back in the boat, staring up at Sithero’s upper palate.

Sithero, after a short while, came to an enormous submerged cave. His long body just barely fit through the entrance as he slipped inside, using his limbs to push along the rocky sides to propel his huge body swiftly, until emerging into a large chamber.

The kraken huffed as water dripped from his hair, dispelling droplets from his nostrils as his head and shoulders surfaced from the seawater onto a smooth stone surface in an air-filled cave. He leveled his head and opened his jaws, allowing Raphael to finally breathe in fresh air after being trapped inside.

“Ah, freedom!” The stowaway exclaimed as he stumbled along the boat, looking out from the giant’s teeth encircling him and his vessel.

Sithero rumbled in amusement as he pinched the end of the small boat between his thumb and forefinger and slid it and Raphael out of his mouth. He carefully placed it on the floor of the cave and yawned, stretching his arms and back as he arched his head back.

Raphael, still adjusting to the dim light of the cave, fumbled about in his boat, rocking the frame a few times to determine the stability of the surface. He was painfully aware of the fact that he was surrounded by damp rock, the sheer mass of the kraken’s body as it towered above him in the darkness.

Tentatively, the man swung his leg over the the side of the boat and planted it on the surface. He stood on both legs, glancing around slowly.

“So uh, where did you bring me? Y’know I’m not terribly fond of spelunking…” Raphael said as he stared up at the huge, glimmering figure above him.

Sithero’s eyes and photophores that dotted along his body glowed in the low light. The giant hummed as he reached out into the darkness, rummaging through piles of debris. He picked out a lantern delicately between his claws, handing it to Raphael, who took it into his hands.

“Ah, you’ve got a hoard of some sorts?” The man said as the lantern lit up to his surprise, illuminating the immediate area. His eyes widened as he was greeted with scattered remains of ships, masts as tall as trees with the sails still attached. They were carefully placed against the wall of the cave, each one laid out in all its splendor.

The man’s knees began to buckle at the sheer sight of so many shipwrecks, displayed like trophies in the kraken’s lair. Accompanying the masts were the ship’s figureheads, the intricate carvings of ladies and dragons and other mythical beasts that adorned the bow of sailing ships.

“So… I can only imagine how these all got here.” Raphael said rather quietly as he swung the lantern around, only to be greeted by the enormous face of Sithero, who was peering at the man curiously.

“Geeze, you’re huge.” The man whispered as he held the lantern up to the giant’s face, who was smiling softly.

‘I collect them, that’s all. Better here than rotting in the water.’ Sithero rumbled as he reached out and picked up a mermaid figurehead, gazing at it fondly.

“They are quite pretty… I bet there are some famous ships that wrecked here. You know the navy would kill to get their hands on these, right?” Raphael uttered as he set the lantern in his rowboat and rummaged through his damp provisions.

‘They’d kill me regardless. That’s why I disarm cannons and harpoons when I visit sailing ships.’ Sithero uttered as he flicked a detached cannon along the surface of the cave with his fingers.

“Ah, I can’t imagine those would do much damage to something as big as you.” The man said as he heard the heavy clang of iron.

Sithero laughed, a deep rumble that shook Raphael’s bones. ‘I don’t underestimate humans! You little things can pack a punch.’ He growled as he leaned in close to the wary man, who stiffened up. The kraken’s breath tousled his brown hair, which was slicked back with a green and white bandana.

“… You’re so big, though. I mean, look. Your tooth is bigger than my head!” Raphael said as he pointed at Sithero’s lips, where a canine poked out.

Sithero curled his lip up to reveal the full length of his canine, which shone brilliantly in the lantern’s light. ‘This is true. I could bite you in two with one snap.’ The kraken growled as he clicked his teeth together, which sent a shiver up Raphael’s spine as he glimpsed those white teeth flashing in his vision.

“You don’t… plan to eat me after all this, do you?” Raphael uttered, feeling absolutely minuscule in his little wooden boat underneath the giant’s gaze.

‘That depends, do you consider the ride in my mouth as being eaten? It’s the only way you’ll be able to exit this cave.’ The kraken grinned as he licked his lips with his yellow tongue.

“Hey, I really don’t want to go back in there. I know it’s what kept me from drowning, but…” Raphael sighed, glancing at his provisions soaked with the kraken’s saliva.

‘Feel free to try another way out.’ Sithero growled as he looked down at the man’s supplies. Curiously, the giant picked up Raphael in his boat and lifted it up to his eye.

“Hey, easy!” The man yelled as he was rocked by the momentum of being lifted.

‘Is your stuff ruined?’ Sithero asked, eyeing the cloth sacks on the bottom of the boat.

“That’s just my food… well, what’s left of it. The bread is probably all soggy, but as long as the rum is there… aha!” Raphael exclaimed as he produced a green glass bottle filled with spirits. The man popped the cork and took a swig straight from the bottle, sighing happily once he removed the glass from his lips.

‘Humans are always drinking that.’ Sithero chuckled, holding Raphael in his wooden boat.

“I suppose they don’t make bottles in your size. Good thing, too, cause I’d be swimmin’ in it.” Raphael laughed as he kicked back in the boat and continued drinking.

Sithero couldn’t help but smile as he cupped the boat in his palm, eyeing the human inside of it. The giant tilted his head, observing the interior of the rowboat, suddenly getting an idea.

‘Come here.’ He growled, using his other hand to pinch Raphael’s upper body between his thumb and forefinger. The man exclaimed as he was lifted out of the boat and placed directly onto Sithero’s palm, holding tight to his rum bottle.

The kraken placed the empty boat on the cave floor and turned his gaze to the human in his hands, suddenly feeling very warm at how small and delicate he looked, laid out on his palm, barely half the length of his finger.

Raphael sneered up at the giant, briefly attempting to stand up before flailing and falling backwards, spilling a little rum on himself.

“Gah… you big beast... I didn’t ask to be in yer hands!” Raphael blurted as he wiped the rum off his shirt, glancing up at the giant’s piercing gaze.

Sithero merely chuckled, rumbling deep in the back of his throat as his soft gaze took in the man’s form.

“Ah, to hell with it. You’re pretty nice, for a sea monster. Besides, if I’m gonna be eaten, I wanna be drunk.” The man grunted as he sipped his rum.

‘You look very relaxed.’ Sithero uttered as he held his hands steady, with one cupped under the other. The giant was mostly submerged, with just his upper body resting on the rocky cave floor, propped up by his elbows.

‘I’ve never held a human like this. It’s… nice.’ He rumbled, awed by the sight of Raphael leaning against the base of his fingers.

“Ya keep looking at me like I’m… a doll or somethin’. S’weird.” Raphael hiccuped from his lack of inhibition.

‘Don’t tell me you have a problem with the way I interact with tiny things such as yourself.’ Sithero laughed. ‘I’m aware that humans consider me to be frightening and dangerous, while I personally consider humans to be delightful. I think you should be grateful that I’m holding you this way instead of drowning you a thousand feet under the sea.’

Raphael blinked, staring blankly up at the rumbling giant. By now, he was able to understand the enormous kraken’s growling manner of speech. However, the alcohol was slowing his cognitive thinking more and more each passing minute, leading him to respond with a simple “Fair enough.”

Sithero smiled, regardless, and cupped his hand loosely around the human as he pulled his hefty body further onto the cave floor. Raphael grumbled as he was closed in by enormous fingers while the giant made himself more comfortable, turning onto his back and propping his body up against the cave walls.

The kraken sighed as he leaned back, leaving his long tail submerged in the dark ocean water while his upper body relaxed and cupped Raphael in his hand, which rested comfortably on top of his stomach.

Raphael, in drunken bliss, hummed as he was held by the giant. He laid back in Sithero’s hands, his head nestled neatly between the cracks of his fingers. The man sighed, feeling the warmth of skin underneath him, the rush of the giant’s breaths and gurgling insides.

“Hey, I forgot yer name. Sithy.” Raphael muttered through flushed cheeks, his rum nearly gone. “You’re pretty swell. I ain’t got a home or family or whatnot, so this is a nice treat… s’like I’m in a fancy rich bed. Heh heh.”

‘Sithy, huh. I kinda like that.’ The kraken chuckled. He then leaned forward and carefully plucked the nearly empty rum bottle from Raphael’s hands with the tips of his claws. ‘And, that’s enough for you.’

“Gimme that…” Raphael groaned as he reached for the bottle, which promptly disappeared in the giant’s mouth.

‘Hmm.’ Sithero rumbled as he rolled the open bottle on his tongue, spilling the contents out and onto his taste buds. ‘You made it seem so much tastier than this.’

“It IS tasty. Don’t guzzle my rum!” Raphael grumbled as he wobbled onto his legs and attempted to scale Sithero’s torso.

‘Careful.’ The giant growled as the drunken man ignored him, stumbling his way up the firm musculature of his abdomen. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

“Gimme my bottle back…” Raphael slurred, clinging to the giant’s pectoral. The slope of the monstrous man’s chest proved difficult for the small, drunk human to navigate over.

Amused, Sithero leaned back all the way, laying flat on his back to allow Raphael to stumble along his body. With the bottle still in his mouth, Sithero tilted his head up and opened up slightly, allowing the determined man to see the prize within reach.

“Ya don’t take a man’s rum, Sithy…” Raphael grunted as he stumbled against the giant’s lips, feebly reaching into the open mouth with the bottle resting in the middle of Sithero’s tongue. With a gentle tilt, Sithero scooped Raphael inside his mouth with the end of his yellow tongue, rolling him onto the center.

Once Raphael got a hold of the empty bottle, he groaned, hugging it to his chest and rolling over inside Sithero’s mouth, curling up where he laid and promptly passing out.

Sithero, with his mouth slightly open, breathed evenly. His tongue quivered as Raphael’s small body curled up on top, unbothered by the saliva. He slowly shut his mouth, cupping his tongue to give the human space inside. He was so much smaller without his boat, something Sithero was painfully aware of. How easy it would be to swallow him whole, he thought.

‘Raphael.’ Sithero rumbled, his tongue shifting as he spoke, which stirred the inebriated man. Raphael responded with grumpy grumbles, no longer coherent or aware of his surroundings.

Sithero sighed, deciding that it was inevitable, now. After all, Raphael climbed right into his jaws.

With a tilt of his tongue, Raphael was slid down the center, his unconscious body passing the giant’s tonsils, entering his esophagus.

A gentle gulp, and Sithero tilted his head back and squeezed Raphael down his throat. The man groaned as he was swallowed, his body engulfed by wet flesh that slid him easily down the giant’s gullet, though not much could be done to slow his descent.

Sithero sighed warmly, placing the tips of his fingers against his neck as Raphael went down, forming a solid bulge underneath. The kraken growled, humming softly as the warm little human was taken into his innards.

After a little while, Raphael had been squeezed down the entire length of Sithero’s esophagus, where he was slid into a warm, wet chamber within the giant’s ribcage. The man gasped a little and moaned as he suddenly felt sick to his stomach after being tipped upside-down.

He had been swallowed, yet Sithero knew he was safe. The kraken’s stomach was multi-chambered to fill his enormous body cavity, with only the lower portion unsafe for passengers. Satisfied with the feeling of a warm, living body squirming in his belly, the giant set his head back on the ground and stroked his stomach fondly.

‘Nothing for you to stumble on and get hurt in there.’ Sithero uttered as he traced his finger along his abdomen. ‘Just don’t be mad at me when you wake up.’

Raphael passed out not long after, blissfully unaware of his surroundings, sleeping rather soundly and comfortably surrounded by soft flesh.

The night went on, though the two were far from the stars. Under the waves and buried under earth and rock, the underwater cave was a safe haven devoid of sunlight. Only bioluminescent plankton, algae, and jellyfish provided any form of light.

Sithero was first to awaken, his massive form turned onto his front as he arched his back in a stretch. The giant rumbled softly as he placed a hand on his stomach, feeling the tiny presence of Raphael inside, still fast asleep.

The kraken took the opportunity to gather the rest of Raphael’s belongings, placing them carefully into the wooden boat, along with some trinkets and treasures from the shipwrecks. He then picked up the boat and placed it inside his mouth, taking care not to swallow any of the tiny human objects.

Sithero slid his huge body into the pool of the cave, sinking below the surface and back into the tunnel towards the cave entrance. His yellow eyes adjusted to the light that illuminated at the end of the cave, indicating that morning had come.

Still holding the rowboat in his mouth, the giant emerged from the cave and swam upwards, surfacing along the rocky cliffs of the landmass above the submerged cave that he called his home. Gulls cried as the kraken’s enormous head scanned the coastline before heading towards a sandy beach.

Sithero huffed as he heaved his monstrous body onto the sand, removing the boat from his mouth and placing it gingerly on the shore. He blinked calmly, placing a hand on his stomach again, determining the best time to let Raphael out.

‘Are you awake?’ Sithero growled, patting his stomach. A soft squirming inside of him told him that the man was at least stirring, no doubt hungover.

“Ughh…” Raphael groaned, rolling in the glowing interior of the giant. He opened his eyes briefly, shutting them quickly when he was met with nothing but soft yellow hues.

‘As much as I don’t mind this, I think you need fresh air.’ Sithero sighed as he straightened his back and flexed his stomach, the soft folds compressing around Raphael as it pushed him upwards and into the giant’s esophagus. Not long after, Sithero leaned forward and allowed the human to slide into his mouth, completely soaked in saliva.

The giant held his mouth open, allowing the cooler air to fill the inside, chilling Raphael awake. The man woke with a jolt, eyes wide and dizzy as he took in the frightening view of enormous, sharp teeth encircling him.

“Oh, god.” He uttered, covering his eyes with his hands, incidentally bumping the empty rum bottle against his skull.

Sithero calmly tilted his head down and slid the human onto his palm, who was still clinging to the bottle. ‘Hmm, you got your rum back after all.’ The kraken chuckled.

“How… much did I drink…” Raphael groaned, tilting the bottle upside-down and dropping it in defeat. He wiped his forehead and neck, wincing at the gooey saliva coating him.

‘Nearly all of it. How do you feel?’ The kraken growled as he peered at the soggy man in his palm, expression softening at how disheveled he looked.

“I… I’m fine.” Raphael groaned as he rolled over in the giant’s palm, averting his gaze from the morning sunlight. “How long was I… in your mouth?”

Sithero blinked, unsure of how much Raphael remembered from last night. Did he have no recollection of climbing directly into his jaws and promptly going down his throat?

‘Ah, a good while. You should wash off.’ Sithero uttered as he turned and placed Raphael on the sand beside the water, who stumbled directly into the surf, submerging his entire body as he fell face-first.

Sithero watched the man slump into the ocean, jolting as he reached for him and promptly plucked his limp body out of the waves.

‘That’s one way to get clean, I suppose…’ The giant grumbled as he held Raphael between his thumb and forefinger, letting him drip onto the sand below.

“I’m awake, I’m awake…” Raphael groaned as he squirmed in the giant’s fingers. “You… ugh, you ate me, didn’t you?” He uttered as he pointed a finger at Sithero’s enormous striped face.

‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Sithero chuckled deeply as a tiny finger wagged at him.

“You swallowed me!” Raphael blurted.

‘Ah, that I did. Big difference.’ The kraken replied.

“What d’ya mean? I was in your stomach, you tellin’ me that’s not eatin’ me?” Raphael retorted, wriggling defiantly, though weakly.

‘You weren’t digested. Silly thing.’ Sithero rumbled as he set Raphael on the seat of his rowboat. ‘I intend to keep you safe, and that is what I did. Now settle down, drink some water.’

“What water? All I got to my name is…” Raphael trailed off as he looked down at the floor of the boat and saw that it was filled with a generous pile of assorted treasures, from necklaces and coins to daggers and swords. His green eyes glittered with delight.

“Is this all for me?” Raphael asked up at the giant, his tone vastly sweeter than before.

‘Yes, don’t go spending it all in one place.’ Sithero rumbled as he stretched up and glanced around, scanning the horizon for ships.

“I dunno what to say… this is all so… it’s enough to get me some land and my own ship!” Raphael exclaimed as he pored over the treasures. “How could I ever repay you?”

Sithero shrugged as he returned his gaze to the gleeful human. ‘No need, I enjoyed our time together, after all. I only ask that you visit me, should you find yourself in this area again.’

“That’s more than fair… are you leaving, then?” Raphael asked up at the giant, who leaned close to him and smiled.

‘Does Raphael want me to stay?’ The giant chuckled, more so when Raphael’s face flushed pink.

“I-I don’t wanna keep you… I also enjoyed our time together, though perhaps the rum is to blame for part of that…” Raphael said as he stared at the giant’s enormous lips.

‘Don’t worry, I know just what to do with a drunken sailor.’ Sithero winked, and Raphael’s heart sank into his chest.

“… Any chance you got rum on you?” He said shyly, rubbing his hands together in his lap as he looked up at the giant.

‘Sadly, no. Make sure you bring enough for me next time, though.’ Sithero said toothily as he tapped his enormous finger on the end of Raphael’s boat.

“So, tonight?” The man said, holding his breath in his chest.

‘Tonight.’

[kittenfangirl20]

((Prince and the Duck Au))

Adam had dreamed of being a performer since he was a little kid. His mom and dad always told him to shoot for the stars and follow his dreams.

But of course, being on the lower side of income and having your parents pass away at a young age didn't put Adam in the fortune 500.

By day he worked at a diner as a waiter, at night he moonlighted as orderly at the hospital. He barely made enough to get by. But his best friend since childhood, Emily and her mother Sera helped him out when they could.

To this day Adam still has his father's guitar and hoped to play in a place of his own one day. A restaurant where he could play his music.

The dream was just that a dream. But that was okay.

Until Adam got the chance to get the place of his dreams. An old place down by the water front and he wanted to show Sera. She was the closest he had to mother.

Adam: What do you think!?

Sera looked around, there wasn't much there. More rats than anything.

Sera: It's.... Interesting dear.

Adam: Oh Sera, once I clean the place up it will be great. I'm almost there! I can feel it.

Sera: Oh honey, I don't-

Adam: Just picture it!

Adam went into detail of everything he saw for the place and Sera smiled. She was so proud of him.

Sera: It will be a lot of hard work.

Adam: Always is.

*things were about to change for Adam in a very interesting way with the arrival of a cruise ship, it held twin brothers Lucifer and Michael, they were princes of a very far off kingdom and Lucifer was heir to the throne, but his parents wondered if he was the choice for the job and they told him if he didn’t prove himself responsible then he would be disinherited and Michael would be the heir, Michael watched Lucifer easily flirt with men and women with envy in his heart, everything came easily to Lucifer that he wanted to see him fail, just then he was approached by the richest woman in town Sera with an invitation to the Mardi Gras masquerade ball being held at her mansion tonight*

Michael: While I would gain from your failure, I would think that you would want to actually find a way to prove yourself responsible.

Lucifer: Don’t worry, it is just one masquerade ball, there will be good food and music. How about we relax for one night before I have to do the boring part.

?: Gentlemen, you must be the Princes that everyone in New Orleans was talking about.

*a man with short brown hair, lightly tanned skin, glasses, and dressed in all red stepped out of the shadows, the thing that stood out about him was his unnaturally creepy smile, what they didn’t notice his shadow moving on its own taking on many forms*

Michael: Who are you?

?: Why I am Alastor the Shadow Man and Master of Voodoo, would you like to see your future.

*Alastor started to play with his tarot cards while watching them, Lucifer then shrugged*

Lucifer: Why not?

*Lucifer dragged Michael while they followed Alastor to his shop, the shop was filled with many strange objects dealing with voodoo rituals and a radio playing an eerie yet cheerful tune*

Michael: How does this work?

Alastor: You could say that I have friends on the other side.

*after giving a very accurate reading of both brothers, Lucifer on how his laidback lifestyle was ruining his chances at the throne and how Michael hated being in the shadows of everyone around him, Alastor pulled out a pendant and used it to collect some of Lucifer’s blood and he started to chant a spell which made Lucifer turn into something smaller and covered in feathers, then Alastor turned to Michael asking him if he wanted to be involved in his scheme in taking over New Orleans which Michael agreed to while Lucifer ran away in shock once outside the shop he saw his reflection in a puddle of a white duck with red circles on his cheeks, but also had his top hat on, when he moved his arm in front of his face he instead saw a white wing*

Lucifer: What the fuck.

*at Sera’s manor Adam and Emily were hanging out while Adam popped a beignet into his mouth*

Adam: I should cut back on these, they made me gain a bit of weight.

Emily: There is nothing wrong with you, your cute and round chubby tummy makes you huggable.

*it was true that Adam had put on some weight because of stress, but if you asked anyone who knew him, they actually preferred him this way, he was mostly muscle but his stomach was soft round and chubby, his thighs were nice and thick, and his butt was nice and round*

Adam: The problem is that my costume for the masquerade ball from last year no longer fits me. This performance is important and I am hoping to buy the performance hall and restaurant tonight.

Emily: Don’t worry, your good friend Emily will buy you a fancy new costume.

Adam: You don’t have to.

Emily: I insist, you are my best friend. You know what, you should dress up as a prince tonight.

*they ran off to a high end costume shop where Emily looked through the costumes until she found a prince’s costume in Adam’s size which was dark blue, black, and gold*

Emily: This will look very nice on you. Who knows, you might get a boyfriend or girlfriend tonight.

Adam: I don’t have time for that.

Emily: I want to tell you a secret, tonight royalty is coming to the masquerade ball, as in princes. You might get one to help you on your music career. What if a prince falls in love with me and we get married.

Adam: You always wanted to be a princess,

*both smiled and talked about their dreams while making their way back to Sera’s mansion*

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

(Will Adam’s duck form be like Grumpy and be a girl duck)

[the-real-treasure]

Treasure Treasure!

A OPLA Sanji x Reader

Master List Here

Chapter One: Shipwrecks and Hopeless Dreams

Summary: There’s a boy in the kitchen you would rip out your heart for. He hopes it will never come to that.

Trigger Warning: Threats and descriptions of violence, blood and gore, starvation, depressing language(?), Reader's Devil Fruit power is overwhelming and overstimulating Word Count: 2,828 **Edited 12/09/24**

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Standing in the crows nest of the mizzenmast, the sea salted wind burned your cheeks. Two years aboard the Orbit, and you still weren't used to the grittiness of the air when out at sea. The whipping winds and swirling storm clouds did not ease your discomfort, especially with the growing height of the waves and the discontented rumblings of the wood beneath your feet.

Before you had stepped foot on the Orbit, before your and Sanji's new lives had started, if someone, anyone, had told you that ships could have dreams, you would have called them crazy. What would wooden planks and cloth sails know about dreams, wishes or aspirations you would have wondered to yourself. Now though, now, with the Orbit creaking and moaning for more adventurous tidings than carting cruising passengers across the seas of the East Blue, you knew better. Anything, anything, if imbued with enough spirit and life could dream of more.

You closed your eyes. You couldn't think about that now. The storm was already causing a headache.

Then, amongst the screaming of the wind and the roaring crash of the heightening waves around you, the sound of splintering wood cracks below you. Snapping your eyes open, you peered through the darkness below you, only to spot another ship lurching through the water towards you, yellow duck figurehead near indiscernible in the darkness of the sea's blackness.

Pirates.

The shout rang out alongside the continuing of cannon fire. The man in the far crows nest screamed as he toppled from his perch into the frothing and dark water below, but you paid no mind. It wasn't the most brutal death you'd seen and it wouldn't be the last, you were sure of it. There were more pressing matters to attend.

Sanji. I need to find Sanji.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as you scrambled down to the deck, guns firing and people screaming around you. To others, it would look disconcerting how calm an eight year old appeared in the presence of the scourge of the seas but in that moment you were solely focused on escaping below deck to find your reason for being your best and only friend aboard.

SANJI-SANJI-SANJI

Your mind screamed his name along to the roaring of your heartbeat, pushing, punching and driving through crowds of panicking cruisers, crewmembers and cackling pirates equipped with cooking utensils and wicked sharp knives.

(The planks below your feet roared with joy and ache. Finally something, finally adventure)

Finally reaching the door to the galley, the roaring of your heartbeat turned into an all out shriek, seeing your Sanji, your Sanji, held to the wall by a giant with a stupid braided moustache and a knife to his throat.

Your mind went blank and your blood boiled. The act was on of instinct as you leapt onto the pirates back with a ear rending screech, tearing at his face and eyes with your nails, desperate to pull his attention away from your Sanji. The blond idiot decided to ignore your obvious attempt to save him as he joined in your screeching and clawing of the giant man between you, wracking his nails against the hand holding him hostage as the ship around you roared in encouragement of your bloodthirsty nature.

So enraged were you with the threat to Sanji, that you didn't realise the roar was coming from the tearing of the wood as the combined rage of the storm, the boundless strength of the sea and the continued barrage of cannon fire tore the hull in twain, the entire ship toppling into the salty water.

(The Orbit ached. She was so alive, if only for a moment, she lived.)

It was as the sea lapped your ears, soaking the bandages wrapped around your palms and weighing down your forearms, that your blood pressure cooled and your thoughts started to drift away from you, all fight and blind rage lost to the frigid water. You didn't register the desperate arms of a terrified child wrapping around your torso, or being scooped up like a sack of potatoes as your consciousness slipped into the dark depths of the East Blue. All you could see in front of misty eyes was the warm glow of yellow light on a stormy night, a blonde haired blue eyed figure looking down at you. Making you promise to try.

I'm sorry. I really did try.

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It was the unfiltered sunlight and warm stone below your cheek that woke you. Prying open your salt encrusted lashes was a trial, but catching a glimpse of Sanji lying strewn across the rockface beside you spurred your body to action, legs launching you up right and towards him before your surroundings had even registered.

You nearly collapsed on top of him, grasping desperately at his clammy and bloody cheeks. He was breathing and you joined him after a moment of pure stillness. Rage began to rattle trough you as he roused and you made eye contact with the man who had held him in harms way, stupid braided moustache drooping in the intense sun. Sanji's voice called from behind you to the man perched on the rock's edge.

"What happened?"

"A storm." The man's voice sounded gritty, like the wind had felt last night. Your nails dug into your palms. "Sunk both our ships."

"But..." His voice was weak and tired. "But the crew?"

"They're dead, aren't they?" It wasn't a question, not with the way you snarled it around your mouth like a sour juice. "Your pirates killed them all, left us to get shipwrecked!"

"All dead," he didn't blink at the accusation, "except for us."

You could hear the shuffling on the rocks as Sanji sat up behind you. "What d'we do?"

"We wait. And we hope that a passing ship spots us before that sun," he gestured to the horizon, "bleaches our bones."

“Now. This is all the food we got.” He stands from his perch at the edge, grabbing the smaller of 2 canvas sacks and tossing it at the two of you. “So eat slow. There’s no more after this.”

Rage swells in you but, still weak from the sea water and already starting to bake under the bright sun, you know none of you are in a fit state to start picking fights just yet. Sanji disagrees with you, glaring between the old man and the larger sack behind him.

”Why do you get the bigger one?!” H pulled himself up off the rocks and lurched into your back, steadfastness refusing to let him approach the pirate in front of you.

”’Cause I’m three times your size, that’s why!”

”There are two of us!” Sanji roared back.

The man snarled down at him over your shoulder and you nudged him further behind you.

”You know something? You should be glad that I’m giving you anything at all. Now,” Looking between the pair of you with a glare, “go over to the other side and keep lookout. And I mean it. Don’t bother me unless you see a ship.” He tilted his head, “You got it?”

He makes eye contact with you and crowds your space, spittle flicking into your eyes and making you yearn for the salty winds of the crows nest.

”I said, you got it?!” You feel Sanji shying into your back, he was two years your senior but you refused to do anything other than put yourself between him and potential threats. “Now go!”

Sanji grabs the sack and begins storming his way up the rock face behind you. You step back, intending to follow but refusing to be the first to drop eye contact. Deeming you no threat, how could you be with no weapons and nails torn blunt and bloody from the scratches in his face, he turns and returns to his sea-facing vigil. You turn and follow Sanji over the rocks.

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The island was cone shaped from what you could gather. Peering over the edge as you skirted around the perimeter, you saw the rock fall away into the sea, having worn away from decades, maybe centuries of corrosion by the sea. Thick needles jutted out of the surrounding water, and you think for a second on how funny and strange the luck of your life was. Any other group thrown against these rocks would have been naught but shreds of meat, not even a carcass left for seabirds to pick at but no. Not you and Sanji, you just had to survive and be left stranded on a ridiculous rock in the middle of the ocean with a blood soaked, waterlogged and irritable pirate to boot.

(Hatred, paranoia, apathy. They rang through your bones like vibrations through a bell, ringing through your head. The island hated you being here as much as you hated being here.)

It had been almost a month on the rock and as the rain pelted down on you and your golden boy, a familiar hopelessness  had landed squarely in your mind. Hidden in a small outcropping in the barren rock, you both shielded yourselves as best you could from the torrential downpour. You were barely dozing, trying to keep in front of the idiot boy beside you as the wind howled across the darkness of the sea, soaking you in cold and noise and bells-

Bells? Both your heads raised as the faintest ringing of a ships bells echoed out of the storm, and in the distance you could barely make out the outline of a ship on the horizon. Wild panic seized you both as you leapt out of your cover screaming for its attention. You both pushed through the hunger and exhaustion and screamed at the top of your lungs,  begging for them to hear you.

They didn’t.

(Hatred, paranoia, apathy. Hatred, paranoia, apathy. The cycle rang and rang and rang.)

A few days later you both sat at the edge of your island. It was yours now. No one else would want it and the only other person here was an awful silent pirate you hadn’t seen in weeks.

(You quietly hoped he was dead.)

You both looked at the last loaf of bread, blue mouldy and hard. Sanji tore off two pieces, handing one to you and quietly looking at the other.

You both eat in silence.

Over two months had passed on the barren rock. There was no food left from your sack.

(You had stopped counting the cycles.)

You had lost the sense of hunger to a complete emptiness a few days ago, after having spent days passing back and forth the tiniest morsels of anything, both refusing to take the last bite until you were trying to shovel crumbs into his mouth. You had nearly broken your promise already and you refused to let hunger make you break it truly this time.

(But they just wouldn’t stop ringing.)

Sanji sat beside you with his arms wrapped around his stomach, grimacing and quivering almost imperceptibly.

”The old man had twice as much food.” Your eyes moved slowly over to him as his trembling grew more noticiable.

(Hatred.)

”We can last a few more days.” His head snapped to you.

”Can we?” He was near hysterics.

(Paranoia.)

”Give it a few more days, we can’t afford to be stupid-” He staggered to his feet ignoring you.

”We can’t afford to be this hungry. He has twice. As much. Food.” And he was off. “If he won’t give us any, I’ll kill him myself.”

(Apathy.)

”No, Sanji-” You pulled yourself up after him, scrabbling for purchase on the rocks as your torn and blistered hands pushed you up.

(The ringing won’t stop)

He grabbed the knife and climbed over the rock separating the two of you from the old man. The bedraggled pirate, hair a mess but moustache still neat looked up at you as you both stumbled down towards him.

”Thought I told you both to stay put?” Sanji gasped and panted as he reached the sack on the ground, you barely caught yourself from falling into his back as you caught the back of his shirt.

(Hatred.)

”You still have some food. You gotta give us some!” Metal clinked against metal as he tore through the bag with the small knife, ripping the canvas and allowing the contents to spill on to the stone.

(Paranoia.)

Gold and jewels tumbled out of the bag, no food in sight. You pulled yourself away from Sanji as he gutted the bag, slowly approaching the worn down man as the boy was yanking out more and more gems and treasure in a desperate search for sustenance. You stopped short of him as Sanji gasped behind you.

”Where is it?! Where is it?” He advanced on you both waving the knife through the air, “There’s no food, how are you still alive?!” He stumbled to a stop beside you, following your gaze to the tied off and bloody trouser where the man’s limb used to be. Your voice was barely a whisper, throat dry and cracking from dehydration.

(Apathy.)

”Your leg…” Sanji finished the question for you.

(The ringing stopped.)

”What happened?” Two pairs of eyes followed his averted gaze to the sharp flat rock a few feet from him, the tip coated with a small layer of gore and stained in blood. “You ate it?! You ate your own leg?”

A wave of exhaustion hit you, and you slowly lowered yourself to sit again on the rock, eyes focused on the gorey sight but unseeing.

”You gave us all the food. Why?! You don’t even know us, why would you do that for a stranger?”

”Because, little eggplant…” His voice suddenly sounded as tired as you felt, head sinking, “I have been searching for the All Blue… my whole life. But now my time has come to an end. You share the same dream as me.”

(Your head pounds and the feeling -ever present, ever cloying- in your chest swells. Something inside you whispers thrills to you.)

”Believe me, the All Blue is real.”

(Believe me)

“It’s real. And if I can’t find it, then maybe you can.”

(Swirling blues, giant fish alien to you swimming in endless circles)

”So I’m gonna need you to live on. And I’m gonna need you…”

(Crystal waters as clear as glass)

”…to fulfil that dream…”

(Far far away, but it pulses and you feel it in your heart and your mind and your whole being)

”…for both of us.”

Sanji collapses onto the rock beside you, his head rested on your shoulder as, not for the first time, you wish that stupid disgusting fruit you were force fed as a child was actually useful. Of the three left for you to pick from, of course yours was a compass for the fools and idiots who had a hope of an immense and impressive future.

There was a world in which your ridiculous Treasure Treasure fruit had been replaced with the Gem Gem fruit, at least you could have created a shelter, as sparkly as it may have been, or the Pal Pal fruit and you could have enlisted the assistance of some dolphins or sharks, maybe even a passing Sea Beast to aid you off this rock.

No. You were left with the image of a brilliant swirling cerulean lagoon, teaming with fish and plant life the likes of which no man could even dream of in his wildest most ludicrous musings. You couldn’t even pinpoint it on a map if you wanted, only the vaguest of directions and destinations were afforded to your brain.

You raised your arm, jostling Sanji’s head and both men turned their head to follow it as you pointed off into the horizon. A small smile grows on his exhausted, sun soaked, blood encrusted face as he realises where you’re pointing.

”It’s still far away.” Your mumble barely audible.

(It reminds you of hiding in a dark dank corridor, clutching a book to your chest as you stare into the sobbing eyes of a terrified child and your chest clutches at the memory.)

”Too far?” The man is looking at you both like you’ve finally lost it, but this is a routine, well practiced but almost forgotten to the hopeless situation you’re all in.

(You wished you had remembered earlier. This will have to do.)

”Never too far. Not for us.” Your misty eyes turn to meet cloudy blue that start to clear for the stars to sparkle in.

”Have you worked out how long it’ll take to get there yet?” You chuckle and smile, the first real one in weeks.

”No. Weeks maybe. More likely months, could even be years.” Your eyes clear up with his and you turn a bright grin to the confused pirate beside you. “But the All Blue is out there.”

”And I can lead you to what you'll treasure most!”

Next Chapter: Straw Hats and Treasure Maps

[inthecornerstone]

apparently all that an incredibly repressed cruise ship medical team needs in order to talk about their feelings is a million rubber ducks…?