#emthatch

[werunyonder]

Emthatch: Present (Part I)

The day Thatch cooked Emily’s iguana had not been a good day for him, and he still had the scars to prove it. He was just thankful he had come out of the incident with both of his eyes still intact.

They had hit a bit of a rough patch after that. In fact, Emily had thrown him out of the house. When she eventually let him back weeks later, he noticed new locks on all the cages. It seemed he wouldn’t be making any Elsa dumplings in the future. Not that he would have tried that anyway. They might be popular in some cultures, but in Thatch’s opinion there wasn’t much meat on a guinea pig. Mukki on the other hand… Even without all that fur, he was a dense cat.

Not that he was thinking of making a stew out of Mukki! If she even caught him thinking about it, he knew Emily would have him out of the house so fast…

Right. Not thinking about that.

What he did want to think about was making things right with Emily. He hated the heartbroken looks she gave him every time she passed the empty iguana cage. Shuffling his feet, he finally worked up the nerve to knock on her bedroom door.

“What is it?” he heard the love of his life call out groggily.

Oh, this was so not going to go well if he had woken her up from a nap.

“I brought you a present,” he told the door hesitantly.

“Mmm, coming,” he heard her mumble. Between the muffled thumps and thuds, he heard her continue to mumble. “Gerroff me, you mutt… where’s my slipper?”

Yep, this had the potential to go very badly.

Fortunately the door opened before he could lose his courage completely.

“What do you want?” demanded the short woman wearing a fleece bathrobe and furry slippers.

“I, umm, well,” Thatch stammered.

“Spit it out,” Emily growled at him.

“Iboughtyouapresent,” he said quickly, closing his eyes and thrusting out the hand he’d been holding behind his back.

After a minute or so of silence, Thatch cracked open one eyelid. He didn’t get impaled with anything, so he figured it was safe to open the other eye as well. The look on Emily’s face as she gazed at the object resting on his palm could only be described as love. Pure and utter love.

Thatch’s face fell. She never looked at him like that.

[opshipmates]

The last batch of OP Shipmates. Being sick leaves me weirdly productive. Left to right, Thatch, Sanji, Zoro and Shanks.

[opshipmates]

The second group of us Shipmates! Left to right we have Mandee, Emily (hi~) Jess, and Shen.

Took less time.... next up the One Piece crew...but I really have some writing to do also...

[songoshen]

Moving In - EmThatch Drabble

Somehow Emily runs into a man with an outdated and ridiculous hairdo who claims he is - or was, at least - a pirate, keeps running into him, and finally decides to take in the poor guy because he was homeless.

Even if there were all the pets at her house running amok in her house that she has to take care of. Oh well. She'll think of some solution.

Smiling she turns to Thatch, "Well here it is! You'll be temporarily sleeping on the couch till we find some other solution. Oh, and I need to set some ground rules first."

Thatch nods and smiles back as he twirls a pan in his hand. He still feels terribly grateful that this woman is willing to take him in - after all, not all civilians treat pirates kindly like she does. And her kitchen is filled with such a large range of food that he was itching to try out, not to mention the various strange creatures scurrying to and fro the rooms.

"First, my pets not for eating, but that much should be obvious, right?" She points to her iguana sitting peacefully on the counter... wait a moment, when did Wasabi crawl out? Hastily she stuffs him back into his cage, forgetting that she only let him out an hour ago for whatever reason and stays oblivious to Thatch's disappointed expression.  "Also, everything in this shelf of the fridge and in this cabinet is not for eating, either. They're my pets' food."

Thatch can't help but notice that the food is a good large chunk of what she has that is edible, but can only nod along. "Then what do you eat?" he asks curiously. 

"... About that..." Sheepishly she ran a hand through her hair.

Sighing, Thatch drops his pan and tugs at her hand. "Before moving in, I think it's more important to feed the pretty lady here. I was the cook for my ship, did I tell you?"

Emily notices how his tone changes just slightly when he says 'my ship'. "Well," she says, returning the grasp on her hand, "How about we go to the grocery store and you can tell me more about your cooking adventures on that ship of yours?"

(ew i didnt know how to end this ;_; i need to write more)

[caramelalmonnd]

EmThatch - Dumplings

Written by WevilWendy (I.E. not me) in honour of EmThatch day “Dinner is served!” Thatch announced happily. “Awesome! I’m starving,” Emily replied as she made her way over to the dinner table. The couple sat in happy silence for a few minutes as they stuffed their faces. Mukki prowled underfoot, occasionally pawing at their legs in the hopes of a scrap or two. Finally sated, Emily leaned back in her chair and stretched. Mukki, of course, took this as a signal to hop into her lap. “Ooph” Emily said as the heavy cat landed on her. Mukki ignored this and turned around to sniff at the empty plate. “Hey, get away from there,” she said as she pushed him off her lap. While Emily was preoccupied with the cat, Thatch quietly dropped a piece of meat on the floor for Mukki. “So, Dearest, what did you think of the meal?” “It was amazing, as usual,” she told him. “What kind of meat did you use for the dumplings? They were delicious.” “Oh, that was that lizard-thing you had over there,” Thatch told her, pointing to the now-empty cage. “Wait, WHAT?” she shrieked, running over over to Wasabi’s cage. “You cooked my iguana?! You made Wasabi dumplings!?” “What?” he asked, alarmed at her sudden hysterics. “I didn’t put any wasabi in the dumplings.” “Not wasabi, you moron, Wasabi! My pet iguana! How could you?!” “That was a pet?” he said, slowly edging away from Emily. “I thought you were raising it for food…” “Wasabi. Was. Not. Food.” Before he realized what was happening, Emily had tackled him and seemed to be attempting to gouge out his eyes with her titanium spork. In retrospect, perhaps he should have asked her before cooking the lizard into dumplings…

[caramelalmonnd]

EmThatch - Hair

Emily held out a pair of scissors to Thatch. “Your hair. Cut it.”

Thatch could only stare back dumbly. “What? Why?”

“Are you kidding me?” Emily said, shoving the scissors more forcefully towards him. “It looks like a beaver’s ass immitating Elvis Presley! It has to go.”

“I thought immitation was the highest form of flattery,” Thatch tried, but she only gave him one of those looks. With a sigh, he took the scissors, pinching them between his thumb and forefinger.

“I don’t even know how to cut hair…”

“So go to a barber,” Emily said. “As long as it gets gone.”

“But Ems, my hair…! It has… a tragic backstory!” Thatch put the back of his hand against his forehead melodromatically, silently willing the air around him to turn that hazy pink colour that showed up during emotional moments in anime. “This hair is my treasure!”

“Ah, I understand.” Emily crossed her arms over her chest. “It really is tragic that your treasure is something so hideous.”

Thatch’s face faulted, wavering long enough for Emily to urge him towards the door. “Go on, there’s a barber’s a few blocks away that takes walk ins.” He managed to grab a pair of shoes for himself before the five-foot terror threw him bodily out to the curb. “And don’t come back until your leaning tower of hairza is gone!”

[anjellesblog]

EmThatch - Pancakes

You know, setting out to meet up with his crew had been an automatic decision. It was impulsive, he admitted, but when he saw the newspaper a few mornings ago, his reckless little brother’s grin staring back at him, how could he stay put? Ace, that stupid brat, was out looking for Teach. Alone. Because of him. He had to go. This whole thing didn’t sit well with him. For one, he wasn’t sure how he got off the ship and onto the island in the first place, and none of his brothers were with him. Did they think…?

Despite not regretting his decision, he felt a pull towards land as he sailed through the waters on his tiny, little ship, feeling almost homesick. He shouldn’t have, he knew. He hadn’t been there long. But… he’d miss her. And he’d go back, once all of this was over. Just to see her.

It was night and he was restless, glancing at the den den mushi every few seconds. Maybe if he just… but it was late… but he wanted to make sure she was doing alright…

Eventually he found the receiver in his hand, dialing Emily’s number. It rang and rang and he clenched his fist, for some reason nervous. It’d only been a few days since he last saw her. But then she picked up, a groggy groan passing through the device.

“…Hello?”

“Em?”

“…Yes?” She didn’t sound too certain—or fully awake, for that matter.

“It’s Thatch,” he stated, leaning against the cabin wall, her voice soothing to his ears.  “Was wondering how you were. I’m heading towards the next island right now.”

“’M hungry, Thatchy…” Yep, she was asleep. She never called him that otherwise. “’S have pancakes today… those ones with the chocolate chips…”

He chuckled as he listened to her mumble incoherently about breakfast items. The redhead was a little nervous, going back to see the old man and his brothers after so long, but her words, however slurred they were, managed to make it feel like everything would be alright. Once he got there he’d figure out what Oyaji wanted to do about Ace, but until then… he’d listen to her ramble.

“I miss you,” he confessed, interrupting somewhere between ‘Wasabi keeps staring at me’ and ‘the dog needs the pancakes’.

“Shhhhaddup Elvis. Too late for that.”

Thatch raised an eyebrow, wondering what was going on in her sleep-induced mind. “Too late for what?”

“That.”

“What?”

“Issssh too late.”

He shook his head. He wouldn’t pretend to understand. “I’ll let you get back to sleep. G’night, Em.”

“Mmm. Night Thatchy. Love you,” she slurred.

His eyes went wide as the words met his ear. That was the first… She never… They weren’t…

The redhead smiled, chuckling lightly. Well. Maybe he’d have something to say to her when he got back, whether she remembered that night or not.

“Love you too.”

Click.

[anjellesblog]

EmThatch - Diner

Thatch sighed as he ran a wet cloth along the top of one of the restaurant tables, scrubbing it until he could see his reflection in the surface. He hated manning the front. Why wouldn’t they let him cook? He was good at it, damn it! But, well, he couldn’t complain; they weren’t looking for cooks. That wasn’t what he was hired for.

Remembering why he was there, his hand brushed against his chest, his skin tingling as he thought back to that night, Teach coming up behind him. His stomach turned as he thought. In all honesty, he thought he was dead. He thought he’d died that night, slipping unconscious as his shipmates found him. But there he was, awake and alive and healthy, considering the healing stab wound in his back. It was almost… surreal.

The boss called from the back, saying that one of the cooks couldn’t make it in. He grinned. Perfect.

One day he’d return to the crew, he knew. They were his family. They were home. But wounded as he was he’d only be a burden on the Moby Dick. He couldn’t defend himself as quick movements pulled at the healing gash, much less fight. Once it was healed he’d need to get some practice in; it felt like ages since he’d last used his swords. Then maybe he could dig up some information on where, exactly, that coward Teach had run off to. What was he calling himself? Black—

The ding of the front door pulled him from his thoughts and before he could head to the kitchen to take his rightful place as replacement cook he instinctively spun around, watching as a tiny brunette stepped into the diner. The place was more-or-less empty save an old couple by the window finishing up their breakfast so, shrugging, he headed over to the woman as she seated herself.

“What can I get ya?” he asked with a sloppy grin as he pulled a small notepad and pen from his pocket.

She looked up at him with a smile and placed her order, glancing down at the phone in her hands—it didn’t look like the phones he was used to but he didn’t comment, the island was weird and it had a lot of strange things he’d been trying to get used to—and he left to the back.

Twenty minutes of cooking later—it felt amazing to be able to do that again after so long—he hefted a tray over to her, placing it carefully on the table. The movement pulled on his wound and his small wince of pain didn’t seem to go unnoticed by the customer, but she didn’t say anything.

“Enjoy,” he said with a mock bow, going back to cleaning the tables.

He caught her glancing at him periodically as he went about his work, the quirk of a smile curving her lips as she ate her meal. Why, though? Well, his break was only ten minutes away and no one was walking in so why not take it early? Scraping a chair along the floor, Thatch sat across from the woman, tiny brown curls framing her face as she looked up curiously.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, resting his elbow on the table. “I’m on break.”

Her eyes glanced over the small, compact phone once more as her mouth twisted further in amusement. “I suppose. You’re not a creep, are you?”

The redhead blinked. “I… don’t think so?”

“You sound unsure.”

“I am unsure.”

“That doesn’t sound promising.”

“It isn’t,” he replied with a grin.

Analyzing eyes focused on him for moments longer before she stabbed into her sausage and looked away. “Be my guest then,” she said before taking a bite.

Shrugging that off, he found himself unable to resist asking, “What’s so funny?”

At that she stopped, wearing a grin that matched his own, “Your hair.”

“What?”

“It makes me want to break out into song and dance—full on musical number. You look like you stepped out of the 70’s.”

Thatch blinked, raising an eyebrow as the woman chuckled, her eyes fixed to the top of his head. Eventually he smiled, shaking his head. “So, what’s your name?”

“Emily,” she replied simply. “What about you, Elvis?”

Elvis? “Thatch,” he stated proudly, “fourth division commander of the Whitebeard pirates.”

“Whitebeard, huh?” She seemed to ponder that. “Know how to use a sword?”

Oh he liked her. He definitely liked her. “You could say that.”