"Reality is often cruel to those who dream, as how the seas, too, are often cruel to those who call themselves pirates."
A seasoned merchant of the New World drifts in the weakest sea of all, and finds a dream in the form of Luffy, adventures, and p...
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OR, dreams, and how far it reaches
The old woman took in the state of her stall, pristine and undisturbed even in the presence of notorious gang grunts of Loguetown.
Then, she takes in the pile of said unconscious grunts in the middle of the street, all sporting varying degrees of bruise marks and comically huge head bumps.
It didn't become magically better with a second look. Some things didn't, and a woman effortlessly dragging a seven-foot-tall man is one of them.
- ❐ -
If you never believed in bad luck before, then you seriously do now.
Because how else would you even begin to describe your situation right now, if not immensely bad luck that's been accumulating ever since the world decided to not let you die from landing headfirst after slipping off a cliff all that years ago.
Suspiciously enough, it's been happening one after another. And you're not sure what to make of it.
"Please, take me as your disciple!"
Heavens know you're at your limit.
Whipping your head around so fast you could get a whiplash, the green man does a double-take and stops moving like he just got caught by his mother. Oh... his mother, bless her heart. Raising a gremlin would take so many years off your life.
"Give me one good solid reason why I should take you under my wing!" You raised a finger and looked him dead in the eyes.
Surely not, you think, surely he can't.
But alas, woefully so, he can.
"Because you beat me fair and square under the name of gangster, so it's only natural for the loser-uhm, the, lesser winner! To join hands with the more...most? moster...winner..."
He sweats under your indifferent gaze. The other grunts behind all cheer him on, albeit hesitantly as he really didn't make an impact with his speech. He knows this wholeheartedly it seems as he shuffles on his feet.
You sighed. He's a little confused, but he's got the spirit.
Feeling a surge of hope from deep inside him, the Green Man lights up like a firework and excitedly leans forward to hear you better, despite him being one foot away from you with all his friends. Or gangmates, or something.
"No," was still your cold reply.
And what you got was some ungodly mix of high-pitched shrieks and nasally voices that could only come from a grown man that sounded so wounded, you'll be fooled into thinking there was a murder.
But there was none, and there was only you.
"Davy Jones, help me-"
"Wh-Why not?!" Before you could even begin to comprehend the idea of literally grown men crowding around you, all looking a lot like kicked puppies, which wasn't really the case as they all had missing teeth and very wild tattoos all over their bodies, the Green Man was in front of them in a flash.
