captains' hats are the best

Fishermen’s Coffee Nook, Brooklyn, NY – 1925
A 1925 photo of the “Fishermen’s Coffee Nook” that was once located on Emmons Avenue (at the corner of East 21st Street) at Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn, NY. From left to right in the photo and wearing their Sunday best suits and hats are Captain Fred Wrege of the party boat “EFFORT II” and Captain John ‘Candy’ Keefe of the party boat “TAMBO”. And wearing canvas coveralls is Captain 'Charlie’ Freiberger of the party boat “ADMIRAL”. If you asked for a Caffè Latte Supremo Grande here, they would probably chase you down the street.

The Sternritter: Why *I* should be Yhwach's successor (not Ishida)

As requested by anon. :)

The Sternritter were generally displeased that Yhwach chose Ishida to be his new successor. Now it is time for them each to explain why Yhwach should have chosen them instead!

Haschwalth: Well, I mean, I was originally Yhwach’s successor.

Haschwalth: I have stood loyally by him for many, many years, obeying his every command, keeping him safe from danger, and generally being awesome.

Haschwalth: Plus, my hair and eyebrow game is out of this world.

Mask: As if any that minutiae matters!

Mask: Yhwach FIRED you, so clearly your service was lacking!

Mask: Whereas my performance merits applause wherever I go and whatever I do!

Cang Du: That is literally only true because you are followed around by a professional applauder.

Cang Du: I would make an excellent successor because I am level-headed, intelligent, and obedient.

Bazz-B: And you’re a freakin’ LOSER!

Bazz-B: His Majesty has been drowning in quiet intelligent guys! What he needs is somebody different as his successor - somebody bold and not afraid to take risks! Somebody like me!

Gremmy: Or perhaps what he needs is somebody bold, unafraid, and intelligent.

Gremmy: Not to mention imaginative.

Gremmy: I would make all of His Majesty’s dreams a reality.

Askin: Sure. If his dream were to have a meteor-summoning monster at his side.

Askin: Yhwach kept you in a cage. He invited me to the Soul King’s realm.

Askin: I believe it is clear who is favorite is.

Candice: HA! No man who isn’t a MORON picks his ‘favorite’ as a successor!

Candice: A smart man goes with quality! And while YOU were hiding in the shadows being a smart-ass, I was the one who went straight for Kurosaki Ichigo!

Candice: I’m ambitious and powerful and determined. Exactly the sort of second-in-command his majesty needs!

Sasakibe: Lightning people do make very good second-in-commands.

Candice: …who the hell are you?

Giselle: Um…..I think His Majesty would be better served by someone who could recruit for him!

Giselle: You know, somebody who could take his enemies and turn them into his loyal servants! Somebody with zombie powers, perhaps…

PePe: Or LOVE powers!

PePe: …Seriously have you ever noticed that you and I have kinda the same abilities?

Liltotto: Yeah, well, he has those powers by having you guys work for him. He doesn’t need you to be high-ranked.

Liltotto: Personally, I think Yhwach is a ruthless guy who wants a second-in-command as ruthless as him.

Liltotto: And me? I’m okay with eating my fellow Quincy. Or whoever.

Meninas: I’m the strongest, though.

Meninas: By Bleach rules, doesn’t that make me the best?

BG9: You may be strong, but I am a ROBOT!

BG9: Oh god does anybody even remember me? 

As Nodt: His Majesty divided his soul among us all. I, it seems, got his fear.

As Nodt: I feel like maybe that merits me a promotion.

Bambietta: Ha! Like His Majesty cares about that!

Bambietta: I’m ruthless, I can make things explode, I beat like three captains, AND I have this kick-ass hat!

Bambietta: I’m clearly the best choice!

Yhwach: Sternritter, you are *all* the best choice.

Bambietta: R-really?

Yhwach: The best choice to be cannon fodder, and then get eaten.


Bambietta: That puts a damper on things.


I have so much stuff to do so for the third day in a row I’m writing fluff the likes of which might be too much even for me.

Senses; ~ 2, 300; also on

Emma Swan, he has had the absolute privilege to find out, is a sea, an ocean, a whole bloody universe of surprises and twists and turns and treasures – gems upon gems of little quirks and habits and sounds and looks and everything and  she awakens and excites every single one of his senses.

The taste of her is enough to keep him sated for weeks even if he were to be deprived of all other manner of food or drink. It changes  – more often than not it’s sweet and enticing, cocoa and cinnamon and he can feel the warmth of the drink spill into him too as if she has been keeping it safe on her lips, just waiting for him to take it; sometimes it’s fresh and amusing, a trace of toothpaste still clinging to the corner of her mouth and it awakens something young and childish and carefree inside him and he feels like he can fly because she has bloody teeth-cleaning substance sticking to her lower lip; sometimes it’s comforting and warm, grilled cheese and gratitude and her words mumbled against his lips – she can get her own damn lunch and he should at least where a freaking hat because it’s freezing outside and Captain Hook is only to be bested by her and not the stupid flu, and he just tells her she’s welcome because her grumbling is interspersed with kisses; often it’s salty and hot and him and he can barely reign in his growls and keep any semblance of control at all because she tastes like him and she is his and he needs to be inside her already and she is still teasing him and asking if he wants a bloody repeat performance. And through all of that she still tastes like Emma (even when she tastes like him she tastes like Emma). And when he decides that it’s his turn for a performance, she tastes like Emma most of all and he isn’t simply drunk on her, he is lost in her and the taste of her and he never wants to know how anything that doesn’t have a dose of Emma tastes.

The sound of her is the fastest way to reduce him to a trembling mess because something happens inside him (and no, it’s not bloody butterflies, thank you very much) whenever he hears her voice and he is done for, his whole being alert and alive in ways that only the promise of her nearness can inspire. That changes too – he knows the voice of the Savior, strong and determined and so bloody brilliant, a leader he would follow into battle without a second thought, not just because he wants to (and heavens, does he want to – he never wants to not be by her side) but because she demands it of him (of everyone around her really) with every brisk order, with every sentence that leaves no room for arguing; he knows the voice of the princess, muffled into her pillow, just on the verge of a whine as she tries to entice him (just 5 more minutes, Killian) and it never fails to make him grin, to make him succumb to her every wish; he knows the voice of the lover, low and hungry and tempting and so heavy, seeping into his bones and making him ache with need, with the awareness of how much he desires her, how close (and still so far) he is to having her; he knows the voice of the lost girl, trembling and desperate and uncertain and so angry, angry at him for being reckless but more so at the world for having taught her that nothing lasts and for not letting him teach her otherwise as it constantly tries to snatch him away from her (he tells her it would never succeed and he thinks she’s starting to believe him); he knows Emma’s voice too, soft and teasing and gentle and wild and everything at once, whispering promises and reassurances and tattooing vows into his skin. And he hears her even when she doesn’t speak and he hears her even when she’s not around until he realizes that when his heart speaks to him it’s her voice he hears.

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