#rocksgate

I think it would be absolutely hilarious if the man was freaking out over his captain being pregnant with his child.

…. I’m sorry

Rocks: Here have a baby, this one is yours, and these ones are Garling's *points at their stomach*, dont look at me like that, it's a deal not to deal with his bullshit.

Whitebeard: Still catching up on the *mine*, that kid looks nine, ten, hey little one.

*Crocy hides behind Rocks*

Rocks: Long story, he was with the Kuja, but you know how they are about men. So yeah im sticking around, cool? Cool.

The boy was younger than 6

You see him in your dreams sometimes.

He cries and cries, he cried when your father killed him.

If you’re being honest, you’re glad he’s dead. All the crying was getting annoying.

Sometimes you wonder, who the boy would’ve become if he hadn’t died.

It’s impossible to know for sure, 6 is so young.

But not young enough to escape death it would seem.

The boy stands in the corner of the room sometimes. Eyes burning, you wonder if your eyes will burn like that after death.

You don’t like to remember being human,

It helps that you hardly remember anything anyway. Just flashes and whispers.

But you aren’t human and you’re glad you’re not. Being human is to cry, like the boy strapped down on the table

and perhaps to die like him too.

There’s a voice in your head that isn’t your own. Humans don’t have that either.

The Phoenix your father displayed held aloft by wires and tubes.

Wretched and twisted, kept suspended between death and life.

Never truly died.

You wish it had.

People you learn quick are motivated by above all, desire

For power

For money

For skin

Your blood drips and your father grins.

The new crew member befuddles you, though not for size or shape though you wonder if it is buccaneer or Elbaf blood that runs through his veins.

The giant is kind.

You cannot understand that.

Your crew sneers at you, curses your name. Yet they still sail with you, drink from your veins. Greedy mouths slurp down the power you offer.

But not the giant.

The giant stood before you, bloody fists and refused your offer.

You tell yourself it’s the smell of iron that makes your heart skip a beat.

In the end, He agrees to sail with you under the condition you give protection to his homeland.

What a fool, you say.

And he is, for only a fool would take nothing for himself.

Months pass, the giant does what he does and you do what you do.

It’s work stripping flesh from bone, but it’s good, mindless. It calms you.

Your arms get covered in red and when the body is fresh it’s warm.

The boy never shows up when you do this.

You don’t think about why.

Kill killl killl rip kill death death death you shall not hold me death death

You bite into the dead celestials heart and the voice is silenced.

It’s not permanent but you enjoy the respite nevertheless.

Hearts are best, but they must be fresh. The rest can be preserved and stored. A small piece with each meal calms the voice enough that you don’t drown in the chasm of anger and despair that resides inside you.

You are fully aware of your crews thoughts on this particular pastime.

The raucous laughter and exaggerated disgust rolls over you like water over stone.

Blood congeals on your tongue as you lick your fingers clean.

“Everyone says it tastes like pork but it doesn’t does it?”

You don’t jump, you had to learn a long time ago. That even when startled one must not react. So you don’t. You meet the giants gaze with a steady look and then go back to slicing and prepping the meat.

Apparently the giant takes your silence as an invitation because he sits down, close enough to smell the meat.

Then he starts talking.

“I’ve met cannibals you know. Couple tried to take my island. They have this…”

He made a gesture. “Look about them, like they’re wondering how to serve you on a plate.”

You make a grunt of agreement, hoping the giant would leave and you could get back to work.

“They make these dishes.” He continues oblivious to the fact you just picked up the knife again and will now have to put it down.

“Big fancy meals with delicious smells. Like they want you to be tempted. They are.. gleeful almost.”

You really don’t know what is possessing this man to keep talking.

“When I was younger, there was a hard winter. There wasn’t enough provisions and honestly?” He looks up at the sky. “I was prepared to die. But a couple of our elders they.. they refused to let the children starve. One of the adults, Mack, he.. he made a stew with the meat and when I close my eyes I can see him.”

The giants eyes go distant.

“Mack killed himself that summer.”

You look at him now, really look at him. Taking in the crooked fingers and odd scar. The lines of his silhouette that speak to a hard won survival.

“Why?” The word passes your lips without real thought behind it.

Gold eyes meet yours and for a moment you hope that the man will ignore your question and keep talking about nonsensical things.

You’re never that lucky. The overly tall man gives one last searching look before turning away.

“I’ve met cannibals, but you? You have the same look in your eyes as he did.”

With that you are left alone again to fillet corpses.

New fic that grabbed me this week! Ten chapters (26k ish) i knocked out in five days, the brainrot is strong with this one XD

Comments/Kudos etc appreciated

Whitebeard: I... trust you love, have fun on your 'walk'

*one hour later*

Rocks: Okay, kid! You got this, fight that tiger!

Toddler!Ace: Yah! Fite!

Rocks: Yeah!