long post for ts ✕ a soft voice in the night [plot]✕ [with my-muses-in-op]✕ my father is whitebeard [his golden age]✕ one more day will be enough [adulthood][i am not too happy with this (my part) but i'm not unhappy either?][anyway sometimes it does nothing to keep waiting for 'the day' just write and it will be better next time]

♠ a soft voice in the night, with @my-muses-in-op (tray d. sheila). canon verse. continued from here.

Sheila was red from head to toe, eyes matching the wild mane genetics had given her and the corset her personal taste in attire and her sword had acquired for her, blood-soaked metal in exchange for coin. It was a phantasmagoric look, a nightmarish vision not at all unsuited for her battle persona but never for her most frail side, currently showing from beneath layers of toughness.

A smile from her and this crimson ghost became less gruesome, more palpable. Ace regretted not having a handkerchief somewhere in his person to offer the woman, not as much as gentlemanly gesture as one of friendship and familial affection. Bless Pops for taking them under his broad wing as siblings, children of Whitebeard and Mother Ocean!

True, singing was part of any Moby celebration and boy, did the crew celebrate! They celebrated life and adventure, dreams and the very booze they toasted with. They drank to Pops’s good health. And, naturally, they sang too. Ace would add his voice to the ensemble amidst the merry cacophony, but Sheila would abstain from joining the chorus of male voices.

Why was that? If it was shyness then the hesitation was misplaced, as the woman had nothing to be embarrassed about. If, on the other hand, she happened to refuse being part of a choir that would start tuned well enough before alcohol and the progressive loosening of the tongue and of inhibition along with it made everyone sound like shrieking roadkill, then Ace did not censor her for it.

As night turned to dawn, humiliation was inevitable for Whitebeard’s children, who tended to see the sparing of booze as waste. Ace sort of envied his sea brothers’ ability to get pissed as newts… In him, alcohol would simply combust.

Ace’s curiosity had not yet been satisfied. As a lover of music, he wanted to know what he’d already dubbed Sheila’s Song was about. The title fit, he decided, when she explained the meaning behind those unknown words.

“I see” He said, offering a more valuable smile in exchange for hers. It was impossible for him not to doubt her words a bit, placing this strength Sheila spoke of not in him but in the song, as it was said singing had the power to send Evil away.

He kept on listening intently, as he always did when she allowed herself a moment of vulnerability to travel to the past in both memory and speech. Sheila made Ace feel like such a kid whenever she told of her adventures - her tales felt older than they were, as if part of a bygone age. Her words always find a way of resonating within Ace, provoking theories and awakening feelings.

“Then you know how I felt the night I lost to Pops"

The joy - the pride! - Ace felt in calling Edward Newgate his father was so fierce it was blinding, even so as to lay a veil over his eyes and distort the reality of past events. Ace loved Whitebeard but it had not always been so and no one knew of it better than the Spade Pirates.

As a former captain, Ace was more than familiar with the responsibilities the title entailed. Authority may grant great property but it came with proportional responsibility. Without it, the former would be at stake. There was no being respected without being just, and from these awe and affection would eventually come as a bonus, as Whitebeard exemplified.

Being captain meant being the ultimate liability for the crew’s lives.

Ace pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes and let his hand stay like it. “I thought I’d failed them. Skull and Banshee. Mihar and Kotatsu. Deuce…” Before he knew it, the commander was biting his lip, memories coming back to him…

He’d managed to bring a wall of fire between the enemy Whitebeard and the Spades. Inebriating anger and thirst for violence had kept his fists aflame, pumping in his veins and leaving no place for worrying about his crew. But, upon waking up onboard the Moby Dick, alone, no one around - not Skull, not Banshee; not Mihar, not Kotatsu - it was to them that Ace directed his thoughts first and foremost. He felt crushed under the weight of overwhelming guilt . He reeked of failure.

“Thought they were all dead. Didn’t know if I should feel guilty for being alive or owe them my life”

His freckled face became visible again and Sheila might feel surprise at seeing a smile shining bright under them, notwithstanding the unhappy memories.

“But that’s not like Pops!” After the conflict, the Spade Pirates might consider themselves lucky for becoming part of a bigger family even if it meant switching colours, for there was no greater honour than that of bearing the bearded Jolly Roger. They were still crossing the ocean together and in the company of their beloved kid. “Guess you and I are more alike than we previously thought, uh?”

Ace didn’t want to speak any more of how hard it had been to take it all in - that the Spades were alive and well after all; that they were now part of another crew; that this man whose head he still wanted to take only wished to be known as his father - all unhappy memories in the past, buried under a pile of happy ones.

He also said nothing of the thought on his mind which became surer and surer the more he thought about it.

A wonderful man who knew how to be a good father. An extraordinary contingent of people with such passion for life pulsating in their rebellious hearts. The infinite blue above and the infinite blue below… This was worth living for.

long post for ts [continuing in a new post as discussed!]✕ a soft voice in the night [plot]✕ [with tray-d-sheila]✕ one more day will be enough [adulthood]✕ my father is whitebeard [his golden age]

A soft voice in the night

tray-d-sheila:

The smile Ace gave was what comforted her the most. Even if she right now couldn’t smile like he did, she couldn’t help but feel like smiling a little. The warmth of Ace was not cause of his Devil’s Fruit, but because of his heart. She knew he had been through some hard time too, but he still had that childish and carefree personality, which she loved the most about him. It was different than that of their cook and it was far easier to talk to him or even cry in front of him. He didn’t judge her, didn’t freak out or tried to make her forget why she was upset. Instead he embraced her sadness and that was what drove it away.
And there it was. The teasing. He was definitely himself, when he could tease her like that, but it felt normal and natural, which was what she needed right now. Hearing those four words from his lips, she knew he meant it like she did. Red and puffed eyes looked at him, a small, but happy, smile played at the corner of her red lips. to have Ace’s brotherly love meant a lot to her.
She knew the moment he lifted the brim of his hat with a lit finger, that he was done with the heavy topic and she thanked him in her heart for it. Because it was so hard to talk about and it was as if he sensed how she struggled with finding words to explain it to him.
Her eyes softened, even if they were still puffy and red from the crying. “Only few does, as I am not much of a party singer. I do enjoy watching others sing and have a great time at parties. Knowing that you are so carefree despite being outlaws or maybe because of it, makes me happy.” She rose to her feet again and gazed at the sea for a brief moment, before looking back at Ace.
“The song is about all the struggle and hardship people either overcomes or are still fighting with. It’s about what others don’t see, but it’s there. In or heart and soul. Like a demon that is luring inside of us and threatens to drag all that get close to us down too. However …” She now smiled a little brighter to him. “The demon is wrong. The people we let close is those giving us the strength to fight it. You give me strength and hope, which silence the demons inside for a while.”
The smile was still there as she took his arm in her hands and leaned a little towards him. “This song is one I learned when I was a captain myself. On an Island where people often were attacked by pirates. I tried to protect them, but couldn’t. There was a big battle between pirates and marines. I lost half of my crew and the other half left afterwards, feeling unsafe with me. Yet I don’t regret trying to protect those people on that island. Even if I failed, I tried at least. So I sing the song to honor them and also to calm my demons. Though you are much better calming the demons than the song.”
She was not all that upset anymore and she could even tell him the part that also haunted her from time to time. How she lost her crew. Not many knew she actually had been a captain before, as she rarely talked about her past, especially this part. “Even if the song brings forth bad memories, it does make me remember a good thing too. How I became the daughter of Oyaji and a sister to a maniac, but great, crew like this.”

long post for ts ✕ [with my-muses-in-op]✕ one more day will be enough [adulthood]✕ my father is whitebeard [his golden age]

my-muses-in-op:

At the impolite tone of Ace, he raised his brows slightly, but he didn’t comment on it. He had gotten used to that not all were as correct in speaking as he was most of the time. Yes, he could also curse or forget his manners, but that only happened rarely. Even when he was fighting with some of his brothers for some reason. There would always be times like this, were disagreements or misunderstandings caused a fight. They lasted a while and when the parties in the fight had cooled down, they would apologize and move on.
The apple didn’t surprise him, as Ace always seemed to have something to eat in those pockets. He only smiled a little, not bothered that Ace was eating, while he wanted to have a conversation with him. Even if Izo thought it was slight rude, but he also knew of Ace’s huge appetite, so it was fine. There was a line of what he could accept and what not and this he could accept.
“It’s not Marco, but a red-orange phoenix. As said, it’s a mythical creature and I’m trying to figure out how much truth there is to this myth.” He said calmly, not really thinking the picture looked much like Marco. However, he would not judge Ace for thinking so.
He could hear that Ace didn’t quite believe him and it was far fetched that there was other phoenix types out there. Truth, it did sound too good to be true. After all, Marco’s Devil’s Fruit was said to be very rare and hard to come by. How their brother had gotten the fruit in the first place was a mystery, as he didn’t tell. It was the same with his age. No one knew.
A soft smile was giving to Ace, as he cursed again. “You aren’t stupid either, Ace. All I wanted to know was your opinion and yes, the mythical fruits are very, very rare.” He said, having not meant to make Ace feel stupid. At the next comment and question, he was mildly surprised, not having giving it a thought himself.
“Hmm. It could be they were either really common or there could be another reason. Maybe each Devil’s Fruit of the Phoenix can only exist in time and for another to be reincarnated, Marco would have to die. Not that I want that at all. It could also be that these rare fruits has a longer reincarnation time than others. There’s so little we know and understand about the Devil’s Fruits.” Izo mused after a few moments of silence.
Was it possible to destroy a Devil’s Fruit for good? Izo wouldn’t say no, as he didn’t know about them. “If it is possible to destroy a Devil’s Fruit for good, it does make sense to destroy those with such great powers as the Phoenix holds. Marco is close to immortal and in the wrong hands, it could bring more harm than good.” He shuddered lightly.
It was not a pleasant thought, but Ace’s words had him wonder. “I would say it’s possible to destroy a Devil’s Fruit. Maybe that happened once, in the void century or maybe even before that. The world’s history is older than humans. It is an interesting fact. To know how little we actually know.”
“So, is there any legends or myths you want to know more about? If you find it interesting that is. Or are you just looking for another nickname to give Marco?” There was a teasing smile grazing his lips.

It was all very complicated, Devil Fruits of any of the three given kinds plus the mythical genre in particular. Too much for a single head to think about. Even for a couple of heads it was no easy subject, which was it was of no wonder that a noteworthy group of people dedicated their lives to studying Devil Fruits, their origins and uses, benefits and potential perils. It was not a recent field of research, either.

Ace was not a scholar. In fact, he owed most of his education not to school but to a few people who’d been good enough to help him, chiefly Sabo and Pops. He was not as prepared as Izo was to discuss academic topics, never mind the other commander’s personal education. Izo had big brains to go along with twin guns in a risky combo that should not be taken lightly. Fortunately for Whitebeard’s crew, underestimating Izo happened to be a mistake that resulted in a good strategy.

He nodded, not bothering to pick on his friend for his remark on Marco, knowing fully well the other man’s death was the last thing either of them wanted.

“Well, it’s not like Marco’s got a claim on it, is it? There will only be another Mera Mera no Mi when I die” Ace spoke of it with such apathy… How could he not, when his own death occupied a significant portion of his thoughts, so much he’d come to terms with it? One more day…

Ace smiled at Izo in a cat-like manner. “But I don’t know how long that will take. Perhaps you’re right and fruits of the mythical kind take more time to regenerate than others”

As speech subsided, Ace shut his lips in a more natural expression again and gave the whole matter some more thought. A fun thing, wasn’t it, for Izo to be more interested in Devil Fruits than Ace himself was, considering only he of the two possessed such powers.

Should he…? Nah! Ace did not care about the theory of the matter. He did not need to know where the Fruits had come from because he know where and how he’d gotten his. Learning of their properties and limitations was all very well but that did not change the fact he could never allow himself to fall into the sea, nor would it help him in the context of a serious confrontation where there was little room for cool thoughts instead of smoking hot violence. A strategist would argue otherwise but Ace would let his fists do both the thinking and the talking.

As for Marco being virtually immortal… “I don’t envy him.”

As much as everyone wanted Pops to live forever, his advanced age could not be forgotten in virtue of his might. His health was not as steady as it had once been, too. Ace had always known Edward Newgate thus, in need of medical assistance no matter how vehemently he protested against it, but Marco had seen a younger Newgate, presumably more headstrong than this one. How sad it should be to watch your father lose the one battle no human could win, knowing other people you held dear would eventually follow, leaving you all alone…

Subtly, Ace lifted his eyes from the floorboard he’d been staring it without realising it and searched left and right for that uncanny hairdo everyone liked to joke about. Found it he did and Ace kept staring at the back of Marco’s head as if he could tell what machinations ran underneath. Did he muse on these things too? Did he fear loneliness?

Izo’s lighter question seemingly asked to lift the mood caught Ace’s attention with a “Huh?”. A brand-new nickname would be refreshing. ‘Pineapple-head’ and ‘parrot’ were timeless classics but there was nothing wrong with a bit of fresh air.

“Hey, I wanna ask questions too!” He chuckled. It was not fair for Izo to have all the fun with his navy-like interrogation. “Why are you so interested in all this, Izo? Are you considering eating a Devil Fruit yourself?“

Why not? Not only those who sought power went after the fruits for their own consumption. Some Devil Fruit users were just idiots who had idiotically taken a bite, just look at Ace and Luffy! Izo was neither an idiot or thirsty for power, but there were other advantages too, if one ignored the inability to go for a swim on a hot summer afternoon.

Ace could have advised Izo against it, but he had no regrets regarding his own original sin. He could have told Izo to be careful in his choice, for he had a choice, and not take it lightly, which would have been good counsel. Instead, all Ace said was the really important staff.

“You know… It tastes like crap”

long post for ts ✕ one more day will be enough [adulthood]✕ my father is whitebeard [his golden age]✕ [with my-muses-in-op]✕ [queue]

my-muses-in-op:

Seemingly Ace was currently have some sort of disagreement with Rakuyo, if Izo read the body language of the younger correctly. It wasn’t unusual that there were some sort of disagreement among the crew. It was hard to keep peace all the time with a crew this big.
Ace never ceased to entertain him. The young male could be easily distracted and couldn’t hold a grudge long. Then again, it wasn’t healthy to do so and while brother fought, they also quickly befriended again. Only a few took a little longer to forgive, Izo included, but that was a personality trait he had come to term with.
However, it was hard not to be infected with happiness when Ace smiled brightly at you. Even if his face had been that of an annoyed person, before the wide smile. It still amazed the cross dresser how easily Ace could switch from one mood to another.
He smiled softly to Ace, as he came over. There was something really pleasing about the youthful looking face. Not that he looked like a child, but there was still something that made him look young in a beautiful way.
“I am enjoying the sun. It’s nice and warm, but not too hot. Unlike someone I know.” He teased a little, before going on. “This? That’s a book. You know, papers with words on it to form sentences and a story, either fictional or non-fictional.” He continued the tease. If Ace asked like that, he would get an answer like this.
Had he been Thatch, the teasing would have been much worse. As for now, it was just a friendly mocking on the wording Ace used. Still smiling, he moved a little on the sun chair he was occupying and patted on the chair, inviting Ace to sit with him.
“It’s a book about the mythical creatures. In this book you can read what myths are connected to them. Let’s take the Phoenix. In this book it’s red-orange and it’s power is that of re-birth. It’s tears can heal anything, as long as it shed sincere tears. It also has a mourning song that somehow helps ease the pain from the lost of a dear person.”
He opened the book and showed Ace the picture of the Phoenix. It didn’t look like Marco when he was transform, it looked smaller and as Izo had said, it’s color was different. “It could be interesting to know if this myth is based on another Phoenix Devil’s Fruit. Like is there are different breeds of Phoenixes, just like with birds, cats and the likes.”
To him it was interesting. He believed that all myths had a grain or two of truth in them, though it was hard to see which it could be. His past time was spend with many practical hobbies, but when he felt like doing nothing the like, he would read books like this. After all, there was a Phoenix in this world, though he was a man with a Devil’s Fruit. Who said that other mythical creatures wasn’t because of people not understanding or knowing of Devil’s Fruits in the past.
“What do you think? Could there be other Phoenix Devil’s Frit out there? Marco says no, but I bet he just wants to be unique and the only one.” A soft chuckle left him, thinking on how stubborn Marco was on that topic. Others either didn’t fin it interesting enough to come with their opinion and others just went along with him. Only few agreed that it was an interesting theory to have.

Oh yes… Hotness jokes. So many had Ace heard ever since he’d acquired his fiery abilities and many more since he had joined the Whitebeard Pirates, even if ‘joining’ was not the most accurate term to define how the former Spade had switched colours. His new brothers seemed to find Ace’s Devil Fruit and temperament combo something worthy of anecdote but, then again, the same could be said about virtually any Devil Fruit user and these were light jokes.

Thus, although used to this kind of comedy, Ace twisted his lips in a pleasant smile meant to acknowledge Izo’s jest at first, but which turned to an expression of neutrality once his brother joked about the book.

“I know what books are!” he protested. “What I want to know is what the hell you’re reading about!”

That ‘hell’ made the sentence sound meaner than Ace would have wanted but he couldn’t help being upset… as if he didn’t know what books were just because he was not the kind to be seen in their company! So what? That didn’t mean he was dumb! Nor did that mean he found books useless… They made great supports for tables with bad legs! “Myths?”

As if the topics of literature and mythology bored him already, Ace fished a shiny red apple from his shorts’ pocket and took a noisy bite of it while listening to Izo. Even if reading was hardly a hobby, satisfying his curiosity was something Ace did like to do. Right now, he was curious about this tale of the phoenix.

“Hey!” Only by chance did a drop of saliva not touch the fellow commander’s face when a finger pointed at the illustration and a mouthful of apple exclaimed “Datsh Marco!”

Though with differences in palette and detail, the creature depicted in Izo’s book was uncanny. It could easily be Marco’s distant cousin. Still chewing on his apple, Ace took a seat next to Izo, pulling it close so both could read the book at the same time.

“Different phoenixes? You mean the same way Zoan Devil Fruits have different models?” Take felines for instance - between domestic cats and big wild beasts there were plenty of species to choose from. “I don’t know, Izo…”

It was not that Ace was close-minded, already killing the idea of more phoenixes existing. They were a possibility, of course, and who could say otherwise when the world - particularly the Grand Line - was there to remind humankind of the possibility of the impossible every day? However, as true as no two twin Devil Fruits existing in the world at the same time…

“Aren’t Mythical Zoans supposed to be rare?” Even in this world of fantastic creatures where the sky was not the limit, it was not a regular occurrence to turn around a corner and get face to face with a mythical creature incarnated. There was a reason why Marco was dubbed “The Phoenix”, emphasis on the definite article.

While Ace could see Marco being touchy about the subject, not that he was an egotistical man as his devotion to Pops showed but a proud man still, and of course his reputation and epithet only contributed to assuring him of his uniqueness, he felt more inclined to agreeing with him than with the First than with the Sixteenth. All evidence seemed to agree with Marco…

“Damn, Izo, you know I’m not very smart about these things” Apple gone, Ace gave an apologetic smile. He could not argue much without possessing the knowledge to do so, he could only lend a friendly ear and throw experience-driven and imagination-powered guesses. “You could be right. Who knows, maybe Mythical Zoans used to be more common in the past… Can a Devil Fruit be forever destroyed, beyond any chance of it being born again into the world?”

If it could, then maybe Mythical Zoan Devil Fruits had gone extinct, much like certain animal species had in the natural world. Perhaps a population of amazing creatures had been chased out of fear. Or of envy or even for greed. Just like in the world they lived many a species were seen as valuable assets to be sold at illicit auctions and gambles and bought by people who were rich in gold but smashingly poor in humanity.

“Maybe… I’m just guessing here, but maybe you’re right about other phoenixes, just wrong about the tense. Maybe they existed in the past but not anymore and Marco is the only one”

long post for ts ✕ my father is whitebeard [his golden age]✕ [with tray-d-sheila]✕ a soft voice in the night [plot]✕ one more day will be enough [adulthood][this friendship gives me feels]

A soft voice in the night

tray-d-sheila:

Was he disappointed it wasn’t about Roger? Probably not. However, he was probably surprised to know that his father wasn’t the first and only one to taint her memories with darkness. What could she say? Her life had been nothing but a mess and a will to survive. It was something that still haunted her in her adult life and years after being on this crew, where only little bad things really had happened.
Truth, this place held more good and happy memories to her than any other place. She should really start to accept it and not beat herself up mentally for having this happiness and even call another man as father. She was sure her own father would be happy and proud to know that she was safe, free and happy.
The silence filled them for a moment before Ace spoke. She was still staring at her hands, but looked up at him, eyes wondering. Two words. I’m sorry was all he said at first and she knew he was. It might be cliché and so, but he was deeply sorry she had experienced such trauma.
“Thanks.” She whispered. It was nice to know he cared so much that such a tragic past made him sad. Her eyes went back to her hands, as if she was willingly herself to see the good in things. She listened to him, only giving a nod from time to time. He acknowledge how hard it must had been on her and it filled her with warmth. Ace really understood her on a plan not many could.
When his tone lightened and the words left his lips, a bittersweet smile played on her lips. “Yeah…” She didn’t know what to say to that, but when you looked at it like that, he was right. Her revenge was to still be a torn in the eyes of the Marines and Government. His last words had her look at him with surprise.
Proud? He was proud of her?
Her brain froze, not really getting why he should be proud. Was it because she was still alive despite everything and how she refused to die? Was it because she dared to share this part of her past with him? Was there other reasons for him to be proud of him? She didn’t know, but those words filled her with a happiness that took her by surprise and she didn’t hold back the tears. Only very few people had ever said they were proud of her.
Silently she cried, hugging herself while she shed the tears she barely shed. Ace would always hold a special place in her heart, even more than others. She felt like a real sister to him, it was a stronger feeling than ever. She swore to herself that she would do everything she could for him to be happy too.
After a while she dried her eyes and looked a him again. “Thanks, Ace. I …” She trailed off, not sure if he would understand her next words the right way. Then again, he probably would and he would be one of the few she had ever said this too. “I love you.” It was a platonic and sisterly love, but she knew he would understand. Ace was smarter than people gave him credit for.
@pxrtgasdace

It was always good to see her smile, even if the smile - such as this one in particular - was not as confident and full of the fierceness a mature woman in her position should showcase in red lips. At least she was trying to push the pain away, fight it with radiance, for no one’s sake but her own. Ace may not know much about women but he knew better than to force faux joy out of anyone to appease his own conscience.

Sheila’s attempt was responded with a stronger version of it. It was alright if she did not want to smile because, for that moment at least, he could smile for the two of them and fill the night with light. If she was capable of doing the same for him when Ace was feeling blue, then things would turn out fine and they would carry on.

She was so subtle in her crying Ace did not see the tears or heard the sniffles, reality hitting him only when a lifting gesture to wipe the eyes dry gave Sheila away. He could no longer keep smiling at that but again he did, when those three special words left her mouth, ringing more sincere than the aforementioned smile had.

“Oh, I know…” The commander was messing with her, of course. Even if he did know it, there was no way he would ever take anyone’s ‘I love you’ for granted. They were rare and exotic provisions, the ‘I love yous’, hard to come by, and they never stayed long enough in Ace’s mind for him to engrave them in his heart. Oftentimes they would fade away the very moment Ace got ahold of the burin… And more often than not would he question their veracity - had they truly been there? - and plausibility. “I love you too” He meant it the very same way she did.

Ace could have insisted on the heavy topic and tell Sheila he would always be available to lend her a friendly ear to listen to her troubles and a brotherly shoulder for her to cry on with no shame or weakness in that, but he’d already told her so, even if with a different phrasing, and this was something his sister knew. There was no need to repeat words regardless of their beauty or truth: fake words would never become true no matter how many times they were reproduced and true words, being intrinsically that, true, were exempted from repetition.

Remembering the thing that had drawn him to Sheila in the first place, Ace perked up and lifted the brim of his hat with a lit finger casting its orange luminescence over his face.

“Wanna know what I didn’t know, though? I didn’t know you could sing!” His love for merrymaking not being a secret, it was no wonder Ace wanted to know more of the song from before, even if it was not a party tune but a quiet one for either the baby’s cradle of the old man’s deathbed. “What song was that? Where did you learn it?”

my-muses-in-op long post for ts ✕ my father is whitebeard [his golden age]✕ one more day will be enough [adulthood][btw i don't mean sun-loving as in i decide izo likes the sun! i mean he's enjoying it in the moment]✕ [random]

my-muses-in-op:

@pxrtgasdace
Izo was known as a male that most on the ship was scared to mess with. His methods of getting things done his way or getting his will, was the reason why many of his brothers thought twice or more, before messing with him. He was also known to have enough material to blackmail them all, including Marco, which was hard to come by.
However, today he was in a good mood it seemed. He was sitting on deck, humming to himself, while reading a book. It was a beautiful day too, the sun shining and the sea calm. People relaxed around him, gaming, chattering or even drinking. Not that he minded.
Placing the book in his lap, he gazed around, pulled out a snail and took some pictures. None really noticed it seemed and it was the best. Then his eyes fell on Ace. A sigh left him, as he was not getting how you could walk half-naked like he did. Though he had to admit to himself that Ace was a pleasing sight and the tattoo on his back was also bringing a smile to his lips.
For a while he just observed the younger male. They haven’t talked much the past days, but he hadn’t talked much to anyone lately. Except for Thatch and Marco, both having picked up that something was off with Izo. They were his best friends, but it wasn’t as if it was necessary to worry about him right now. Every now and then people felt less happy. It was just how it was.
“Ace?” He called out to his brother, feeling the need to talk to the raven haired male. Maybe he could feel a little more at ease. The warm Ace always radiated, being it his Devil’s Fruit or personality, Izo wasn’t sure, but it was nice. He liked that warmth, it soothed him. Maybe he should spend more time with the freckled man?

To the untrained eye as well as to the trained one at a first glance, it might seem like Ace was following Rakuyo’s walking upwards and downwards on the main deck in pretty much the same way a duckling follows its mother or whatever figure it’s imprinting on. If one were to look a bit more closely, however, they would see it was not out of son-like affection Ace was following the other commander - such a form of love being reserved for Pops, as it happened with everyone on board except the resident medical team - but for a much more prosaic motive.

Ace was annoyed.

Playing cards was one of the pastimes the Whitebeard Pirates fancied to engage on and, though he enjoyed the games, that was bad news for the young man, whose narcolepsy would take no pity on him or his savings and strike him asleep in the middle of a game, even going so far, the sly devil!, as to let his arm go limp and have everyone take a look at the cards in his possession. Waking up, Ace would resume the game, completely ignorant about the imbalance of power created by his disorder.

His first thought was that Rakuyo had cheated. Naturally, to call your own brother a cheater was a great insult, and of course the hot-headed Portgas D. Ace had accused his brother of being just that, for what else could explain Rakuyo’s consecutive victories and Ace’s corresponding series of losses if not that crafty art of deceit?

More annoyed than upset, Rakuyo defended himself and tried to distract Ace by marching all over the place. A while and many steps later, Ace was still on the trail, now asking Rakuyo to teach him more games and tricks. Truth be told, card games were not one of his talents, even if he bore a card name as his own.

Spotting Izo, he waved at his sun-loving brother and smiled wide, all annoyance completely absent from his face, as though it had never been there. This was the reason why it was difficult for Rakuyo to take the former accusations as seriously as he would with any other man: Ace could put on a great show of fireworks but he was so easy-going all was forgotten soon enough and that one pointing finger would bend around the handle of an ale-filled tankard to cheer Pops and brotherhood, provided the reason for his displeasure was something trivial enough.

Brothers were meant to fight a lot without that putting their friendship in stake; it was a known natural law.

Ace turned again to Rakuyo and pouted at finding naught but empty space, for his interlocutor had taken the chance to escape the chaser. How he had managed to disappear in a few seconds was a mystery and a remarkable thing at that. Ace lifted the brim of his hat and scratched his head in puzzlement.

That was when Izo called him and he skipped closer to the male, cards and cheaters being said and done now. “Izo! Enjoying the sun, are you? What’s that?” Ace asked, right hand pointing at the book.

long post for ts ✕ race to the pirate doctor [plot]✕ [with pilawforhire]✕ one more day will be enough [adulthood]✕ my father is whitebeard [his golden age][i never add anything to the thread i always ride on your creativity i'm a leech][*keeps on leeching*]

race to the pirate doctor, with @pilawforhire. (previously.)

Another man would have taken Law’s offer or suggestion to leave purely out of spite. Let him see how far he’d go without a guiding light, an extra pair of hands and a living fire commanded at will. All three things the captain would regret having dismissed when he found himself in bigger trouble. How easy it was to just walk away with a thanks for nothing and fuck you very much…

Not Ace, though. For one, even if he didn’t need to find this wonder man or heretic demon for Pops’s sake, he was not one to turn his back on adversity, as Law would soon find out, if he hadn’t figured that much already. In some aspects, Ace was a straightforward kind of man, easy to figure. Then, if anything, his companion’s lack of capacity to appreciate his company and the aid light and heat provided was all the more reason why he should stay. What kind of lesson would Law learn if everything he found unpleasant walked away with a gesture of his tattooed hand? Though older than Ace was, he might become a spoiled brat just yet.

Besides, pride and duty aside, to stay around Law came with the fulfilling reward of knowing he’d be bothered. Wasn’t that fun?

By accepting the canteen, which looked like a peace offering, Trafalgar Law accepted Ace’s company in what was now a joint enterprise of unclear nature - were they joining forces to find this doctor still or to get the hell out of what, with every new obstacle, felt more and more like a floating mousetrap?

With a quenched throat, Law threw the canteen back at Ace, who promptly caught it in his hand as though it were a baseball, and gave good use to his voice, letting the intellect hidden under that curious furry hat his new friend thought looked too much like a baby seal for his taste shine through. He’d noticed the absence of women and children and in reality the island was scarce even in the young adult male department. To call it the opposite of Amazon Lily sounded about right. Talking about unnatural demographics!

Keep reading

[i will continue in a new post with a read more just the way you like it]✕ race to the pirate doctor [plot]✕ one more day will be enough [adulthood]✕ my father is whitebeard [his golden age]✕ [with pilawforhire]

pilawforhire:

pxrtgasdace:
So the Surgeon of Death was still alive… great! And he still had his wits about him along with his sword though, as the reflected orange light showed, one of his shoes was amiss. While Ace felt relieved about his partner’s living status, he could not care less for his torture and dismemberment combo remark and replied a noncommittal ‘hmm’.
Ace was likewise not as interested in the tunnel after establishing its walls were thick and lined with drains as much as he was interested in knowing where it led and thus left any further investigation to Law.
“A real mess…” A recap seemed to be in order. “We come here searching for a doctor and what do we find instead? Old folks and furries. Have you noticed there are no women and children around? Roo?” The walking human torch insisted upon his very pertinent question meeting nothing but silence, already shortening ‘Traffaroo’ to ‘Roo’ without even thinking about it.
Maybe it was the fact they were being forced to team up in order to decipher the mystery and, based on recent events, eventually get out of this island alive and in one piece; or maybe it was the sheer proximity the tunnel imposed on them but Ace already felt close to Law - truth was he was not so bad. He had not turned his back on danger and ran away, he had not sacrificed Ace to guarantee his own safety and now he was laying no blame on him whatsoever.
[read more]
Law glared his displeasure vehemently at the back of Ace’s head when his name was butchered into ‘Roo’. What would he call him next, ‘Boo’? Had their acquaintanceship escalated that far? Law opened his mouth to mutter ‘Ass’ in response but he kept quiet in contemplation because Ace had raised a good question. They had gone in search of their target and found a retirement home of savage wrinkles and the love children of Doflamingo and a gorilla instead — well, the Bigfoot creatures certainly had Doflamingo’s stature and a coat of fur… They were also despicable in nature. Regardless, Law refrained from voicing his opinions, not on purpose of being aloof or disdainful but in the tunnel that could collapse at any given moment, he needed his concentration at its sharpest to focus on their surroundings. Discussions could wait till they emerged.
Ace led the way and, in spite of their undesirable circumstances and his initial hostility, Law appreciated Ace’s flames, that prevented them from having to stumble around blindly in the dark, and brought them a comforting warmth in the cold of the tunnel. Of course, Law offered zero words or gestures of thanks although he did poke Ace’s butt with his sword by accident. In his defence, the sword was inconveniently long and crawling while carrying it alone was already difficult, much less having to watch out for Ace’s butt. To Ace’s remark that it had better be his sword, Law only hissed, “What the fuck else? D’you see me growing dicks on my head?” He would have argued that he was not hitting on Ace but hitting Ace, and it was unintentional, but decided to save his breath because it was evidently going to be the longest day.

Keep reading

long post for ts ✕ [with tray-d-sheila]✕ one more day will be enough [adulthood]✕ my father is whitebeard [his golden age]✕ a soft voice in the night [plot][sorry for the hmm delay and all but i understand if this finished or if you want to drop it][oh man you know me by now...]

A soft voice in the night

tray-d-sheila:

It was nice to know that he wouldn’t min her telling him what this was all about. He was a great brother and even a great man, despite his young age. She could see that he was used to have different kind of burdens on his shoulder, but then again he had been a captain before Oyaji adopted him Now he was a commander and he lived up to the responsibilities, even if he was just as silly and a dork like Thatch.
Ace was more than the eye could see and what he showed them. She could see that. From the very first moment she had felt a connection stronger than with the others. It was more than people from their past that bound them. It was more than the initial they shared. No the thing that bound both of them was pain and suffering. It was present in his eyes, especially when people he cared for was suffering.
Like she was now. Sleepless nights, the constant nightmares about that day … It was hard on her and he worried about her. Because they were family and he understood the pain. A pain probably similar to his own and it was why she trusted him. He had earned it in another way than others, but she didn’t mind. Not one bit. Maybe it was why she showed him her damaged self and kept the mask she usual wore down.
“You’re right. It will never really go away, as I can’t stop blaming myself for not doing something sooner on that date.” For a man so young and seemingly carefree, he was wise and he had probably seen more than most people ever would. Was it Oyaji or Marco rubbing off him a little? His words sounded so close to what they usual told her in time like this.
She closed her eyes for a moment, before slumping down, leaning her back against the railing. She looked at her hands. “It’s the date of my parents murder that closes in. They were killed in front of my eyes by CP Agents. To this day I don’t know why they came. When they were about to kill me … I didn’t know back then what happened, but I know now. I unleashed Conquers Haki and managed to knock some of them out. Then I ran, leaving my dead parents behind and everything I knew. I just left them..” She trailed off and sighed.
It was still so hard to just say what was on her mind. She had left her parents, she hadn’t even managed to find a way to proper bury hem. When she had left, physically she had never looked back. mentally she did it all the time. Should she had returned? Could she had saved them by releasing her Conquers Haki sooner? Had her father or mother known how to use it?
“My life was hell and I never made it easy for myself. Why did I keep moving forward and grew stronger, when I had nothing? Simple. My parents would want me to and for them I never gave up. I will never let any weak or coward people take the life hey gave me.” At this point tears was slowly sliding down her cheeks.
@pxrtgasdace

previously.

Ace wondered what reason might be behind Sheila’s delayed answer. She knew he was trustworthy, therefore had no time to waste with evaluating the youth’s character and intent - she should know Ace meant well and that his interest in her restless nights had nothing to do with a liking for delightful gossip or an ulterior interest for a piece of information he might come to use to his advantage. No. Ace was not that kind and, as far as he knew, Sheila had never painted him with so revolting a palette.

It was not the first time, though, that Ace felt Sheila’s eyes on him in a way that trespassed his mass. If there was no judgment to be made, her thoughts must be elsewhere, perhaps writing a mental draft of the story she was going to tell him, if she was indeed willing to share her grief - her possible listener had already told her it would be fine if she decided not to speak, for people can always re-assess their limits and let them be known before going over them, to their own discomfort.

Perhaps Sheila was musing on his claim about the pain never ceasing to exist, never going anywhere. A fact, it seemed to Ace, to be natural as he’d learnt from experience. Even if his sea sister came to disagree, it was undeniable that, should she live another year, the tragic date would come to pass, for her to endure, and whatever pain had made itself smaller and hidden in the shadow of her mind, would crawl out to creep on her again. Pain never went away, not truly.

Sheila agreed. She closed her eyes… Ace knew he was about to listen to a new story from her past and braced himself for the bile he’d taste when the name he dreaded most left her lips. Should this be a Roger tale…

Ace felt like the world’s biggest idiot when, and within half a sentence, Sheila revealed the reason behind her nighttime unease and it had absolutely nothing to do with Roger! Once again, the pompous motherfucker wanted everything to go back to him right from whatever afterlife he was living, if there was such a thing as an afterlife.

How ignorant of Ace to think that a woman such as Sheila would not have other narratives to share! He allowed himself a second of self reprimand before giving Sheila his absolute attention.

“CP agents?” Ace asked with his head pending to the left side. He knew what Cipher Pol agencies were and what they did. In general terms, of course, for he’d had no entanglement with any of the CP cells. At least not one that he knew of - however, who was to say one or two non-pirates who’d attacked him in the past were not CP agents? A man like him, born under such an evil star, had never been but a threat to world order even as a baby in diapers.

Curiosity would have him wish for more but there would be no point in bothering Sheila when she admitted to not knowing why her parents had been murdered.

“I’m sorry” Only two words, a cliché expression to say upon being told of someone’s death but it was genuine in Ace’s solemn voice.

As interesting - tragically interesting at that - as this share was, it was the latter part of Sheila’s speech that interested Ace the most. So she had used Haoshoku Haki as a kid, pretty much like he had. At the time against the Bluejam Pirates, little Ace was completely ignorant of what haki was and therefore had no idea of what had just happened. A similar thing must have happened with the red-headed girl.

There was another thing the pair of them had in common and this one was a joyful one, for it was something the shadow of Roger could not ruin with its tar black version of the Midas touch.

It must have felt like the end of a life, of the world, for a little girl to run away from her dead parents, the bodies going without a proper funeral forever engraved in her mind, for her to revisit. Her very own morgue.

In time, Ace closed his eyes and smiled that sad and sweet smile his sister was already familiar with, even if it was not his own worry behind it this time. Ace was not making fun of murder, the loss of parents or of a little girl’s struggles: he was smiling at the woman before his eyes, this thing he had taken for granted to actually be a miracle against the odds. How come he could still take things for granted without realising it? Foolish boy…

“It must have been awful for you back then. To feel so powerless, not knowing if they’d still be after all, only knowing your parents would not.” There had to be more to Sheila’s parents than her story told and maybe even more than she knew. Regular people were not killed by assassins specialised in governmental threats. Did she have any suspicion or hint at the truth behind it? Would she ever?

On a lighter note…

“But you know what? You turned out great. You survived. That’s a damned nice revenge, if you ask me“ What else was there to do in a world that would not get tired of reminding your you had no place in it rather than stay alive? “I’m proud of you, Sheila”

long post for ts ✕ [with tray-d-sheila]✕ one more day will be enough [adulthood]✕ my father is whitebeard [his golden age]✕ a soft voice in the night [plot]✕ [queue]

A soft voice in the night

tray-d-sheila:

His sleeping pattern was always a mystery to her, as she was sure it wasn’t normal, not even for a D., as she didn’t have that pattern and so far she could remember, her father neither. Maybe it was a disorder or something else, but it was something for the doctors and nurse to worry about and she shouldn’t worry, even if she did.
At his question, her eyes wandered to the sea again, as she was thinking about how much she could tell or wanted to tell him. He was still a young man and she wasn’t sure how much of her burden she could tell him. She knew he was sincere, he was a great brother and he worried - just like most did, but they’ve learnt not to pry too much.
However, Ace was different, their relationship was different from anyone on this ship, even her best friends. The two shared something, a burden on their shoulders, which was put there by themselves, but it regarded the same man. Roger. She knew she couldn’t keep blaming the man that gave her a real freedom, but she did and it was a heavy burden to have.
It wasn’t Roger that pulled her down this time. Sure, he was always there to hold her somewhat down - if she let him but this time it was something that came before Roger. Something only very, very few knew of. It was her first burden and the guilt she felt with it, was even heavier at this time of the year.
“Nightmares keeps me up, Ace. Though the nightmares are more memories of the past. A reminder of what happened and that I’m still alive, though I shouldn’t be.” Her voice was still shaking, she also sounded tired and like she was giving up on everything. The nightmares hadn’t let her sleep much in a week now and it was now finally showing its affect on her body. “It’s silly, actually. Thatch and Marco tells me over and over again that there is nothing I could have done, I was only 9 years old and that it’s good I’m alive, but still … Sorry, you don’t even know what I’m talking about and I’m not sure whether it’s wise to burden yo with this too.”
Thatch and Marco was right, she shouldn’t blame herself, she shouldn’t be sorry to be alive. Her parents wouldn’t like her to be too depressed over it, but she couldn’t help it. Not when the date of their murder was so close. “It’ll be over soon enough. When the date has passed … Just one more week with this and I’m … slight better.” She couldn’t say alright, she hadn’t been alright in most of her life.
@pxrtgasdace

Ah, memories turned nightmares. Ace knew little of those, most of his bad dreams falling under the category of things that had never and would never happen, but no previous experience was required, only a little empathy, to see how memories might derive into nightmares and keep one restless.

If anything, it was the combination of the words ‘I’m still alive, though I shouldn’t be’ that got him intrigued. The life of a pirate was one of constant danger and maybe reaching Sheila’s age was something that should not be taken for granted, though she was not that old - and what then to say of Whitebeard who counted over seventy springs and was still a monolith of vigour and virtue?

“Hey, you can talk to me if you want” Ace advanced, half hinting Sheila to do just that. Being her confidant was an honour and a pleasure, it was him making himself useful and good - a good man, not just a good brother.

Ace wondered if this would turn out to be one of their ‘Roger talks’. Those were hardly a pleasure but, bitter and foul as they were, they were still worth having, only if to satisfy a need of lifting a weight from the shoulders, or of stroking the other’s ego and say it was not their fault, or… The list went on. No reason tasted sweet but that did not mean the topic of Roger should be avoided, quite the contrary.

He was not making the mathematics, of course, putting Sheila’s current age against Roger’s age at the time of his death and trying to solve the riddle by considering just how possible or impossible the idea of a 9-year-old Sheila meeting Roger could be. It did not matter whether he made calculations or not, especially when he was completely oblivious to whatever Sheila was referring to. She would have to explain herself better so that he would understand together with her personal relief or tell him to go back to his own bed and forget it - if Ace would walk away upon seeing her sad like that, though… Well, that was another matter.

A date? So it was the anniversary of something, uh? Something bad. But his sea sister said the pain would go away and that was a statement Ace could talk about and contradict, even without knowing the outlines of this new story of hers.

“No, it won’t” Ace’s expression was serious and his tone solemn. “You’re smarter than that, Sheila. You know it won’t… If this date is painful to you, then it will keep on being so. That’s the thing about calendars: they’re cyclical. Dates return…”

But the young man did not know how to be dettached nor did he know how to speak with the wisdom of ages and so his tone grew warmer, happier, brighter like a beacon. “Hey, you don’t owe me. You don’t have to tell me about what afflicts you if you don’t want to”

long post for ts [if i recall ace had messed with dough and now the cake is there without it going on the oven??][i don't remember it going in the oven XD][but even if it didn't he messed with a cake that was already done its fine][you know like when you use a syringe? ok shouldn't have said that]✕ operation: storm thatch's kitchen [plot]✕ [with thatchtheawesomecook]✕ one more day will be enough [adulthood]✕ my father is whitebeard [his golden age]

thatchtheawesomecook:

He couldn’t help but smile fondly at Ace. Seeing him try like this, did bring back memories of himself, when he was to work in a proper kitchen. That was some good memories and for a moment he wished for more time with Ace in the kitchen. Then again, could the male stay from eating everything first? However, it would also be fun to make some prank food and Ace definitely would like not to be the victim, but the one helping making them. Maybe one day he should ask the freckled male if he wanted to join him.
Seeing the layer get too thin and break in Ace’s hand, only made him chuckled. “Well, you gave it a try at least. Let me show you.” He wasn’t mad or anything, just amused how much Ace reminded him of himself. Taking the rolling pin he rolled out another layer with ease, as he had a lot of practice. Then he put it over the cake, making sure it didn’t fold and was tight on it.
“I know it’s not easy, it took me a while to get used to work with this stuff. However, it’s fun to work with, once you know how to.” He grinned and then went to find some chocolate. “Hmm. White, dark and normal. Yes that will do.” He mumbled, while finding a bowl and took out a an, only to gaze at Ace with a smirk, telling he had an idea. “Say Ace, how good can you control your fire? Because I want to melt some of the chocolate and show you how I can make roses and notes and other stuff from it.”
Why wait for the water to heat and risk spoiling the chocolate, because some water got into it, when he had a heater in the kitchen? Surely it would go faster. “And es you can keep the horse and you can have some chocolate too.” He just knew his brother too well, besides he did eat a little chocolate himself, when using it for desserts.
“I will also make some roses out of the fondant. I need the green and red color for that.” He put the chocolate in three different pans and put the bowls away, before going over to Ace again, handing him two pans and prepped to show Ace some of his skills, maybe Ace would want to try do this too.
@pxrtgasdace

With a slight pout on his lips and arms crossed over his chest, Ace watched the master work his magic and thin out the fondant until the layer was as fine as it could be without breaking, and then it being lifted and spread over the cake.

There you go - no one could possibly tell the baking underneath the icing was made of pure evil since Ace had tampered with it. By the time it got done, the dessert would be something akin to a person with the most drop dead gorgeous looks and a really bad personality.

At being asked how well he could control his fire, Ace scoffed and unfolded his arms. It had taken him a while learning how to use and control his Devil Fruit abilities, that was true, but it had happened long before Thatch. His brother had no reason to think him uncapable…. Or maybe he had, considering incidents did happen every now and then.

“Sure, I can do that”

Hands on his waist now and a curious expression on his face, Ace watched Thatch go about everywhere as he blabbed about all the things he wanted to do. Fondant, chocolate pieces, roses… Ace did not question the cook’s aesthetics. If anything, he knew nothing of cake design and he, too, would rather over-decorate a cake with everything he could think of while having a taste more questionable than Thatch’s.

Thatch either really loved his job or the daily stress of feeding hundreds of mouths several times per day had finally made their damage. The cook sounded rather crazy trying to get everything done at once, chocolate and roses. Did he really rely on Ace to melt the chocolate without burning it that much?

Confused, the younger commander scratched his brow. “So what do you want me to do again?”

long post for ts ✕ race to the pirate doctor [plot]✕ one more day will be enough [adulthood]✕ my father is whitebeard [his golden age]✕ [with pilawforhire]

pilawforhire:

pxrtgasdace:
After three years sailing the seas - first alone, then with Deuce, then with his own crew and finally under Whitebeard - the world still had the capacity to surprise Ace and tickle his interest. Not that it was too hard when, at 20 years old, he still wore the curious, rather scientifical eye of a 5-year-old child, still interested in seeing new things and answer with a ‘woah, cool!’, if not even getting to explore them, though in ways that did not comply with correct academic procedures.
Still, and in spite of this trait, the world kept on taking itself up a notch with every new body of water, every island, and Ace had to admit that, after those three years, part of them in the New World, after seeing fishmen and merfolk and giants, dinner tables set under canopies and dark skies, poisonous turkeys and bouncer Bigfoots - again, Bigfeet? - had to be an unparalleled novelty,
And now Trafalgar Law was calling him a ‘nincompoop’ and commenting on the Bigfoot’s genitalia.
That had to be the fucking weirdest shit of all.

Keep reading
There was nothing more disconcerting than being enshrouded in total darkness, having plunged deep into the earth, baited by Bigfoot and gang, through a trap in the ground, with Fire Fist Ace, to kick start their escapade. Although he’d survived the near-death encounter with only pain spreading down his back – no broken bones or twisted ankles – Law was completely drenched and positively sour. Granted, it was a relief that the water was draining away instead of drowning them, but its harm was already done. Not only did he feel depleted of energy, to Law’s disgruntlement, he was missing his left shoe. Naturally, it wasn’t a big problem, but it was a discomfort, nevertheless.
Law sucked it up. He reached out blindly with his arms and inched forward, testing the ground with his foot before putting his entire weight on it. The second he heard his nickname, Law jerked his head round, attempting to discern Ace’s location from the sound of his voice. Law wouldn’t admit aloud, but he was, frankly speaking, delighted for Ace’s company in the miserable confines of the tunnel.
As a flicker of light shone through the dark, Law started toward it, and soon enough, Ace’s features came into view. Law emitted only a grunt as thanks for Ace’s help. He was about to add on, when Ace cracked a joke.

Keep reading

So the Surgeon of Death was still alive… great! And he still had his wits about him along with his sword though, as the reflected orange light showed, one of his shoes was amiss. While Ace felt relieved about his partner’s living status, he could not care less for his torture and dismemberment combo remark and replied a noncommittal ‘hmm’.

Ace was likewise not as interested in the tunnel after establishing its walls were thick and lined with drains as much as he was interested in knowing where it led and thus left any further investigation to Law.

“A real mess…” A recap seemed to be in order. “We come here searching for a doctor and what do we find instead? Old folks and furries. Have you noticed there are no women and children around? Roo?” The walking human torch insisted upon his very pertinent question meeting nothing but silence, already shortening ‘Traffaroo’ to ‘Roo’ without even thinking about it.

Maybe it was the fact they were being forced to team up in order to decipher the mystery and, based on recent events, eventually get out of this island alive and in one piece; or maybe it was the sheer proximity the tunnel imposed on them but Ace already felt close to Law - truth was he was not so bad. He had not turned his back on danger and ran away, he had not sacrificed Ace to guarantee his own safety and now he was laying no blame on him whatsoever.

Still, that was just the rational side of it and the truth was much simpler: if someone struck Ace as a friend or ally, then that was exactly who they would get in return. Maybe it was a naïve (read foolish) way of living but it had worked with Deuce and the Spades; it might work with Trafalgar Law too. Ace could trust his gut.

“Keep your thoughts to yourself then”

Keep reading

long post for ts ✕ [with hebiqueen]✕ my father is whitebeard [his golden age]✕ one more day will be enough [adulthood]✕ [plot to be named 8]

closed starter for @hebiqueen.

What does a pirate do on a day off? First, he should feel surprised and confused at the notion of having a day off when his career does not accommodate to a comfy nine to five schedule.

Then, he should decide on a way to occupy his day.

For Ace, a trip to the Sabaody Archipelago, and more accurately, to the Park, was his idea of a perfect day off, the Moby Dick being not too far but none of his sea brothers wanted to join him - those who had maintenance works to perform did not have a day off like he did and the Commanders just knew better than to go chasing after Ace, who wanted to enjoy all the rides at once and with puppy eyes would ask for a brotherly coin when his allowance had gone to waste on treats and toys.

At the Sabaody Park, Portgas D. Ace might as well be a big child.

Memorising the grove where Striker was moored, he got on his way to Grove 30, recalling the archipelago’s layout from the first time he had visited it a couple of years ago as captain of his own crew - and of course he’d been there before as a son of Whitebeard’s as well.

On his way there, though, Ace couldn’t help but notice a curious thing. Many statues of men - and women, too, but mostly men, littered the street as though they were dummies made of stone.

This had to be a fairly recent addition and Ace raised his eyebrows at the display - it was a very stupid thing. Then again, he was no art connoisseur and maybe statues of people everywhere on the street were the latest trend. What did he know?

Really weird though was that none of these statues had been designed in accordance to any art canon of any culture Ace could remember visiting. They were not idealised nor stylised but rather showed humans in all sorts of poses, as though they had been frozen in time while going about their everyday activities.

Even weirder, their eyes were huge and heart-shaped.

Ace scratched his head. “What the hell is going on here?”

long post for ts ✕ [with thatchtheawesomecook]✕ one more day will be enough [adulthood]✕ operation: storm thatch's kitchen [plot]✕ my father is whitebeard [his golden age][let the kid play with his horse][he'll probably keep it until he finds some sad kid in which he'll give it to them]

thatchtheawesomecook:

It wasn’t a surprise that Ace pouted and wanted something else, but he needed to keep clean tables and serving something more meaty now would mess up the structure of how he worked in a kitchen. Not many actually realized how he did certain things the same way, when it came to cooking. Like making desserts first, before the main course, when they had desserts after dinner. He could get very angered if his work routine got messed up with. People who dared to attack them when he was in his kitchen had felt that.
“First work, then I’ll make something more meaty for you, hothead.”
Shaking his head lightly, he made sure that everything was still in somewhat order. He couldn’t hold back a soft laugh, seeing how Ace played with the fondant. It was so much like the first time he himself got to work with the thick sugar paste. Back then he barely knew how to bake, but he had quickly caught onto it. For a moment he was lost in the times before he was the cook he was now.
When his mind wandered back to the present time, he watched Ace and smiled softly, feeling more like the big brother he was to the younger male. Maybe he should teach Ace how to bake a cake, just to see the young male have fun with the fondant.
“Nice horse, but where’s the thin layer for me?” It was a little shame he had to break Ace’s creativity, but he needed it before the frosting hardened too much.
“Also, what can we decorate this fake cake with to make it more appealing?” It would be a boring cake with only frosting and fondant and even more suspicious to Marco. Thatch was known to make flashy looking cakes and if he made a simple one, people was sure thinking it was for a prank.

Alright, fair enough. Work first and be rewarded afterwards. Did making fondant horses count as ‘work’, though? Ace was sure it did, as he was having a bit of work shaping strong legs that would not break and the tiniest ears his hands could manage.

And so it was that Ace felt upset at having Thatch hinting that it wasn’t, asking for a thin layer instead. At least he did not harshly tell his younger brother to stop kidding around or destroyed his little equine, going so far as paying it a compliment.

“Why didn’t you say so?” How did Thatch expect Ace to know just what to do without providing him with instructions? It was not like they could be on the same page when the former was an accomplished cook and the latter was a professional eater. If anything, Ace could manage well enougn with cooking over a fire but pâtisserie was way beyond the skills of a campfire cook.

Looking around for the right utensil, Ace guessed the rolling pin should be in order and used it over a bit of fondant again and again so as to produce a sheet and make it progressively thin. Too thin, as he found out when he tried to lift it and proudly show it to Thatch and it broke in his fingers.

Then again, baking might not be Ace’s best activity as the warmth of any man’s hand was enough to tamper with doughs in the moment of kneading, let alone that of a man made of fire! Who knew to what point Ace’s physics affected other culinary tasks, too?

When the other commander asked about more decorations, Ace did not lose a moment in replying “Chocolate” with what must be one of the biggest smiles he’d ever smiled.

So what if his answer hid a more selfish purpose and he wanted to have some chocolate of his own? It was no crime!

Oh yes… Storming Thatch’s kitchen. A combination of words which would make any Whitebeard Pirate tremble at the idea of angrying the cook. Just because Thatch was able to make small and pretty treats with skill and care, that didn’t mean he was not the type to kick some ass. He was a commander, after all, and that meant something.

“Can I keep the horse, though? I’m keeping the horse”

stars on his skin (on indefinite hiatus)

hosanna

A soft voice in the night

A soft voice in the night

A soft voice in the night

A soft voice in the night