I'm so happy to have been able to contribute to @alabasta-zine! Check it out to read about my guys Chaka the Jackal and Pell the Falcon. My love for them knows no bounds 🐺🪶

Pre-orders are OPEN and all funds benefit some great charities!!

My shipping piece for the @opshankszine add on!! Aftersales are still open HERE :)

Shanks and Mihawk have never been ones for labeling their relationship. A drink and a duel. A duel and a drink. It's become their routine, until Shanks decides it's time to reveal that he has a daughter.

For as focused and sure Shanks had been with each strike during his duel with Mihawk, his mind clearly wandered elsewhere since the pair had finished.

Both men–beaten, bloodied, and exhausted–searched for an inn on the large island near the empty, now demolished island that they’d fought on, in search of a hot meal and a warm shower. It had become a routine for this thing that neither of them had been interested in giving a name.

This time, however, Mihawk’s expectations of the evening differed greatly from what he’d grown accustomed to.

Normally chatty and boisterous, Shanks remained silent during their meal. His eyes didn’t wander to the pretty barmaid the way they usually did when she refilled their tankards again and again. Though strange, the behavior seemed easy enough to explain away by his potential exhaustion after a four day battle.

Besides, if Shanks couldn’t come out and say whatever was on his mind, it was of no concern to Mihawk. Neither of them were ones to check in or ask prying questions.

There was something to be said about the way Hongo kept the infirmary. While the doctor had never been a Navy man, he’d been raised by Marines and it often bled through in his mannerisms. Each of the beds that occupied the space were made up without a crease. Everything was neat and orderly, and the scent of disinfectant never faded. It was one of the few places on the ship that was sure to be quiet, regardless of the noise elsewhere. Today, Beck found no peace within its walls. Hongo sighed as he re-stitched the fresh x-shaped mark carved into the older man’s temple. “It’ll scar,” he said flatly, eyes falling to the white-knuckled grip that Beckman held today’s paper in before adding discontentedly: “Pulling my sutures with all that scowling won’t help.” Beck grunted around his cigarette in response. He hadn’t gotten the nerve to open the paper beyond its glaring headline: RED HAIR SHANKS NAMED FOURTH EMPEROR. He knew what awaited him inside. An article would tell why Shanks stood amongst the greatest pirates that had ever sailed: the man was strong and cunning, untrustworthy unless you were amongst those he held close and, above all, his lethality bordered on barbaric–especially when those under his protection were threatened. How Morgans always managed to find his story remained an irritating mystery.

It’s almost time for @opshankszine !!! Mark your calendars for June 30th! Preorders open at the end of the month and there are so many wonderful things to share with everyone!