#you can see the two quarter rudders

[archaeos]

not a cellphone in sight... people just living in the moment

(from the Temple of Isis in Pompeii)

[baronboar]

This time let's circle back to equity later and focus on some basics! What's up with TAILS?

Transcript under the cut:

1. First of all, why do the people in a setting even need tails? Humans don't have tails for a number of reasons, we don't chase prey so we don't need it to help us change direction like a rudder. We also don't climb trees so we don't need one for keeping hold of branches or for balance. But in a world of megafauna, maybe you need a tail to help you turn fast to flee? Or maybe a hunter needs a rudder to swim? But most importantly!! It's fun & helps your people feel unique!

[IMG: A an anthro rat and sea lion, the rat is leaning over in a similar fashion to the sea lion who naturally stands horizontally like a T-rex. This shows how they both can use tails as counter balance.]

Think about why species in a setting might have tails and perhaps you will think of something that adds depth to your world… For warmth, like a blanket! To increase visibility when foraging! For Combat!!!

[IMG Three tails, a big fluffy artic fox tail, a tall lemur tail, and a spiny draconic tail.]

2. Clothing is the main issue I see brought up when discussing tails & Furgonomics. many solutions can be found when looking at furry artwork, so look around! The only solution i'd say is not valid is…The belt under the tail.

[IMG: a tailed person from behind, their jeans are below the tail, you can see their butt cheeks.] [IMG: Two illustrations of human femurs with tails, the spine points them downwards.]

A tail would sit far too low to comfortably wear trousers there, imagine wearing yours below the pelvis at your hips? Even with a belt that is far too risqué! The best solutions all put the waistband above the tail and either have a hole for the tail or in the case of clothing like dresses and skirts allow the tail to sit freely beneath.

[IMG: Three different people with different garments. The first is labelled 'breech cloth', it's a Y shaped cut of fabric attached to the waist by a string. The second is labelled 'sarong', the feline figure from the side has a length of fabric around the belly with a length hanging down over their pubic area like a loin cloth. The third is the most like trousers/pants, the belt keeps shut a flap that goes over the base of the tail that overlaps with the tail hole.]

In my setting of Firnus different cultures have their own designs to fit environmental needs. The Gilter braghe is a sleeveless trouser designed with modesty in mind. compare this to the rav breechcloth, made for wearing under robes. Or avoid the tail hole all together and beat the heat with the pantheran quarter sarong!

3. So where else can tails be a problem…? CHAIRS.

[IMG: Two normal chairs, they have back rests but also gaps between that and the seat.]

most people are going to jump immediately to seats like these:

But i'm going to make my case as to why this would not be comfortable: See this dog skeleton to the right? When a quadrupedal animal sits, they don't rest on their upper legs or put any pressure on their fragile tails, Instead they rest on their hocks & hind feet! Why? Exactly as we discussed with trousers, tails wouldn't go out, they'd go down. As part of the spine, if you wanted to sit back in a chair your spine would be vertical.

[IMG: A dog skeleton from the side.] [IMG: A small concerned mustelid says: "Sitting on your tail would feel like bending your fingers backwards with your full body weight!"]

…So, I believe anthro species wouldn't want to put pressure on their tails by sitting on them… So we cut a hole out from the bottom and back of the chair, right? Yes! and no. Yes because when you're world building you can do whatever works best for you! But no because I'm not satisfied with this answer and I'm driving this PNG!!!! So how do we fix this? Let's see why chairs even exist in the first place!

[IMG: a chair like the ones above with a half circle cut from the back of the seat.]

4. The earliest (known) chairs come from the 2nd dynasty of Egypt during the Thinite period. These chairs were as short at the seat as 10 inches! …But like, Why? as a status symbol! These caught on as nobility wished to copy kings, and then the common people copied nobility. They're also useful to keep your clothes clean and prevent you from resting on cold or wet ground.

[IMG: Two desert foxes, one on a chair is joyfully sitting upon a chair, covered in gold adornments like a pharaoh. He says: 'I'm sitting higher! So I'm better than you!' The other fox looks concerned, wears no gold as she kneels and says: 'Hm.']

But we don't need kings!! If you want something for similar use without those connotations. Here's some options:

[IMG: Two people sitting on a bench and a large plush pillow as well as a rectangular cushion that's rolled up.]

Kneeling! While many cultures use this to show reverence, few still kneel for comfort.

Benches and stools! Before chairs became affordable for the average person simpler furnishings were commonly used. These don't have tricky tail holes to fumble around with and can be as simple as a plank.

cushions! A thick pillow or rolled rug would allow a person to sit cross-legged without their tail pressing down against a hard surface.

Think about who needs chairs, where they'd be used, and the answer will come naturally! Have fun world building!

[letherightonein]

Correct response: men are uglier than women

I have seen this graph more than two dozen times in the last week. The first time I saw it was about five years ago, but people seemed fascinated by it long before that. I remember what I thought back then: “Duh? Yes, and? Have you seen men? Have you seen women?” But no one obsessed with this graph seems to share my impression, not even its very author. Christian Rudder says in his book Dataclysm:

Sex appeal isn’t something commonly quantified like this, so let me put it in a more familiar context: translate this plot to IQ, and you have a world where the women think 58 percent of men are brain damaged.

Bryan also echoes this sentiment in his article:

The OkCupid results are far from unique. But the graphs are stark enough to inspire mutual anger. Common angry male reactions include: “Women have absurdly unrealistic standards” as well as “Women are just cruel.” Common angry female responses include: “It’s not our fault that most men suck” and “Why should I settle?

It’s not that women are telling a hard truth about men; it’s that they perceive reality in the wrong way. Even though no one, not even Rudder, provides an 'objective' measure of men’s attractiveness and actually proves that women are wrong. Somehow, people assume that men and women are the same when it comes to facial attractiveness. Therefore, men’s ratings should also follow a bell curve.

Nevertheless, when men and women are asked about both their own and the opposite sex’s attractiveness, both groups agree that women are more attractive than men. This gives us another example of a male-driven narrative fueled by relentless projection onto the opposite sex. Men are the ones who overestimate themselves the most, not women.

As Aella explains in one of her articles:

Women’s self-rating for their average photo was 6.2, but men rated those photos, on average, 5.0 - a gap of 1.2. For women’s best photos (self rated 7.3), men rated those 5.3, for a gap of 2.0 points. Men, with a self-rating for their avg photo of 6.3, got rated by women as 4.4, meaning they were off by 1.9. Their best photo was even worse - that 7.3 self perception got knocked down to 4.6 by women raters, for a staggering gap of 2.7.

I also question the uniqueness of the OKCupid graph, because every person who wants to point out this divergence between the sexes seems unable to back up this 'ugly truth' with another source that provides the same results. In my experience, when this 'truth' is explained, that ten-year-old graph is brought up for the thousandth time, with no other source provided—almost as if it were the only one.

And most of the time, it’s assumed to be self-explanatory. When discussing men approaching women in person, this graph is presented without any additional commentary. It doesn’t mention rejection, nor does it discuss whom women partner with. It’s just... there, and you’re expected to conclude the only possible truth: women are wrong/delusional, and most men are incels/single/rejected/buzzword-of-the-moment because of them. Women should lower their standards and control their 'ick.’

Just like Bryan says in his article:

The typical man disgusts the typical woman. You can expand this to: The median man moderately disgusts the typical woman, and the bottom quarter of men strongly disgust the typical woman (…) The good news: Once we all accept these ugly truths, we can replace fruitless anger with mutual understanding and empathy (…) Men should stop taking rejection so personally. When the typical women rejects you, the problem isn’t so much that she finds you unappealing. The problem is that the typical woman finds almost all men unappealing (…) Women should stop taking unwanted advances so personally. When the typical man pesters you, the problem isn’t so much that he refuses to see that you’re out of his league. The problem is that almost all women think they’re out of his league (…)

Yep, always the same ol’ story. But with a particular twist this time:

(…) Most women eventually accept a guy who isn’t visibly attractive. Much of the reason is that superficially unappealing guys win them over with charm, humor, and devotion. So instead of crinkling your nose in physical disgust, it pays to be on the look-out for the winning psychological traits of charm, humor, and devotion.

The real good news here is that women don’t have to read Bryan’s advice. The same OKCupid data shows that women send messages to 'below average' men. Women have seen men their entire lives, and by default, they know they can’t expect a Ryan Gosling or a Jeremy Meeks for a boyfriend. That possibility doesn’t even cross their minds. I would say their expectation is to be the prettiest one in the couple, since beauty is associated with femininity and women’s role in heterosexual relationships.Women rate men below the midpoint of the scale and send messages to men below the midpoint of the scale. Shocking.

But even when it’s not hard at all to find this graph, and how this ‘discovery’ of men being uglier is not new, the speculations about what can explain women’s 'bad judgment' don’t take long to appear. Bryan continues by saying:

Since women’s maximum reproductive capacity is strictly limited, they’re evolved to be hypergamous, with a strong preference for mating with the best of the best.

Hypergamy, the act of marrying someone with more income or more education than yourself, is brought up with a 'new' definition, and it is stated that women have a 'strong preference for mating with the best of the best.' The way people like Bryan reconcile that idea with the reality that, every year, the majority of men are having sex, and how any mission to touch grass ends up showing normal people dating each other, will always be a mystery to me.

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (40) || atz

“Can I please touch it?” You breathe, staring at it in awe.

“No.”

“Pleaseeeee~” You whine, and Hongjoong stares at you with some sort of frightened expression, before clutching it closer to his chest.

“No!”

You clasp your hands together and puff out your cheeks in a pout, almost begging your captain. “Please…?”

Your captain falters at the look on your face, hesitating for a moment. Then he comes back to his senses and shakes his head frantically, trying to assume a stern expression.

“I don’t trust anyone with the name Choi to steer this ship, the last time San took the wheel he ran us aground on a beach and Jongho broke the wheel into three pieces. You are not touching the wheel and that is final.”

“But Hongjoong-hyung…” You pout and Hongjoong sputters at the use of his real name, before he forces himself to look away with a scowl.

“I know what you’re playing at, Chin Hae! All of you only call me by name when you want something from me! I’m not falling for it!”

Then he whips around to glare at the man perched cheerfully on the railing of the forecastle deck, who is grinning at you proudly. “Wooyoung, I swear, you better stop teaching Chin Hae your persuasive techniques before I shoot you myself!

“Nope~” Wooyoung hums in a sing song voice as he basks in the sun’s rays like a large cat, chuckling at the sour expression on his captain’s face before he flashes two thumbs ups at you. “I know you can do it, Chin Hae!”

You nod eagerly, determined to work away at your captain until he caves in to your request, but then a voice from the stairs interrupt you.

“Wooyoung-ah, why have you been stealing my apprentice from me?”  

You whirl around in surprise to see your master climbing the stairs with his arms crossed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. A smile pulls at your lips as he wraps his arms around you from behind and settles his chin on your shoulder, cocking his head while taking in Wooyoung and Hongjoong eyeing each other.

Hongjoong is glaring quite frantically, but Wooyoung merely laughs that high pitched dolphin squeal in response, body shaking with amusement. Your captain snorts in disgust and throws his hands up into the air.

“Does no one on this ship respect me?”

The reply is immediate.

“Yes, captain.” You, San and Wooyoung answer simultaneously and then the three of you are exchanging a long and complicated handshake between you. It originally belonged to just San and Wooyoung, but after awhile of teasing Hongjoong together, you’ve learnt their secrets and you can now declare you are part of the inner fold of the crew.

Your captain just smacks his face into the wheel and groans.

It’s been a month since you’ve left the sea witch behind you. In that time, you’ve grown so much closer to the crew already, truly integrating yourself into the crew. You’ve seen raids, actual battles on other ships, especially British East India trading ships that Hongjoong targets for the supplies and gold that they carry.

To your surprise, piracy is actually something rather peaceful, for you at least. Trading ships don’t carry cannons, and usually the sight of the Treasure’s orange and black flag is enough to scare the victim into submission. You haven’t seen a battle in the whole time since you’ve left the sea witch, although Yunho and Jongho insists on keeping your fighting skills up in case anything happens.

You’re a little surprised at first when Hongjoong doesn’t insist on raiding the ship bone bare, instead preferring to leave enough for the ship to survive. A far cry, Mingi had told you, from what Hongjoong used to do. You know that your captain had been a dangerous man a long time before, but you had never expected such a change of heart in him.

Speaking of dangerous people…

Up till now, you still don’t know what had happened to Wooyoung that day.

Part of you still twists a little in unease every time you see him, but you have to remind yourself that this is Jung Wooyoung, the one who gave you the hairpin tucked protectively in your belt, the one who fought to keep you alive that day in Nassau, the one who had saved your life from the sirens. You remember your times in the sails climbing the ropes  When you look at that adorable, boxy smile on his face as he teases your captain relentlessly, that small, niggling sensation fades away into the back of your mind like a dream in the morning.

No. No matter who he was before, he’s nothing like that now.

The man in question glances over at you with a huge grin from where he’s poking his captain in the sides, Hongjoong dissolving into fits of uncontrollable, hysterical giggles as he tries to hold on to the wheel. San joins in, dragging his captain away from the wheel as he laughs uncontrollably. Your captain topples to the ground and Wooyoung and San pounce on top of him, tickling him mercilessly as he rolls around on the deck begging for mercy.

Wooyoung turns to you with a bright smile, breathless with laughter, vibrant, purple hair in disarray, and your heart stutters for a second in your chest.

“Go on, Chin Hae, take the wheel!”

You fight down the unease in you and smile back, forcing the thoughts out of your head as you scamper over to the wheel, gently taking it with hesitant hands.

Immediately you can feel the roar of the sea as it rushes against the rudder, the waves rocking the ship back and forth gently. The Treasure hums under your feet, and for a second, elation rising in you.

“Oh, she’s actually pretty good at it.” Mingi remarks as he steps onto the quarterdeck, followed by Yunho and Yeosang, who look shocked that Hongjoong is actually letting you touch the wheel, before seeing him pinned down by the ship’s resident healer and head gunner.

Yunho grins in anticipation and starts stretching his legs. Your captain turns white at the sight and squeaks desperately under the human pile, waving his arms frantically as he attempts to wriggle his way out, to no avail.

“Yunho, no, don’t do it-”

The battlemaster ignores everything his captain says. Stepping back, he charges forward like a raging bull and jumps on top of the pile, flattening all three people under him.

“Ouch, you’re heavy, Yunho-ah!”

“I’m going to throw you all off the ship for this, I am the captain-”

“Yun Hoe why are you so fat-”

“What’s happening?” Jongho asks as he joins the mess that is the quarterdeck. You smile at the younger battlemaster, who’s holding an apple in his hand.

“Can I have some, Jongho-hyung?”

He merely nods, ignoring the shrieking of his captain as the three of his crew mates bury Hongjoong in a flurry of tickles, all laughing uncontrollably. Breaking the apple in half easily, he then breaks it into quarters, and then into bite sized pieces, one of which he pops into your mouth.

“Thanks, hyung.” You mumble as you crunch on the apple, your words muffled by the piece of fruit in your mouth. Jongho makes a face at the word, as if he wants to tell you something, but you don’t know what. You swallow the apple piece before you ask him what it is.

“Is there something wrong, Jongho-hyung?”

At that, Jongho finally sighs over Hongjoong’s squealing in the background, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well… I want you to stop calling me hyung, actually.”

Sadness descends on you for a moment and the smile on your face falls away instantly, only to be replaced by a miserable look. Jongho looks confused for a moment at the change of expression, before he realises how you might have interpreted his words.

“No no no that’s not what I meant-” He flaps around in a panic for a moment like a wet hen, before he pinches the bridge of his nose and glances over at Yeosang, who’s merely shaking his head at his crew mates’ antics. “Yeosang-hyung, can you tell her what we were talking about yesterday?”

Your heart sinks in your chest. They were talking about you behind your back?

The navigator lights up, as if in realisation, stepping away from the screeching human pile that has somehow become a tiny Hongjoong sandwiched between Yunho, San and Wooyoung. He sees the confused, sad look on your face and is quick to reassure you.

“What we’ve wanted you to know for a while is… now that we’ve found out that you’re a woman, you can’t call us hyung anymore.” You’re momentarily confused, before the ship’s resident language expert continues speaking. “You see, hyung is something younger guys call older guys, but since you’re not a guy anymore, you’re supposed to call us… well… oppa.”

Understanding dawns upon you like a ray of sunlight.

“Ahh.” You turn to Jongho, who’s nodding seriously in agreement as he puts another apple bite in his mouth. “So like… Jongho-oppa?”

At the last word, Jongho’s eyes bulge out suddenly and he chokes furiously, the half chewed apple piece flying out of his mouth and missing Yeosang’s head by mere inches. The navigator manages to dodge in time and the piece of fruit goes flying over the side of the ship into the sea.

“Jongho-oppa!” You cry out in shock, letting go of the wheel to pat a hacking Jongho on the back, Mingi smoothly sliding in to steer the ship. The word, however, just seems to make the young battlemaster cough harder, waving you off.

“I’m fine, I’m fine-” He coughs one more time, thumping his chest as he wheezes for breath. “I just wasn’t… expecting that.”

You glance over at a serenely smiling Yeosang in confusion. “Am I saying it wrong, Yeosang-oppa?”

The navigator beams at you proudly as he pats Jongho on the back, the younger battlemaster slumping against his crew mate as he attempts to catch his breath. “Not at all. Good job, Chin Hae! Go try it on the rest of the guys!”

With the new word lingering on your tongue, you turn towards the human pile.

Your captain is now weakly crying with laughter as his crew members continue assaulting him with tickles from every direction, twitching as he attempts to free himself from their cage like arms. You turn to the one at the top of the pile, hanging over Yunho’s back as he pinches Hongjoong’s sides.

“Umm… Wooyoung…” You begin a little awkwardly, nerves suddenly getting to you. What if he chokes too and doesn’t want to be called that? But it’s too late, you’ve already gotten his attention and he turns to look at you with earnest, green eyes, alight with joy and laughter.

“What is it?”

Your heart stumbles a little in your chest and you’re confused for a moment at what you’re feeling. But you push it aside and hesitantly glance at him in the eye, unable to hold his gaze, which is filled with innocent, child-like curiosity.

“Do you want me to call you… Wooyoung-oppa?”

There’s a moment of awkward silence.

Wooyoung’s reaction isn’t as dramatic as Jongho’s, but it’s even more confusing. His mouth falls open a little, his eyes widening in shock and his eyebrows rising a little as he registers what you’ve just said.

He’s shocked, you can tell. Just whether it’s a good shocked or bad shocked, that’s what you don’t know.

Before you can muster the courage to ask him what’s wrong, he suddenly makes a little, squeaky noise and claps his hands to his cheeks as fast as he can, shaking his head frantically and refusing to meet you in the eye. You’re a little surprised, trying to bend down so you can see exactly what kind of expression he’s making.

“Wooyoung-oppa? Wooyoung-oppa?”

From underneath Wooyoung, San’s eyes light up in realisation, unbeknownst to you or Wooyoung himself.

San knows Wooyoung like he knows the back of his own hand, perhaps more than Wooyoung knows himself. After all, he’s the one who took care of Wooyoung when he first came to the ship. The two have a special bond… one that you can’t even begin to fathom.

Then a gentle smile crosses his face.

“Ooh, Wooyoung-ah, are you shy?” San whistles teasingly and Wooyoung’s head immediately snaps around to stare at San in horror, the chains on his wrists jingling. Then he realises you’re still looking at him in confusion and hops off the pile as fast as he can, squatting on the ground trying to hide his face from you.

Is he… embarrassed?

Yunho’s smile turns evil as well as he mercifully clambers off Hongjoong, who simply lies there, exhausted, while the battlemaster makes his way over to Wooyoung. The head gunner squeaks at the approaching footsteps but doesn’t dare to move, until Yunho grabs his hands and yanks them away from his face.

“Heuk! Hyung, stop it-” Wooyoung cries in horror, but you already see his face, a bright, cherry red blush staining his cheeks and creeping down his neck. He looks like a baby puppy that just got caught stealing food, and the sight makes a smile spread uncontrollably on your face.

“Wooyoung-oppa.” You repeat again. Somehow, Wooyoung’s flush gets even brighter, and he finally slumps the floor with an adorable, defeated pout, hands on his cheeks once more as Yunho and San laugh uncontrollably behind him. “You’re just cruel, Chin Hae, teasing me like this.”

Your heart skips a beat. Really, what is this feeling?

“Me too!” Hongjoong whines, looking annoyed as he gets to his feet on wobbly legs. “Nobody on this ship ever calls me by name! Chin Hae, please help me out here!”

You smile sweetly at Hongjoong.

“Of course, captain.”

At Hongjoong’s screech of exasperation and howling of laughter coming from around you, you smile, contented, with your lot in this life. You may not have your memories, but you have them, and it’s more than you could ever wish for.

They’re your treasure.

[jancmalandra]

The Shipwreck

On the temptation to return to old ambitions

By mid-May Snufkin and Moomintroll had started mounting occasional expeditions into the wildernesses of Moominvalley for themselves and the children of the village again, as they had done every Spring and Summer since Moomintroll and Snork Maiden's children turned six. They would spread the word of their latest hike a few days before they set out, inviting any child who wished to join them. They would always find a fair number of children waiting for them in front of Moominhouse on the morning that they planned to leave. The children would have their backpacks packed in case the hike lasted more than a day.

Little My never missed these expeditions as they provided excellent opportunities for mischief and excitement. On the twenty-sixth of May Moominvalley was struck by a very powerful storm. The next day Little My immediately suggested to Moomintroll and Snufkin that they mount an expedition to the beach to search for treasures that might have washed up on the shore as soon as possible. The two of them readily agreed and sent Little My to spread the word that they would leave in three days, and then they began to pack for the trip.

The morning of the twenty-ninth came and Moomintroll, Snufkin, Tayberry, Moomin and Little My said goodbye to Snork Maiden, Moominpapa, and Moominmama and stepped out of the front door to see who had joined them. Boyle, Bristol, and Auguste were at the forefront of the small crowd of children as usual. Gerard, Peter, and Martin were right behind them in their finest hunting gear. Hiding behind Gerard was a welcome new addition, Snork and Sniff's adopted son, Snerf. He was clearly doing his best to be brave and ready for adventure and had a determined look on his face. Gerard had clearly made fast friends with the little monster and was acting as his strongest supporter.

Moomintroll and Snufkin looked at each other and silently decided together not to take undue note of Snerf joining them so that he wouldn't feel singled out and uncomfortable.

"Alright everyone!", said Snufkin, "Let's head out for the beach!"

The children and Little My lined up behind him and Moomintroll and they all began marching down the path to the beach, talking cheerily amongst themselves and occasionally striking up a song. When they reached the beach, they saw a very promising sight: there was driftwood and other assorted flotsam everywhere.

Little My was the first to begin inspecting and sorting through the debris and all the children quickly joined her. Gerard and Snerf made their way up the boardwalk to the bathhouse to get a better look at the full expanse of the beach. Snerf climbed to the top of the bathhouse in an instant and looked carefully in all directions. His large, green eyes suddenly widened in surprise and then delight. He forgot to be afraid in his excitement and rushed over to Moomintroll and Snufkin who were observing all the children with contented nostalgia from the top of the beach.

"Mr. Moomintroll, sir!", he said, jumping up and down, "There's been huge rock slide on the cliff just a few miles down the beach! It looks like a really big cave has been opened up! Can we check it out?!"

"Most definitely!", said Moomintroll. Then he called out to Little My and the other children, "Everyone! A new cave has opened up further down the beach! Everyone get into The Adventure and we'll sail there!"

Everyone quickly obeyed Moomintroll's instructions and piled into the boat. Moomintroll untied the mooring rope and he and Snufkin rowed The Adventure away from the bathouse. They raised the sail and the wind, which was a little strong, immediately filled it and they headed towards the cave. As they drew closer, the cave became more and more enticing. The large boulders that once sealed off the cave were strewn here and there in the bay, peaking out just above the level of the surf. Snufkin lowered the sail, and he and Moomintroll took up the oars and rowed around the boulders carefully and into the huge mouth of the cave.

The morning sunlight poured into the cave, making it very easy to see everything in it. The first sight that greeted the crew of The Adventure was a very old pirate ship which had been left at anchor in the middle of the large pool of water that took up most of the cave. Moomintroll and Snufkin rowed around the ship, confirming that the hull was still completely intact and to look for a way to board the ship. They saw a boarding ladder hanging from the deck rail, the bottom of which was hanging just out of their reach. Gerard and Snerf whispered back and forth urgently between themselves for maybe thirty seconds and then Gerard climbed onto Snerf's back and Snerf climbed the mast of The Adventure and leapt onto the boarding ladder. They reached the deck of the pirate ship and let the boarding ladder the rest of the way down. Everyone quickly joined them on the deck and gaped in wonder at the wreck for several minutes.

The ship was a three-masted schooner and it was in amazingly good condition for its age. The masts were broken and the sails were long gone, but that seemed to be the worst of the damage. The paint had almost entirely chipped away from every surface, but all the wood seemed intact and strong. The door to the quarterdeck in the ship's stern swung back and forth with the tide, almost like an invitation to come in. The door to the lower decks was in the middle of the deck and was wide open.

"Well, it would be rude to refuse such a polite invitation!", declared Snufkin as he detached his small camping lantern from his backpack and lit it, "Boyle, Bristol, Auguste, Peter and Martin, let's explore the lower decks! Moomintroll, you take everyone else and explore the quarterdeck!", and with that Snufkin led his group down the steps to the gun deck.

Moomin and Tayberry immediately ran through the door to the captain's quarters in the quarterdeck, and Moomintroll, Little My, Gerard, and Snerf stayed together on the main deck near the helm. Moomintroll fiddled distractedly with the wheel, which was clearly no longer connected to the rudder, staring dreamily at the whole ship. Little My pulled forcefully at his elbow, bringing him back to his senses.

"Oh! Little My!" exclaimed Moomintroll, "I thought that you were with Snufkin! Surely you want to explore the hold and see whether there's still any treasure to be found?"

"There's plenty of time for that later! Besides, the pirates almost certainly made off with their treasure after hiding their ship here. I want to have a word with you before Snufkin comes back and tries to stop me. You know very well that you've been dreaming of something like this falling into your lap since you were little! Everyone here is thinking the same thing as you; 'Let's fix up this ship and go on a really big adventure around the world!' If you fail to seize control of this project right now, I'm going to lose any slight respect for you that I might have ever had! Your whole life, you've always given in to what other people wanted from you! If Snufkin hadn't fallen in love with you, you'd never have gone after him, Snork Maiden would have eventually forced you to marry her and forced Snufkin out of your lives and you'd have willingly spent the rest of your life being miserable just to please her! You need to finally stand up for yourself and take this ship for yourself! You know that you've more than earned it!", said Little My angrily, forcing Moomintroll back one step with every sentence.

"First of all, Little My, I know that you know Snork Maiden better than that, and that you don't have such a low opinion of her! Secondly, I thought that you had been plotting for ages before the three of us came together to force us to realize how we really felt about our relationship! Thirdly, all of us here found this ship, not just me, and we all get a say in what we're going to do with it! Lastly, I ended up getting everything I ever dreamed of by NOT forcing my wishes upon those I love!", said Moomintroll just as forcefully as Little My, which took her very much by surprise.

Snufkin and the other children reemerged from below and Moomin and Tayberry exited the captain's quarters at that very moment, breaking up their argument.

"Snufkin!", said Moomintroll eagerly, "How are things down there?"

"It all looks very promising. We should only need to do some basic repairs and repaint the whole ship to get her seaworthy again. Of course, we'll need to find a way to pitch the canons overboard. They're beyond repair to begin with and we're not going to be needing them. Also, the hold is totally empty. Not so much as a doubloon to seen, thank The Booble!", said Snufkin.

"Gather 'round everyone!", said Moomintroll loudly, "I know that you're all thinking what Snufkin and I are: 'Can we repair this ship and take it out on adventures?' It's entirely up to all you children. You found this ship, so what it becomes is your choice. I'll help you only as much as you want me to and we'll only go as fast you like."

The children all cheered joyously and immediately climbed back into The Adventure and began excitedly discussing their plans. Little My was the last to board The Adventure and she sat fuming silently in the stern the entire trip back to the boardwalk leading to the bathhouse. Snufkin and Moomintroll brought up the rear of the group as they all headed back to Moominhouse.

Snufkin put his paw lovingly in Moomintroll's and said, "I'm very proud of how well you handled that. I can guess how hard it was for you to hand over that ship to the children. I can also guess why you and Little My aren't on speaking terms right now. If you want to talk about it, Snork Maiden and I will always be there for you anytime you need us. You know that very well, don't you?"

"Thank you, Snufkin!", said Moomintroll a little tearfully, and he kissed him tenderly, "I really do need to talk about it once we get back to Moominhouse and we have some time to ourselves!"

To Be Continued

[commander-orca]

COTW FANFICTION

CHAPTER 9: THE BROKEN AT EACH OTHER’S THROATS

“Hello Kannavi! Itia greeted, stepping into the infirmary through the front door.

She wore a tunic from here she’d been given on the first day, after the treatments. Her brown hair, still very soberly tied, was discreetly tousled by the wind and her monocle bore the traces of the sun on the glass. She seemed relaxed and the smile on her face, although shocking at first had gradually become one of the expressions she was wearing the most.

"… Hello Itia," the latter replied hesitantly, looking up from his remedies. "Tell me, weren't you supposed to stay in bed for five more days here so the wounds would heal well?" "

Itia nodded in his direction, keeping her smile, bathed in warm light.

“No worries, I'm counting on it. It’s just that I’ve gone out to listen to Suoh's speech.

-Ah. And how was it? "

The young woman raised her palms to the sky, showing that she had no particular opinion.

" I don’t know. He didn't show up.

-Oh ".

The rays of sunshine which accompanied her arrival faded once the door closed with a heavy slam and the room was plunged back into the shadow. Itia quickly took off her shoes and hung her jacket on the coat rack. Kannavi’s eyes followed her as she strolled across the room to her assigned bunk to sit comfortably, legs under the sheets. She breathed peacefully, her chest heaving in regular gusts of air and was mentally present. This carefree, almost lazy air was also new to her, who always seemed wary in Empire territory. Kannavi kept his inner remark to himself and went back to work, rolling up his sleeves.

He was busy crushing herbs in a mortar, then pounding them with a roller, doing a bit of a botched job. He had fallen behind on the chores he had been given for today since he had failed to wake up on time. Fortunately, the infirmary was half empty, most of the patients were still sleeping and Itia's excursion benefitted him well since she didn't seem to have noticed that he had only emerged from bed half an hour ago. Using the excuse of a new environment disrupting his sleep schedule might work for a while, but people here would eventually find out that he wasn’t actually very punctual. However, keeping up appearances for a while wasn't bad in itself; this would allow him to form a new, more flattering temporary image before inevitably one would decide to fire him. In addition, this job was not stressful and did not have the constraints of a superior on your back screaming at you all day that you sucked, unlike back in the Empire. This job was pretty relaxing. So, Kannavi would push himself to work hard and try to stay affiliated for as long as possible.

There were only a few things that really mattered in his life. Making sure you didn't end up on the streets or in jail was one of the most important things. The rest didn't matter. Since childhood, he had had little free will in the end, lugged from family to family like a trinket. Then the army. All these things had been decided for him, without him having a say or being able to influence the course of it and yet, it did not bother him that much. Making decisions for oneself seemed to affect people with crippling anguish and give them all the tools for an even stronger grudge against themselves. That didn't mean he wasn't attached to anything. The young nurse was careful never to stray too far from Orca. But Kannavi preferred his little quiet position; the rudder of his life was not in his hands, he was content being carried by life, chance, people, and if he found himself in an unpleasant situation, he would only have to wait until it would pass. Knowing that we wasn’t at fault for the misfortunes that befell him, or those of others, was a calming thought.

The water in the pot began to boil and he set the temperature to low. He lifted the lid, added the few mint leaves he had pre-cut and the herbal powder he had crushed. The water immediately took on a reddish tint. He replaced the lid on the container.

Rather than a fear of trying or failing, the reason was outrightly simpler than that: Kannavi really didn't wish for anything. Nothing really arose any desires and that surge of excitement others sometimes had looking at their goal from afar, motivating them to work harder, was relatively unknown to him.

"Excuse me if I'm disturbing ...", asked suddenly Itia's voice hatching through the hissing of the pan, "But can I talk to you about something?" 

Kannavi raised an eyebrow, astonished by this wording. People never came to him for serious discussions. Hands caught in the herbs, he continued to extract their juice and stir it vigorously in a bowl. Without looking back, he said:

“It depends on what you want to talk about. I am often told that I am not very delicate, you know ... "

Behind his back, Itia's voice grew more hesitant. The blankets had just moved and she too, making the slats of the bed creak. Outside, a gust of wind shook the windows and the shutters creaked against the walls; the weather was getting colder.

"I know, but ... I have the impression that you are the only one who can really enlighten me on that topic”.

-Mmh. Go ahead... "

At that moment, the door to the infirmary swung open and cracked loudly against the back wall. A clear, confident voice exclaimed, echoing through the room:

“Kannavi! "

Itia jumped up and fell silent, crouching in the back of her bunk, disappointed. Taken by surprise, Kannavi whirled around, his gloves dripping with berry juice beading on the floor. Orca strode towards him. He looked cheerful and more light-hearted than he had been in the past few days, which reassured him. When he had visited his friend at his place a few days ago, Orca had subtly tried to hold him back, stealing part of his night before he had returned to his own hut. The young nurse suspected nightmares, linked to their last adventures perhaps ... However, he was dumbfounded to find him here; usually, he refrained from visiting the most vulnerable and from mingling in the places where the inhabitants gathered.

Orca grabbed his shoulders, half laughing, half teasing. His pale hair twitched at the rhythm of his smile.

"Kannavi, I thought I was going to die of laughter ... I walked out of the council and ... Saw you take a sprint all the way here half-dressed ... I see someone overslept again!

The nurse gritted his teeth and turned a quarter of a turn to glance over his shoulder; he could feel stares on him. Awakened by this sudden animation in the infirmary, a few patients sat in their beds and were now staring at them with a disapproving air. Kannavi grabbed him by the arm, a small displeased pout clearly visible on his face. What an idiot. The duality of his personality was probably a little too strong at times: playing the eloquent strategist at important meetings and immediately switching to a carefree joker when he was no longer doing anything related to his personal affairs and interests. That was probably why he got into so much trouble.

"Oru ... Lower your voice a bit!  Come to the back-shop ... And you just ruined my coverage! I'm going to be fired now ... "

Orca took a quick look around and looked as though he had finally realized the presence of the convalescents. He immediately put his hand to his lips, feeling sorry. Nodding, he quietly followed the direction his friend was pointing. But it would have been to be underestimating Itia who sat up on her pillows, looking furious and threw her legs to the side, ready to jump.

“Wait… Kannavi !?, Itia exclaimed, whose mind had just connected the dots to Orca's words,“Did I hear correctly? You just arrived ?

-Uh ... "

Kannavi readjusted his apron, looking for something to make up or justify. But frankly, there wasn't much to say… He sighed, giving up any attempt to lie.

Orca watched him, putting his hand over his mouth once again, but most likely hiding a chuckle this time around.

“Itia, please come too. If you want to reprimand me, reprimand me in the back-shop”.

Itia got up hastily from her bed, her face closed and fists clenched, and walked in a straight line towards the storage room.

"And that I will do," she muttered through her teeth. "You too, Sir Orca".

Orca raised a few fingers awkwardly at her as she walked past him, a sly smile on his lips.

“Hello Itia.

"Hello Sir Orca," Itia retorted, coldly, as if she had just returned a mockery.

Her figure disappeared under the beaded curtain that separated the main room from the storage area. The brown beads tinkled for a few moments, knocking against each other, hinting between their strings the shape of a shelf and medical posters stuck against the yellowed walls, then froze again, giving the curtain the air of a real wall. Silence fell in the infirmary. Orca exchanged a look with Kannavi, Kannavi's wide eyes meant he was expecting to be given some wild dressing down. His friend nodded, pulling his long hair to the side and shrugging, silently exposing him that he didn't know what he had done to get there. The two men followed her, both looking constrained and sheepish. Kannavi entered the storeroom and leaned against one of the shelves containing the syringes, stethoscopes, and other essentials. Orca removed a stack of papers from the old chair and sat down, bringing the papers to his knees. Itia, for her part, closed the door to the storeroom and remained standing in order to appear more authoritative. She crossed her arms, looking at them in turn, saying nothing. Orca turned his head, pretending to be captivated by the medical scale. He whispered faintly to his friend:

"Ah ... I don't like it when she does that." It means she will -

- Tell me, are you not being serious ?! "

Orca stopped talking immediately, blinking several times. Fury shook Itia's voice, the two of them didn't have to look at her to know that.

"Do you think you are on a vacation or staying at a hotel? Think you can afford to skip your assigned duties and lounge around all day ?! "

“Itia…” Kannavi began, taken aback, “I must have told you already, but… I'm not very good at keeping a job. But I’m trying, obviously. I don't want to lose this job, it's the quietest I've had so far ... "

Itia's face took on a more scarlet color. Swooping down on the young nurse, she grabbed one of the flyaway locks sticking out of his head.

"I can’t believe it! Is that all you care about, Kannavi ?!

–Not my hair Itia, please, ”he begged,“ They still have to grow! "

Orca stared at them, alarmed and hastened to cover his own hair with his hands.

Itia released a panicked Kannavi and walked away. In the corner of the room was an old, moth-eaten desk, neglected because of its disparate surface area that made it difficult to disinfect. The young woman grabbed it with both hands and pulled it with her. She brought it to the center of the room, in front of the two men, after much effort and squeaking. Perched on the table, her legs hanging out to the side, she smirked. It was a more than satisfying sight: these two slackers, looking at her from below, somewhat tense, anticipating what her next move would be. A rare sight that neither of them turned a deaf ear to her or only half-listened to her! But, remembering what she had to say, she lost her smile and granted them a serious expression.

“I believe you’re still caught up in your illusions or you just don't realize, but these people are our only chance to have a normal and maybe even happy life. We hurt them tremendously, many of them died under our attacks. And yet, they’re forgiving us! "

She paused, scrutinizing them closely. Strangely, a glimmer of full attention burned in Kannavi's eyes and he had shed his slumped position. On the contrary, Orca was looking away, occasionally smoothing out the folds of his dress over his crossed leg.dominant, but his wiggling pupils in their sockets, proved that he was also drinking her words.

“We need to give them reasons to trust us a and to have forgiven us! If all goes well, maybe they will allow us to live here. It would be convenient, we who have nowhere to go now! But it is not by botching your work - Itia stared firmly at Kannavi - or by doing nothing - she let a glare fall on her superior - that they will come to consider such a thing!

Kannavi held up a quiet hand, hoping to be able to place a word. He made a small thoughtful sound, but avoided completely contradicting the young woman. His hair still had a long life ahead of it.

"Excuse me, Itia, but I think Orca does a lot for the Clay Whale. He participates in all the councils and has recently started on guard tours ... "

Orca turned his head towards him, eyebrows raised. Itia scowled, looking annoyed. Her hands took the shape of a triangle as she looked up at the ceiling light.

"I know that, Kannavi, but you see, I think Sir Orca has to work twice as hard as we need to."

“Not to the point of collapsing anywa—” the other protested, before being interrupted by Orca who had placed a soothing hand on his shoulder, as if making a call for him to stop.

“No need, Kannavi. She's right. I have to try harder ”.

Kannavi stared at him flatly; Orca was already very involved. Was it possible to try harder? Itia, meanwhile, fixed her pair of eyes on the commander, as if she was rediscovering him. He rarely admitted his wrongs. It was a good thing, it put her in a good mood.

“Anyway, we owe them a lot and I think it is essential for us to help. I can clearly see the efforts of Sir Orca ", she resumed, in a more tender voice,"And I see, given the level of fatigue he has shown in recent days, that he’s worked a lot ".

Even though, embarrassed at the thought that he had plausibly caused her chickweed, her superior lowered his head.

"Get more involved ... What I mean by that is that I find you oddly withdrawn, Sir Orca," Itia said, a soft and compassionate smile dawning on her lips. “You should dare more to sympathize with them. Regain self-confidence. The people of the Clay Whale also recognize you as the one who saved them from an undisputable disaster now ... "

With that, her superior looked away again. Itia, who continued to look at him, began to swing her legs off the top of the old desk, having lost track for a moment. Kannavi took hold of the silence to think about something that had just re-appeared in his thoughts. Itia had said she wanted to talk to him on a certain subject. A subject on which only he could enlighten her ...

"Well ... I'm aware that I haven't done much myself either. I have caused concern and as an injured person I require extra work. I hope I can get down to business soon.”

- You must not feel guilty Itia. These injuries are not your fault… I'm sure you'll find a way to be useful here and fit in really well, ”Kannavi assured him.

The young woman smiled at him, thanking him with a nod, then her gaze fell on Orca who had risen from his chair and dusted his dress vigorously. Itia put her hand towards him as if to hold him back, then hid her hand behind his back.

"Leaving already, Sir Orca?" "

Orca's bangs slid to the side as he swiveled his head towards her to fix her in amusement.

"You give us nice talks about the usefulness of being productive but find it useful to just sit there twiddling your thumbs?" "

Itia scowled and crossed her arms again.

“We’re not twiddling our thumbs. I argue with you for the best. You could have waited for me to finish! "

Orca raised his eyebrows, not losing that mocking smile.

" Well ?

"M-Make an effort to get along with people, please," Itia grumbled, irritated by his impatience and rudeness, “And be more polite”.

Her boss gave one last cheeky little smile before nodding and walking out the door. He arched his back to squeeze under the curtain. The young nurse followed him with his eyes, inwardly amused by this vision; Orca was almost too tall for the dimensions of the Whale, and you sometimes thought you saw an intruder in a children's village. In front of him, the young woman came down gracefully from the office and slandered in frustration. Why did he always have to nod with that smirk that seemed to mean he didn't get it?

“Ah! By the way, Itia, you wanted to talk to me about something ...? Kannavi asked.

The young woman seemed to hesitate. After a while, she opened her mouth to start something, but a high-pitched crash suddenly interrupted her. Then, bursts of voices. Dismayed, Kannavi got up immediately and hurried to the main wing of the infirmary. Itia sighed loudly. You could never have calm for a second here ... Following the nurse, she stepped through the beaded curtain and froze, just like him at her side. The two young people found Orca on the other side of the curtain in confrontation with the Prince of Amonlogia. Slightly behind them, the island's chief, Suoh, stared at a small object at his feet, his palms still open suggesting it had once been in his hands. Rochalizo took a step closer to Orca, his concave nose upturned with great contempt.

" What’s your fucking problem!? You’re all quiet now. Think you can get away with this ?! "

The atmosphere that fell on the room had grown heavy. Dozens of pairs of eyes on them, the two leaders stared at each other in silence, exchanging mute threats and disdain. Orca met his gaze, firm, yet not trying to defend himself in the slightest. Rochalizo's heterochromic eyes were very lively, seething with explosive rage. Kannavi focused on the faint marks of saimia appearing on Orca's forearms, jiggling dangerously, then on the Prince's clenched fists which vibrated crescendo on either side of his body; he thought for a moment that they’d come to get into a fight. But the tension dropped somewhat and the latter finally clenched his teeth and exclaimed again in a calmer, hissing voice:

“Go back to the Country, you only cause issues here. Nobody wants you, not even your sister! "

Orca rounded his eyes for a moment, but didn't show more of him  being destabilised. Hiding behind his eyelids and long bangs, he walked out of the room quickly.

Running after him, the young nurse held back the clapper and also rushed outside. Silence fell, sharper this time and suffocating. Itia bit her lip, completely shattered. Presumably unaffected by his surrounding’s unease, Rochalizo crouched down to pick up the pieces of the object - the small sculpture of a tree made of wood, half of the branches and trunk of which had split in two from the shock. . Once gathered between his fingers, he came back to Suoh's height and sought his gaze insistently.

“Suoh? Are you okay ? He jostled you, didn't he? "

The young chief's face darkened a little more and his hands fell against his sides like a relaxed rubber band.

"Hey, answer me," the Prince persisted, scratching his friend's apron with the tips of his blue fingernails. The words were harsh but the gesture was gentle.

Itia could only watch them, feeling deep inside her a great despair threatening to drown her entirely. Was it futile to try to obtain forgiveness from civilians? Rochalizo was not part of the Whale but they seemed to have adopted him for good. The inhabitants, maintaining in their customs a sympathy and a great compassion for others, had never reproached her for not being in her place or for being an enemy, nevertheless, this tradition of 'forgiveness obliges' did not say everything and sometimes she could feel a reminiscent indignation in their hearts, which had not been listened to, for lack of any outlet. Rochalizo's lack of tact was certainly hurtful to those who ran and crashed into it, but Itia appreciated it for the sole reason that she was sure it was the key to understanding how people here felt, what 'they dared not say. The Prince must have had grown up in an environment which had encouraged him to be frank… Itia couldn't say that was wrong, but his harsh words risked causing further clashes.

Did Rochalizo's words hurt Orca by the way? No one could be sure. She would probably go check on him later in order to oversee the mental strength of his superior. Superior who had just caused another incident ... What a pity. She was starting to wonder if her words had really had effect, when Suoh's voice pulled her from her personal introspection.

“Excuse me, Itia. I was dumbfounded for a while and - he gave a light laugh - I must’ve dramatized. After all, it's just a statuette. It is possible to do it again! "

Rochalizo, looking unhappy to have been pushed to the conversation’s background, leaned forward, still trying to get the island chief's attention.

“It's not just a statuette. Remind me how many hours you spent there ?! You have the right to be pissed off.

"As long as it's not human loss, I don't care," Suoh assured, looking serene.

With the broom hanging from the workbench, he too knelt down and quickly collected the last splinters of wood littering the ground that Rochalizo had neglected. Itia was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable. In normal times, she would have paid little attention to it; the misfortunes of others are usually not her problem. Taking care of other people's problems always brought a lot of trouble. However, in this delicate position, his inability to be able to repair the damage caused or to be able to do something to alleviate the situation caused her great distress. Mortified, the young woman bowed before them, not knowing how else to express the guilt that was rising to her head.

“I'm really sorry for what happened. I'm sure Sir Orca didn't wish for any of that to happen, "she stammered a little before coming to herself and stating clearly," You have to know ... He thinks highly of you! "

Rochalizo mumbled something between his teeth that sounded like a:

"Yeah, well when he gets something from it ..."

Itia bowed again, an attempt to renew her assertion. A benevolent smile broke on Suoh's lips. Clasping his hands together in front of his now soft face, he reassured her as best he could.

“No need to apologize, Itia, please. There are still tensions between our two peoples, but it will only get better, - the Prince pulled a pout which was ignored by all - I am convinced of it, believe me! "

The young woman nodded. Suoh was the lung of the island; his patience and the strength of his ideals would guide them. She had no choice, she left it entirely to him. If the Clay Whale and the United Kingdom of Siderasia had managed to come to a diplomatic understanding despite barbaric beginnings, there must be chances of striving for peace between their nations. Tensions would eventually run out of steam and, perhaps, new bonds would blossom, based on a land of mutual trust and aid.

"I'm in your hands, Suoh," Itia repeated, solemnly, her eyes closed.

A ray of sunlight shone through the infirmary, lighting Suoh's face in a golden glow. His long dress shimmered in the light, its whiteness evoking a divine sign, uttering in the room, a moment of peace. His clasped hands tightened more firmly, a proof of his resolve.

" Of course. Our agreement is only partly postponed. After all, even though we are so much more than that, we are all here victims of the Empire, aren't we? "

As they left the building side by side, Rochalizo pulled Suoh by the sleeve, forcing him to slow down. His worried expression, shaded by the red strands falling over his eyes, he seemed to want to give in to anger, before resigning himself. Hoarse and at the same time cracked, like the sound of a candle crackling in the night, he called out in a low voice:

" Hey. Suoh. Your hands are bleeding again”.

Suoh didn't bother to lower his head to the skin covering his joints, unalarmed. He was used to seeing on his hands, those fingernail marks crossing his flesh with scars or bright red gashes barely coagulated, manifestations of his anguish and inner sadness. It was a habit before, a daily sight since the day Sami died. However, knowing that they were engraved deep in his skin, accompanying him in daily adversity, was a sign of comfort inexplicably. It was the evidence that he had survived until then all the most disastrous days and that he had a way of getting rid of strong emotions. Suoh resumed his walk, imperturbably.

“I'll take care of them when I get home.

“No, you're going to take care of them now,” the Prince stubbornly raised his voice.

With force, he grabbed the shoulders of the young chief, standing in front of him to block the way and anchored his eyes in his menacingly.

"And wear bandages. Now."

The threat in his voice was clear, but his nervous twitching lower lip implied another thing.

"I would like to know ...", Rochalizo reiterated, his voice shaken, as Suoh looked down at the stream of blood flowing from his knuckles to his elbows, "... Why you hurt yourself so much these days".

[pinkpabli]

INTERFACING - The enormous submarine moored at the port island is one of a kind: a multi-levelled yellow watercraft with a fish fin-like rudder, a wooden deck and two tall masts that support a black sail. Submarines run on engines, but this one seems the successful experiment of a dreamer, a hybrid that goes beyond reason and physics. You would need to see it in action to attest its validity as both a submarine and a ship, but its mere presence on this dock is enough proof that it moves.

PERCEPTION - The symbol of a smiling face surrounded by six branches extending outwards can be both found on the sail and on the left side of the craft. 

CONCEPTUALISATION - This one is an old work, hand-painted at the time of its creation, but the colours are full and vibrant. It gets repainted regularly, as not even the ocean can corrode one’s self-soul expression.  

EMPATHY - It’s a loved submarine. 

THE SUBMARINE CAPTAIN - A man in a furred white hat stands in front of the watercraft. His dark complexion does not suggest a family affinity with the snow that is slowly falling down to the dark blue of his coat, but his high cheekbones and severe gaze might say otherwise. His eyes are as grey as the milky sky above you, and just as cold: he regards you with a hard stare as you and your partner approach him.

HALF-LIGHT - He does not fully face you. He shows you three-quarter of himself, defensive, and his body is tensed, reactive, ready to flee the scene at any given moment. He does not trust you. He doesn’t trust anybody, and he constantly fights with this side of him.

INLAND EMPIRE - A child that lost his motherly attachments. A boy without a land. A man whose hardships are hidden behind the heavy lines of his face. He wanders off this cruel world looking for answers. Answers that would rather perish than be given.

SHIVERS - Up in the North there was a city that now there is no more. Instead, a child rose from her ashes.

THE SUBMARINE CAPTAIN

[lesetoilesfous]

I've got a combination of prompts for you!! "Raindrops on eyelashes" + "The tender ache when you press against bruises" for Hawke/Isabela? I can't get enough of them

This became very dramatic?? I hope you enjoy!

(If you want me to write you a dragon age ficlet, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Hawkebela

Characters: Marian Hawke, Isabela

Tags: post-da2, battle girlfriends

Rating: Mature

 Isabela can’t see. The rain comes down in thick, heavy lead sheets, battering the deck of her ship and washing away the blood of the ill-fated boarding party that had thought to challenge her and her crew. The Siren heaves and bucks on dark, towering waves. Isabela holds her balance, barely, and lashes the rope at her belt to the cord strung across the deck for exactly such an occasion. She can barely hear over the roaring sea. But she takes in a deep breath that’s damp with saltwater and bellows, anyway, “HAWKE! WHERE ARE YOU?”

Isabela’s hair clings heavily to her face and neck as she stumbles across the rocking deck, feet sure on the familiar wood, kicking aside the bodies of their enemies as she goes. Most of her crew are sane and seaworthy enough to have ducked below decks, taking the positions they needed to take in this situation. Isabela mostly knows this because the Siren hasn’t capsized yet, and she feels the juddering shudder of her rudder as her helm heaves the ship over the next wave, half as high as a mountain and thrice as lively.

As the ship crashes back down on the other side of the wave, Isabela’s feet leave the deck, just for a moment, before she and her ship crash down onto the water with a jarring thump that shivers through her bones. The Siren’s damp sails snap in the wind like the crack of a whip, and Isabela pulls herself along the tilting incline of her deck. 

Hawke has never seen a storm like this. She could already be lost: hurled into the stormy abyss of the roiling ocean around them. For the first time in a long time, Isabela looks up at the great blue cliffs of water around her ship and feels afraid. 

“--BELA!”

Isabela’s heart stops, and she shoves her hair back from where it’s clinging to her cheeks. There! A dark shadow in the rain, clinging to the main mast like a cabin boy. Isabela grins, and feels the ache of it in her cheeks. Marian is soaked through, and her clothes are dark and sticky with blood and seawater. Her already pale skin is white as a sheet, and her knuckles are wrapped firmly around the rope attached to the mast. She looks at Isabela the way her crew will loo at the sky when this storm breaks.

Isabela pushes away the fear and urgency that had been rising in her: that’s still boiling in her now, violent and wild as the ocean around them and just as cold. She stops a foot away from the mast and raises an eyebrow, jerking her chin at the mast. “You two seem close.” Hawke starts to laugh, and then the ship bucks and she squeezes her eyes shut.

Isabela is moving before she’s had a chance to think about it. She wraps one arm around Hawke’s waist - feeling the tell tale warmth of new blood on her side - and pulls her close. Hawke grunts, and Isabela’s breath stutters in her chest. Above them, the tempest rages with cracking thunder that sounds like it’s splitting the sky.

 “It’s alright.” Isabela tries to keep the fear from her voice, and tells herself it’s stolen by the wind as rain and seawater sting across her face. “I’ve got you.”

Hawke relaxes into her, and Isabela wraps her other hand firmly around the safety rope on deck, twisting it in a practiced grip to avoid rope burn.

Suddenly, they’re airborne.

Isabela’s feet leave the deck with a stomach lurching wrench, and she hears Hawke yelp, feels her weight suddenly grow heavy in her arms as she falls, and the ship rocks almost perfectly onto its side. The rope on Isabela’s waist is slack for a moment as they fall, and then it snaps taut with a creak, straining against the weight of them both.

For one infinite second, Isabela hangs off the deck of her ship, Hawke’s wet, slipping weight clung tightly in her arm, and watches as the blood-dark deck of her ship tilts towards the sea, mast and sails hanging at a right angle to the ocean. 

Then they crest the wave, and the Siren crashes back onto her keel, throwing Hawke into Isabela’s chest and sending both of them sprawling onto the deck. 

In her arms, Isabela can feel Hawke shaking, fast and shivering as a leaf in a strong wind. She lets the part of her that’s survived worse storms than this take over, hurriedly lashing Hawke’s belt to the safety rope before picking her up and dragging both of them towards the stairs that lead below decks. The narrow wooden walls batter their arms and shoulders as they half run, half fall into the Siren’s belly, stepping into ankle-deep seawater that’s splashing down the corridors.

As safe as they can be for now, Hawke slumps, suddenly, and Isabela looks down to see that her arm around Hawke’s waist is red and dripping with blood. She glares at a cabin boy - Samuel, she thinks his name is, with the bandages wound tight around his chest showing through his damp shirt. “Get this water out of here.”

Samuel ducks her a salute. “Yes, captain!” He runs off in the direction of the kitchen for a bucket. Isabela drags Hawke down the hall, bracing them against the rocking walls and splashing water, and pulls them into her quarters, slamming the door shut behind her and heaving Hawke onto the deck. Their survival was down to her first mate now - a sharp-eyed elf named Alexis. Isabela didn’t doubt she would see them through.

Instead, in the twilight of her room with no candles lit, Isabela pushes up Hawke’s armour and tunic with hands that she tells herself are only shaking for the cold. The wound in Hawke’s side is ugly and ragged, ripped open with a serrated blade. Bruises litter her ribs and belly, though Isabela doesn’t doubt she gave as good as she got. Not for the first time, Isabela wishes Anders was with them.

Instead, she leans over the side of the bed and picks up a handful of elfroot potions, uncorking the first as the ship lurches. The bed creaks, but stays firm, built for storms like this and worse. Smoothing down Hawke’s damp hair, Isabela pours the potion into her mouth. “Come on, love. Drink up.”

Isabela glances back down at Hawke’s side. It takes a moment, but slowly the wound begins to seal itself. Isabela doesn’t wait. She uncorks another potion with her teeth, spitting the cork into the seawater around her bed and waiting for Hawke to finish swallowing before she presses the lip of the glass to her mouth. Thick translucent red liquid dribbles down Hawke’s chin, but she swallows, and at last her breathing eases.

Isabela slumps, stroking Hawke’s cheek and pushing the hair back out of her face. Raindrops fall like diamonds from Hawke’s eyelashes as she blinks up at her. “-‘sabela?”

Isabela nods, running her hand over Hawke’s side to check the wound is sealed. “I’m here.”

Hawke nods, sleepy with blood loss. “S’good. I was..trying to find you. S’dangerous.” The ship bucks, and Isabela laughs and squeezes her eyes shut against the heat behind her eyelids.

“Well, you found me. It’s alright now.”

Hawke’s teeth begin to chatter, and Isabela waits for the ship to fall down with a thundering crash before she quickly unbolts a cupboard and pulls out a handful of heavy blankets. She unbuckles Hawke’s armour with stiff fingers, and quickly pulls off her tunic. Hawke grins up at her. “You...propa -propo- prositioning me?”

Isabela pulls off her own clothes and wraps around Hawke, buckling the blankets beneath the belts on either side of her bed and holding her close. Hawke’s body is cold as ice, and she hisses as Isabela’s presses into her bruises. Isabela ignores the soft, tender ache of her own injuries as Hawke pushes against them. She kisses the back of Hawke’s neck. “Later, love.”

The storm abates at daybreak. The waves get gentler, and the storm quietens, until at last they sit in an ocean becalmed. A ragged cheer pulls Isabela out of the half-slumber into which she’d fallen, and she watches as the small puddles of water left from the night slosh out of her room and down the halls. She’ll need to see Alexis - take a headcount of the crew, see if they need to search for anyone who’d fallen overboard, take stock of any damage. But Hawke’s body is warm and dry now, and the blankets around them have trapped the small furnace of their combined body heat. Isabela doesn’t want to leave her, yet.

Hawke shifts, and her hair is stiff with salt. Her elbow pushes into a bruise on Isabela’s breast, and Isabela grunts, guiding her elbow away as she turns. When Hawke looks at her, her eyes are bright and blue with a rare kind of solemnity, despite the knife-slash of a grin she offers her. “That was a close one.”

Isabela’s hand moves to stroke the smooth, unbroken skin of Hawke’s side, a perfect line of unblemished flesh surrounded by a spreading field of bruises. She hums. “It was.”

“Thank you.” Hawke waits for Isabela to look at her, and offers her a shyer, close-lipped smile as she looks up at her from beneath her eyelashes. “You saved my life.”

Isabela smiles, and holds her lover in her arms, and feels the gentle rocking of her ship beneath her on a quiet sea. Sunlight falls across the cabin like dusted gold. “It’s what we do, isn’t it? Save each other.”

Hawke smiles, and presses closer, pushing their breasts together as she wraps her long, slender thigh over Isabela’s and pulls her close. She presses a soft, warm kiss to Isabela’s neck, and Isabela shuts her eyes and luxuriates in the warm tickle of her breath, feeling the steady thud of her heartbeat where their skin touches. Hawke holds her, tightly, and Isabela lets herself be held. Hawke’s thumb rubs a soft, slow circle over Isabela’s bare back. “Yeah. We do.”

Above them, on deck, Isabela’s crew laugh and watch the sunrise.

[the-blackest-spider]

Discover your animal personality!

About Muse

You are an Otter

OTTER CHARACTERISTICS: Small • Fun-loving • Communicative • Unassuming • Appealing • Finicky SCIENTIFIC NAME: Amblonyx cinerea COLLECTIVE TERM: A prank of otters

THE IRRESISTIBLE OTTER

Otters are petite, engaging creatures overflowing with positive energy. Intelligent and bright, they are also popular, eminently lovable and display the highly developed social skills that typify small carnivores. Otters mix easily with a wide range of animal personalities.

OTTERS CERTAINLY AREN'T BEAVERS!

Lazy? Let's just say easily distracted. Life has so many diversions for the otter that it's impossible to predict how it will fill its day. But when an otter gets focused on a problem, its keen intelligence rises to the challenge and it won’t give up until the last nut is cracked.

Otters feel entitled to the good things in life and a general sense of well being gives them the confidence to not have to worry about the future. A lover who wants to impress an otter should know that otters love to eat out and have a predictable penchant for sushi.

Although intelligent and witty, otters have a tendency to suffer from self-doubt, and fear of failure can prevent them from living up to their true potential. Still, they are a great problem solvers, with the ability to spend endless hours on abstract or practical challenges. As workers, they are dedicated and capable and always eager for a chance to prove themselves.

OTTERS IN THE WORKPLACE

Their determination makes otters valuable employees, and although they often feel that their contributions are undervalued they would rather accept lower pay than risk confrontations in their workplace.

Although they are fine motivators, otters avoid taking leadership roles and perform better in group situations where their social skills come in handy counseling coworkers through their problems. Their dexterous hands are useful in a wide range of careers, and they're ideally suited for work in engineering, advertising, and design.

OTTERS IN THE WILD

This engaging creature is a master swimmer. Using its tail and hind quarters as a rudder, the otter is able to maneuver as quickly as the fastest fish and is equally at home on land.

Otters are nomadic animals, covering up to fifteen miles a day in an effort to find a good fishing hole. Moving rapidly over land by tobogganing over muddy patches, they travel mainly at night to avoid predators.

Because of its characteristic mode of swimming, which reveals a little furry hump, mothers with families in tow are sometimes mistaken for sea serpents, giving rise to a number of legends. In fact, President Theodore Roosevelt saw a "monster" on Lake Naivasha in Kenya and fired at the three humps of the swimming beast. Two humps promptly disappeared, but the third was killed and sent to a New York museum.

CAREERS & HOBBIES

Engineering • Pro Sport • Medical • Design • Computers • Mathematics Surfing the Web • Swimming • Cuddling • Reading

LOVE & FRIENDSHIP

As lovers, otters are tenacious and have remarkably vital libidos. Unafraid of expressing their needs, they do not tolerate selfish lovers and are attracted those creative enough to fulfil their sexual appetites. Among the aquatic animals, the lusty dolphin provides endless fun while the terrestrial fox proves to be a challenging and sexy companion.

In a relationship, an otter will willingly stray into dangerous waters, betting that its instincts will see it though. But -- for the most part -- it prefers the familiar shallows of a predictable association with the semi-aquatic beaver or sea lion.

Physical beauty alone is not enough to impress an otter. Its mate must be able to commune with it on a deeply emotional level as well. Few animal personalities can live up to its high standards, but otters seem to find happiness with semi-aquatic creatures, which include sea lions, beavers, and walruses. Even the lethargic hippo provides some amusement for this effervescent little carnivore, but don't expect these two to ever tie the knot.

Tagged by: @the-mjolnir-owner​

Tagging: @reno2ndgun​ @thewasandshouldbeking​ @storieswrittcn​ (Cloud) @ask-the-assistant-darcy​ @agentsterling​ @inanisvitae​ @lacunxa​ (Rude) @sentineloftheunderworld​ @hiislegacy​ (Sephiroth) @khakerskayavdova​ @kiiteiru​ (Aerith) @mynameisanakin​

[truesymphony]

Discover your animal personality!

You are an otter

You might also be a cottontail

OTTER CHARACTERISTICS: Small • Fun-loving • Communicative • Unassuming • Appealing • Finicky SCIENTIFIC NAME: Amblonyx cinerea COLLECTIVE TERM: A prank of otters

THE IRRESISTIBLE OTTER

Otters are petite, engaging creatures overflowing with positive energy. Intelligent and bright, they are also popular, eminently lovable and display the highly developed social skills that typify small carnivores. Otters mix easily with a wide range of animal personalities.

OTTERS CERTAINLY AREN'T BEAVERS!

Lazy? Let's just say easily distracted. Life has so many diversions for the otter that it's impossible to predict how it will fill its day. But when an otter gets focused on a problem, its keen intelligence rises to the challenge and it won’t give up until the last nut is cracked.

Otters feel entitled to the good things in life and a general sense of wellbeing gives them the confidence to not have to worry about the future. A lover who wants to impress an otter should know that otters love to eat out and have a predictable penchant for sushi.

Although intelligent and witty, otters have a tendency to suffer from self-doubt, and fear of failure can prevent them from living up to their true potential. Still, they are a great problem solvers, with the ability to spend endless hours on abstract or practical challenges. As workers, they are dedicated and capable and always eager for a chance to prove themselves.

OTTERS IN THE WORKPLACE

Their determination makes otters valuable employees, and although they often feel that their contributions are undervalued they would rather accept lower pay than risk confrontations in their workplace.

Although they are fine motivators, otters avoid taking leadership roles and perform better in group situations where their social skills come in handy counseling coworkers through their problems. Their dexterous hands are useful in a wide range of careers, and they're ideally suited for work in engineering, advertising, and design.

OTTERS IN THE WILD

This engaging creature is a master swimmer. Using its tail and hind quarters as a rudder, the otter is able to maneuver as quickly as the fastest fish and is equally at home on land.

Otters are nomadic animals, covering up to fifteen miles a day in an effort to find a good fishing hole. Moving rapidly over land by tobogganing over muddy patches, they travel mainly at night to avoid predators.

Because of its characteristic mode of swimming, which reveals a little furry hump, mothers with families in tow are sometimes mistaken for sea serpents, giving rise to a number of legends. In fact, President Theodore Roosevelt saw a "monster" on Lake Naivasha in Kenya and fired at the three humps of the swimming beast. Two humps promptly disappeared, but the third was killed and sent to a New York museum.

CAREERS & HOBBIES

Engineering • Pro Sport • Medical • Design • Computers • Mathematics Surfing the Web • Swimming • Cuddling • Reading

LOVE & FRIENDSHIP

As lovers, otters are tenacious and have remarkably vital libidos. Unafraid of expressing their needs, they do not tolerate selfish lovers and are attracted those creative enough to fulfil their sexual appetites. Among the aquatic animals, the lusty dolphin provides endless fun while the terrestrial fox proves to be a challenging and sexy companion.

In a relationship, an otter will willingly stray into dangerous waters, betting that its instincts will see it though. But -- for the most part -- it prefers the familiar shallows of a predictable association with the semi-aquatic beaver or sea lion.

Physical beauty alone is not enough to impress an otter. Its mate must be able to commune with it on a deeply emotional level as well. Few animal personalities can live up to its high standards, but otters seem to find happiness with semi-aquatic creatures, which include sea lions, beavers, and walruses. Even the lethargic hippo provides some amusement for this effervescent little carnivore, but don't expect these two to ever tie the knot.

BEST MATES FOR AN OTTER

Otter, penguin & Swan

tagged by: @daddypooltm & @ironmarkrose tagging: @tohruuhondaa @musedbyalli @writtenlegacy @pitchblacksteel & you!

[bellygunnr]

all the world’s a stage

The Death Rogumer was not a large airship, but it was imposing in its own right. It glided through the air under a quarter of its power, ponderous at such a slow speed, clad in a royal purple and burnished gold regalia. Its name was inscribed along its bow which bulged out beneath the sword-like figurehead, a deadly aerial rapier. A giant lens, a contraption of glass and steel, rotated, extending, shifting until it could view the sprawling city unobstructed. The ship banked, rolling so gently in the air, exposing the electric cannons stationed on its slim upper deck. Steam hissed out from their rounded chassis as their barrels extended; red lights flashed for as long as the cannons turned to position, glowing solid green when their mark was found.

Their target was an elegant, conical skyscraper that made the city's skyline iconic, a legendary silhouette recognized by many. Its glass face shattered in the brutal wake of the cannon-barrage. More than plasma ammunition, shards burst from the half-ton shells, raining fire on the city below. These embers floated, descending, skipping through the air as the wind took them, then latched onto the ground and neighboring buildings, singular burning cinders where they did not ignite what was below them. Above, the skyscraper shuddered, failing to regain its strength when another two-gun barrage assaulted its broken flanks.

Its assailant circled the beaten structure, engines burning low and steady. The Death Rogumer no longer lumbered, but sauntered through the air, a circling shark awaiting the next opportunity to bite. Fire from the city below washed its sleek hull in a flickering orange glow. It banked again, settled onto an even keel-- and exploded.

A fin on its starboard side burst apart from the inside. The explosion rocked the airship simultaneously with cannon fire-- the combined inertia saw the ship plummet, flaming from its open hull, a main engine going up with it. Yet, as quickly as the inferno began, all was smothered, choked out by thick white foam and a flood of emergency drones from within. The Death Rogumer shuddered violently, shaking off the wound, and struggled into a climb.

The ascent was slow. It clawed its way back to a cool, safe three thousand, above the skyscraper which was now collapsing in on itself, and above the city, terrified but alive. There was a pronounced list to the airship. The repair drones broke from their duties to latch onto the battered decks, miniature motors whining, straining, a dozen or so contributors against a starboard tilt. The airship heaved.

The airship limped.

-

While the center of the city burned, the rest ground to a standstill. Jumbo-Trons and billboards flickered, the now-familiar warning message disappearing. The repetitive emergency instructions played alongside city sirens died down to a low, vibrating buzz, an oppressive hum that choked the ears and numbed the brain. The sound permeated the tons of concrete and steel as to be felt in the bones of various underground shelters.

One such shelter thrummed ominously. Marcus looked up from his book, eyes flicking from his companions to the open doorway to the television screen, suddenly alive with static. He watched it apprehensively, wincing when the intercom system blared. The speakers clicked rapidly, like gunshots.

The thrum died down. The shelter stopped shaking, as did their bones, and the screen warped colorfully. When it recovered, Marcus was staring at slightly grainy footage--

"That's the airship! It has to be!" Marcus cried, shocked. The airship had been popular before the Maverick War; its decks were as familiar to him as they were to Storm Eagle. "What's happening? How are they doing this?"

The footage flickered. When it returned, it was much clearer, and audio tuned in with it. Whistling gales played over the intercom, but Marcus found it as abrasive as the feedback, if not worse.

-

The explosion had knocked X into a titanium door, jamming up his shoulder. The damaged joint creaks and grinds in his ear as he clambers up a narrow ladder chute, pushing himself off the upper rung and onto the ship's prow. A shadow is already cast across the deck and he's mildly glad for it-- the sun is blazing overhead, bright and uncaring. He knows it would have blinded him if not for the ship's secondary rudder.

It also helps that Storm Eagle is the one blotting out the sun , X thinks dimly.

The former Commander holds himself aloft, a combined effort between gallant purple wings and dual shoulder-mounted rockets. He's intimidating, always has been, but now he also makes X feel sickened-- this is not the same Reploid he met as a rookie Maverick Hunter.

But it is , a voice whispers. You don't know if he was infected or merely defected.

X shakes off the thought.

"You've damaged the Death Rogumer . You must know that we'll be lucky to crash land outside of city limits, yes?" Storm Eagle calls, his voice reedy, a thin whistle to it. "No matter. The only acceptable death is one found in combat!"

Storm Eagle dives down. The sun flares out, brilliant, and X's face aches as his optics work double time to compensate. He dashes across the deck, clearing it in one, but as he twists around to face his adversary, he's already within seconds of blowing him away. X stumbles more than rolls out of the way as Storm Eagle's wings threaten to cleave him in two.

When he pops back up, it is with his buster blazing, yellow plasma tracking Storm Eagle across the platform. He sights crackles of satisfying smoke; his buster hums, residual plasma beginning to gather around the mouth of the barrel.

"I see you've improved!" Storm Eagle says, laughing, a sound punctuated by chirps. "But you're still just a rookie."

-

The first attack had been close. Marcus paws at hands grasping his arm, prying the clutch grip off. He can feel his heartbeat in his chest, an overwhelming sense of anxiety stealing him. None of this moment made sense-- the footage, the rattling terror in their bones, or the clash of Reploids above a burning city.

It didn't make sense.

But it was hope.

-

The charged shot is timed well, in X's opinion. Storm Eagle's gale rips across the platform, plying at the tips of his boots as he leaps above the focused stream, but his shoulder jolts at the recoil. The shot, aimed for the other's open chest, flies wide. X hardly has time to brace himself as he falls back into the wind tunnel, fingers tearing at metal.

The gust dissipates around him. X slumps against the deck, relieved, but is violently reminded of his situation when massive, vice-like talons clamp around his torso. His skeleton creaks as Storm Eagle squeezes and lofts him into the air.

"Perhaps this is dishonorable, but you left yourself open, Maverick Hunter X!"

His body lurches, and then there is nothing but open air and pain.

-

Marcus cries out in alarm as he watches the battle. Had it been too much to hope? Had their naivety tipped the scales out of the blue Reploid's favor? It was agonizing. X fell through the sky, disappearing from view in only seconds, but it felt like years.

"He can't die here! We need you, X!" Marcus exclaims, but it was mostly to himself.

-

X descends, but not as far as God or Storm Eagle intended him to.

He descends, but his body is skidding the surface of the wounded Death Rogumer , and it's enough for his boots to find purchase. With no small amount of strain, X kicks against the bruised hull of the ship and goes the only direction available to him-- up.

-

Storm Eagle is walking off the platform at a casual stride. Grief and dread sit heavy in Marcus' heart. It sits heavy in all their hearts.

"He's not dead, he can't be. We need him," someone says, and Marcus can't help but agree, bowing his head.

"He's not dead! Look! Mega Man!"

-

X walks across the deck unopposed-- for the most part. He fights the slanting, listing deck, his eyes hardening as he understands this to be a ship in her death throes. His time was running out.

"Storm Eagle!" X shouts, throwing his arms wide open, gasping as his shoulder wrenches. "I lived! Can't we work something out?"

The former Commander turns, one hand on the door to the ship's cabin. His beak drops open in surprise, eyes wide underneath his golden mask. X stares back unflinchingly, knowing that he must be quite a sight.

"No one has to die," X continues, plaintive.

The Death Rogumer groans.

"What of Chill Penguin, then?" Storm Eagle replies.

-

The fight is on again.

The fight is knife's edge close, a toe-to-toe stand between a stowaway and a corsair.

The camera shakes sometimes, revealing how bad off the ship is in fits and bursts. Marcus watches Storm Eagle make sweeping dives at X, but each time he zooms away, a feather is plucked, shearing off in a smoldering heap.

"He's doing so much better!"

"He must have found his stride..."

"You can do this, X! Mega Man!"

-

X goes up in light. When the light fades, his armor is a paler hue, bodysuit a bold yellow. He continues to track Storm Eagle across the sky, pacing the platform, buster vibrating with a suppressed charge shot.

He watches as the Eagle wings around, flight now a wobbly, barely sustained trajectory toward his target. It's enough for X to level his buster, optics shrinking as he locks in-- the small of Storm Eagle's back, the rocket pack--

Arctic cold floods X's circuits as he looses his shot. A barbed mound of ice soars through the air, followed by a rapid-fire burst of ice shards.

The Death Rogumer shudders underfoot.

X's feet slide out from under him.

Storm Eagle crashes unceremoniously into the stern of his own flagship.

-

"He got him! X did it!"

"He did it! X really is a Mega Man!"

-

The Death Rogumer breaks apart. X finally plummets, his body going slack as he clears the fractured deck.

If the camera aboard the ship had still been rolling, then all those watching could have seen Mega Man X weep.

[goodheartedfool]

DISCOVER YOUR ANIMAL PERSONALITY

You Are An Otter

Otter Characteristics: Small • Fun-loving • Communicative • Unassuming • Appealing • Finicky Scientific Name: Amblonyx cinerea Collective Term: A prank of otters

The Irresistible Otter Otters are petite, engaging creatures overflowing with positive energy. Intelligent and bright, they are also popular, eminently lovable and display the highly developed social skills that typify small carnivores. Otters mix easily with a wide range of animal personalities.

Otters certainly aren't Beavers! Lazy? Let's just say easily distracted. Life has so many diversions for the otter that it's impossible to predict how it will fill its day. But when an otter gets focused on a problem, its keen intelligence rises to the challenge and it won’t give up until the last nut is cracked.

Otters feel entitled to the good things in life and a general sense of wellbeing gives them the confidence to not have to worry about the future. A lover who wants to impress an otter should know that otters love to eat out and have a predictable penchant for sushi.

Although intelligent and witty, otters have a tendency to suffer from self-doubt, and fear of failure can prevent them from living up to their true potential. Still, they are a great problem solvers, with the ability to spend endless hours on abstract or practical challenges. As workers, they are dedicated and capable and always eager for a chance to prove themselves.

Otters in the Workplace Their determination makes otters valuable employees, and although they often feel that their contributions are undervalued they would rather accept lower pay than risk confrontations in their workplace.

Although they are fine motivators, otters avoid taking leadership roles and perform better in group situations where their social skills come in handy counseling coworkers through their problems. Their dexterous hands are useful in a wide range of careers, and they're ideally suited for work in engineering, advertising, and design.

Otters in the Wild This engaging creature is a master swimmer. Using its tail and hind quarters as a rudder, the otter is able to maneuver as quickly as the fastest fish and is equally at home on land.

Otters are nomadic animals, covering up to fifteen miles a day in an effort to find a good fishing hole. Moving rapidly over land by tobogganing over muddy patches, they travel mainly at night to avoid predators.

Because of its characteristic mode of swimming, which reveals a little furry hump, mothers with families in tow are sometimes mistaken for sea serpents, giving rise to a number of legends. In fact, President Theodore Roosevelt saw a "monster" on Lake Naivasha in Kenya and fired at the three humps of the swimming beast. Two humps promptly disappeared, but the third was killed and sent to a New York museum.

Careers & Hobbies Engineering • Pro Sport • Medical • Design • Computers • Mathematics Surfing the Web • Swimming • Cuddling • Reading

Love & Friendship As lovers, otters are tenacious and have remarkably vital libidos. Unafraid of expressing their needs, they do not tolerate selfish lovers and are attracted those creative enough to fulfil their sexual appetites. Among the aquatic animals, the lusty dolphin provides endless fun while the terrestrial fox proves to be a challenging and sexy companion.

In a relationship, an otter will willingly stray into dangerous waters, betting that its instincts will see it though. But -- for the most part -- it prefers the familiar shallows of a predictable association with the semi-aquatic beaver or sea lion.

Physical beauty alone is not enough to impress an otter. Its mate must be able to commune with it on a deeply emotional level as well. Few animal personalities can live up to its high standards, but otters seem to find happiness with semi-aquatic creatures, which include sea lions, beavers, and walruses. Even the lethargic hippo provides some amusement for this effervescent little carnivore, but don't expect these two to ever tie the knot.

Tagged by: @goldentemplariumcrow​

Tagging: Anyone interested.

[jeonsduck]

Wonderland Part 5

The finale is finally here. I may revist this au later for other members just because it’s one of my favorite au’s for ateez. Anyway, thanks for all the support!

Warnings: angst, graphic depictions of violence 

You find yourself in the navigation room with the rest of the crew as they run through their game plan. The heist would happen in the port of Modai, when the target would be the most valuable. The ship would only be docked for half a day, with half of that time being dedicated to loading the cargo. Once loaded it would immediately be leaving for the emperor’s palace and you’d lose your chance at the bounty. And of course Hongjoong had a plan to sneak every last ounce of gold from underneath the emperor’s nose. 

First, he would send the mariner’s on a wild goose chase throughout the port. The security would be focused on bringing down a notorious pirate and less concerned with securing the ship. Once Hongjoong had successfully drawn away the guards, Yunho and Mingi would incapacitate the loading crew and assume their identities, ‘loading’ the ship in their place. In reality, they would be dropping the treasure into a skiff off the side of the ship. The main issue would be keeping the main ship crew from noticing the skiff making multiple trips around the boat. Which is why it would be your job to keep watch from the crow’s nest. 

“That is, if you’re okay with that.” Hongjoong adds. 

Since you left Utopia, Hongjoong’s been…. Nervous. Borderline on edge. He avoids you whenever he can and you’re starting to think, maybe whatever it was that you had on Utopia had been left back on the shaky piers of the pirate haven. It made sense, though. After all, once this heist was over, they’d be dropping you off on your home planet so you could get back to your normal life. 

You sighed, sprawled out on the deck of the Illusion, much like you’d been the night you met Hongjoong. Staring up at the stars and thinking. 

“Y/N? What are you doing out here?”

Your absence from bed must have woken Hongjoong up.

“Just thinking. This is what I was doing that night when I met you.” you explained.

Hongjoong sat down next to you and looked up at the sky.

“You mean the night I kidnapped you?” he corrected.

“Same difference.”

“What are you thinking about?” he ventured, nudging your knee with his.

“Us. The crew. The Illusion.” you sighed.

“What do you mean?”

You sat up, looking Hongjoong in the eyes.

“After this… what happens next?” you ask.

Hongjoong looks surprised by the question. 

“We’ll take you back to your home planet. You can go back to your life quietly, and you’ll never have to see us again.” he replies, too easily.

“What if… I don’t want to go home?” you wonder, almost jokingly.

“You can’t.” he said, voice changing, more firm.

“What do you mean I can’t?” you turn to look at him, confused.

“You don’t belong here, Y/N. You have a home to go back to, we don’t. We’re not good people, we’re pirates. You’re not one of us.” Hongjoong spits, his words cutting you deeper than intended.

His words hurt a lot, but you had to concede. Hongjoong was right. One month didn’t equate to years roaming the galaxy and pillaging planets. You weren't a pirate. You sighed, your body visibly deflating at the realization.

“And what about us?” you ventured, turning your face up to Hongjoong’s.

He sighed and crawled over to straddle your lap. He sat back on his heels and held your face so reverently in his hands. His thumb caressed your cheek as he looked at your face as though he were committing it to memory. 

“Oh, little one. I wish I could be selfish. I wish I could keep you here and make you mine. But it wouldn’t be right. I can’t promise I can keep you safe. You might be happy for a while, but it wouldn’t last. Maybe somewhere there’s a universe where we have our happy ending. But, baby, I don’t think it’s this one.” he says softly, and God, you hate that he’s right. 

You’re crying and you don’t even realize it until your tears cloud your vision. Hongjoong wipes them away and his own smile is sad, voice watery and wavering.

“When we drop you off, don’t dwell on me and follow the stories of the Illusion. You can look back on us as a fond memory, but move on. Marry someone nice, get a dog, be happy. But don’t try to find us. I fear what would happen if you did, and Lord knows I couldn’t give you up a second time.” he says, and your hand comes up to cradle his jaw.

“Promise me. Please, after we part ways, you won’t come looking for me.” Hongjoong begs, terrified that you’ll endanger yourself for him. 

“Little one, please.”

You agree finally, unable to hold out once you see a tear trail down Hongjoong’s cheek.

“I-I promise.” you managed to stutter out before a sob hits you full force.

“I’m sorry, little one.” Hongjoong says, pulling you into his arms.

You bury your face against Hongjoong’s chest as you cry, and he pets your hair and whispers apologies into your ear. You lift your head, seeking out Hongjoong’s lips for a kiss and he responds like a livewire. He kisses you like he’s been lost in the dessert and your lips are water, still muttering apologies. You’re still crying, so it’s gross and uncoordinated, but it’s raw and filled with heartbreak. 

When he takes you to bed that night, he more gentle and slower, careful to attend to you every need. He whispers affections into your skin after every kiss, forces you to pay attention to the way he makes you feel. He sucks an army of bruises into your skin, like he wants the memory of his touch to be there long after you’ve parted ways. You don’t cry yourself to sleep that night, but you don’t feel much different than if you had.

The next morning is fraught with tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. The crew are anxious to get the job over with, but also hesitant to let you go. In less than 24 hours, you’ll be  back home, and they’ll be on their way to their next job. Even San seems down-trodden, and that’s saying something. Hongjoong kisses you slow and sweet that morning when you make up, but the second he exits the captain’s quarters he’s all business. You haven’t seen this side of Hongjoong since the very first moment you laid eyes on his, in the light of the burning deck of the Amaryllis. 

“Here. If anything goes wrong, contact us on this. The group channel is four, the loading crew is three, the skiff crew is two, and Hongjoong is one.” Yunho says handing you a walkie-talkie.

“Do I get a cool nickname?” you venture, earning you a deadpanned look. 

“Crow’s nest.”

“Hey’ that’s MY cool nickname!” Mingi protests.

You take the walkie-talkie and climb the ladder up to the crow’s nest. Hongjoong fires up his sky board, making loops around the mast.

“Be careful!” you call, and Hongjoong scoffs.

“I always am.”, and he speeds off.

Now theere’s nothing else for you to do but wait. The mariner’s take the bait, abandoning their posts at the tribute ship in order to give chase to the infamous Kim Hongjoong. Mingi and Yunho have no problem knocking out the laoding team, tying them up in the cargo bay and stealing their uniforms.

“These pants are too short.” Yunho complains, much to Hongjoong’s amusement.

“Maybe if you had saved some height for the rest of us, it wouldn’t be an issue.” he jokes back.  

“You doing okay out there, Joongie?” Seonghwa checks in.

“Yeah, still got a good distance on ‘em.”

“Nice work, keep it up. We’re about halfway done over here.”

“Little one, we still in the clear?” Hongjong checks in with you.

“Yeah, the officers are more focused on you that the loading crew.” you reply. 

“Good, good. Keep it up kids.”

Of course, it’s too much to ask for things to continue to go smoothly. You hear the far off sound of a pistol firing and then Hongjoong checks in on the walkie-talkie.

“Fuck, Seonghwa, they hit my rudder with a plasma pistol. How close are we?” Hongjoong asks. 

“Close. About two more trips.” Seonghwa replies. “Can you hold out for 15 minutes?” 

“I’ll try, but hurry up.” Hongjoong says. 

You try to calm down and breathe, because Hongjoong’s definetly been in a worse situation before. He’s Kim Hongjoong. He can handle himself. Then you hear more rapid gunfire. 

“Hwa, any chance you’ll be done in two minutes?” Hongjoong pants.

“Not even a little.”

There’s silence on the radio for a full minute. Then, more gunfire. Fuck it, you think and start your way down the mast. There’s no one up on the deck to stop your crazy and frankly, quite stupid plan.  You find one of the other pirate’s skyboards and kick on the motor.

“Hongjoong, hold tight, I’m coming to get you.” You say into the walkie-talkie and you’re met by a chaotic static fille chorus of people telling you know. 

“Y/N! As the captain of this vessel I am ordering you to stay put!” Hongjoong says and you huff. 

“Well, I’m not a member of this crew, so I’ll be doing whatever the fuck I want thank you ery much.” you say, and soar off into the sky of Modai. 

You’ve never been to Modai. Or skyboarded without Hongjoong. You weren’t very good, even with Hongjoong whispering tips in your ear, so it difficult to find him at first, but evetually he pops into  a clearing and you race off after him. He’s got four mariners on his tail,  and he’s doing his best to shot and fly at the same time.

“I thought I told you to stay back!” he shouts.

“And I told you I was coming anyway!” you counter. “Now get on this board!” 

You fly beneath Hongjoong, matching his speed so that he can jump down to your board.

“Citizen! Stand down!” a mariner commands through a megaphone and Hongjoong shrugs back at them.

“I tried to tell them myself!” he teases, and jumps from his board. 

He lands firmly on yours, nearly sending you off balance.

“You are in so much trouble once we get back to the Illusion.” Hongjoong growls in your ear but you shrug.

“Let’s survive this first, yeah? You shoot I’ll drive.” you say and Hongjoong rolls his eyes.

He walks as far back to the edge of the board as he can, turning around to try and pick off the mariners tailing you. Your system works pretty well, with Hongjoong taking his time on shaking your tails so the other can finish liberating the loot.

“Alright, we’re done here. Bring it on in, Captain.” Seonghwa chimes in.

“Headed home.” Hongjoong replies. 

You swing the board around back towards the port.

“Thank you, for that back there. Would have been quite the mishap without you.” Hongjoong told you.

“I’m sorry for stepping out of line, but what was I supposed to do? Let you get shot down?” you ask, and Hongjoong shrugs.

“Maybe. Maybe I- `` Hongjoong's sentence is cut off by the board jerking and flipping, ejecting both of you onto the pier below. You land with a heavy thud, head thunking against the pier. Your eyes are fuzzy when you pick your head up, but you make out the polished, shiny boots of a mariner. Hongjoong groans not far from you, struggling to stand up.

“Finally, the infamous Kim Hongjoong laid low. And a member of your lawless crew.” he says, picking your up by your hair. 

You yelp, trying to get him to let go. He laughs and tugs harder, bringing tears to your eyes. Hongjoong pulls himself to his knees, panting.

“Bringing in the both of you alive would set me up for life.” the mariner says. 

A plasma shot grazes the mariner’s ear, Hongjoong having fired his arm cannon. 

“Get your hands off of them.” he growls.

“Then again, I suppose, you’d work just the same dead.” he reasons, and shoots Hongjoong in the chest. There’s a half second after Hongjoong’s body crumples to the floor where your body goes cold and you just stare. And then, with the same raw instinct that made you burn that manifest in the first place, you reach into your belt, and grab the dagger Yunho gave you. You bring your arm up, digging the dagger first into the mariner’s arm, dragging it up his forearm, between his bones. He screams, releasing your hair and staggering back. You follow him, twisting the knife, forcing his arm up until you can plunge the blade into his chest. You don’t pull the blade out until you see the light leave his eyes, making a sickening noise as it tears back out through flesh and bone. All of this is done on autopilot, unable to think of anything other than the image of Hongjoong’s body falling lifelessly. 

“Y/N? Y/N, what’s going on down there?” you can hear Yumho’s voice through the walkie-talkie as though he’s miles away.

“Get- get Yeosang down here. Hongjoong’s been shot.” you manage to get out.

You manage to crawl over to Hongjoong, wrapping his hand in yours, too emotionally wrecked to cry. You just sniffle and watch the way the wind ruffles his hair, petting a hand over his cheek, begging and praying silently that Yeosang won’t come too late. Kim Hoongjoong cannot die, not today. 

And then Hongjoong cracks his eyes open and groans.

“I almost die for you and no tears? I’m offended.” he mutters. 

You do cry then, sobs of relief leaving your body. 

“Kim Hongjoong, you absolute fool. Don’t ever scare me like that again! You’re not allowed to leave me!” You scold.

“But, Y/N-”

“Promise me. Swear to me, right now.” you say and Hongjoong reaches up to swipe a tear from your face.

“I promise.”

Maybe somewhere there was a universe where you and Hongjoong were a normal couple. You met on the street, went on coffee dates, and moved in together after dating for 2.4 years. Maybe, there’s a version of you where you’re both lawless pirates, where you meet on a drunken night in Utopia. And maybe there’s one where you’re dropped off at home and the both of you go back to your lives, thinking of each other whenever you look at the stars. 

You look out across the deck of the Illusion, watching the crew play together. Hongjoong comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on your shoulder. You turn and press a kiss to his cheek, which he returns,

Thankfully, your reality is none of those versions. 

[pajama-girl]

Capsize 1 (mermaid AU)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader 

Mermaid AU

Summary: Confidence will get you most places in life. Too much and you can end up in drowning in the ocean. After a sailing race goes wrong, you’re stuck in the frigid water with no rescue in sight. As you lose consciousness, your savior comes, adorned in golden scales that glimmer in the nebulous water. 

1.7k words ( it’s not a lot but I’m getting there lol)

Check out the Capsize moodboard!

Part 2

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Peeking out of the silver clouds, the summer sun kisses its greeting onto your cheeks. You glance at your waterproof watch, an early birthday present from your parents, and realize there’s only fifteen minutes until the race begins. Unintentionally, your palms begin to feel familiarly damp and clammy, sticking to your clothes as you try to wipe away the tell-tale sign of nervousness.

Pushing your jitters aside, you search for your parents among the swarm of families gathered on the dock. Many parents have come out to show their support despite the fact that the race is starting at the crack of dawn. Noticing a splotch of yellow to your right, you glance at it and recognize it to be your mother’s old, worn out raincoat. The skies were clear, no blemish marring the azure expanse, yet she insisted on wearing it.

Besides your mother, you father flashes you a thumbs up and shouts, “You’re gonna kill it out there!” You blush furiously, crimson smoldering its way across your cheeks at the sudden exclamation. Several heads turn to look at you, wondering who the shout could have been for. Oh how you desperately wish you could jump into the frigid water if only to calm the fire in your cheeks.

This is your first professional race. After being forced to attend a sailing camp when your mother deemed your constant moping around the house “too depressing,” you discovered an honest passion in the sport. The sun and salt intrigued you, but what really captivated you was the weight of the sheets in your hands, the creaking of the rudder and the spray of the water as you alone decided your path.

The first few weeks of sailing were tough. You were hit in the head more times than you could count by the boom, and everytime you tried to rig the sailboat without instruction, knots and tangles formed where they shouldn’t have. You didn’t let this discourage you. In fact, if anything, your constant failures spurred you to try harder. Now, you had amassed an array of sailing techniques and while you may not have had natural born talent, you had hard earned experience and skill.

So now you were here, under the August sun, participating in the Incheon Regatta. You had sailed many times alone around the bay, but you had never gone as far as you would today. The trip to Busan from Incheon would take a full eight hours, and while you were the best of your program, you couldn’t help the seedling of doubt that planted itself in your heart. What if this was too much? Could you manage eight hours by yourself on the vast ocean, with no one to rely on? Before the seedling can sprout, you squash it. At this point, you can’t afford to let your emotions get the best of you.  

You say this, but your eyes can’t help but wander to the other participants. They look confident as they hold their sailing sheets, their boats sleek and expensive. You feel inferior, even though you know you shouldn’t. You had worked nonstop and diligently for the past few months in order to hone your skills, and your boat wasn’t too shabby either. Shining in the bright morning sun, your RS Aero fit in with the other racing boats with its lightweight but sturdy frame and racing equipment.

A voice breaks the restless silence of the dock. A burly man appears in front of you, bald head gleaming in the light. He explains the route and the rules of the race. You tune out.  This was all information you had briefed a hundred times over. You are well prepared because you desperately want to win. Although not a high ranking race, if you win this, your name will spread in the sailing world.

A whistle blows and all the racers depart the port. The numerous white sails that litter the water look like wings, and may as well be with the speed and agility they possess as they glide over the sea.

Hands slippery on the sheets, either from the salt water or sweat, you guide the Aero effortlessly to the front of the mass of boats. Glancing back one more time at the shrinking figures of your parents, you take a deep breath and prepare yourself for the journey to come.

You look at your watch– it’s 8:30. The race started at 6:30 and now two hours later, you had secured a considerable lead. You take this time to breath. Although it isn’t wise to slack just because you’re temporarily first, you decide just a few minutes won’t hurt. It is when you set down the sheets that you notice the gathering of clouds in the sky. You feel a slight trickle of dread in your stomach, and your mother, donning her raincoat flashes in your mind. Maybe you should have listened to her. A storm when you’re this far out at sea would not be good at all. You’re trained in how to handle situations like this, but you’d like to avoid it if you can.

The water is relatively calm, so you let the paranoia go, hoping whatever clouds that are gathered now will dissipate in time. You collect the sheets and prepare to start sailing again. You’re a quarter in to this race; if you keep up the pace, you’ll reach Busan in no time.

The next time you look at your watch, it reads 9:15 and unlike you had hoped, the clouds don’t dissipate. They continue to gather and gather until they form an ugly, threatening mass that looms over your head. In a mere forty-five minutes, the sea had transformed from tranquil to a series of angry, thrashing waves that slap and jostle you. You can’t do anything but clutch at your boat.

Usually, you loved the lightness of your boat. When speed and agility is the most important thing, your RS Aero is the perfect boat to use, but now, as the sea violently rocks you from side to side, you wish your boat had a little more substance to it.

You make a grab at the wildly swinging rudder and attempt to ride out the storm. Just as you think you can survive the wrath of the sea, a massive wave rises in front of your eyes. You watch, frozen in fear, as the water rises higher and higher until you have to crane your neck to even see the crest of it. Time seems to still as the wave hangs over you, and all at once it begins again, and the wave rushes towards you. It slams into you with a vengeance, angry that you’ve intruded onto its territory. You hurriedly close your eyes and brace for impact. All the training and experience you have accumulated in your short sailing career couldn’t have prepared you for the ruthlessness of the ocean.

The wave collides into your small frame, your neck snapping back at the force of it. With your eyes closed, you don’t see the boom hurtling towards you and it crashes into your unsuspecting head. You cry out in pain only for salt water to gush into your mouth. You choke on it as it burns its way into your lungs. Unable to see or breathe, you’re seized by an intense panic, fear coursing through your veins almost as fiercely as the wave is thrashing you around.

An eternity seems to pass until the wave ceases, and even then you’re left with a throbbing headache and burning lungs. You cough and hack as the water inhibits your ability to breathe. After coughing so hard your throat hurts, you can finally gasp for air and you almost cry tears of relief. Peeling your eyes open, the storm hasn’t let up. Too distracted by surviving the waves, you hadn’t noticed it was raining until it started pelting you in the face.

“Just great,” you mutter to yourself, voice hoarse from the coughing. “I can’t stop now, not when I’m so close to Busan.” At least you think you are. You really hope so.

Mustering up what little strength you have left, you wrap the sheets twice around your hands to prevent them from slipping out of your grip. You clutch onto the rudder for dear life, praying to whatever gods were out there you could survive this storm.

You manage to get past a few waves, so you almost let yourself smile. Almost. That is until you see a monster of a wave building up in front of your boat, and after suffering the last collision, you can’t find it in you to defend yourself. You close your eyes once more, but this time, instead of just roughly jostling you around, the wave turtles your boat. You don’t realise this until you’re submerged in the water, its icy touch invading your senses, the boat on top of you. More waves continue to crash into you, their intensity not decreasing at all even though you’re underwater. Shooting open, your eyes struggle to see, but it’s no use. Vision is futile in these murky depths, the world a spinning blur of darkness.

You’re running out of air rapidly. You kick haphazardly to get to the surface, but your foot is caught on something. Grabbing wildly at it, you realize your foot is caught in the sail sheets. Sheer panic invades your senses and seizes your heart. It takes control of your muscles, causing your limbs to kick out in a frenzy to escape.

You scream at the unfairness of it all. You were first for so long and now you’re going to die at sea, with a burning throat and drowning lungs. Enraged, you continue to scream even as your vision starts to go fuzzy–despairingly, you realize too late that no one will hear you.

With one last gurgle, your consciousness starts to fade, but before you are completely gone, you see a glimmer in the murky depths. I’m going crazy, you think, this is a pre-death hallucination. Even as you think that, the glimmer gets nearer and soon, warm arms envelop you. The sturdy muscles holding you close feel so real, but you don’t have time to dwell on what is reality because eventually your eyes close and true darkness closes in.

[alice1290]

Read All About It - an Ace/OC fanfic

Note: slight nsfw near the end... 

Chapter 3

The sun was warm on her skin as Ashina lay on the boards of the quarter deck. The blanket under her was soft and warm from the sun. She caught several crew members’ attention when she shed her silk robe, revealing the black bikini. She was pretty sure Ace had a nose bleed. She knew she wasn’t as busty as most women, but she liked her curves and her muscles were toned due to her rigorous training.

Banshee laughed as she walked up to Ashina. “Your causing quite the stir among the male population.”

Ashina giggled. “Men are just a bunch of perverts. I’m not naked. Can’t a girl get a good tan? The weather here is so crazy. Gotta soak up the warmth when I can.”

“What about you and the captain?”

“He’s just a friend.” Ashina wanted it to be more, but she didn’t dare say it aloud.

Banshee gave her a skeptical look and then grinned. “I’m going to start lunch. Any requests?”

“That grilled pineapple was delicious.”

“Sure thing, missus,” Banshee teased on a laugh. Ashina heard the crew tease Ace about having a missus. Saber and Deuce were the worst.

“I’m not,” Ashina stated, scowling. Her rebuttal fell on deaf ears and she laid back down on her blanket. She rolled over onto her stomach, folding her arms under her head. A nap would be nice, rather than think on being called Ace’s missus and the butterflies that gave her. Never mind the pooling in her stomach that made her tingle and shiver whenever she looked at him. Ashina closed her eyes, set on having an early afternoon nap before lunch.

A voice shouting woke her from her nap an unknown amount of time later. “Marines to the starboard side!”

Ashina groaned. “Well, damn. So much for a nice day.” Ace’s bounty and reputation drew them like a beacon, damn the handsome Flame Boy. Ashina sat up and looked off to the right. Fuck. It wasn’t just one or two marine ships, but a whole battalion.

Ashina hopped up and weaved her way through the men running around the deck, following Ace’s orders. She heard Deuce shout a few commands from the wheel, as she ducked inside the cabin. Her sword was laid against her trunk, and she snatched it up before strapping the small dagger to her calf. She didn’t bother putting on shoes or clothes, there was no time as the boom of cannon fire struck the water near the ship. The Spadille rocked, but Ashina kept her footing.

She threw the door back open in time to see Ace launch a fireball across the water. The blazing fury ripped through one of the ships, catching the sails on fire and turning the mast into kindling.

“Nice one Captain!” Aggie yelled.

Another cannon fired, the heavy ball landing too close to the ship for her liking. Deuce shouted something about running the ships aground on the rocky reef and the Spadille jerked to the left as Deuce changed their direction, barking orders to the few men adjusting the sails and rudder.

Mihar was busy firing off shots at the closer range ships while Ace kept throwing long distance fireballs. Ashina reached out with her observational Haki, surveying the fight around her and then turned around to face the portside.

“Well, hello there.” Ashina smirked and then gasped as she noticed the woman’s strawberry hair. “And a fellow red head.”

“Stand aside, I’m here for First Fist.”

“He’s a little busy at the moment with bigger fish. You’ll have to take me down first, sweetheart.”

The woman scowled and drew her sword. Ashina drew hers and readied herself. She would not let her pass, but she did not want to harm the young woman who appeared to be around her age. Her eyes were dark amber, warm unlike Ashina’s deep emerald eyes. The Marine woman was definitely more voluptuous than her, but she would not be the better fighter.

“What’s your name?”

Ashina grinned. “Who cares about names?”

The other woman charged at her and Ashina blocked her attack, standing her ground. She shoved the woman away and readied herself again. The Marine charged again at Ashina, engaging in a series of clashes together.

The fellow redhead was quick, Ashina would give her that, but Ashina was stronger. Using armament Haki to coat her blade Ashina took the offense and move in to deal a hard strike down. The woman flew back, landing on her backside and sliding across the deck. She jumped up to her feet.

“What is your name? Who are you?” she screeched as she got to her feet. “How can you use Haki?”

“I learned?” Ashina supplied with a grin. She loved teasing the Marines when she had the chance. They were all the same, so easy to rile up, just like the woman. “If you want to know my name so bad, how about you tell me yours first?”

“AH!” The woman screamed as she sprinted across the deck, sword poised at the ready. Ashina deflected her and then delivered a hard kick to the woman’s stomach. The blow sent her tumbling back, but she recovered quickly.

“My name is -”

The ship lurched again and the women fought to control their stable footing for a moment before meeting cold stares again.

“My name is Isuka. I’m a Marine Ensign! I demand your name.”

Ashina laughed loudly. “I don’t give a damn what you demand.”

The woman rushed forward and they traded powerful blows. Her anger made her strikes fiercer and faster, but Ashina blocked and countered each blow. The woman hissed when Ashina cut her upper arm with the tip of her blade. They clashed swords again and Ashina twisted and dipped around to land another kick. This one swiped her legs out from under her and she fell to the boards as a loud crash echoed in the air.

The cracking and creaking of wooden boards reverberated in the air and shouts and screams came from the Marine ship off in the distance. They had in fact followed Deuce and met their rocky demise, while Deuce had guided the Spadille away from the same disastrous fate.

Isuka jumped to her feet and scrambled across the deck to look out at her sinking ship and crew. Her angry eyes looked back at Ashina and cursed. “I swear I’ll get you Fire Fist and now you too. And I’ll have your face and name on a bounty poster!” She jumped off into her little boat and began to make her way across the water. The strong waves and still blasting cannons made it a difficult, if not short trek.

Ashina strolled across the deck and watched the woman rowing. Ace joined her side and Ashina could feel his eyes on her for a moment.

“You hurt?” he asked.

“No.”

“Good.”

A particularly large wave crashed upon the young Marine as the Spadille began to sail away from the Marine ships. The little boat capsized and the woman came up spurting water. She was trying to swim the rest of the way, but the ocean waves were strong.

Ace strolled over to the corner near the stairs and then came back with a life preserver. He tossed it effortlessly out into the water, landing inches from the woman. “Oi! Don’t want you to drown on my watch! Now you can’t say that the Spade Pirates never helped you out! It’s been fun, maybe we’ll see you around again in the New World!”

Ashina giggled as the woman shouted something, but the Spadille was picking up speed with the wind and they were too far away to make out her shouts.

“You’re good with that sword you know,” Ace said.

“Thank you. My mother taught me, and I practiced with my father when I could. I honed my skill with the Revolutionaries.”

“I’ve seen your skin turn black. Armament Haki. Where’d you learn that?”

Ashina shrugged. “I think I’ve always had it, but I really started to be able to control it, to coat certain parts of my body when I wanted and my weapon, a couple years ago. You have the Will of D, I’m sure you have some unawakened Haki somewhere in there, Flame Boy.”

Ashina gave him a smile and then headed off. “I’m going to go finish my sunbathing while the sun is still out. Try not to get into any more altercations with the Navy today, okay?”

Ace chuckled, watching the sway of her hips in that black bikini as she walked away. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

.

.

.

Ace reached for the warm body next to him, but touched nothing. He cracked one eye open, expecting to see Ashina just out of reach, but the space beside him was empty. Ace rolled over and looked out the porthole. The night sky was still dark and full of stars. Rolling back over, more awake now, confirmed that Ashina was not in the bed. She wasn’t in the cabin at all.

Rolling out of bed, yawning, Ace strolled in just his shorts out onto the deck. Scanning the deck, he spotted her on the starboard side, near the bow. The moonlight painted her in a soft glow, her red hair a dark ruby. She was covered by a thin silk robe that exposed her lean legs. Her feet were bare. Ace knew she was cold in the night air, and wondered why she was by herself.

“You can join me you know. It’s less creepy than standing back there staring.”

“Oi! I was not staring.” Ace said, walking towards her.

Her laughter echoed across the sea and she turned to look at him as he reached her side. “You totally were, Flame Boy.”

“What are you doing out here? It’s late. What if something happened?”

“Don’t worry about me, Ace. Besides, Mihar is in the crow’s nest.” Ashina looked out to the horizon and gazed at the stars. “I couldn’t sleep. It was peaceful out here.”

Ace held out his palm and made a small flame appear, it grew larger producing more heat. Ashina brought her own hands up and held them out to the flame. She giggled and Ace smiled, watching her warm her hands to his fire.

“You’re always cold.”

Ashina shrugged. “Only when the sun goes down, but you’re nice and toasty.”

Ace wanted to ask her what she would do when she left, but he bit his tongue. He didn’t want to ruin what little time he got with her. He enjoyed her company, the way she interacted with his friends. She was a skilled fighter and would be an asset to his crew. It was a bonus that she was beautiful and sleeping in his bed. He didn’t want her to leave.

She reached out with one hand and caught his wrist. His flame faltered and went out as she moved his arm wider. Ashina tucked herself against his side, her arms going around his torso. Her head rested against his pectoral muscle and Ace lowered his head so he could inhale the sweet scent of her thick, wavy hair. Citrus and saltwater.

“Do you think that marine woman will follow you?”

Ace shrugged, wrapping one arm around Ashina and propping the other on the rail. “She won’t be much trouble even if she does.”

“Unless she calls for reinforcements. You have quite the bounty, Fire Fist.”

Ace couldn’t help but grin, even if she couldn’t see his face. “The Pirate King should have a large bounty, right? The highest?”

Ashina giggled softy. “Of course, he should. Keep blasting Marine battleships to smithereens and you’ll get yourself to the top.”

“I’ve got to fight the best of the best pirates too.”

“The New World is tougher than the Grand Line. The Yonkos call this Paradise compared to the other side.”

“Have you been to the New World?” he asked.

“No.”

He wanted to take her. Ace wanted her to go with him. They could see it together. She could fight by his side with his crew, their crew. She’d only be his missus if she wanted that from him, even if his crew already teased him about her.

“You’ve already started to make a name for yourself, Fire Fist Ace. You’ll become a great pirate.”

She reached up on her tiptoes to kiss his jawbone. Unlike the night before, Ace caught her. One hand tightened on her lower back and the other snaked up to tangle in the hair at the base of her neck.

Her eyes met his and for a moment neither of them breathed as they stared at one another. Ashina blinked, her lips parting slightly, and Ace closed the distance. The feel of her mouth on his, soft and smooth, was better than he imagined. Ashina let out a soft noise, and she let Ace deepen the kiss. His tongue slid against hers, probing her sweet mouth as his hands held her pressed to his chest.

Ashina slid her hands up his arms to wrap over his wide shoulders, holding herself closer to him. He was tall, and muscular, and oh so warm against her chilled skin. He was strong, but his mouth was soft against hers. Ashina wanted more, but crossing that line meant opening herself for deeper feelings. Deeper and stronger than she was already fighting against.

Breaking away from his delicious kiss, she pressed her forehead against his chest and slowed her breaths. Ace relaxed his hold, but did not release her.

“Sor-”

“Don’t apologize, Flame Boy. If I didn’t like your advances I’d have punched you.”

Ace snorted and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Okay. You need a nickname.”

Ashina giggled and pulled back. Ace let her go, but she captured his hand in hers. She pulled him along behind her as she headed for the cabin. “The crew calls me Missus.”

Ace sputtered and Ashina giggled.

“No? The Marine wanted my name. I didn’t give it to her. I’m sure if they ever get my picture they’ll think of something clever. Huh, Fire Fist?”

“Ashina…” Ace trailed off, trying to think of a good nickname for her, but coming up short. “I got nothing. You are good with a sword though.”

“I have no intentions of being the World’s Greatest Swordsman. A man’s blows will always have more power, no matter how hard I train. Haki can make my blows stronger and my defense higher, but against someone like Mihawk?” She gave an unladylike snort. “Not a chance.”

Ace closed the door behind them and Ashina dropped his hand. Her hands went to the sash of her robe and the robe loosened around her waist.

“I think you could become great. You could hone your skills, get better, in the New World.”

Ashina hummed and shed her robe, leaving only the silky nightgown to cover her sun-kissed skin. Ace watched her climb into the bed and slide under the covers. He followed her and got comfortable beside her. She curled against his side, humming in pleasure as he raised the temperature, and rested her head against his chest.

“I have to go back. Dragon will have new missions, new goals. Our paths are sure to cross again once we part ways,” she said softly.

The words were bitter on her tongue.

.

.

.

It was late. Ashina was in the cabin already, but several friends were still up drinking. Ace longed to bid them goodnight, he wanted to soak up every moment he got to spend with Ashina. At the same time, he enjoyed the brotherhood, the laughter and jokes.

“Hey, Cap,” Saber said, waving a hand in front of Ace’s face to catch his attention. “That one Navy woman was a redhead, and so is the missus.”

“She’s not –” Ace tried to protest, but Saber kept talking.

“You have a knack for attracting the fiery haired women.”

The only fiery haired woman Ace was attracted to was Ashina. He took a drink from his cup to keep his eyes away from the closed door of the cabin.

Deuce chuckled. “That or they find him.”

“Pretty ones too,” Skull added. “That Marine was cute. The Missus.. well… we’ve all seen that black bikini.”

Ace couldn’t hold back the flames any longer and they erupted from his shoulders and back, the heat intense.

Deuce just laughed and leaned away. “Easy, Captain. It’s just a little joking. A guy can’t help but look. Don’t you?”

“Don’t I what?” Ace tried to play stupid, maybe they’d buy it.

They didn’t.

“Really, boss?” Saber said seriously and then grinned. “You sleep in the same bed with that gorgeous woman and you say you don’t look? You don’t touch?”

“Of course I look, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to discuss it with you knuckleheads.”

“She’ll be leaving soon, Cap,” Skull said. His tone wasn’t teasing, he was serious.

“I know that.”

“You just gonna let her walk away? We tease you, but only because we all see the two of you dancing around each other. You say live without regrets right? Stop shooting the shit with us, and walk through that door you keep staring holes into hoping none of us notice.”

Deuce chuckled and Ace shot him a glare, making the blue haired man hold up his hands. “Hey, man, I’m with Skull. She’s nice to look at, real pretty eyes, but it’s clear who she’s attracted to and it’s not one of us poor saps. Go. We’ve got one more island before Sabaody, we’ll be there by tomorrow morning. Then it’s on to Sabaody and she’s back to the Revolutionaries.”

Ace knew he was right, and it sucked. It sucked that she would be gone so soon. He had a few more days at the most. Would it be enough time to convince her to stay?

Ace stood from the stool he’d been occupying and, leaving his drink behind, headed for the Captain’s cabin. The door was unlocked, which was no surprise to him, Ashina never locked the door to his knowledge. He took it as a sign that she’d always shared some level of trust with him. She was at the desk, writing something, and only briefly looked up at him before finishing what she was doing.

Ace toed off his boots. He hung his hat on the peg on the door and then crossed over to the desk. “What are you writing?”

Ashina rolled the sheet of paper up into a tube and set the pen down. “Promise you won’t tease? I hear how the others pick on Deuce.”

Ace held out his hand. “Swear.”

Ashina slid her hand into his, squeeze it once and then let go as she spoke. “I write to my mama. She’s… she died… but I write to her sometimes. I never do anything with the letters, but it’s something I do. When she was still alive, I lived with her, and I didn’t get to see my father all that often, but I wanted to tell him everything about every day. Mama taught me to read and write, so when I was big enough I started to write letters to him. We didn’t send them, but I’d always give them to him when he visited. It must seem silly to write to someon-”

Ace cut her off. “It’s not silly. My handwriting is shit, or I’d write to my mother. I didn’t get a chance to meet her, not really. She died after I was born.”

“That’s very sad. Where’d you grow up?”

“In the East Blue. Dawn Island. I told you about Luffy? Monkey D Garp is my adopted grandfather. He checked in every now and then, when he could. Biggest pain in my ass.”

Ashina could hear then fondness in his voice and smiled. She stood from the chair and slid onto the bed, crossing her legs and patting the spot next to her. “Dragon’s father is your grandfather? Talk about a small world. So is Luffy still there? At Dawn Island?”

“Should be. We made a pack, him, Sabo, and I. Sabo was my other brother, but he… he died.”

Ashina wondered if Ace could hear the pounding of her heart at the mention of Sabo. The same Sabo she knew, her partner, her friend. The Sabo that was very much alive.

“You said should be?”

“Oh, yeah. We made a pack to set sail when we turned 17, Sabo was killed by a Celestial Dragon before he turned 17. Luffy still has two years to go.”

“Wait.. Ace, how old are you?”

“Eighteen. You?”

Ashina grinned. “I got a year on you, Flame Boy, I’m nineteen.”

Ace rolled his eyes. “It’s only a year. Where did you grow up?”

“A little island in the South Blue. If I’m not on a ship on a mission somewhere Baltigo is where I could call home now. Blasted winter island isn’t much of a home, but it makes for a good base.”

“No wonder you’re always cold.”

Ace grinned and Ashina giggled, shaking her head. “I’m not a fan, but I’d rather like to stay on Dragon’s good side, and the alternative is Momoiro Island.”

When Ace pulled as face Ashina burst into laughter. “So, you’ve heard of it?”

“Yeah. I’ll pass.”

“Me too. Not to mention Dragon is like eight feet tall. I’ll do my best to stay on his good side, so I don’t complain about the cold… that much.”

Ace made a noise of agreement. They were silent for a moment before Ashina spoke, softer this time with a hesitation in her voice. “Ace, if Monkey D Garp is only your adopted grandfather… who were your parents? Did you know them?”

Ashina took his silence as if she had offended him and quickly apologized. “I’m so sorry, that’s none of my business I shou-”

“My father was Gol D Roger.”

Ashina felt as if her eyes practically bugged out of her head.

Ace waited for the snide remark, or the derogatory words, the ones he’d heard all his life without people ever knowing he was actually Roger’s son, but they never came. Ashina sat in silence, mulling over what he had said.

“So then you’re really, Gol D Ace. Why Portgas?”

“It was my mother’s name. She was Portgas D Rouge. You ever hear about what happened after the World Government caught wind that Roger had a child?”

“Yes.” Ashina’s face twisted in disgust. The senseless murder of unborn children and women was one of the many reasons she hated that authority.

“Gramps told me that she carried me for twenty months. Long enough to ensure my safety. She died shortly after naming me. Gramps said she did name me Gol D Ace, but that bastard didn’t leave anything for me but people’s hate and distrust of him and his demon child. I chose to be Portgas for my mother, who sacrificed her life for mine.”

“Ace…” Ashina blinked back the tears that had formed in her eyes and reached across the bed to touch his hand.

He jerked at first in surprise, but turned his hand over letting her place hers in his larger one. His fingers curled around hers. “Portgas D Ace. The future Pirate King all in his own right.”

The corner of his mouth turned up in the smallest of smiles and Ashina steered the conversation to lighter topics. “So, Ace, what’s your favorite food?”

“Meat.”

Ashina burst into laughter. “That’s not a food, that’s a whole food group. What is your favorite?”

“Uh…”

She giggled again and Ace was distracted by her bright, green eyes and pretty smile. “Mine’s Takoyaki, with ramen being a close second.”

“Hmm. I guess I really like spicy peppers.”

“Like a little spicy or the ridiculously hot ones that make you sweat?”

“The second ones, but they’ve never made me sweat, they’re good.”

“They’re hot. Too hot, I like spicy but not where smoke comes out of my ears.”

Ace laughed. “Maybe it’s the devil fruit. I didn’t eat a lot of peppers as a kid.”

“No? Just meat?” She teased. “I’ve heard Devil Fruits taste awful.”

“They don’t taste good,” Ace said, pulling a face at the memory of eating the Mera Mera fruit. “Definitely not like any other normal fruits. Would you eat one if you ever found one?”

“And lose the ability to swim? No thanks. Don’t you miss being able to swim?”

“Not really. Does suck to be paralyzed in a bath. I can only go about knee deep into any water before I start to lose my power and the ability to move, it slowly drains away your energy.”

“So just showers then. See, totally won’t eat one. A hot bath or spa is the best.”

“I mean, I could, I’d just have to get someone to haul me out.”

Ashina burst into laughter covering her face with her hands and falling back onto the bed. She made a snort, which only made her laugh harder.

“What is so funny?” he asked.

“I’m trying to picture Deuce attempting to haul your ass out of the tub in the bathroom. Oh, that’s great!”

She snorted again, making herself laugh harder. Ace couldn’t help but grin down at her. “It’s not that funny.”

Ashina uncovered her face, her bright green eyes meeting his, and she replied between giggles. “Yes it is.”

Ace flopped on his back beside her, stretching out and folding his arms behind his head, and waited for her giggles to end. When they finally did she laid beside him in the quiet for a few minutes.

“I should change or I’m going to fall asleep just like this.”

Ace moved to sit up. “I’ll let you have your privacy for a moment then.”

Her hand touched his upper arm and he met her smile with wide eyes. “You don’t have to leave. You won’t see any more than you do when I wear my bathing suit.”

Ashina stood from the bed and walked over to where she kept her pack of clothes beside his. Ace flopped back on the bed and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to look, he should be polite and let her have her privacy, but damn it he was a pirate, too, and curious as fuck. In the quiet room he could hear her move about and when her shorts hit the floor with a soft plop, he opened his eyes. With his arms tucked behind his head, he could easily see her across the room.

Her back to was to him, and her long, wavy crimson hair cascaded down her naked back. The only article of clothing on her was the pale blue, cotton panties that covered a little less than her bathing suit did. Fuck, he shouldn’t have looked. Ace wanted to touch her, wanted to really feel her, he wanted to have sex with her. Most of all he didn’t want her to return to the Revolutionaries.

The floral nightgown slid down over her petite curves. She turned around and noticed his gaze. Ace smirked and shrugged at being caught, and Ashina’s lips curved up into a seductive grin.

“Do you always wear shorts to sleep?” Ashina crawled back into the bed, stretching out across what had become her side of the bed.

“No.”

“Are you going to go back out to the boys?”

“No.”

“Then strip.”

“Ashina!” he screeched.

She barked out a laugh. “For bed Flame Boy.”

Ace laid on the bed for a moment longer before sitting up. He shed his shirt and tossed it across the room to land on his trunk.

He stayed in his shorts, only yanking the two belts free from their loops, before stretching out beside her.

Ashina made a humming noise. “Suit yourself.”

She shifted around and then slid close to his side, pressing the length of her slender body against his side. One of her smooth, bare legs, slid over his while her hand found the center of his chest. His arm curved over her shoulders, holding her closer to him. Ace turned his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

When she lifted her head to catch his gaze, Ace hesitated only for a second before pressing his lips to hers. Ashina let out a soft moan, shifting to move higher which brought her closer. Ace depended the kiss and rolled them so he hovered slightly over her. Ashina let out another soft moan and her hands slid up his chest. They glided over his shoulders and then down to grip his biceps.

He nipped her lip playfully with his teeth as he pulled back and she gave a breathy gasp. Ace couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. She was flushed beneath him and each panting breath caused her pert nipples to brush against his chest. The thin, soft material between them the only barrier.

Ace caught her eyes and Ashina caught his lips in a second kiss. She slid her tongue over his bottom lip and then delved into his mouth, gliding her tongue over his. She broke away, placing wet kisses across his jaw until she reached his ear.

“Touch me,” she purred.

Ace raised his head to look down at her as he lifted one hand from the mattress. He started at her thigh, as far down as he could reach, and let his fingers glide up the smooth skin. He didn’t dip under the fabric of her nightgown, but over it as he moved up to her hip. When he continued up her side she arched into his touch. Brushing the swell of her breast with his fingertips made her let out a soft moan. She arched into his touch more as he palmed her breast.

She shifted beneath him and her leg slid up his, widening and opening for him to lay between her thighs. Her leg wrapped over his and pulled him closer to her. It was his turn to moan as his hard length pressed against her warm center.

A loud banging on the door made Ashina pulled away from him as if he’d burned her.

“Yo! Captain! Unknown ship off the port side!”

“Damn it,” Ace groaned, hanging his head.

Ashina giggled and slid her leg down his, she turned her head and her lips brushed his cheek. He turned his head, meeting her gaze for a split second before catching her lips again. His hand was still on her breast, and he slid it slowly back down her curves down to the swell of her ass.

“Captain!”

Ace pulled away. “Oi! I heard you!”

Ashina giggled again and shoved his shoulder. “Go, Captain.” She stressed the title and gave him a playful grin. She shoved him again, so he reluctantly got to his feet.

“You staying in bed?” he asked, snatching his belt from the floor.

“Yell if you need me, Fire Fist.” Ashina slipped her legs under the blanket and shifted to curl up near the middle of the bed. She gave him a wink and then closed her eyes.

[zonamievents]

ZoNa Summer Festival Day #1

Theme: Ice Cubes Rating: PG / Teen Word Count: 2,706 words Note: For the rest of the ZoNa Summer Festival themes, check out the #ZoNaSummerFestival tag, or this blog!

‘One thousand forty-eight… One thousand forty-nine!’ Keeping track of every single swing of his oversized mallet was a type of meditation for Roronoa Zoro. It kept him focused despite the ache in his muscles, providing him with a distraction from the strain he enjoyed putting on his body. Any distress he experienced while training was only another challenge he’d need to face in order to become the strongest swordsman in the world.

His least favourite hurdle to date had to be the sunburn that was being baked into his back, however.

He had been working out on the landing beneath the main mast for nearly an hour, without a shirt on, without any protection from the rays of the sun. Every single flex caused the skin along his back to sting as he carried on with his regiment and his vigilance divulged easily between the numbers in his head and the way his shoulders simmered. Zoro knew he wouldn’t stop his practice because he was hurting though - he had only grown so powerful by fighting through the pain of his training methods over the years - so he convinced himself that Chopper could fix him right up once he was finished. 

Despite the agony that ran along his spine, the swordsman threw his mallet overhead and prepared to count even higher.

“Zoro?” A familiar shrill scream caused him to hesitate in his stride. Of course she was behind him, which caused him to look back at her by pivoting his hips in order to acknowledge her obvious panic. He watched her bikini-clad body peak out from behind the mast at the exact same pace that he turned around.

With gritted teeth, he asked her, “What?”

“Are you okay?” The words left her slowly, cautiously, like she was hesitant about bothering him when he was exercising. Still, he could tell by the look in her eyes that her concern was much too overwhelming for her to pretend that she didn’t notice him.

It still didn’t make sense to Zoro as to why her sudden show of sympathy forced her to interrupt him. With his mallet still clenched between his hands high above his head, he lost his breath momentarily when he answered her, “Yeah.”

“Huh.” Nami replied, obviously unconvinced of his short answer. “I just came up here to water my grove and I heard you grunting over there a lot more than usual. It sounded like you were in pain or--”

“I’m not!” He promised. 

Nami immediately shrugged off his irritation, deciding to let her worry go. “All right.” His aggression had stolen away her interest in their interaction, which worked out well for the swordsman who was ready to make his one thousand fiftieth throw. His fingers twitched around the handle, his core warned him that it was growing tired, and yet he took his time to reposition himself properly so that his next swing was still refined.

‘One thousand...fifty!’

“Oh! Zoro, what the hell!?” Once again, her screeching startled him until he became still. At least this time his arms were down. 

“What!?” Zoro bellowed. It took all of the air in his lungs to shout at her, which was something he was quite happy to do.

“Your back… It’s burnt! Can’t you feel it?” Nami couldn’t decide if she felt like pitying him or chastising him as both were reflected in her tone.

‘Of course I can, idiot.’ He thought to himself.

“Relax! I’m fine.” Zoro chose to answer her more carefully. He knew that the greatest threat to his sunburn was an irritated, offended navigator, so he chose to keep his true sentiment a secret.

If the anger in her eyes could have manifested into flames, Nami would have simply incinerated him and made the issue of his sunburn moot. Zoro moved his gaze to those scowling, pink lips of hers and anticipated the flamethrower she was about to launch at him with her surely scathing words, since he knew she wouldn’t just walk away quietly now that she was riled up.

Except, that was exactly what she did.

Almost as if she had taken offence to his yelling for the first time in their entire relationship, Nami stomped off in her ridiculous heeled sandals until she had successfully opened the small trap door, climbed down the ladder that would take her to the kitchen and disappeared completely from his sight. 

“Tch.” Was his response to the entire conversation. He hadn’t meant to be so rude, if the truth be told. The stress of his exercise routine plus the added burning sensation along his back had put him in a foul mood already. Her interruptions were unnecessary and unwarranted. 

Maybe he’d save her from some future villain as a form of an apology.

For now, Zoro was grateful for the peace and quiet once again. He was grateful to return his attention to his mallet and resume at one thousand fifty strokes. With roughly only one quarter of his practice completed, there was still a great deal more to get through before dinner time. All he really needed to do was even out his exposure to the sun and turn his body around until he faced a different direction, he hypothesized. 

For the rest of his routine, Zoro decided to face the back of the ship and take in the view of the ocean, particularly paying attention to the waves that were broken up by the Sunny’s rudder. 

Never mind the pair of heels he heard behind him once again. Zoro chose to believe that it was nothing more than Robin coming to water her own garden, that he scared Nami away with his crass behaviour and he was free of anymore of her meddling. Almost as if he feared that he might be wrong, Zoro reached for the grip of his mallet and was more than ready to complete his one thousand fifty-first swing…!

“Agh!” He screamed when something frightfully cold slammed into his slightly singed skin. Zoro’s entire body recoiled from the frigid touch, causing him to dance around the wide range of his mallet’s head in order to escape such cruelty.

While he wasn’t surprised that it was Nami who subjected him to something so unpleasant, he also wasn’t too thrilled to see her again. All of his previous guilt evaporated. “What the--!?”

“You can’t see it,” Nami began, infuriated. In her hand was checkered dish cloth wrapped around something jagged. He easily deduced that it was a huge collection of ice cubes she stole from the freezer in the kitchen down below, but the size of the cluster looked absolutely insane. “But your sunburn makes you look like you’re wearing Luffy’s vest. The one he wore when we first met him.”

“So you thought you’d hit me with some ice and make it all disappear!?” Zoro called out her lunacy loud enough so that the entire ship could hear.

Unbothered, Nami continued, “If it hurts so much that you’re whimpering, just take a break and put on a damn shirt. Or better yet, get some sunblock on. You know I use it all the time when I’m tanning. You could have asked me nicely for it just now instead of whining like a kid.”

“You could have just minded your own business!” Zoro retorted. 

“I’m trying to help you! If it ends up blistering, you won’t be able to work out for a week until it's all healed! Then, you’d be wishing you’d listened to me!” Nami fired back.

Uninterested in anything else that was even remotely heated, he was ready to burn this conversation down with some scorching hot words of his own. “I didn’t ask you to give a damn about it! You can’t just mind your own damn business, can you? Go back to your trees or your maps or whatever and leave me the hell alone! Got it!?” 

It was her fault, he concluded.

He wasn’t going to blame the sun for his bad mood when Nami was more often than not the cause of it.

This time, he didn’t wait to see if she’d respond or storm off in a huff. Zoro made the decision to turn his back on her first. 

His dismissal of her was not received well. 

“Rgh! Dammit!” shouted a forcibly chilled swordsman when he felt a handful of ice slip underneath the back of his haramaki. The ice cubes jostled around beneath the heavy fabric and even started to melt before he could claw them out. When he realized he had missed two of the slippery devils, he simply pulled on his haramaki until there was enough room for them to fall right out. Looking back and forth between the pair on the floor and the bunch that he held, he realized he had been attacked with nearly blocks of ice!

An unladylike snort escaped his attacker.

Zoro lifted his one good eye to glare at Nami, who appeared to have found his involuntary, flustered dance rather amusing. Her mouth was curled into a rather wide grin, her big brown eyes were wide with delight and they even sparkled with some kind of satisfaction too. It irritated him thoroughly to see her so happy at his expense…

That was when Zoro realized that there was enough ice in her hand for him to exact some kind of revenge.

The mound of ice cubes was unwrapped in her hand since she had just shoved some underneath his haramaki, allowing him to snatch a large amount with his quick reflexes and large hand. Shock crashed down upon her face so fast, Nami’s mouth fell open when she realized that she had foolishly supplied him with ammo.

Just in case she thought they were going to simply resolve this with words, Zoro offered one kind word of advice: “Run.”

Nami fumbled over her sandal-wearing feet at first when she tried to run away from him, much to his amusement. It was his turn to smirk at her as he took one large step, then another, and another until he was hot on her trail. He gave chase after the supposed cat burglar like the angry mutt he was, only his cruel chuckling replaced what should have been enraged barking. There was nowhere to go on this section of the ship unless she planned to jump the railing or take her time trying to climb back down into the kitchen. 

It’d be amusing for him either way.

But of course, nothing was ever easy with Nami. She decided that her best course of action was to run around her precious trees in a poor attempt to put some distance between them. Zoro’s physical power plus his longer limbs managed to close any sort of added gap before she could look over her shoulder to see if it worked.

“Ah!” She yelped the moment she saw how close he was.

Trailing around the back of the main mast, Zoro felt strong, in control. He seized the moment to tease her for once. “What’s wrong, Nami?” “Stay away!” She screamed.

“Don’t you want to cool down too?” “I’d rather fall in the ocean than let you touch me!”

“I can help you with that too.”

“No!” Her piercing plea only entertained him more. 

Zoro knew he was much too engrossed in playing the predator against his typical tyrannical enemy. Nevertheless, he wasn’t going to stop until she knew what it felt like having ice stuck in her…

Well, her bikini bottoms, he supposed.

No matter where he put them, he’d enjoy watching her reaction.

“Hey!” Shouted Zoro’s greatest annoyance through the trap door down below.

For some reason, it panicked him to think that someone would find him behaving so fiendishly with the navigator. Anyone else in the crew would probably view his actions as predatory, even if Nami was definitely more of a danger to the average man than he would ever be. Their dynamic might be misunderstood by anyone else in the crew, especially the Prince of Dumbass Kingdom!

So, he reacted reflexively.

Zoro reached out in a desperate attempt to stop Nami from running, and he managed to catch her arm just as they had circled back around the mast. With her grove acting as the perfect cover, he knew they would be shielded if Dartboard Eyebrow tried to climb the ladder leading to the kitchen. 

Still, he knew that if he was caught tormenting a bikini-clad Nami, he’d spend the rest of the afternoon fighting off the ‘vengeance of love’.

Before he knew it, his large build had pinned Nami against the back of the main mast. He towered over her otherwise petite frame, with only her breasts keeping him from pressing his entire body flat against hers--

No, it wasn’t just her breasts.

She had been holding her arsenal of ice cubes close to her torso, and the impact of his abs against her hands caused the entire bundle to tumble out and slither down their pelvises, thighs and crash down onto their feet. 

There wasn’t any time to react to the chilling assault when the Sunny’s residential asshole called up from down below, “Is something wrong, Nami-san?”

“U-Uh, n-no!” She chirped frantically. 

Zoro observed the way her eyes couldn’t seem to focus, felt the way her entire being shivered against his. The way she wiggled and squirmed… caught his attention more so than some melting pellets of ice ever could. With his brow arched curiously to see what she would do next, he merely listened when she was further questioned by the blond idiot, “Oh, it sounded like you were being chased by something up there.” “I-It was a bug!” Nami lied while staring him dead in the eye. When he smirked at her fib, she made sure to add on defiantly. “Just a really big pest! But I got him.”

“That’s my Nami-swan!” Was the idiot’s reply, completely fooled by her words.

Zoro, however, wasn’t. Instead, he couldn’t help but notice the way Nami’s right shoulder shuffled ever so slightly just as she started to regain control of herself after the initial impact their bodies had. A twinge went off inside of him, warning him not to let her strike!

His large hand rose high enough to catch her wrist just in time, and clasped between her fingers was a stray cube of ice.

Admiring her moxie was one thing. Wanting to avoid being pelted again was another. He knew he was in complete control of both her actions and the last of her arsenal, so Zoro did the only thing he could think of: he brought her hand to his mouth and made her feed him the ice. It crossed his lips and instantly chilled his tongue, yet he managed to stick the tip of it out and lick the slight dribble off of his mouth easily enough. All the while, Nami’s eyes were wide while she observed the way he chomped on the remainder of her supply.

“Hm, maybe you were right: it is kind of refreshing.” He admitted with an evident edge to his tone, one that was meant to grate on her last nerve.

No longer surprised or amused, Nami tore her wrist free and shoved at his sweat-slick chest. “You moron!” She scolded him with a fury that was most likely hot enough to rival the sun she was trying to protect him from in the first place. “Burn, for all I care! I hope you’re aching the next time you have to fight someone!” Then, she placed all of her weight onto her heels and stomped away once again.

Zoro was ready to let her go stew in her anger, return to his training and move on with his day. When he turned to face his resting mallet, though, he felt something cool run along the edge of one of his abs…

Before she could turn the corner around her grove, the swordsman picked the melting ice out of his haramaki, aimed it at her bikini bottoms and threw it across the deck…!

“AH!” 

“Nami-swan!?”

Scooping up his mallet, Roronoa Zoro wore the cheekiest grin and prepared himself. “One thousand fifty-one…!”