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izzyhandswhore · 7 months

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Would love to see your hcs of reader taking Izzy out on a date at the beach! :3

((What a cute idea!! Poor man needs to relax a bit. Also is anyone going absolutely FERAL at that new clip?? Because sdbaekfasjfd)) Taking Izzy for a date at the beach!

So after arguing with Stede that pirates don't actually take vacations and time spent docked at a beach is time wasted, Izzy turns to you for backup.. Only to find you've already swapped your weapons for one of Stede's lace parasols. With a heavy sigh, he's defeated.

You take him by the hand and happily drag him away from the rest of the crew to have a private beach day away from the explosives testing, quite public make out sessions and makeshift, boisterous games (not naming any names). You even bring along some sandwiches Roach made, a bottle of rum and some other beachy supplies all carried in a little bucket (that's a secret mousketool we'll use later).

He still tries to argue that this is pointless and the two of you have seen a million beaches over the years, but you still point out how nice the sunshine is, how beautiful the sea looks and generally how peaceful it all is. He'd usually find relentless optimism annoying, but it's different with you. Eventually you get him to admit that the quiet is nice at least.

The two of you sit on the sand and look out at the horizon, hand in hand, letting him have his peace and quiet for a while. You toe your boots off and dig your feet in the sand, just enjoying the feeling. Izzy argues that him taking his shoes off would give him a disadvantage if an ambush or something was to occur but of course he can never really say no to you. If you pay close attention you can see him visibly relax as his feet sink into the sand. He squeezes your hand just that little bit tighter.

After some rest, food/drink and light conversation it's like Izzy is a completely different person in the best way. You didn't realise how much you missed his laugh and smile until now... He laughs at you even more when you take the bucket and start teaching him how to make sandcastles.

Okay hear me out. At first Izzy is laughing at you and insisting that this is completely childish and affectionately calling you mad.. And then you lose him to the sandcastle. The man is running back and forth to the sea to get water for better structure. He's digging moats. You hunt down seashells and driftwood and he makes little windows and defenses from them. He has such an intense look of concentration on his face but you can tell that he's so happy.. This is probably the first time he's allowed himself to "play" since he was a child, though of course you don't point this out to him or he'd probably stop.

By the time you're done you've built an entire sand fortress which is pretty impressive considering your lack of tools. You've both also got yourselves hot and sweaty, especially Izzy with his leather. So next stop is a quick dip in the sea. He may also need a bit of coaxing for this one, but it's a lot easier than it was at the start of the day. You take him by the hand again and the two of you step into the cold water, taking the piss out of each other for any gasps or hesitations, daring each other to go further and further..

Once he's up to about his knees he insists he's not going any further until you go beyond his reach and "lose your footing". Immediately he's by your side and pulling you up, seriously worried until he sees that you're laughing. You think he's going to be angry with you but instead he initiates what becomes a full-blown water fight. You're both splashing each other and hurling stupid affectionate insults and eventually it devolves into just wrestling each other into the water. He wins every time of course, but he never actually hurts you. Eventually you call a breathless truce and are left just holding each other in the water as the sun starts to set.

Izzy looks at you like you're his whole world then. He touches your face so gently and thanks you for the day, telling you he knows what he's like and how it's been worse since joining the Revenge and everything. He tells you he's not ungrateful for you and everything you do for him. He knows. You just smile and shut him up with a kiss that tastes like salt and rum. He only pulls away when the sea breeze finally makes you shiver and he realises he should get you home.

The two of you leave your sandcastle standing and return to the crew. You notice him sneaking glances at you in your wet clothing and the way it clings to your skin.. He stammers and gets all flustered if you or the crew point it out though. He takes you back aboard the ship to change clothes and get you all warmed up.. How you guys go about that is up to you <3

The night ends with a big bonfire on the beach with the whole crew. Frenchie starts a sing-along, rum is shared around and all in all it's just good vibes.

#izzy hands #izzy hands x reader #ofmd #our flag means death

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ambazaar · 6 months

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The Bitter Taste of Hibiscus 🌺: Part 2

Shanks x oc

Synopsis: Tessa, due to a complicated past, has an opinion about pirates. An opinion that's become a bit muddled since he came to the village for the first time. It's all inconvenient, really. Falling in love.

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Use, Facial-Related Injuries, Fluff (may be subject to change)

A/N: I've barely read or seen ANY of the manga or anime so pls don't murder me about inaccuracies. I'm in love with OPLA Shanks and needed to get my frustrations out in writing. So have a fun, angsty short story filled with fluffy goodness. Will be updating as I can.

\\\

Shortly after the Red Force settled into port, Tessa left Makino to tend to her business with the pirates. She wouldn't be caught in the middle, not with her heart racing as fast as it was and sleep coating her eyelids so heavily. She thought to look for her street urchin, but realized halfway to his nook beneath the docks that he most likely would have snuck aboard the ship by now. He'd have bolted to see Shanks the moment he woke, having been counting the days until his return, of that Tessa had no doubt. The young woman sighed, unsure of what to do.

Makino's voice rang in the back of Tessa's mind, warning her of regrets once more. But it was too early in the day to think of regrets. So, she turned back toward town, careful to avoid the main docks, and began the long trek from the beach to the cottage on the outskirts of the village.

It was a small thing, Tessa's cottage, with a charming and rustic allure. The vibrant blue of the wooden planks that adorned its exterior had long faded from the coastal sun. The once bright yellow door, now tinged with a soft gray hue, hadn't welcomed visitors aside from Makino or Luffy in years. Inside, its worn walls were decorated with flattened bouquets of flowers that Tessa had picked during her hikes through the hills and paintings by her mother that were older than she was. She hung seashells with discarded fishing wire in an intricate path connecting the only two windows, which cascaded together in blissful chimes whenever a soft breeze caught the milky, lace curtains.

A large, peculiar-shaped piece of driftwood sat above the hearth, a gift from Luffy just one year prior. Not long after the Red Hair Pirates came and left Windmill Village for the first time, he'd found the driftwood on the beach and attempted to shape it to look more like the dragon figurehead of Shanks' ship. Tessa couldn't perceive the resemblance, but she never had the heart to tell him. So, above the hearth it stayed.

Inside the cottage was cold, as she had no need to light a fire last night, having spent the entire evening at Party's with Makino. Tessa reached for the dingy, red shawl hanging beside the hearth, wrapping it around her shoulders, and went to work on starting a small fire. Moments later, she swung a kettle over the open flames and nestled into the large quilt she'd spent most of the spring working on, which draped over an old wicker chair in the corner of the open room. The salty air of the sea drifted through the windows with the cool breeze, mingling with a scent almost like cranberries as Tessa poured the boiling water from the kettle through loose hibiscus petals. It was a tart drink, but one that served better to wake her than most things. She let it rest for a moment and sat back in the chair, turning her head toward the window.

Her gaze immediately fell to the pirate ship.

Despite the feelings Tessa held for their captain, she still remained uncertain of the Red Hair Pirates. She rarely spoke to any of them, usually just in passing and never for very long, despite the fact that they'd been coming and going from Windmill Village for over a year now. They'd established a mutually beneficial relationship with the islanders over that time, so much so that greeting the pirates at port became almost a tradition for some of the villagers. But not for Tessa. It was not completely lost on her that a band of respectful sailors was possible. But a band of respectable pirates? She'd never heard of such a thing.

The first time she found herself face to face with one of them, she'd been on her way to Party's to help Makino when she collided right into Benn Beckman, the first mate. He laughed it off and advised that she should watch her step. She couldn't recall what came over her that day, but his audacity sparked a fire in her chest.

"Well excuse me, sir!" She said, her voice already loud enough for everyone near to turn their heads. "I've never been made to 'watch my step' before you lot came, bounding about like you own the place. And usually when you knock into a lady, you apologize, not laugh in her face!"

The pirate laughed again, louder and much heartier than before. The pale of her face flushed pink, the anger coursing through her overshadowing any fear that might occur from the consequences of her outburst. But to Tessa's astonishment, he simply bowed, placing a large hand over his heart, and asked for her forgiveness. She didn't know what to say or do. When he met her gaze again, a genuine smile crossed his features and she stood there, completely bewildered.

That's when she heard him for the first time, calling the first mate from beneath the canopy of Party's. "You starting trouble with the locals already, Benn?" He asked.

"No more than usual, Cap'n." As Benn passed her on the dock, Tessa's eyes rose to the man that he'd referred to as 'captain'.

He was certainly tall, much taller than Makino who stood just beside him, with vibrant red hair and a grayish cape draped across his shoulders, and on his head sat a peculiar straw hat. Peculiar because it adorned the head of a pirate captain: the most fearsome sort of man one could come across. This man, with his straw hat and charming features, didn't look dangerous. In fact, as he watched her enter the bar, she found her gaze fixated on him, not in fear but in curiosity. Specifically his eyes. Dark as pools of ink under the shade of his hat, Tessa wondered in that moment the kind of stories they held within. But, as she arrived at Makino's side, she lastly took note of the three long scars that decorated the left side of his face and steeled herself at the last second, despite the man's warm smile.

"Apologies for my first mate, miss," he said to her. "A life on the seas sometimes causes a man to forget his manners."

Something inside Tessa tensed. Makino sensed it, immediately turning to look at her friend, and saw the hard expression on her face. "I'm sure manners isn't the only thing," Tessa retorted.

Though puzzled, Shanks chuckled and smiled wider in response. Heat rose immediately through Tessa's face, which irritated her more. She finally met Makino's worried stare and said, her words heavily soaked in resentment, "Since when do we do business with pirates?" She surveyed Shanks up and down, taking in the intrigued look on his face, and practically sprinted across to the other dining hut.

Tessa looked back on that memory and cringed. She'd been so angry with Makino for helping them that day. She couldn't believe that in only a year her opinions on pirates would become so muddled. All because of Shanks and his crew. It was hard to believe there were others like them, at least for Tessa. Her own experiences with pirates had left a bitterness in her heart that cast a dark prejudice on them. So, in the beginning, she'd hated Shanks. She hated that Luffy admired him so much. She hated that the village placed their trust in him so quickly. But most of all she hated that, despite all her animosity and resentment, she'd still fallen in love with him.

She'd known it only a few months later when the pirates had returned from another trek across the seas and their captain called cheers for both her and Makino after they'd spent a whole afternoon making sure his crew was fed. She'd known it when she watched him help a young girl collect her basket of apples that had fallen to the ground, her tears shifting to laughter as he gave her words of assurance. She'd known it when he'd placed his hand over hers that night at Party's, though she hadn't been able to even look at him since. For all he knew, Tessa still hated him. But for the first time in a year, she no longer felt content keeping it that way.

There was a sudden rapping at the door, which jolted Tessa from a sleep she hadn't known she had fallen into. Luffy was standing in front of her before she could wipe the haze from her eyes. "TESSA," the boy shouted, despite the fact she was already quite awake.

"Yes, Luffy. What can I do for-"

The woman's voice caught in her throat as she finally looked upon the boy's face. Her hand instinctively flew to his cheek, her thumb hovering anxiously over the tender stitches just below his right eye. "What on Earth happened?"

"Tessa, you're not going to believe this! Look!" Luffy bounced away from her touch and stood just in front of the fireplace, the flames mere embers now; how long had she been asleep? Her eyes wouldn't leave the fresh wound on his face.

"Luffy, please. Tell me what happened!" She urged him, but alas the boy ignored her.

He raised his arm high above his head, and with a triumphant yell, swiftly thrust it forward. Tessa's breath was forcefully expelled from her lungs, leaving her feeling dizzy, as she observed the boy's arm unnaturally extending across the room, knocking her front door wide open and causing it to dislodge from the top hinge. Luffy instantly recoiled, overwhelmed by immediate regret, and looked to Tessa with sheepish guilt. "I can fix that," He said, lunging forward.

Tessa's eyes were transfixed on the boy. She observed as Luffy attempted to hoist the door back into place, but found it unable to stay by itself, and had no choice but to let it fall once again. This time, the weight proved too much for the weakened second hinge, causing the door to collapse to the ground. Overwhelmed by an immense sense of remorse, Luffy avoided Tessa's wide-eyed expression at all costs. Fortunately for him, he wouldn't have to explain.

She'd heard many stories about Devil Fruits throughout her life and the unnatural gifts they offered, but also the curse they bestowed upon whoever consumed one. A multitude of emotions swirled within Tessa's mind, yet one sensation eclipsed them all—an abrupt and profound anger that surged from the depths of her stomach, fixating on a certain captain with vibrant red hair.

I'm going to bloody kill him.

---

Part 3

#opla #one piece live action #one piece #one piece netflix #opla shanks #opla luffy #live action shanks #live action luffy #monkey d. luffy #red haired shanks #red haired pirates #shanks x oc #opla shanks x oc #shanks x reader #opla shanks x reader #reader insert

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mythicalmisery · 8 months

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Pirate AU: GhostxSoap

The salty sea air whipped through Captain Simon Riley's golden-blond hair as he stood at the helm of his ship, The Ghost. A notorious pirate in the treacherous waters of the Caribbean, Captain Riley was a man of both fierce reputation and unparalleled cunning. His ship, sleek and black as the night, with its tattered sails was as elusive and enigmatic as its captain. Simon's name was whispered in both fear and admiration throughout the maritime world, for he was a man who navigated the treacherous waters with uncanny precision and ruthlessness. His eyes were as sharp as the cutlass at his side, always scanning the horizon for his next victims.

For years, Captain Riley had eluded capture by the Royal Navy, leading his crew to countless victories time and time again. His voice carried the weight of authority and his command was unwavering, his crew entrusting him with their life and vice versa. But every legend has its foil, and for Captain Riley, that came in the form of a single man - Lieutenant John MacTavish.

MacTavish, a young and dashing officer of the Royal Navy, was as stubborn as he was brave. The dedicated Scot had become a thorn in Captain Riley's side, relentlessly pursuing him across the high seas. With his strong jaw and piercing blue eyes, MacTavish was a symbol of authority and discipline, the antithesis of everything Captain Riley stood for. Their rivalry had become the stuff of legend, whispered in taverns and sung about in shanties.

It was on that night, as storm clouds gathered on the horizon, fate intervened. The skies raged with thunder and lightning and waves the size of mountains crashed against the hulls of ships. Amid the chaos and shouts from the crew, the barrelman spotted a distant shipwreck, its masts splintered and sails torn to shreds. A cruel smile played on Captain Riley's lips as he recognized the insignia of the Royal Navy on the broken vessel— the ship was Lieutenant MacTavish’s.

The storm had done its work well, Captain Riley and his second-in-command, Roach, carefully boarded the stricken ship. Their eyes scanned the debris-strewn deck, and there, amidst the splintered wood and broken rigging, they found a solitary figure clinging to a piece of driftwood. It was a man, barely conscious and clad in tattered British naval attire, with a wild mop of brown hair plastered to his forehead that he had viewed through an eyeglass countless times.

Simon's lips curled into a wry smile as he kneeled next to the stranded man. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he purred, his voice a low timbre that caused the officer to shiver.

The man's weak gaze met Simon’s taking in the black silhouette before him, a mixture of exhaustion and defiance in his eyes. “Fawken hell" he mumbled before laying his head back down.

Simon huffed in amusement as he brushed a strand of hair from the man's forehead with his knuckle. The slight flinch and whimper from the man pulled on something inside him which he decided would be best to ignore for now. “Ah, the poor Scot caught in a rather shite predicament. How fortunate for you that fate has brought us together."

John's eyes narrowed as he glanced back up at the man he loathed. Simon Riley, a man with eyes as cold as the ocean depths he roamed. The man he spent most of his naval career hunting down was a mere six inches away from him and he could barely lift his head. He glared at Simon, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Fawk you and yer bloody fate” he managed to grit out before darkness finally won, his vision blurring and eyelids fluttering shut. The last thing his gaze laid upon were those dark brown eyes peeking over a black bandana he had come to know even in his dreams. Haunting him.

Despite his petty thirst for revenge and desire to be rid of the nuisance that the Royal Navy had become, Captain Riley couldn't bring himself to leave his long-standing rival to die. He ordered his men to pull MacTavish from the wreckage and onto The Ghost. If his crew disagreed with his orders to bring the officer to his cabin straight away instead of a holding cell below deck, they had the sense not to comment on it.

Simon would watch as the officer slept, the only time he had ever seen the young man at peace. How his brow would slightly furrow as he twitched and shuffled around in the large bed. His bed. The pirate tended to his wounds personally on that first night, the candlelight had danced over the Scot's damp skin engulfing him in the flame's glow. Even with the shivers that wracked his body from the unforgiving storm, the man's skin was scorching to the touch. Simon cursed himself every time his hand lingered a second too long as he dabbed a wet cloth over the unconscious man's flesh. The mere brush of contact and the resulting sensation had become addicting when normally he would sooner flay his own skin at another’s touch.

As days turned into nights, MacTavish slowly regained consciousness. Captain Riley watched from the shadows with a mixture of curiosity and amusement as the Scot gathered his bearings. He was curious which instinct would take over first, fight or flight. When MacTavish's eyes finally flickered open he scanned the unknown space, eyes flicking back to the dark silhouette of the stranger sitting across from him. Only the moonlight bleeding through the windows behind him allowed him to notice the man.

"What... Where am I?" MacTavish's voice was weak and rough, his gaze still hazy from his ordeal.

Captain Riley leaned forward in his wooden chair that was situated in the corner of the room across from the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. His face was still hidden by the shadows of the room. "You're aboard The Ghost,” he replied."Seems the sea had a disagreement with your ship, ” his tone laced with a hint of amusement.

MacTavish's eyes widened in recognition and a spark of anger ignited within him. “You."

Captain Riley chuckled softly, his voice like a siren's song. "Yes, me. Surprised to see me, Lieutenant?”

MacTavish could practically hear the smirk plastered on the bastard's face. His glare was fierce, but his strength was not yet fully returned and he knew when a battle was pointless. "What do you want, Riley?” He pushed out through gritted teeth.

"Oh, nothing much," Captain Riley mused, leaning back against the chair. "Just to revel in the irony of fate, perhaps.”

“Oh, for fawks sake just kill me now” the officer huffed out as he fell back onto the bed defeated.

“Ah, Lieutenant, where's your sense of adventure? Your devotion to king and country has only landed you in the company of pirates, surely that’s not worse than death" Simon quipped, his eyes dancing with mischief.

John's fists clenched as he glared at the ceiling. "I'd sooner see you hang than entertain any such thoughts.”

“We shall see won’t we?” He stated with a smirk.

— — — —

Days turned into weeks as The Ghost continued its piratical pursuits, its crew navigating the unpredictable currents of the sea with practiced ease. The crew of The Ghost often eyed him warily while he walked the deck, ready to restrain him should he pose a threat. Although he wanted to do nothing more than sink a blade into their dreaded Captain, he wasn’t suicidal. He knew the only reason he was still breathing was because of whatever fascination Riley had for him. A cat toying with a mouse, nothing more.

During that time, John MacTavish found himself not only a prisoner but also an unwilling participant in Simon's games. An unexpected dynamic began to develop between the two enemies. Captain Riley found himself enjoying MacTavish's fiery spirit and quick wit. He teased him mercilessly, delighting in the way MacTavish's cheeks flushed with frustration. The lieutenant, in turn, responded with sharp retorts that surprised even himself. Always looking away nervously after snapping at the man, worried he crossed the line. How amusing.

Their banter gradually evolved into something more, something neither man could quite put a name to. Captain Riley found himself captivated by MacTavish's resilience and determination. He admired the way the lieutenant never gave in, even when faced with the direst of circumstances. MacTavish, on the other hand, discovered that there was more to Captain Riley than met the eye. Beneath the façade of the ruthless pirate lay a man of complexity and depth.

While looking over maps one morning MacTavish decided to test his luck. ”I won't be your captive forever, pirate.”

Simon's grin only widened, undeterred by the Scot's fiery disposition. "Oh, I do hope you're right, my dear lieutenant. A spirited prisoner is much more entertaining than a compliant one.”

Roach, observing the exchange from a distance, raised an eyebrow at his Captains rather flirtatious banter. He had seen his captain engage in numerous skirmishes and negotiations, but this was a unique dynamic. Simon's captives were usually subdued, if not outright fearful. Lieutenant MacTavish, on the other hand, seemed to be engaging in a battle of wits with Simon.

That same evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon in a blaze of fiery orange and pink, Captain Riley found himself alone with MacTavish on the deck. The rest of the crew finished up their chores for the day, leaving them relatively alone. The air was heavy with unspoken words, and the tension between them was palpable. John couldn’t stand the anxiousness creeping up his spine at the silence.

"Tell me, Lieutenant," Simon mused as he leaned on the ship's railing, the setting sun casting golden ribbons across the water's surface before them. "Have you ever truly lived, or have you always been bound by the rigid constraints of the Royal Navy?”

John's gaze remained fixed on the horizon. "I've lived honorably and served my country with distinction. That's more than I can say for a pirate like you.”

Simon's laughter danced on the wind. "Ah, but what a dull existence that must be. There's a world of adventure beyond those navy walls, Johnny. A world that embraces freedom, danger, and the thrill of the unknown. One where you don’t have to wipe another man’s ass because of a fuckin rank.” The officer turned his face away from the Captain, a poor attempt at hiding the creeping blush that dusted his face at the nickname.

“It’s not that simple ya bawbag, some people have a lick of sense and don’t dream of becoming a bloody pirate” he scoffed back.

Simon hummed as he took in his words. Straightening himself as he turned to walk away before leaning down and speaking right beside the Scot's ear, the breath that tickled his skin caused the other to shiver. “You sure about that? Cause I tend to recall you giving up on leaving pretty quickly Lieutenant.” He sauntered away leaving John to seep in his words.

As the days turned to weeks and the weeks to months, MacTavish's rigid stance softened, and he found himself engaging in the banter, the sharp exchanges between him and Riley becoming a strange form of entertainment. John found himself reluctantly drawn into Simon's orbit, intrigued by the pirate's commanding spirit and undeniable charisma. Simon, in turn, took delight in unraveling the layers of conditioned formality that encased the Scottish lieutenant, revealing the reckless man beneath. Both men watched while the other was distracted, longing looks expressing what they were too stubborn to acknowledge.

Roach, the ever-watchful confidant, observed the transformation with a knowing smile. He had seen Simon's antics before, but this was different. There was a genuine connection forming between the two men, something that transcended their roles as pirate and prisoner. Simon would just roll his eyes at the pointed looks he sent his captain's way, ever in denial.

One night, as they shared a bottle of rum under the starlit sky, John leaned back against the ship's mast. "You're a riddle, Simon Riley. A man who defies categorization."

Simon's eyes gleamed as he reclined beside John, their shoulders brushing. That same jolting spark from that first night returning.

“And you, John MacTavish, are a contradiction. A fierce officer who secretly relishes the thrill of the open sea.”

John's lips curved into a reluctant smile. "You may be onto something, Riley.”

“Ya know, it’s typical courtesy to refer to the head of the ship as Captain.”

“Over my dead body,” John scoffed as he snatched the bottle out of the other's hand.

"I must admit, Lieutenant, I find myself... enjoying our little exchanges," Captain Riley admitted, his voice unusually soft.

MacTavish's gaze met his, his expression a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. "Is that so?”

Captain Riley nodded, his eyes never leaving MacTavish's. “Aye Johnny, there's a fire in you, a determination that I can't help but admire.”

MacTavish's lips quirked up slightly as his cheeks and ears burned, his guard momentarily lowered. "You have a strange way of showing admiration, Captain.”

Simon leaned closer, the distance between them narrowing. "Perhaps. But there's more to us than meets the eye, Lieutenant. We're both prisoners of circumstance, driven by forces beyond our control… there’s a thin line between hate and desire.”

Their eyes locked, and in that moment, the walls that had long separated them began to crumble. The rivalry that had defined their interactions seemed suddenly insignificant, replaced by an unspoken understanding. Simon reached out, his fingers brushing against MacTavish's cheek in a surprisingly tender gesture.

John’s breath caught, his heart pounding in his chest. "What are you doing?”

Simon reached up and removed his bandana in a show of trust that the other man did not take likely. His smile was gentle, his gaze unwavering. "Something I never thought I'd do—finding common ground.”

Their lips met in a clash of desires that had simmered beneath the surface for far too long. The sea around them seemed to hold its breath as if even the waves dared not disrupt the moment. It was a kiss born of enmity and fueled by something deeper, something that neither man had anticipated.

As their lips parted, the realization of what had transpired hit them like a storm surge. Mactavish's gaze was a mixture of warring defiance and vulnerability, his breath ragged. Riley's expression mirrored the tumultuous sea, a blend of surprise and a hint of something softer, buried beneath layers of roughness. “I don’t suppose I can blame that on the rum cannae?” He nervously quipped.

“Not a fawken chance ya bastard,” John said as he grabbed the man's face and drew him back into another kiss, tasting the burning alcohol on the other's tongue.

The following days were marked by stolen glances and lingering touches. Their interactions growing increasingly intimate, their verbal sparring taking on a flirtatious edge that neither could deny. The crew watched in bewildered fascination as their fierce captain and the formidable naval officer navigated this uncharted territory, well aware that the once-hostile lieutenant had become an integral part of their lives. Roach, in particular, found himself in a state of perpetual disbelief, his gruff exterior barely concealing his amusement. Never one to turn down the chance to tell his Captain “I told you so”.

As they sailed into the horizon, the sun setting behind them, Captain Riley and MacTavish stood side by side at the helm of The Ghost. Their past grievances had been set aside, replaced by a newfound respect and a bond that transcended the lines of loyalty. In the vast expanse of the open sea, they were no longer just pirate and navy officer—they were two souls entwined by fate, sailing toward a future that held endless possibilities. And so, the legend of Simon Riley, the British pirate Captain, and John MacTavish, the Scottish naval officer grew, not as bitter rivals, but as kindred spirits who had discovered, in the midst of chaos, that even the deepest of divisions could be bridged by the unlikeliest of connections.

#ghostxsoap #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #pirate au #enemies to lovers #they are in love your honor #my writing

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ashtrayfloors · 1 year

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Acker wrote to fill the void of feminine subjectivity in writing as ‘I’—she also wrote for freedom. To save herself from constrictions of The Self. Kathy Acker mimed and mined literature, ravishing book after book that throughout history has silenced and foreclosed women and feminine writing. She broke them open, subverted the phallic ‘eye’, and re-told these stories, trying to find her ‘I’— an act of piracy. (There is only seeing and, in order to go to see, one must be a pirate.) A lone pirate, aboard a phantom ship, Kathy Acker sought to uncover the stories lost at sea, buried alive under the sand, marooned on piece of driftwood—forever lost. She swam in an ocean of books (the places for transformations), dived down into the depths. She transformed: grew gills, breathed in the water, letting the words fill her. She stole the language of the deep (into which all drown), one that she could only come upon as she disappeared. She learned the language of ghosts—appearing as mirages on the bow. (Ghosts equals pirates.) She pried open an oyster shell, put it to her ear and listened intently to the language of her body: its inner rhythms, embodied knowings, a relational energetic labyrinth of becoming woman. She swallowed the pearl (treasure!).

As a woman, (Born dead), Kathy Acker spent her life climbing out of holes—leather-clad, leopard print bandana, never taking off her rings. Each novel, essay or poem written was Acker climbing up out of various gendered, tabooed, literary, systemic holes. And if she wasn’t climbing out of them she was filling them in—with words, with fingers.

—Mollie Elizabeth Pyne, from “After After Kathy Acker” (3:AM Magazine, August 2018)

#quotations #mollie elizabeth pyne #kathy acker #after after kathy acker #recently read #writing

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hes-a-rat-whisperer · 7 months

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🐀🐟surprise/whisperer RP index🐟🐀

Regular AU

Amnesia AU (spin off from regular AU)

Siren AU

human/Vampire AU

Vampire/Siren AU

Vampire Ceb AU

Demon Ceb AU (former slave Gosgo/Felly)

Demon Alistair AU

boxfish!Alistair/mer!Ceb AU

Mobster AU

Disenchantment AU

Trollhunters AU

Don´t Starve AU

Corpse Groom AU

Psychonauts AU

TMNT AU

Avatar the last airbender AU

the owl house AU

Pokemon AU

Deltarune AU

Outlast AU

Cult of the Lamb AU

SCP AU

regular College AU

fast forward AU

Vampire/siren AU (Monster AU)

haunted forest AU

Alistair/Ceb slow burn

Felonious/Guinness slow burn

Pirate AU

Cheerleader AU

Ghost Alistair AU

one sided/then mutual pining AU (Ceb/Alistair)

vampire Alistair/Ceb vampire butcher AU

revenge AU

Daddy Dearest AU

reverse Daddy Dearest AU

Mideavil/Cat Alistair AU

forbidden love AU

Boxfish!Alistair/Felonious AU (former pet)

Crowns Curse AU

Wizard school AU

Enchanted AU

besmirched noble AU

the queen´s pet AU

Campus Party AU

Ceb/Twins AU (Ceb/Cornelia/Cornelius)

Angel/Demon AU

Ghoul Alistair AU

Fairytale AU

Coffeeshop AU

Superhero AU

Superhero AU (miscommunication/Alistair becomes a hero)

Beauty and the Beast AU

Vampire College AU

Wild West AU

Vampire/Wendigo AU

Soulmate AU (three colors/Alistair/Ceb)

Soulmate AU three colors Guinness/Felonious

Puppet AU

Ghost Kings AU

three kingdoms AU

Prison AU

Felonious/Boxfish!Alistair AU (driftwood savior)

Daycare AU

forest deity AU

lost and found AU (Ceb/Guinness)

Godly AU

the dark crystal AU

Frog Prince AU

College AU (Felonious/Elijah)

Analog Horror AU

Cuphead AU

Sorcerers and Swindlers AU

~ONE SHOTS~

#oc rp #oc rp blog #oc rps #myocs #and my lovey´s ocs <3 #RP index #WOW THAT TOOK SO LONG TO DO YOU HAVE NO IDEA #OMG FINALLY I AM FINISHED PUTTING THIS TOGETHER #IM GONNA HAVE MYSELF A TEA NOW

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rpgsandbox · 2 years

Text

25 Seafaring Adventure Seeds

by Robb at readytorole.com

Miles from land, out in the sea ahead appears to be a town built upon high stilts. The flag that flies above it belong to pirates, but ships with all flags friend and foe alike are docked there.

Rumors abound about “Runaground Island” or “Ghost Island”- an island that apparently materializes in the ocean and destroys or damages ships that suddenly find themselves inside of the island.

For the past month a patch of sea has turned a deeper blue than the rest, and it seems to be actively pushing ships out with gigantic waves out of nowhere when they enter the patch.

Ship wreckage floats out in the ocean, very likely a merchant vessel based on some of the goods floating about. A small group of lifeboats float among the wreckage, filled with not people but treasure, and the word “choices” carved into the side of one.

An avian humanoid is spotted on the distance and lands on ships offering their services as a messenger. But even with wings how did they fly a few days travel out here?!

A castaway was found on a piece of driftwood and when brought aboard, warns the ship to turn around. According to them, a huge human hand came up from under the water and crushed their ship with ease before pulling most of the ship under.

At first the colorful algae that is common in these waters were fun to look at, but now it is obvious that they are eating through the ship’s hull due to their acidity, and the ship is taking on water!

An entrepreneurial gnome has started a gnomish diving company, salvaging wreckage from ships at the bottom of the ocean. Their latest employer has them investigating the wreckage of a pirate vessel that sunk around a century ago.

A glowing maelstrom appears in the ocean, but repels ships away rather than pulls them in. A ship was witnessed being ejected from the whirlpool intact and the crew is alive, though very confused.

For about a month dim, glowing lights under the water have been making their toward the closest port. However, now under a full moon their true nature is revealed- iridescent skeletons marching on the seafloor, and only a few days from port!

A large island that has been known to float around due to actually being a giant turtle has seen volcanic activity for the first time. The turtle has been approaching ships for help, but none seem to want to step foot onto the living island.

A ship bearing a flag of a parrot skull draws nearer, and from the telescope can be seen parrots turning into large, rideable mounts and pirates riding them towards the ship!

A message in a bottle was pulled up, and included a map to an uncharted island with promises of riches. The next day, en route to said island, a second bottle was found warning whoever found it to avoid the island at all costs.

Lately, whenever ships get into trouble on the open sea, a giant cephalopod has been grabbing them and safely placing them down in front of them before asking a riddle. If the crew of the ship gets it right, they get a random sunken chest from the bottom of the ocean. Answer wrong, and they are simply sent on their way with the aid of the cephalopod.

Merfolk have become uncharacteristically vicious as of late, attacking the bottom of ships so that they fill with water, and dragging anyone who goes down to fix the leaks through the holes they made, never to be seen again.

After reaching their last port of call, the crew has begun feeling ill one by one. Slowly, once the illness sets in they have been turning slimy and jelly-like over the course of a week, but seem to still live as jelly.

An ogre ship- if the pile of driftwood and scavenged wood can be called that- has been the ire of many sailors lately, accidentally ramming into them and causing damage due to the poor construction and control of their own vessel. However, the number of incidents seems a little high to just be an accident.

Apparently, whenever a map is opened up on deck, the edge of the map becomes the edge of the world in a certain spot of ocean. If a map is opened with only 200 feet to spare, either a new map needs to be opened, or all hands on deck to turn around!

A body was picked up out of the water and was still alive! They thanked the crew for saving them, but after 2 days jumped overboard in the middle of the night. Now one of the crew have been following suit every few nights since, leaving a shortage of hands and a bad feeling for those who remain without answers.

Everytime the ship tries to dock, it is turned away due to a strong presence of evil on board. None of the on board priests can sense anything wrong and the ship itself is starting to run out of supplies and options.

Rumor has it that if you find leaves out on the open ocean who just missed The Seagarden; a ship made from living wood than can change shape and grow, crewed entirely by nymphs who live inside the wood itself.

An otherwise reputable merchant vessel approaches offering goods at extremely low prices, likely due to the fact that they are either illegal substances in most lands or appear to be stolen goods. The merchant denies any wrongdoing, but insists no one says they bought anything from him.

After discarding meat that was not properly prepared and has rotten, a slew of giant sharks have begun following the ship. Unless more food is dumped into the ocean, that bite at and ram the ship itself. Between what the crew needs and how much is needed to keep the sharks at bay, there is not enough to find any port of call.

A crew member has fished up a small sea serpent, at first thinking it was an eel. Now they claim they can see a large shadow following the boat, but no one else can see it.

While seemingly friendly at first, a ship full of turtlefolk fire themselves out of cannons, breaching into the lower hulls of ships, grabbing treasure, and then swimming back to their own!

#RPG #Dungeons and Dragons #adventure hooks

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scltnsea · 1 year

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— the ship was slowly rocking near the coastline where the pirates usually sought refuge, teetering on the gentle waves like the ocean was catching her breath after the storm that had passed through. sea legs were integral to a pirate, however, supplies and other necessities required trips to the mainland and it was nice, every so often, to find footing on stable ground ( though, james would argue every square foot of never island was anything but stable ). begrudgingly, james followed his crew off the ship and adjusted his coat, shaking his shoulders of the storm that had just blown past them, eyeing how mother nature had caressed the shore that had the beaches littered with shells, driftwood and varying debris. he felt a presence beside him, an aura that was hard to dismiss, and turned his head to look down at the individual accompanying him.

❛ — ah, anna... ❜

the fireball standing beside him burned bright enough to set the sun to shame. if the stars were able to reach out to them, james was certain they'd recruit anna to replace the very giant star that beat down upon his tired, heavy shoulders. she was violent, she was ruthless, she wielded her weapons with a smile and wore the scarlet blood of other's with a pride he himself had yet to become familiar with. her disdain for the inhabitants of peter's treehouse made his seem petty, at times, and he admired her dedication and her commitment to whatever cause he assigned to her. a lilt of a smile graced his face, softening hard features momentarily as he turned his head forward, watching crew members disappear in neat batches amongst the trees past the beach's edge.

❛ the smell of the land after a storm is a bit inspiring, isn't it ?? ❜ james took a deep breath through his nostrils, lids fluttering shut, the very scent he was mentioning tickling his nostrils before he released a slow exhale through parted lips. ❛ it reminds you that after all of that thrashing, all that excitement... the aftermath is all that more delightful... ❜ he turned to face her again, tilting his head, grazing his eyes over her features before turning back to look at the ship. the jolly roger took the storm like it was one of the ocean's creatures itself, and james took a moment to fondly dote on her before returning his attention to anna.

❛ the calm after the storm, anna, is only temporary. for when one storm passes, another is sure to follow.... ❜ clearing his throat, james began to advance forward, nodding his head in the direction he was walking, silently instructing her to follow. ❛ now i must ask you to swear to secrecy...as i assure you a storm is brewing sooner than anyone is anticipating. alas, this storm won't be one of mother nature's creations...❜ he stopped, turning to face her once more, a wicked, mischievous glee twinkling in his eyes;

❛no, my dear, it shall be one of OURS. ❜

@fortunefavorcd

#* 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖔𝖈𝖊𝖆𝖓 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖎𝖙 𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖘: threads #* 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖚𝖓𝖊 𝖋𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊 : ANNA

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zmasters · 8 months

Text

Life and Death, a Warhammer: Age of Sigmar Story

In the streets of Candleheld, a city of Shyish, marched the four clawed legs of Thavara. The vampire, formerly of the Avengorii Dynasty, paused in front of a green realmgate. This gate lead to the other half of the twin city, the half within the lush forest of Ghyan. She planned to enter the gate and travel to the Realm of Life, but nervousness froze her place. The green glow washed over her thin, light blue lower body. Her blood red wings hid her clawed fingers playing with a woven dagger, a gift from the one she wished to talk to.

Thankfully for her, the one Thavara wished to talk to walked through the realmgate first.

“Ahh, Zyn.” She said, faking confidence and trying to use her wings to hide her wagging tail. “Just the wych I wanted to see. What brings a child of life into the realm of the dead?”

Zyndras, a sylvaneth branchwych, stood in the glow of the gate. A scythe sat on her light brown shoulder while bugs skittered through the red leaves decorating her head. “I could say the same of you.” She answered, her voice raspy.

“How many times do I have to remind you that I’m undead?” Thavara laughed.

“You know what I mean.”

“I joke. Still as stiff as the tree you live in, aren’t you?”

“Still trying not to eat everyone you meet?” Zyndras shot back, her still face failing her attempt at comedy.

With a hearty laugh, Thavara plucked a worm out of Zyndras’s foliage. “You supply me with enough meat.” She said, throwing the insect into the air and catching it her mouth. “What to talk in the normal spot?”

The two warriors meandered past the strange looks of Candleheld's residents towards an old, abandoned dock. This dock was partially destroyed during an ogor pirate invasion. While the invasion was dealt with long ago, a small gnoblar tribe that traveled with the brutes had infested the area and keep people from repairing the broken trade port. A new dock was built a hundred meters down the beach.

Thavara’s fangs dug deep into a lone gnoblar’s neck while Zyndras poked at a piece of washed up driftwood. A flower sprouted from the wood.

“So… what’ve been up to seen we last talked?” The vampire asked, trying to avoid what she wanted to say.

“I was,” Zyndras sighed, keeping her eyes on the sprouting flower. “I was visited by Mother Alarielle.”

“Oh! That’s great!” Thavara smiled. “I wish Alarielle was my god. She’s so much nicer than Nagash.”

“She is.” The sylvaneth sadly creaked.

“What’s wrong Zyn?”

She sighed. “Mother Alarielle asked me to become a Soulbound.”

The statement struck Thavara like a stake through the heart. Becoming a Soulbound meant one thing. Death. Permanent death. No resurrection. No rebirth. Nothing. A soul lost forever.

Thavara knew the danger of becoming a Soulbound, especially for a sylvaneth like Zyn. Her plant pal and her kin lived for their cycles of death and rebirth. If she agreed to this request from her goddess, her entire "bloodline" ends right here.

"Y-you said no, right?"

Zyn didn't answer her.

“Right?”

"You wouldn't say no to your god."

"I wouldn't say no to Nagash because he'd rip out my bones and build a new servant!" Thavara yelled, throwing the dead gnoblar to the ground. "Alarielle gives you a choice. YOU CAN SAY NO!"

"I can't!" Zyn shot back. "No sylvaneth can say no to our Goddess!" She lowered her voice with a sigh. "Death can't refuse their god. Life won't."

The two stood in silence. The blood of the greenskin drip towards the piece of driftwood, watering the red flower growing out of it.

"I'm sorry." Thavara squeaked. "I don't have many people I can call a friend. I-I'll miss you..."

"So will I." Zyn said, taking a step closer to the vampire. "But you will always be a member of my Glade."

Thavara wrapped her clawed arms around the branchwych, lifting her into the air and causing her to drop her scythe. "I'll keep an eye open for you here." She smiled, pressing her forehead against Zyn's. "You Glade will be safe with me."

"I trust you will."

The vampire laughed as she dropped her sylvaneth friend. "So what does your god want you to do?"

"Those I am bounded to and I are tasked with preventing Drycha and her Outcast from attacking the free cities of Ghyran. Candleheld included."

Unnoticed by the two, the flower roots buried into the sand of the beach, the blood feeding the burgeoning plant. This will not be the last time this flower will taste blood. Mere months later, Zyndras would stare down at the blooming, blood red flower, fed by the blood of Thavara.

Thavara never told Zyndras that she became a Soulbound herself.

#warhammer #warhammer age of sigmar #age of sigmar #warhammer aos #sylvaneth #warhammer soulbound #soulblight gravelords #warhammer fanfic

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jemichiart · 9 months

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"Your name shall be Driftwood, because you were brought by the sea."

Everyone knows pirates from their exciting adventures and fierce battles, but what is the everyday life on a pirate ship like? Follow Driftwood as she ends up on a pirate ship and becomes familiar with the quirky crew.

The story is a fantasy-themed pirate adventure and it was inspired by my own experiences in the crew of a traditional sailing ship. The characters on the other hand were mostly inspired by the fantasy worlds of various tabletop roleplay games. This book is a story about Driftwood on her adventures as she's learning to adapt to a new situation in a new environment. It's also a story about accepting differences, both in yourself and in other people. Sometimes the scary-looking pirate might actually be a nice guy when you learn to know him. Join Driftwood on her adventures and see if she can find her place in the crew of a pirate ship!

My new picture book "Driftwood Becomes a Pirate" is now officially available in English from various (online) book stores!

If you - or your child - enjoy fantasy and pirate adventures, this might be the perfect book for you!

I recommend purchasing the book directly from the Lulu online store.

But it's also available from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Booktopia, Alibris, and many more.

Title: Driftwood Becomes a Pirate

Author / Artist: Jenni Niiniviita / JeMiChi Art

Imprint: Lulu Press, Inc. / Lulu.com

Language: English

ISBN: 978-1-4476-7848-9

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arachnidiots-a · 1 year

Note

peter + pirate au !!

peter as a pirate. pete … petey …

peter is 100% the type to be a stowaway child who saw the pirating life and was like !! yep sign me up !! bless his heart HOWEVER as im a firm believer that this boy would do just about anything for his aunt i think aunt may joined the pirate life entirely out of necessity, it’s not the life she wanted to raise peter in, but alas we can’t control stuff like that. rightfully so the glorious aunt may is captain parker to all of you, and a force to be reckoned with when out on the seas!

peter is far less so a force and much more a breeze with a heart for adventure. captain parker entertains her nephew’s wide eyes and miscellaneous treasure maps here and there and it’s a smooth life. until it isn’t! the parker curse extends even to the sea life and peter is hardly ready to captain any ship, even his aunt’s— no matter how much faith the remaining crew have in him after a devastating attack.

with so many holes in the ship, and too much guilt to carry, peter walks away from the ship which becomes driftwood, and the crew who now mostly sit around and tell stories at one of the busier harbors. and as for pete? you really thought i’d abandon the pesky stowaway life he’s clearly destined for? NO WAY!! stowaway era begins, and while he has no allegiance to any one crew, he’s sailed with them all

#ily anon #this is my pirate world and aunt may can do anything she wants in it!!!#☺ : inquire within — asks #NOW WHY IS THIS LONG TOOO #anyways everyone enjoy pirate peter #PBP. STILL TURNING OUT / headcanons

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flyingflosser09 · 2 years

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Cursed / Armando Salazar x OC / Chapter 14

Chapter 13: https://at.tumblr.com/flyingflosser09/cursed-armando-salazar-x-oc-chapter-13/1gc6n53ugsfd

That encounter in the great cabin haunted me for three nights on end. I may be a woman, but I’m not daft. I am a healer who can speak three different languages, I can name every part of a ship as I would name the herbs I use in my craft, I know the map in the stars like the back of my hand, and I know when the weather is perfect to set sail upon the open waters.

I know things, things that obviously would classify me as a witch as so many people believe me to be. However, one thing I never knew was that I’d someday be lying awake at night in the great cabin of a cursed ship, thinking about its ghostly, revenge-driven Spanish captain…and what it would be like to embrace him any way I wished.

Absurd, I know.

Madness, yes, yes.

Am I crazy? I’ve also pondered that thought many times.

But I believe in myths and facts alike. If Henry says there is a trident that can break all the curses of the ocean, then damn it, there is. And if there is a meaning for my rapid heart whenever I’m in the Capitan’s presence, then surely, it can only mean one thing.

I’ve felt anger more times I can count. It consumes you like ravenous flames would a piece of dried driftwood, leaving nothing but ash that blows off in the breeze.

Second comes the constant melancholy that my curse brings me. Those days drove me to ideas on how to end it all and just be done with life…

But when I found Henry, I learned what happiness felt like. It was the complete opposite of anger and yet, I also compare it to fire. Not there to burn and destroy, but to warm and nurture my heart and to boil the laughter from my stomach. And from that same fire, more positive emotions saw the light. I learned to laugh, to jest, to be mischievous, to care, to be kind, and to love myself for who I am – curse excluded.

Most importantly, I learned to love. I love Henry and Elizabeth with all my heart. They have become the family that I’ve lost to the ocean so many years ago, the ones that taught me the proper way of how a person should be treated.

I learned something new last night, however. It is more a theory than a fact at this stage. Could there be more than one form of love? I’m pondering the question because I love Henry, but he doesn’t make my heart swell and stomach flurry as the Capitan – Armando – does.

There must be more than one form of love then, there is no other explanation for it.

The next question now is, do I love Armando?

As I said, I am well acquainted with anger and melancholy, but love? I need to understand why he makes me feel these things, why I enjoy being close to him, and why I crave to know everything about him. As a cursed being who hasn’t felt any form of emotion except rage for almost three decades, I don’t believe asking Armando – or any officer – would help me much. But…

…after being unable to sleep for three nights, might give me some time to search for answers myself.

Books are wonderful objects. They contain useful information on healing, herbology, astrology, and many more subjects I’d like to know more about – such as love. Fortunately, the pirate captain Armando killed had several books in his cabin, some about love to my surprise.

Lighting one of the lanterns beside my bed, I pick up one of the books to start reading.

…

By now, it has become routine for Magda to train the girl at the break of dawn. She has grown accustomed to the time in the Triangle, having figured out when to rise to start her training. He would await her at the usual spot beside the broken mainmast, cleverly thinking what educational torture he’d inflict on her that day.

However, today, that routine was rudely broken.

Magda waited for what felt like hours before he finally had enough. “Increíble! How am I expected to perform my duty if the señorita has no regard for punctuality?”

“Ah, that’s not fair, amigo,” Santos says from the forecastle deck, also waiting for Samira to appear. He’s been enjoying overseeing her training the past week and a half. “Usually, she’s on time. Something must be wrong this morning.”

“Wrong?” they turn to Moss, who happened to float through the floorboards that moment. “Is something wrong with the señorita?”

“We aren’t certain,” Santos explains, “But she never misses sword training, does she, Magda?” The officer in question huffs in annoyance. He knows Santos is right, but he wouldn’t admit it loudly. “Perhaps one of us should make sure she is well.”

“I’m not going again,” Magda quickly protests, “I train her, that is it.”

“I think it’s Antonio’s turn.”

Moss’ head jerks to Santos, “W-what? No, I… I can’t. I…she…”

“She doesn’t bite,” Santos ensures him and start ushering him across the main deck to the great cabin.

“It’s not that I’m worried about…” he tries escaping Santos’ hold but fails. “What do I say to her? What do I talk about?”

“Anything, she’s not picky. Tell her about poetry, she’ll enjoy that.”

And just like that, Santos leaves him at the door of the great cabin, quickly drifting off to stand beside Magda. Moss swallows dryly – something ghosts don’t do – and tug at his collar. Looking back, he pleads his fellow officers not to send him in.

Magda and Santos, however, only wave their hands, signalling him to go ahead and knock.

Realizing no help will come from them, the young officer must face his fear on his own. With no way out, he raises a shaky pale hand and deliver three knocks on the door.

Silence is all he hears, and he grows hopeful.

But to his dread, the door handle jiggles and then, she is standing in front of him, dressed in the usual attire she wears to sword practise, hair slightly dishevelled, and clutching a book to her chest.

“Oh,” she blinks in surprise, “Don’t believe I’ve had to pleasure of meeting you yet. I’m Samira.”

Moss isn’t sure if ghosts can faint, but he felt seconds away from it…until he recognized the book in her hold. “Is that…”

She looks down at the book and hold it up for him to see, “Eternal Depths. I found it among the pirates’ loot. It’s about a governor’s daughter who falls in love with the general of an enemy armada. Once their love is exposed, he is mutinied on a deserted island to live out his days alone and –”

“Eventually die of starvation,” Moss interjects and feel himself relaxing a bit, “I know the story, senorita.”

“You do?” she blinks.

“The general’s love was so strong; he built a raft with his bare hands and sailed the perilous water to find his love. In the end –”

“Oh, no, please don’t tell me,” She quickly interrupts him, “I’m only at page two-hundred-and-seven.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” He also doesn’t know if ghosts can blush but swears he can feel his cheeks gaining warmth. At last, he says, “I’m Antonio, Antonio Moss.”

…

I vaguely recognize his face from the times I searched the crew for either Santos, Magda, or Lesaro. He seems younger than most of the officers, even as a ghost, and would always avoid my eyes at all costs. At first, I believed he didn’t like me, but after more observation, I learned he was quiet and reserved, and enjoyed being on his own instead.

“Please, come in,” I open the door for him and gesture at the dimly lit cabin.

Moss peers in, on the verge of crossing the threshold yet too cautious. “I…I shouldn’t.”

“I promise, I don’t bite,” I jest, “But if you must go, then I shall read all those books by myself. Lots of stories about adventures, sea beasts, voyages, love…”

The word ‘book’ was enough to grab his attention. Moss perks up and tugs at his collar. “I suppose I’ve got time for one book.”

He floats past me and into the cabin, stopping to take it all in. It must look different with the lanterns, the hammock hanging from the ceiling, and the makeshift furniture I made. For years, they were used to seeing the carcass of the ship they once sailed proudly on, a ship that could sink any vessel in its path, now reduced to a husk of coal and burnt hope.

The flickering lanterns must seem friendlier to him, and he continues his way to the pile of books on the table. I quietly allow him to read the titles. In the time I’ve struggled to sleep, I sorted the books by genres – a pile for history books, for astrology, for healing, for fiction, and romance. Moss, however, seems to take an interest in the latter.

He picks up a book I know to be poetry and flips through the brownish pages. His ghostly features light up at the words. “Let me not to the marriage of true minds…”

“Which one is that?” I inquire, rounding the table to have a look at the poem.

“It’s one of my favorites, written by William Shakespeare.”

“Can you read it to me?”

My question takes him aback. “Read it…”

“Please?” If Armando was right and I instill purpose within his crew, then that is what I will do. Clearly, Moss enjoys reading. Why else would he have noticed the book? And while Lesaro, Santos, and Magda all had their turns to feel something again, I doubt Moss had that luxury yet. “No one has ever read to me before. I never had that privilege as a child, even less a woman.”

Yes, as soon as someone learns a woman can read, they instantly think she’s a witch and send the guards running after her. I had to keep my hobbies secret behind closed gates at Elizabeth’s estate.

“Oh, uh, if you wish, then…” Moss clears his throat and begins reading.

‘Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle’s compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.’

By the end of the sonnet, his words have dissolved into the air, leaving me with nothing but my imagination to fill the blank canvas the poem presented me with. But I had no idea what half of it meant. The poet had an interesting way of saying what he felt and thought.

“That was beautiful, but what does it all mean?” I finally ask the young officer. “I know it’s about love, but what about it?”

“It tells us what love is and what it is not, señorita,” he begins to explain, “Love is perfect and unchanging; it does not admit impediments, and it does not change. In the second quatrain, we are told what love is through a metaphor: a guiding star to lost ships that is not susceptible to storms. Lastly, we see what love is not: it is not susceptible to time; love does not change with hours and weeks. Instead, it remains until the end of time.”

“You seem to know a lot about love.” Should I ask him about what it is I’m feeling towards his Capitán? I don’t know him as well as Lesaro and Santos. Of course, I would entrust Santos more with a secret like that, considering Lesaro’s loyalty to Armando. And Magda…well, he’d wave it off as merely a distraction. “Antonio, I have something to confess. But you can’t tell a soul, it is our secret only.”

He nods and leans in for me to whisper to him.

“I…I think I might feel things for your Capitán.”

He frowns. “What sort of things?”

“It is difficult to say, I never felt these things before.” I decide to outright describe to him what I felt last night. “Whenever I am near him, my heart beats fast, faster than the Mary could sail before she was cursed. My stomach tosses and turns like waves against rocks, and I am overcome by this…warmth, like I’ve been standing in the sun a whole day. Is this the love the poet speaks of?”

To my surprise, Moss is smiling broadly. He looks the epitome of a child in a candy shop, eyes filled with awe and anticipation.

“Si, si, you are in love, señorita. What you are feeling…I think many of us longed to feel so many years.” His smile falters as he is overcome by melancholic yearning. “Many of us were married or betrothed before the curse, some of us had families. I watched so many of my fellow officers lose all hope of ever returning to them. Today, most of our loved ones surely passed away, never to see us again.”

My heart sinks at the thought of mothers, fathers, brothers, sister, wives, and children waiting for their sons, brothers, and men to return after their battles against the pirates. Imagine them sitting at the docks or on the beach in Spain, patiently searching the horizon day after day for signs of the Mary. Days turn to weeks, weeks turn to months, and months turn to years, and slowly, their hope start to crumble until, eventually, they are no less hopeless than the crew of the Silent Mary.

Truly, this curse affects both dead and living.

“The Capitán,” Moss continues quietly as if what he’s about to tell me, is a secret, “lost his family to piracy, so he made a vow to eliminate them all. He was not known for having Mercy…”

“And he earned the name El Matador Del Mar, the Butcher of the Sea,” I mutter, nodding my head, I’ve heard the stories, although old and outdated.

“The curse, it took our worst qualities and made us into that. The Capitán…he became vengeance itself. Nothing would sate his hunger for revenge until the Sparrow is dead.” However, looking up at me, his expression lightens. “But you, señorita, changed him. I’ve seen it. You are the guiding star that will lead him to his purpose.”

“But how?” I ask, “I know nothing about this kind of love.” “Love comes naturally, señorita, you’ll see. But, if I may offer a suggestion, he used to enjoy dancing back in the living days…” Moss smiles genuinely before holding up the book, “May I please borrow this one?”

#armando salazar #armando #salazar #pirates of the caribbean: dead men tell no tales #pirates of the caribbean #potc dmtnt #potc #dmtnt #jack sparrow #henry turner

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