#I’m not saying you can’t like flintlocks I do too but you can just like them. you don’t have to pretend you actually care about this.

[thebaffledcaptain]

Chris spitting FACTS as usual

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Sun's Out, Guns Out

Anselm Vogelweide x F!Reader • Rating: PG Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • ko-fi •

Summary: Anselm's purposefully got the wrong idea.

A/N: I simply must give a massive shout out to @reallyrallyauthor and their stunning Anselm fics which haunt me every day and night. They have rewired my brain.

Warnings: Anselm being a little shit, fluff, so many pet names oh my god, swearing, reader is wearing a swimsuit, kisses, typos, my terrible German, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 771

“Anselm,” His name comes out a little exasperatedly, which isn’t your intention. “This…” You gesture to him, “This is not what I meant.” 

He quirks his eyebrow up at you, “How so meine Süße?” My sweet.

You give him a look and he smiles, he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

You cross your arms, shifting your weight to your left leg. “You can’t wear this on the beach.”

He looks down at himself for a moment, as if he is seeing his body for the first time before he meets your eyes. Not that you can tell through his dark circle sunglasses. 

“I’m afraid you’re misinformed, meine Hase, weil ich das trage.” My bunny, because I am wearing this.

“Anselm.” You say, unimpressed and his grin widens- the living personification of the Cheshire cat. 

“My love, I don’t see the problem.” He says lightly, practically turning the words into poetry with the rhythm of his voice. 

“Sun’s out, guns out. Means your arms, and,” you raise your hand at the eager look in his eyes, cutting him short, “Arms, as in these,” you poke his biceps, “not weapons arms, not guns.”

“But my dear,” he takes hold of your hand, peppering kisses to your knuckles, “My arms are out.” 

You glare. “You’re a little shit, you know that?” 

“And you love me for it.” He gives you that soft expression that makes you weak at the knees. 

“I don’t think I do.”

“You wound me, my dove.” He kisses your wrist, keeping his eyes trained on yours. 

You shake your head, trying to keep a stern look on your face. “You can’t wear those guns to the beach.” 

The guns in question where in elabourate hosters across his chest and shoulders that you were sure where originally a harness of some sort. The weapons themselves were ornate, practically antiques, and looked like some sort of flintlock pistols. The whole outfit, a pair of black speedos that were a fraction too tight and a pair of khaki green wellington boots (he did not want to get sand on his feet or in his shoes) combined with the guns was… interesting.

He grins, licking his bottom lip. “Yes, I can.” 

“It’s a beach-”

“A private one, we’re the only ones here.” 

You pull an unimpressed face and gesture a little more dramatically than you need to at his bodyguards. 

He places another kiss to your wrist, “They count as ‘the only ones’...” The guards make an obvious effort to not look anywhere near either of you, part of you feels sorry for them, in their three piece suits and cuff links in the heat, their smart dress shoes sinking into the sand.

 “Besides,” he pulls you gently, urging you closer to him. “They’re not loaded.”

“Then what are they for?” You say exasperatedly.

“Decoration, my love.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand. “You’re going to go swimming with-”

He shakes his head, “I’m not going to go swimming, I am going to sit under the large umbrella Sebastian will put up and relax.” 

“Anselm.”

“My leg, my beloved,” he gives you the puppy dog eyes, rubbing his brace. 

You tut, “The salt water will do you good.”

“The metal will rust.” He pouts.

“You didn’t have to wear the metal one, and besides, I asked Angelo to bring your cane.” 

He opens his mouth to speak.

“Not that one.”

Anselm smiles and closes his mouth dramatically, but you don’t miss the little glare he gives Angelo.

“Hey, none of that. I asked Angelo and he just did as I requested.” 

“Hmm,” he steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist, “I do love when you get all bossy Bӓrchen.” He nuzzles into your neck, pressing light kisses to your pulse point. “Makes me want to take you right here.”

“You’ll definitely get sand in places you don’t want.” 

“Oh, I just don’t want sand in my shoes, I am quite happy to feel it in more intimate places.” He nips lightly at your skin and you shiver. 

“You’re coming in the water with me.” You press, but your voice isn’t very demanding. 

“Of course, my love.” He kisses lower, trailing his lips to your collarbone. 

“And you’re taking the guns off.” 

“Of course, my love.” He kisses the top of your chest, trailing his tongue along the edge of your swimsuit. “But you’re going to be talking this off too.” He lightly dips his fingers under the material at your hip, snapping back against your skin with a smile.  

“Of course,” you say, saccharinely sweet, “my love.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[seriously-nobody]

Love's Dark Afflictions

Chapter 10

Warnings: Romance, attempted suicide, depression, mention of murder, mention of blood, consentual possession

Preface: I'll be shortening the word count per chapter from now until the endings. There will still be the same amount of content for the fic, I've just split the story up into more chapters. With all that said, this chapter has some sensitive topics so plz read the warnings.

You’re half a mile out from the mansion grounds when you come to a stop and dismount your horse. You pull out your flintlock from your waistcoat and examine it, glinting in the morning sun before a cloud passes overhead. “Alistair.” You summon him keeping your eyes on the mechanism. “I’m right here.” He materializes in front of you. “If I die,” You pause, trying to keep your composure as tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. “Will I end up in the ghost realm with you?” You ask him. He opens his mouth to answer but then pauses, fully taking in the implications of the question. “If your spirit is restless then yes.” He says. You nod and blink to clear your vision from the blur of tears. You look up at him and place the barrel over your temple, cocking back the hammer with a sickening click. “But,” He puts his hands up and cautiously steps closer to you. “You don’t have to join me yet, if you’re not ready.” He says trying to persuade you. You screw your eyes shut. “I’m not ready,” A few tears roll down your cheeks. “But I want this torment to be over with.” You growl, pressing the barrel further against your head. “Oh, no, darling. I promise you I will find a way to keep that nasty servant away from you.” He says placing his hands on your waist. You hang your head but keep the gun aimed true. “It’s not just about the servant.” You choke, your hand trembling against the trigger. “It's alright.” He shushes you. “You can tell me anything.” He strokes your waist. “You wouldn't understand.” You sniffle. “I rather think I would.” He smirks at you. “We have much in common, you know. You may be a mortal but you have a very powerful, restless spirit within you, just as I.” He tilts his head. You pause to consider his past, his murders, and possibly his similar feelings.

“I’m not right. There’s something broken in me, in my head. I can’t feel things like others do. I'm numb to emotion. Before you, before I met William even, everything, everyday, felt the same. It was all dull and boring, and the worst part was it was doomed to repeat itself again the next.” You begin to grow frustrated. “Day after day, mundane task after mundane task, there was nothing that made me feel happy. I barely felt alive. Business trips, disgusting family gatherings, greedy galas, house parties, it tired me to no end. I could've bought anything I wanted, god knows I had the power and money to, but I knew it wouldn't fill the emptiness I felt.” You take a breath. You hadn't even noticed you had dropped your pistol. “Nothing made me happy.” You punctuate. “Until…” You trail off. “Until?” Alistair asks cautiously as to not provoke you in your current state. “Until, I started looking for ways to bring back Eleanor.” You sigh. “My goal was never to bring her back, but to end these silly seances. They'd dragged on too long and I wanted out of them.” You huff.

“Though, I never thought I'd find anything but parlor tricks. I found something more, something darker than I had imagined. It intrigued me and I chose to look into it. But when I did, I became fascinated with it. The spilling of blood, the enthralling chants and spells, it was… infatuating. I felt a dark desire to draw closer but I couldn't. With my status in society, if I were seen performing such things it would’ve ruined my reputation further. So I stopped searching, kept it all a secret, and fell back into the numbness.” You sigh. “After a time I became restless again and decided to act on impulse and try something reckless.” You pause thinking if you should tell him about your secret.

“I… tried making something that I saw from the rituals…” You say cautiously. “Go on.” Alistair grins from ear to ear. “I believe it might’ve summoned you…” You say. “I knew it!” Alistair says. “You showed me how it felt to take a life first hand. It reawakened that darkness and when I killed for the first time with you, I felt genuine happiness again.” You smile warmly at him. “You helped me feel happiness when I thought I could never feel it again.” You cup his cheek. “I don’t want to go back to numbness again,” Your smile falls. “But I can’t keep killing to bring me happiness. People will find out and I'll either be executed or locked up in Bedlam. So,” Your raise your gun again to your temple. “I want to leave this realm on my own terms, not theirs.” You say. “If I may interject, one final time.” Alistair interrupts. “Let me take you somewhere where you can live out your immortal life with me in the ghost realm. Afterall, it's better than this old dusty road in the middle of nowhere.” He suggests. “I hate to drag this on any longer. But if it means eternal happiness, then what's a few more hours.” You put away your flintlock.

“Alright, where is this place?” You ask him. “Well I could direct you there, or…” He trails off thinking. “What is it?” You ask curiously. “Well, I could possess you and take you there. It won't hurt as long as you relax and don't fight it.” Alistair suggests. “If you don't give me a nose bleed or do anything rash, I'll allow it.” You say. “Excellent.” Alistair says. He reaches up slowly and gently touches two fingers to your temple and you feel his presence enter your mind. “Remember to relax and I'll do the rest.” He says through your mouth. You watch through your eyes as Alistair mounts your horse and spurs onward down the path.

Chapter 12

[cultivatedmemes]

Totally Normal and Not Suspicious At All Starters feel free to change gender specific words, pronouns, whatever you like to make it fit your muse better!

❝ Your vehicle is parked squarely in the ‘nobody gives a fuck’ zone. ❞

❝ Well you see, the explanation is perfectly simple and scientific.  It was because shut up. Shut up is why. ❞

❝ I’d throw it in the lava but that would be a waste of melting. ❞

❝ This is exactly why babies shouldn't be allowed to dual wield flintlock pistols. ❞

❝ Why don’t you take a number and get in line? I’ve already got mine! It’s the first number there is. An angry, trembling digit, towering and erect, pointing directly at the trashfaced kingpin of inexplicable horseshit himself: GOD! ❞

❝ Shit. Let’s be santa. ❞

❝ That might be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard get said. ❞

❝ The dignitary is one of the superiors who makes me nervous, but the list of superiors that make me nervous in fact includes all of my superiors. And many of my inferiors. ❞

❝ God launders in mysterious ways. ❞

❝ Let’s just have our chat, then it can naturally occur to you to be an idiot in the due course of time. ❞

❝ Optimism through stalwart skepticism is a defect not everyone is lucky enough to be cursed with. ❞

❝ This shit's more real than kraft mayo. ❞

❝ It’s all masked in this flowery sort of frothy poetic jackassery that nobody really cares about. ❞

❝ If you can’t figure shit out by fucking around, you don’t belong near computers. ❞

❝ Too bad, that would have spared you from making a fool of yourself. And, more importantly, spared me from having to watch. ❞

❝ I can’t control myself. I must have a weakness for insufferable pricks. ❞

❝ I am being pleasant and agreeable and I will gently lower magnificent, coruscating column of hot ‘fuck you’ down the throat of anyone who says otherwise. ❞

❝ Remember pants? You used to love pants! ❞

❝ Are we not friends anymore because of the stuff I said? ❞

❝ I just won [Name] tantrum bingo. ❞

❝ Why would I ‘got to’? I don’t ‘got to’ and every time you take my help for granted, I feel like I ‘got to’ a little less. ❞

❝ He’s the duly elected mayor of the fruity rumpus asshole factory. ❞

❝ You should sit your ass tight and do the fuck what i tell you the fuck to fucking do! ❞

❝ There’s a cake in the toilet. ❞

❝ Hey guess what, new orders. No more impromptu amputations. ❞ / ❝ Impromptutations. ❞

❝ Actually, it’s sort of hilarious. Or it would be, if it didn’t affect me personally. ❞

❝ I came to the sobering realization that things will never stop from keep happening constantly. ❞

❝ No, I flip out to ill jams because they kick ass. ❞

❝ The best thing about how I did that is how it in no way will ever come back to bite us in the ass ever.❞

❝ Can I lick the paintings? ❞

❝ You will quickly meet some friendly crocodiles. They will try to eat you. But that’s just their way of being friendly! ❞

❝ Sometimes at night I pray for burglars. ❞

❝ I could give myself a hernia trying to be a big a douche as that guy. ❞

❝ The problem is i am up to my goddamn neck in fucking fuzzy muppet dong. ❞

❝ Well shit. That was a hell of a mystery that no one thought was a mystery and didn't even really need solving. But damn if it didn't just get solved, so nice work. ❞

❝ Sounds like you wanna make this needlessly melodramatic. ❞

❝ Why don’t you come up here so I can push you off this building? ❞

❝ Jeez, why does everyone always die so much? ❞

❝ Everybody shut the fuck up, I hate you both, etc. etc. Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, there is important business to discuss. ❞

❝ Why do you work so hard at being so awful? ❞

❝ Shucks!! ❞ / ❝ Hey, I'm upset about it too, but lets watch the fucking language.❞

❝ I have a hat full of bomb, a fist full of penis, and a head full of empty. ❞

❝ Are you suggesting someone put piss in my apple juice at the factory? ❞

❝ We're safer than some flintstone vitamins in a bottle. Keep twisting junior, all you get is clicks. ❞

❝ The circle of stupidity is complete. ❞

[savvythepirate]

Love can hurt

Pairing: Jack Sparrow x oc!reader

Character(s): Carmen

Warnings: None

Requested by: @lady-mandalorian-fett

The Request:

She got hurt by either a flintlock shot or a sword by (enemy name) someone not on the list

I picked a few to help grow the story.

Jack and Carmen

“I’m not going to leave you.”

“Did you not sleep again last night?”

“(Y/n), what are you doing out of bed? Wasn’t (F/n) supposed to be taking care of you?”

“Where does it hurt?”

“It’s okay, they can’t hurt you now.” Enemies name.

“I’ll stay right here, and I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Please forgive me.”

“already forgiven”

“I love you: Carmen.”

“love you too: Jack”

“I thought you didn’t love me?” Jack. Who ever said that was joking and lying to you. To get to you and nightmares too. I’m not going to leave you.

“You look awful, it’s not your fault”

“Did someone sword/flintlock shot you?”

“Just hold me. Please.”

Jack: Don’t act like you don’t love me Carmen.

I can tell you been crying, I would never leave you behind, To Jack, : Now why are you here. Because I care about you always. Luv

Her injury yes I screwed up but I would never lie to you.

Her looks with black hair and dark maleficent green eyes.

***

After learning that Carmen had been severely hurt with just a swing of a sword, completely devastated him.

There was no really no words to describe how much Jack loved that girl. Of course, he may not show it to anyone, including Carmen, but the love he had for her was there. Carmen had the same love, but it was a piece of her own love she had carried for Jack. When the subject of love had come up between the pair, he started telling her about a girl that had walked into his life so long ago that he deeply and truly loved.

What Carmen didn’t know was that it had been her all along, but the thought of him loving someone such as her, or someone like her didn’t cross her mind. Not even just for a second, she thought he was meaning a different girl back to where he had spent his childhood years or something like that. Without saying anything, or even commenting her own opinion, she stood there quietly as she listened to him speak. She felt her heart shatter as the conversation kept going, shattered into thousands of little pieces, shattered beyond repair making it so that no one could ever put her back together. Carmen didn’t sleep good that night, in fact, she didn’t sleep at all and as often as she caught herself falling asleep at her posted station of the Pearl, no one noticed it at first until Gibbs walked over and asked her about her change in demeanor.

“Are you okay, Carmen?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, you just seem a little tired. That’s the third time now you’ve jerked awake from dozing off.”

“Oh.. yeas, I’m fine. I just had a hard time falling asleep last night, that’s all.”

“Any reason?”

“None that I can really pinpoint.”

That was the last of the conversation before it’s brought up again after yet, another sleepless night.

The only difference is, Carmen had dozed off more often then the prior day, having Gibbs to become concerned once more. At this point, he would have said something to Jack about it, but he went over to Carmen first and asked for a reason.

“Did you not sleep again last night, Carmen?”

“I slept for sure, it was just less sleep then the night before.”

“What’s going on?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

When Carmen didn’t want to let anyone in on something she found too personal to share, she would lie her way out of it. It was almost immediate that Gibbs noticed that Carmen was unwilling to share more then what she was trying to feed with.

“I know there’s more to it, Carmen. Do I need to get Jack involved on this one?”

“No! Don’t do that!”

As a reaction to Carmen’s surprising outburst, it clicked in his mind that this was something that had to do with Jack.

“Is he the reason for your sleepless nights?”

Carmen nods her head in response, knowing that Jack could be nearby, listening in on this. Gibbs urged Carmen to tell him what was going on between the two of them and as reluctant as she was, Carmen felt that she could put her complete trust in Gibbs, tells him everything that’s been.

Carmen rambles on, and as she filled him in on everything, Gibbs was almost wishing he just walked away from this one. So rather then a sympathetic response, what Carmen got was completely the opposite.

“In the future, Carmen, a ‘none of your business, Gibbs’ would be more preferable to hear.”

“Well, you asked and I delivered.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Now that I told you, please keep it just between us.”

“You have my word, Carmen.”

Gibbs was right about that, he never said a single word to anyone on the Pearl, but most importantly not to Jack Sparrow.

The following days, Carmem had allowed herself to get some rest as she continued to listen to Jack talk about the same girl. When she asked for her name, he gave her a funny look and refused to say her name.

“It’s all fake then, why do you make this stuff up?”

“Believe me, sweetheart, it’s all very much real.”

“Then tell me her name.”

Jack goes silent for the next few minutes before finally coming up with a name to pass off with, and upon hearing the name he gave Carmen, the slightest spark of hope it had become a part of her as she lets a small smile spread her lips.

The name Jack Sparrow had given Carmen was the exact same name as her middle name, as she couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe it had been her all this time. However, that small amount of hope was taking away from her moments later after hearing him laugh that sounded as though he was intending on mocking her, wanting to make her look like a fool for even thinking of something in that way. It’s what he says next that does the rest, making her feel ashamed of a non existent sin she committed in front of an audience.

“I know what you’re thinking, Car, it’s not you.” Jack says.

“I wasn’t-“

“Yes you were, I can see it in your eyes. Don’t act like you don’t love me, Carmen. We both know you do.”

That was what did it, Carmen couldn’t take it anymore.

When they say that rejection is one of the worst pains you could ever feel, they were right and that’s what Carmen was feeling in that moment. Carmen stepped aside from Jack, not wanting to be anywhere near him now after what he just said and the way he said it. What most people didn’t know of her, was that of having bad experiences through every relationship she shared with a man she’d call Prince Charming, claiming, more like reassuring the lie he lived of it being that he loved her like no other and that she was his one and true love, the one he has been waiting for his whole life. Carmen would walk out of that relationship once she discovered it was nothing but all a lie, a lie that would leave her with trust issues.

Just a couple of days later, Carmen is now facing battle on a sandy beach as they docked port. The goal of this mission was to be the first ones to try and retrieve the chest that held the heart of Davy Jones. Carmen was very capable and independent to know how to take care of herself with no ones help when it comes to battling the enemy or any similar situations like this. The battle very quickly had turned ugly, but Carmen managed to slip past it and take off in the search. Once she had reached it, she was immediately being chased and hunted down by some of the most known dangerous pirates to ever walk among everyone. Carmen had managed to out smarted them quite a few times until Carmen lost her weapon of self defense. Once that it had been abandoned and left behind in the jungle somewhere, now realizes the trouble caught up to her, she knew she had to make it out of there in one piece but as quickly as humanly possible.

Carmen makes it to the beach, the Black Pearl in sight as she continues to run. There were still a battle going on, but it seemed to have gotten mellow, and as an easy pathway presented itself in front of her eyes. Thinking it would be safe, and out of harm’s way, she made a go for it. Much to her dismay, however, an enemy had come out of nowhere, sword in hand, causing Carmen to stop to go into a deadly yet, in a little battle of her own. Just when it seems as though she had won her battle, Carmen made only one small step to make her way back when she got tangled into a surprise attack. She didn’t see coming, and it all took for the wound to come about on her was just a matter of seconds. That’s all it took, and because the adrenaline rush flowing through her, Carmen feels nothing other then numbness as a result. Now Carmen knew she was injured by a swing of a sword but she just didn’t know how series the injury she took was.

Carmen doesn’t feel the blood dripping from her wound as she trudges through the ocean’s water after crossing the shoreline, and rather then the idea of getting herself back to the ship, she pushed herself to just swim for it, but swimming only with her right hand as she chooses to tuck the chest under her left arm, just below Carmen’s armpit. Finally, for what seemed like an eternity of swimming, Carmen makes it to the Pearl. Jack and Gibbs had gotten there before anyone else and Carmen was the first out of everyone who hadn’t come back yet. Jack and Gibbs help to hoist Carmen back on aboard, Carmen handing the (empty) chest to Jack as she begin to feel the adrenaline fading away. Without realizing it, Carmen clutches her right side just above her hip and grimaced in pain, now having Jack’s complete attention, stepping over to aid her while asking what was going on.

Because Carmen was now feeling the excruciating pain, it was bad enough to make it nearly impossible to speak.

“Where does it hurt? Did someone flintlock you?” He questions.

“I- I don’t know.”

Carmen starting to lower herself on the hard floor of the ship and curls into a little ball before the pain hit again. It was much worse then before, and it had you knowing that it’s not going to get any better unless something about it.

Watching this unfold before them, Jack’s face turns into a look of concern. That was when Jack decided he was going to roll Carmen onto her back so he could see where the wound was located. The first place on her body he looks over is where she had her hands place just seconds before.

“Gibbs, help me to roll her over.”

Gibbs doesn’t hesitate and helps Jack, and once Jack gets her onto her back, he slightly begins to lift her blouse in order to find what the cause was.

As the wound was now revealed, Jack and Gibbs gasp while their mouths hang open unable to look away from the wound. It only took seconds for Jack to snap back in reality, knowing something has to be immediately otherwise the results may be devastating, as the worst case scenario would be that of death. Just by looking at the wound, he could easily recognize it coming from a sword. Carmen could feel herself going into shock, causing Jack to panic and started talking to Carmen to keep her from being taken away from him. As this goes, confessions are spilled, this seemed to effect Jack Sparrow more then anyone else, but that was for Carmen to believe after counting the day since she was humiliated by Jack Sparrow.

As Jack seemed to be passing on by the same thought, he started apologizing to Carmen. In her current state of mind, she couldn’t tell if this was reality or not as her vision begins to blur.

“Please forgive me, Carmen…”

Those were the last words she hears before falling unconscious.

It’s not until two days later does Carmen come out of it, unaware that Jack Sparrow was by her side until he spoke.

“Don’t act like you don’t love me, Carmen. We both know that you do.”

Upon hearing those words for a second time, Carmen barely turns her eyes towards him, she doesn’t recall on remembering how she got back to her cabin, but she figured that Jack must have carried her back. Which Jack confirms to be true, while starting to ask about how she was feeling.

“How do you feel? Are you feeling any pain? He asks, leaning in more as be held one of her hands.

“I don’t feel anything so far, maybe just a little discomfort, nothing serious. What happened?”

“You we’re injured severally, and almost died. We had to bandage you up.”

Carmen nods and looks the other way, as Jack lets out a sigh before confess to what was on his mind.

“I love you, Carmen.”

“I thought you said you didn’t just days before?”

“That’s true, I did. But it was all a lie, I swear.”

Jack patiently awaits for a response, but speaks up once more when he didn’t anything from Carmen.

“Please forgive me, Car.” He says in a whispered hush voice, that even Carmen was surprised she heard it at all.

The silence returns, as Jack continues to wait for Carmen to say something. When she does, it was the last thing Jack had expected to hear from her.

“Already forgiven.”

Jack smiles softly before taking the conversation into a different turn.

“You know, Carmen.. you look awful, it’s not your fault. “

“Seems like Jack is back in the house.” Carmen jokes, as Jack tries to hold back a laugh.

“I know you just woke up, but you should be thinking about getting some rest.”

“Whatever you say, captain.”

“I’m going to have Gibbs be on the look out for you in case you need anything.”

Carmen nods in agreement before placing her head back on her pillows, watching as Jack disappears behind the door.

Gibbs was sent over as Jack had promised, and because Carmen is begins to feel traumatized, she can’t let herself rest. Well, properly anyway. She eventually falls asleep, but wakes to the sound of her door creaking open as she pretends to be asleep.

“Carmen? Are you doing okay?”Gibbs ask, peeking in.

Gibbs takes notice of Carmen’s sleeping” figure and decides to abandoned Jack’s orders to watch over her.

Carmen waits until she’s convinced the coast was clear to sneak out, and starts looking for Jack. After a while of searching throughout the Pearl, Carmen can’t locate him and decides to take a break. Carmen was now leaning over the side of the ship, enjoying the sunset over the ocean. The peaceful moment is interrupted moments later when a voice of Jack Sparrow disrupts her thoughts.

“Carmen? What are you doing out of bed? Wasn’t Gibbs supposed to be taking care of you?”

“I was going to ask you that, I actually was able to nap a couple hours and he was there when I fell asleep for a couple more hours, but when I woke up, he was nowhere to be found.”

Jack shakes his head in disbelief, obviously agitated by the lack of effort Gibbs seemed to be putting in everything, every order.

Jack takes a second to think it through and pure, deciding he was going to take Carmen back to rest up and remain there with her however long it takes to for her to recover. Carmen doesn’t hesitate when she takes his hand he offers it out to her. Once under the covers, Jack makes sure that you’re comfortable before going to sit in the chair next to her side. But she grabs hold of his hand, her eyes asking for him to stay even closer to her that night. A sigh is released through his lips before claiming the empty space next to her. Not a word was said as she was finding it hard to fall asleep once again, and as if Jack could sense it, he comments on it.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Just hold me, please.”

He continues while holding her up close to him, trying to coax Carmen to go back to sleep with soothing words, and it seemed to be doing the trick, her eyes beginning to fight sleep.

“It’s okay, they can’t hurt you now.”

Because the name of the enemy was unknown to him, the enemy was never named, but Carmen knew who and what he meant as he continues on.

“I’ll stay right here, and I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I love you, Jack Sparrow.”

“I love you, Carmen.”

Those seemed to be the magic words, as Carmen allows her eyes to close, and for sleep to take over her. Spending the night in Jack’s arms seemed to be the antidote in the healing and recovery process. That was all what she had needed, she didn’t know it at the time, but it would just go to show something as light as that is the one and only kind of medicine and treatment for a full on recovery.

Carmen knew that if she needed that from Jack anytime, he was always happy to provide that for her. Anytime, anywhere really, he was going to make sure to be there for her.

Jack’s love for her only grows, never to wither and die.

***

Requests: OPEN

@savvythepirate

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High: The Seven Ep 5

Through a Glass, Darkly

Welcome back to the Temple of the Earth Defiant where the girls and their magical horses (and one pony!) have found refuge from the strange, twisted, fae creatures that have been chasing them. The statue of Asha Hammerheart that Ost animated last episode is still alive and wrecking house on the remaining harpies and beasts that are foolish enough to keep fighting and the rest soon get the hint and flee. 

Ost does some healing (boosted by the ambient Hallow effect of the temple which gives everyone a short rest) and then, seeing the damage to the temple caused by erosion, starts using Mending to fix things up. Her friends help out too with Sam and Yelle being most effective--Sam by repairing water damage and Yelle by creating tree cover and other druid-y tricks. But of course, we can’t overlook Katja’s crucial addition of carving “A Horse is a Home” into one of the walls of this sacred temple. 

Anyway, the girls are nesting super hard, the horses are having their scrapbooking reviewing club (an insane thing that was established last episode) and then Sam asks a question. Did y’all mention something about a photo of me going viral? Everyone’s like yeah, but don’t worry, you looked super hot. That’s not the part Sam was worried about. What she’s worried about and what all the girls except Zelda don’t really seem to know is that Sam doesn’t really have a social media presence. So like, 180k and climbing views (as decided by a dice roll) isn’t really what she wants. She scrolls through the comments really quick and sees that they’re not awful but one person is like, “Hey that girl looks a lot like that character from that old show”. Which Sam doesn’t love. She says that she’s fine but also that, even without an Insight check, she’s obviously not. 

Sam kind of looks to Zelda to bail her out and Zelda is like, “Hey, I’m gonna delete this video.” The other girls follow suit, even though they don’t quite know what’s happening. When they have to split up to investigate, Sam has Zelda kind of bail her out again and they split up to go check a nest outside--Zelda waving off Danielle when she wants to go with. Ant and Yelle decide to check out a cache of some treasure they saw earlier and Ost and Katja stay with the horses to keep fixing the temple up. Penny initially goes with Ant and Yelle but rushes back to be with Ost and Kat when Ost discovers a hidden lock while she’s fixing a wall.

So, the girls are split up, let’s run all these scenes.

Antiope and Yelle

Ant and Yelle go see the pile of treasure (near the statue of dwarven paladin Yvonna) which they learn is like a “take a penny leave a penny” situation for weapons and items. They were left by adventures who were similarly chased here and you can take what you need as long as you leave something to help others. Like, “Oh no I only have an ice sword and I need flaming arrows.” It doesn’t have to be equivalent exchange, you just need to leave something useful.

In this space, Yelle feels a weird melancholy and like they’re within the watch of something vast and powerful. She tries to check for TK’s presence but rolls low. Antiope leaves her Kalvaxus killing shortsword and takes some really nice, white feather fledged arrows with mirror tips and an ax Kat wants as a present for her dad. Danielle takes a bandolier of potions (3 healing and 2 mystery I believe) and leaves a bunch of mushrooms. Some of them are psychedelic and Ant takes one because this is probably a good time to be high, right?

It’s not messing with her competence obviously though because she rolls a 25 on Primeval Awareness and gets a weird sense, like something is closing in on this place. And like something very powerful is bleeding, which combined with the chaos of the mountains might explain the weird harpies and the cat/dogs. But she’s high so she explains this is a very spacey, stoner way. Probably a good thing she’s with Yelle.

Sam and Zelda

Sam can fly and Zelda can basically walk vertically with her goat legs so they check out the nest. Well, ostensibly that’s what they’re doing. Really they’re just having a heart to heart. Sam thanks Zelda for saving her ass and apologizes profusely for being so short with her. Zelda gives her a huge mid-air hug and says it’s not a big deal because she knows Sam is just lashing out because she’s hurting but Sam says it’s not a good enough excuse and she’s truly sorry. It’s been her coping mechanism for so long but she doesn’t want to be that way. She tells Zelda that the Everpetals are divorcing and that she’s living alone and Zelda says that any one of the girls would be happy to have her stay with them. Sam further explains that this is a big part of the reason she’s been so broken up about the possibility of their group splitting up and Zelda immediately takes out her crystal and texts her “I’m in” in the thread, breaking Sam again. 

Since they’re in heart to heart mode, Sam tells her that she talked to her bio-mom and an agent and she’s not sure what to do. Zelda says that she’s gonna be spectacular no matter what she does and she doesn’t have to do any of them but it’s cool doors are opening for her but also Antiope and Penny are gonna be PISSED that she’s out here making side plans after she gave them so much shit for theirs. Lol, well it’s a nice moment in the meantime and we cut to…

Penny, Ost, and Katja 

While Penny is lockpicking (and also trying to teach one of the horses to lockpick because sure) Katja and Ost go talk to the statue of Asha Hammerheart. It seems to be animated with at least some level of her true consciousness from beyond the grave and that she can kind of woge into her statue when she wants, which is cool. She’s been there for like 250 years so that’s a lot of history to see. 

Ost is maybe the most polite we’ve ever seen her talking to Asha (at least to begin with lol) and they ask her about TK. Asha says she saw TK show up 12 years ago but she never left, at least not through the front door. And then about 2 years ago (right around when they were in the crystals) that’s when the harpy queen showed up. At first they were normal and then they started mutating. Also, recently, Korra (one of the other statues/heroes) saw a woman in the mountains--not TK. 

Ost then takes a page from the book of one St. Kristen Applebees and asks, “Hey. What’s the deal with our god? He never talks to us, does he just suck?” Asha--who has never talked to him even though she’s a martyred hero and literally in dwarf heaven makes some excuses for the guy but Katja scoffs at them. “If people wanna take care of you, they do.” Ost then straight up asks if Logran Soulforger is even real which sets Asha off but Ost isn’t mad AT her, she’s mad FOR her. You go and do all this cool shit to the point where you have this cool ass statue, you fully DIE for him and he doesn’t even say hi? With a 21 Persuasion check, Asha admits that yeah, she would have liked some recognition. She decides she’s gonna go do some talking to some people and leaves after getting Ost’s number but before they can ask more about the woman Korra saw (who they think is Charity). 

OK, that’s all the small group stuff! Everyone comes back as Penny finishes up with the lock and they go down into this room that’s full of polished, precious stones. This is probably where people who were upkeeping the temple stayed. While everyone else is going down, Sam feels some powerful magical pull--much like her episode 1 Lightning Lure--calling her from the top of the stairs so she goes back up. We’ll get back to her in a bit. 

Penny rolls a high check to clock what’s going on down here. First off, she finds flintlock bullets and airship uniform scraps which makes it seem like there was a battle here involving some airship guys from the Baronies. Which is not just the place of origin of Riz’s imaginary Romance Partner. It’s a cluster of nations known for high rates of monarchical turnover and renaissance style intrigue. I’m picturing just a nation of [REDACTED]s from Crown of Candy. 

With all of this stuff, Penny finds an emblem of a billionaire airship mogul named Lord Talcidimir Tallbreeze who is a friend of her dad’s. Yelle is immediately like FUCK billionaires which isn’t plot relevant but it’s nice to know she’s always on brand. 

Oh also, Penny just casually finds the Legendarium so that’s neat. 

To be safe, Ost casts Protection from Energy on Ant (who is the one who knows how to use it) and brings out her Spirit Guardian (who is a combo of her mom, nona, and Asha, with her dad’s rings). Ant checks it out and sees that there are currently no A, B, or C quests in all of Spyre. While Penny cross references the bylaws to see if there’s a way to get around this, Yelle does some druid BS that I still do not understand to use the crystals in the cave to jailbreak this super powerful magical Artifact so they can just have copies on their crystals. While that’s happening, let’s check on Sam. 

Sam goes back up the staircase where she sees Ending who doesn’t look menacing at all, just extremely sad. She’s looking out the mouth of the cave and, when she turns, Sam can see she’s crying blood. 

“What’s wrong?” asks Sam, the acid-tongued but good-hearted. “Can I help you?”

With a 25 Persuasion check to get her to talk, Ending apologizes for scaring her and her friends before. She didn’t mean to. She sometimes forgets that her very nature can be frightening and dangerous to others. She says that when she escaped, she tried to rejoin her sisters but found their mirrors shattered and them gone. Sam thought they escaped but that doesn’t make sense to Ending. If they had, why wouldn’t they have freed her as well?

Sam asks who her sisters were and we finally get true names for Ending and her sisters:

Chrona, Terra, Pyrria, Nira, Zefira, Anima, and herself, Talura (which is what I’ll be calling her now that we know). Talura is the baby, the youngest. Sam realizes she’s talking about the Eidolons and Talura seems surprised and a bit pleased that Sam recognizes them. 

Sam asks if she can hug her and Talura hugs her tightly in a very cold embrace that doesn’t hurt. Downstairs, she hears her friends (Penny specifically) freaking about about the lack of quests but she doesn’t break the hug. 

“My own sisters are struggling right now but I’m gonna stay with you because you don’t know where yours are. But maybe we can find them.”

Talura clocks that the way that Sam is being is her true nature, not the bitchiness she often uses as a shield. Then she starts to talk about her history. That she and her sisters were sealed away when the gods were done with them (Sam can relate to being used and set aside) and the only way out was death. Talura has been crying and looking for her sisters to no avail. Her tears of blood leaking seems to be what caused the monsters to mutate which is in line with what Yelle and Ant were sensing. 

Talura doesn’t think anything could have destroyed her sisters so she’s very confused. Sam offers Talura her Mirror of the Past because it almost knocked out Sam to get god-tier information but Talura presumably won’t have that problem. Talura offers her a boon in exchange for this great kindness but Sam says she doesn’t need any quid pro quo. “This is just because you’re hurting.”

Talura is supremely touched and still wants to do something for her new...friend? Sam accepts the title and says that what she needs is some help on her GED quest. Once she explains what she means, Talura again recognizes Aguefort and is like, Oh, you need a quest? I can totally help with that! As we learned earlier, these guys are kinda genie connected so it’s not super surprising when Talura very happily goes full your wish is my command.

Downstairs, a Class A quest suddenly appears in Spyre on the screen. 

Back upstairs, Talura says that it’s been too long since she got to grant a wish and seems really happy about it. Sam gives her the mirror so she can check what happened to her sisters but when she does, she totally flips out and gets super angry--not at Sam, just at whatever she’s looking at. She can hardly believe it. Sam tries to figure out what’s wrong but she just gets super big and then disappears into a puff of smoke, leaving Sam's mirror on the ground, covered in frost. 

Downstairs, the Class A quest expands across the entire globe and then the Legendarium cracks. Ost’s spirit guardian disappears because of alarm bells ringing in the afterlife. And the girls learn that a Class A quest is a quest that affects the whole MULTIVERSE. Yikes!

So anyway, they girls go upstairs to check on Sam (on a bear that Penny makes because sure) and they see that something clearly just happened with Sam. Yelle asks if she’s good and Sam is like yeahhhh I don’t think ANYONE is good right now. Sam seems like she’s about to cry and Antiope instantly forgets all the petty bullshit going on between them and rushes to make sure she’s not hurt. 

Sam gives the girls a rundown of what happened and Yelle concretely puts together what I said earlier about Talura’s tears messing with nature. 

Sam wants to check her mirror to see what Talura saw and Brennan says she can do it the safe way with risk of failure of the surefire way with risk of personal harm. She, of course, picks door 2 and rolls a 13 on her con save which means she rises into the air like Storm from X-Men, eyes wide, and then instantly passes out and goes into shock. Antiope is there to catch her as she does. 

Also, she looks SUPER hot while falling on a 31. Honestly, it’s a shame she doesn’t allow herself a social media presence. 

Anyway, we’ll get to what she sees in a bit. Yelle and Ant make sure she’s OK (she is, but the has to be knocked out for this or she won’t be able to handle it). 

Penny tells them what she knows about each Eidolon from her earlier research which is what element each goes with:

Chrona: Time (Related to astral and elemental planes) 

Terra: Earth

Pyrria: Fire

Nira: Water

Zefira: Air

Anima: Life

Talura: Death 

They also talk about TK never leaving via the front door and all this airship stuff being around. Maybe she left out the top of the mountain on an airship? Katja has the hookup with this Tal guy (she’s met him when she was younger) so they decide they need to check it out once Sam is good. 

The girls fix the Legendarium and Ost, when she goes to pray for her spells for the night, doesn’t pray to her usual god. She prays to Asha. And not only does she get her spells, she also gets a new one--Commune. 

And now let’s get to what Sam is seeing in her Vision Coma. 

She was told by Talura that the only way out of the mirrors given to them by the gods was death. And what Talura saw that drove her to do whatever multiverse threatening thing that she did was every one of her sisters walking out of their mirrors and choosing death. I will specifically highlight that the oldest sister leaves almost immediately with a small, “Oh,” of realization and Anima, the closest sister to her seems terrified before coming to a joyful realization and leaving.

And that’s the end of the episode! Join us next week when apparently there is talk of a masquerade ball?????? Brennan, you shouldn’t have!   

Superlatives 

Sam: Most Likely to Accidently Snag a Brand Deal

Did you guys ever read the Greek myth of Cupid and Psyche? Where Psyche was born so hot that it was basically a curse and she was miserable because she was so hot that Aphrodite hated her? That’s Sam. She is incapable of almost dying in a non-aesthetic way. It’s like a Pantene commercial every time. This is my favorite running gag.

Random Thoughts

Man, I have so many feelings about Sam. She’s such a BITCH in so many ways but it’s so obvious that she has a good heart. Every time she has an opportunity to be nice with no gain--helping Lola find her dog, magically turning the pages for the horses during book club, fully refusing a boon from Talura--she does. And I’m glad she gave Zelda such a sincere apology and didn’t let the extenuating circumstances absolve her because she said some pretty uncalled for things. But at her core she’s so kind and I want only good things for her. 

Also those of you who know me from my FH recaps know I’m a messy bitch for sister stuff so Talura and Sam both referring to the other maidens as her sister had me dead. You can tell when something in this show is f’ing me up when I just start directly quoting instead of paraphrasing. 

Katja being richer than Helio but having no idea what any of the brands Ost is mentioning are is peak comedy.  

As is Ant’s response to the take and penny leave a penny translation from Ost, “No, Penny didn’t come with us.”

Ost: I get service in the afterlife.

You could really tell which of the players watched Sophomore Year because the Baronies came up and all of them went into fight or flight immediately. 

Very Elsa vibes from Sam during the top of the scene with Talura. (Sam is, of course, a better sister but we simply do not have time to get into my feelings on Frozen 2 right now).

I was wondering why this season was called just “The Seven” when it dropped initially. Like, was it snappier? Did they not want to use the word “maiden”? But they still call themselves the Seven Maidens in the show so it’s probably not that. Now I’m wondering if it’s just to parallel the 7 of them w/ the 7 Eidolons. 

So it seems clear based on the reactions of the first and sixth sisters that they didn’t just “go gently into that good night” as Ant would say and ditch Talura. It seems like they figured something out. Also Brennan isn’t really a “and then they all died, the end” kind of DM, you know? Credit to my friend @camwritery for getting here before I did but the gods said the only way out was death and she is death so you know? Those def seem like puzzle pieces that go together. 

The only crit rolled this episode is a 1 by Penny which she gets to reroll as a halfling. 

[slippinmickeys]

The Earl (13/13)

This was a labor of love, and I can’t thank you guys enough for sticking with me. For Lin, my science editor, to Fiona and Amanda for beta-ing like champions, you guys were my rocks. Finally, thank you to you readers for keeping up the enthusiasm for this story for far longer than it probably should have taken me to write it. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I do hope its everything you wanted it to be.

To read this in its entirety on AO3, you may do so here. 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Mulder, on his horse Hercule at the lead of what amounted to a well-outfitted cavalry, pounded down the stretch of road that led to Harwood Hall, the manse just coming into view. It was all thundering hooves behind him, and he could hear grunts of the horsed men that followed, could feel their thrilled energy at his back, and he was half-compelled to let out the war whoop of his Celtic forebears, riding into battle as they were, ready to save their damsel in distress. If it hadn't been for the generations of genteel decorum bred into him, he probably would have.

The fields lay long on either side of the narrow road, dotted occasionally with sheep and ancient stone fences. The sea shone far to the right and came into the land at an angle, pushing in toward the thumb-sized house like a shining sapphire buttress.

He was armed to the teeth, as were the men with him -- two pistols strapped to his hips and an old but perfectly balanced sword tight to his waist, the sheathed end of it tapping into Hercule’s flank and spurring him on. Walter and his Runner colleague Doggett were each carrying pistols — Doggett carrying an English flintlock blunderbuss in his left hand. Langly, who looked queasy on horseback and was not keeping his seat well, had what looked to be a long flintlock Kentucky plains rifle (said to be favored on the American Frontier), and Frohike, sturdy as a barnacle on his steely grey pony, had the intricately carved handle and stock of a Prussian target percussion rifle sticking out of an odd holster on his back. Byers carried a saber. Mulder couldn't help but wonder what a sight they made rolling along the English countryside at full gallop, their armory glinting in the sun.

As they barreled closer, Mulder could see that the manor itself was not overly large, but had a long fence and tall gate. They would have to get through it just to get on the property. Perhaps riding in like the Roman Legion hadn't been the best idea, but his wife was close -- he could feel it -- and his heart would have nothing but war until she was by his side.

Hercule had energy and heart to give, and Mulder could feel the animal ranging further and further ahead of the inferior horses giving chase behind them. In fact, when he looked back, he could see nothing but road dust and the occasional glint of metal.

Looking ahead, he could now see the house clearly, its brick the color of the sand on the shores surrounding it, and his eye caught movement at the building's entrance. Perhaps the fight was coming to them -- so be it.

He eased back on the reins and murmured a low command to Hercule, who slowed his steps only enough for the cavalry behind them to ease closer, and the figure from the manse -- Mulder could see that it was single figure now, dressed in white -- was moving quickly toward the gate. Perhaps it was a servant who thought Mulder was the post.

He wouldn't give them the chance to discover otherwise.

He pulled his pistol out from his hip and cocked it, skidding Hercule to a halt on the slippery gravel, and throwing himself from the saddle as he did so to land in a crouch in front of the gate. He could hear the other riders pulling in behind him as he rose and raised his pistol to point at the person who had just swung open the weir. He could not yet make out their identity, blocked as they were by the ornate iron lock.

"Stand and deliver," he said with calibrated fury.

And then he saw her face.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Stand and deliver,” said a voice with the steely edge of violence. There was a pistol aimed directly at her nose. It took her only a moment to look past the barrel to the man holding it.

“Mulder!” she gasped, and launched herself at him. His arms came around her with the feeling of home and she allowed herself one brief moment of transcendent euphoria before she pulled away from him.

“Good God, Scully, I-” he fumbled. She had clearly taken him by surprise. The men mounted behind him were all wearing equally shocked looks.

“Away!” she said quickly, “Mulder, we must away!”

Upon the heels of her statement came a calamitous blast, followed immediately by another. The horses threw their heads nervously.

A balding man she didn’t know squared his jaw up and turned his horse away from the house, shouting, “On me!” before spurring away.

Mulder practically leapt upon Hercule’s back and grabbed Scully around the waist, lifting her easily up into the saddle in front of him, and they were away before a third and fourth detonation burst from the house behind them. The other riders, Sir Byers and his associates among them, followed, their horses spurred along by fear. They were barely away when there was an absolutely massive explosion. Frohike’s pony screamed.

Hercule was in the lead, despite having the added burden of a second rider, and rode on, unfazed. After several hundred yards, Mulder slowed the creature, holding Scully tightly to him, and turned the horse to look back on the estate.

There was nothing left. Where once stood a large country house there was now just a smoking crater. Scully felt nothing but satisfaction. She supposed she should feel something for the life that she had taken, but her God believed in an eye for an eye, and so help her, when it came to that man, she did too.

The other riders caught up with them and turned their horses to look as well. The balding man had fine, wire rim spectacles and looked at what was left of the house and then at her, giving her an assessing once-over.

“My lady,” the man said, “you did not, perchance, happen to find munitions somewhere on the estate, did you?”

“As a matter of fact,” Scully said, leaning back into the warm bulk of Mulder, “I did.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Well,” said Frohike as he dismounted his pony in front of the stables at Ashford Park, swinging his Prussian rifle over his shoulder, “we’re all dressed up and we’ve nowhere to go.”

A groom helped Scully dismount, then Mulder swung down behind her, handing over his reins, refusing to let his wife get so much as an arm’s length away from him. The other members of the rescue party were dismounting around them, scattering gravel at their feet and shaking hands.

Suddenly, there was a shout from the manor and Suzanne came careening down the steps and running towards them.

“You’ve done it!” she said, skidding to a stop in front of Scully and then wrapping her up in an embrace, “you’ve saved her!”

“Nay,” said Byers, stepping forward, “the lady has saved herself. We were but an armed escort bringing her home.”

Mulder felt a swell of pride momentarily override his intense sense of relief. His wife; intelligent, capable, resourceful. She had described her escape to the men on their slow ride back to Byers’s estate to the impressed astonishment of the horsed collective -- how she used her extensive knowledge of chemistry to escape the small cottage in which she had been imprisoned, how she found stores and stores of gunpowder and munitions in Spender’s stables and used them to ensure that the man never hurt anyone else ever again.

Frohike himself had asked many questions, and with each answer, he would shake his head and look at Mulder, no doubt wondering what the Earl had done to deserve such a remarkable paradigm of a woman.

Mulder wondered that, himself.

As the group began wandering back toward the house, Mulder pulled Scully aside.

“This must all be overwhelming. And I would like to hear all that happened to you -- when you are ready to share it -- but first, I must know one thing: Did he hurt you? Did any of them hurt you?”

She reached up and cupped his cheek, and he closed his eyes and leaned into her hand.

“Not in the way you fear,” she whispered.

He reached up and put his hand over her own, holding it close. “I would take whatever suffering you have endured and make it my own.”

“Something tells me you already have,” she said. She was more right than she knew. “I would like to go to our chambers now, Mulder, and change out of this soiled and ruined dress. And I would like to take a bath. And then…”

“Then?”

“Will you hold me?”

“I can do that,” he said.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder gently fingered the uneven ends of Scully’s shorn hair from where she lay tightly spooned up into his side. It felt so wonderful to be back in her husband’s arms.

“Does it look horrid?” she mumbled half into the pillow they shared. She knew he had loved her long tresses.

“You could never look horrid. It’s actually quite fetching. It highlights the elegant column of your neck. And if I’m honest, I can’t stop touching it.” He placed a soft kiss to the place where her jaw met her neck and she shivered, finally turning to face him.

“Whatever will the ton say?”

“They’ll say ‘what an extraordinary woman is the Countess of Wexford, and what an undeserving wretch she has for an Earl.’”

“Never.” She reached for his face and he kissed the tips of her fingers.

“I should have saved you. I should have done something about Spender, long ago. I never should have-“

She shushed him. “Mulder, I am frequently underestimated because of my sex. For once, I was able to use that fact to my advantage. I don’t ever want to hear you blame yourself for the reprehensible actions of another. You were not to blame. For any of it.”

He reached out and ran his fingers once again through what remained of her hair, looking at her with reverence. She was silent for a moment before reaching up and touching it, too.

“I suppose my hair will have plenty of time to grow out before we attend any events in Town,” she said.

“You don’t wish to return to London?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.

“Most ladies I know retreat to their country homes for the duration of their confinement.” She watched closely for his reaction, and saw it in his eyes the moment realization hit -- they went from confusion to elation.

“Your… your confinement?” he asked breathily. She nodded, smiling.

He grabbed her face in two hands and kissed her soundly, then pulled back the covers on the bed and moved down until his face was level with her abdomen. He lifted her shift until the bare skin of her belly was exposed, and leaned in to place a reverential kiss there, too. His mouth lingered. He whispered something she could not make out.

She felt a rush of yearning wash over her. “Mulder,” she whispered, and he looked up, his mossy eyes connecting with hers. They didn’t have to speak. He crawled his way back up her body slowly and kissed her softly, his weight resting on his hip, one hand in her hair, the other caressing her with a featherlight touch. She felt desire pool between her legs.

He pulled back and nosed his way gently down the curve of her jaw, flicking his tongue slowly as he eased his way along the column of tendons in her neck. Her head fell back on a blissful moan, and she threaded her fingers through his hair, letting the silken softness play about the skin of her hands, wanting to feel him -- all of him -- reveling in having him back at her side, within her grasp.

He drew back momentarily to pull his white lawn shirt up and over his head, dropping it to the floor. The space between them felt like a sea, and she realized in that moment that however deeply she thought she had loved him before she’d been taken by Spender was a pittance. The love she felt for him in this moment threatened to overwhelm her. She longed to feel him against her, inside of her, every unyielding edge and hard plane of him; she wanted to take all that he was and absorb him like water, like air.

She reached for him.

XxXxXxXxXxX

He marveled at her. The soft contours of her body called to him; her pliant skin, her lush, pearl-pink-tipped breasts, her soft seawater eyes. None of which compared to the rapier-sharp intelligence of her beautiful mind. It was like she was moulded from clay by the gods specifically for him. He was a hopeless wretch in love. And now there was a babe inside her belly.

He felt an overwhelming tenderness toward her, at her resilience and strength in finding her way back to him, and he felt himself marveling at the miracle of life they’d created.

He sat back on his haunches, roving his eyes over her, struck dumb.

And then she reached for him.

“I need you,” she whispered, beseeching him, “I need to take you inside of me. Please.”

The blood thrummed inside of him.

He reached down and delicately parted her legs, taking himself in hand and gently thumbing the soft bud at the crest of her sex. She hissed a breath through her teeth and he guided himself, sliding straight home.

Scully reached under his arms with both hands and wrapped them around his shoulders, pulling him tightly to her. He thrust up into her slowly, tenderly, keeping his weight on his elbows, framing her face with his arms.

He could feel her pulse as it beat in her slick sheath and he took a breath, trying to control himself. He wanted this to be sweet, tender lovemaking -- a homecoming -- but with every stroke, he felt more and more desperate for release.

A sob wrenched from her throat and she turned her face into his neck, pressing her teeth into the skin there.

“Mulder,” she panted, her voice hungry with yearning, with palpable, unabashed need.

He turned and pressed a soft kiss to her lips and then leaned back, grabbing her hips in both hands. He began to snap into her with more force, and her hips rose with each plunge, as desperate to meet him as he was to be buried deep inside of her. And then she threw her arms over her head, her hands pushing against the carved headboard of the bed, her head thrown back, and she keened an almost inhuman sound, her muscles gripping him in an endless, pulsing clutch.  

He ascended to a place beyond thought.

XxX

Mulder awoke once again with the smell of lavender in his nose, the soft curve of Scully’s behind pressed into him. He inhaled deeply and pulled her more tightly to him.

He would stay here all week, all month, all year, if he could. But he needed to send word to Henwick Priory that he and the Countess would be arriving soon, and staying for the duration.

He rose and gently extricated himself from around Scully, dressing as quickly and quietly as he could. He was just pulling on his Hessians when his wife inhaled deeply in the bed and rolled over, cracking an eye to look at him with a small smile on her face.

“What time is it?” she croaked, her voice rough with sleep.

There was an ormolu clock on the mantle of the bedroom, and Mulder peered at it before coming to sit on the bed next to her hip.

“It’s just past nine o’clock. If you wish to go back to sleep, please do so.”

She stretched, brushing a hand down his arm to thread her fingers through his own.

“I shall rise,” she said, “I’d like to write to my mother and visit with Suzanne. Would you mind calling for Prudence?”

Mulder hesitated briefly, but then rose and pulled the cord. It seemed only moments before the door to their chambers opened.

“My lady!” Prudence came rushing into the room, a joyful look of relief on her face.

“Prudence,” said Scully fondly, reaching her hands out to recieve her.

“Oh, my lady ,” Prudence said again, taking Scully’s hands. She seemed to be overwhelmed with emotion.

Mulder stepped forward. He had not spoken with Prudence since calling her in to meet the Bow Street Runners, and charging off the second she gave them the location of Spender’s Kent estate. The young woman eyed him warily before glancing back at her mistress.

“You need not call the Countess that anymore,” he said calmly to her.

Both women swung their eyes to him; Scully in confusion, Prudence in something close to fear.

“And what should she call me?” Scully asked.

“Sister,” Mulder said simply. “For that is what she is to me.”

“My lord?” Prudence queried.

“Come,” Mulder said, pulling the envelope scrawled with a large X out of his pocket. “I’ve something to show you both.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

EPILOGUE

Several Years Later

The spring air was deeply fragrant, the mossy banks of the ornamental lake a dazzling shade of green. The sun was so bright she sneezed.

"Bless you, my lady," said a gentle voice from behind her.

Scully turned to thank Sir Byers from where he sat on a large blanket spread out on the grassy embankment just under an ancient oak on the north lawn of Henwick Priory. Byers was cradling a sleeping babe -- he and Suzanne's second, little Reynard, named for his Godfather.

Scully turned back to where she had been watching -- peering at the arbor twenty yards away for the child's namesake. Mulder had taken three-year-old Clio into the vast gardens to look for butterflies, but they had been gone near to thirty minutes -- it was likely the child had been distracted by something or other in the terraced space -- she had, after all, inherited her mother's scientific curiosity.

Just as she was about to turn away, she saw movement, and Clio came running out from the garden, her skirts flying out behind her. She wore a gleeful smile and her bright red curls glinted in the sun.

"Mama!" she shouted as she approached, "we found a caterpillar!"

Scully swept the girl up in her arms and pressed a kiss into the child's pink cheek.

"Oh, you must tell me the color! We'll identify it."  

"Papa said it was a Cinnabar moth," Clio said, dropping her heavy head sleepily onto Scully's shoulder. The child had a tendency, like her father, to drop off at a moment's notice and it was nearing time for her afternoon lay-down.

"Oh, he did, did he?" Scully said. Mulder was getting better at taxonomy, but he had a habit of misidentifying the things he classified for their children, if only to get a playful rise out of their mother.

Scully looked for said Papa and found him emerging from the gardens, walking slowly with his hands behind his back, patiently trailing William, the future Tenth Earl of Wexford, who had learned to walk only the month before and was toddling along jerkily, like a sailor in his cups. Scully caught eyes with the boy's father and he grinned at her, the smile crinkling the skin at his eyes.

"I see your father found your little brother," Scully said, smoothing out Clio's pinafore. "Where is your Auntie Pru?"

Samantha had offered to take William along on the garden expedition when the boy began crying that his father was walking away.

"She and Monica are cutting flowers for the picnic!" Clio answered, and turned in Scully's arms, wanting down.

William finally toddled up and flopped down on the blanket next to Byers, and Mulder strode up to Scully smelling of grass and sunshine with an underlying trace of clover. He leaned down and captured her lips in a quick kiss.

"My lady," he mumbled into her.

"My lord," she said, then looked down to see William attempting to dive into one of the baskets the footman had set out for their afternoon picnic.

"O-ho!" said Mulder as he swept up William away from the temptation, throwing the child into the air and catching him a moment later. The boy squealed in glee. "Not until everyone has arrived, little one," his father gently chided him.

In what amounted to rather perfect timing, Frohike, Langly, Suzanne and the oldest Byers child Emma at that moment came tromping down the steps on the north side of the estate, just as Samantha and another woman emerged from the garden, each with an armful of pink tulips.

"Oh, what a lovely addition to our picnic!" Scully said to Samantha's bright smile. She kissed her sister-in-law's cheek.

"It looks like Cli is about to drop off," Samantha grinned.

"No I'm not, Auntie Pru," the child said on a large yawn. To the day, both Mulder and Scully sometimes called Samantha by her middle name out of habit and the children had latched onto the idea.

"Do you want me to take her up to the nursery?" Samantha whispered. Scully shook her head. Samantha had been welcomed into the family without reservation, but at times was still not used to her elevated rank and attempted to do various tasks best left to the staff. It drove Mrs. Paxton batty.

"Sit, Samantha," said Monica Reyes, Samantha's hired companion, who was arranging the flowers prettily in an empty basket, "put your feet up. Have a cup of tea."

Initially Monica had been hired as companion, chaperone and etiquette tutor, drilling Samantha in the ways of the ton , but the ladies were now very good friends and, thought Scully wistfully, perhaps something more.

Mulder set his son down once again on the blanket and came up to Scully, putting his arms around her from behind. "That's good advice," he rumbled in her ear. She shivered slightly. He still had the ability to give her gooseflesh with a mere touch.

"Perhaps I will," she sighed happily, leaning into him.

“Ah, the cavalry has arrived!” said Mulder as the group from the house approached.

“Good company, good wine, good welcome, can make good people,” Frohike quoted, letting go of Emma’s hand. She and Clio -- who had found a second wind of energy upon seeing her friend -- darted off to play on the spacious lawn.

“I count myself in nothing else so happy,” Mulder quoted back, “As in a soul remembering my good friends.”

“Shakespeare is all well and good,” said Langly, whinging ever so slightly, “but can we eat?”

“Champagne first!” Mulder announced, nodding to a footman who had been waiting nearby with the refreshment.

Frohike’s eyebrows rose as he took the proffered glass and he peered knowingly at the lord and lady of the house, who still stood in an embrace. “What’s the occasion?”

“We’ve an announcement,” Scully smiled, and Mulder reached down to caress the bump in Scully’s belly that was just beginning to make itself known.

“I knew it!” clapped Suzanne.

“Again?” gaped Langly.

Mulder winked at his bespeckled friend and raised his glass. “To good friends reunited,” he said, “and the blessing of another child.”

The gathered party raised their glasses in a toast.

Frohike looked up, thoughtful. “A third Wexford babe, and I’ve yet to find a wife.”

“My friend,” Mulder said, pressing a loving kiss into Scully’s hair before looking up at him, “never give up on a miracle.”

THE END

[honey-dewey]

(Hold me Closer) Tiny Dancer

Chapter 2

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/Reader

Word Count: 1,293

Fic Warnings: Non-sexual age regression, split perspective, classification AU, canon-typical violence

Chapter Warnings: none? 

Taglist: None for this fic. If you want to be added, just ask, but I know this is an odd topic and therefore will not tag anyone unless they ask

Jack’s not exactly the most stable human being on the planet, but when he tests as a Caregiver, all hell breaks loose as someone who was just his work partner suddenly becomes so much more.

Multi-chapter story. Chapter 2 of ? Read Chapter 1 Here

-Whiskey- Two days later, Jack was sitting through the new recruits initiation. As each recruit came through the door and earned their name, Ginger texted him about each one through his glasses. 

That one’s a flirt. You two should get along.

Jack snorted under his breath as Agent Gin was given his name. 

She’s a sweetheart. Young too. Barely 25. 

Agent Jägermeister sat across from Jack, nodding to him. He nodded back. 

The final recruit came through the door, and Jack’s breath hitched in his throat. 

That’s the Little.

“And finally,” Champ handed the newest agent their hat. “Agent Mojito.” 

Agent Mojito sat next to Jack, on his left. He gave them a small nudge. “Welcome to Statesman.” 

Mojito smiled a tiny smile and nodded their thanks. 

Jack eyed Champ, who shrugged, as if reading his mind. 

Standing, Jack held a hand out to Mojito. “Why don’t I show you ‘round. Being new here, it’s a bit of a maze.” 

Mojito stood, brushing their shirt off. “Thank you,” they said. “But I have an appointment with Ms. Ginger. I’m sure I’ll see you around Mr. Whiskey.” 

And just like that, Jack was left alone in the conference room, wondering exactly how this would all shake out in the end. 

-Mojito-

To say you were nervous about working at Statesman was an understatement. You had passed each and every test with flying colors, completely shattering the last marksman record. However, the only hitch had been your classification. Ginger had pronounced you Little, a fact you already knew. She’d seemed nervous upon telling you Statesman had no Little agents, and you’d pretty much resigned yourself to failure then and there. 

But apparently Champ saw something in you, because he insisted upon you being a recruit. This meant earning your hat, glasses, and name. 

Agent Mojito. 

Heading down towards the lab, you met with Ginger, who was waiting in the consultation room. You slid into a chair, nerves bundling in your stomach. 

“So,” Ginger passed a few papers your way. “Those are prescription forms. Check all the data over and then sign at the bottom. Once you’ve done that, we can talk about your pills.” 

You signed with ease, and once you handed Ginger back the papers, she pulled out an orange bottle. “Strongest dose I can give someone of your size. Take one in the morning, preferably with food. They’re 24 hour, so you only need one a day. This bottle has thirty pills, come back when you get down to five and I’ll authorize a refill. Everything is written on the side of the bottle, so don’t worry about remembering it.” She handed you a plastic card. “That will get you access to the lab, where I will refill your pills.” 

You nodded, putting the pills in your pocket. “What if I miss one?” 

“One should be fine,” Ginger reassured. “But if you miss more than one, then you could possibly crash. So I suggest you keep those safe. And if you go on any missions, be sure to plan ahead with refills. If you want to drop during weekends to relax or not put too much pressure on your body, not taking your pills from Friday to Monday will work. Just be sure to take a pill Monday morning, or else all hell may break loose.” 

Again, you nodded. 

Ginger stood. “That should be all,” she said. “Why don’t I show you out. Statesman headquarters are a bit of a maze.” 

“That’s what Agent Whiskey said,” you remembered softly. “He’s nice.” 

“Huge flirt,” Ginger said with a shrug. “Just mind yourself around him, and it should be fine.” 

You two walked out together, Ginger smiling at you. “I can’t wait to work with you, Agent Mojito.” 

Smiling, you got into your car, heading towards your small apartment. Today had been one hell of an experience, and you couldn’t wait to get some sleep. 

----

Your first official day at Statesman was a disaster. 

Well, it wasn’t actually a disaster. It just seemed like one. 

You took your pill during breakfast in the cafeteria, sitting alone with a book. However, your glasses pinged before you could even finish your chapter. 

Champ wants you down at the shooting range. Seems important.

Sighing, you pocketed your book and picked up your travel mug of coffee. Today was already shaping up to be very interesting. 

The shooting range was easy enough to find, and before you knew it, you were face to face with Whiskey once more. 

“Fancy seein’ you here,” he said in that thick southern drawl you found surprisingly interesting. “I suppose you’re responsible for breakin’ my shootin’ record.” 

You smirked, confidence welling in your chest. “I suppose I am.” 

Whiskey whistled. “Well. Let’s see it then. Champ wants to know what you got. And honestly, so do I.” 

You nodded, picking up your weapons of choice. Two beautiful custom flintlock pistols. They were Kingsman guns, a gift from your neighbors across the pond. Both were fitted with technological advances that were appropriate for someone of your status. The right pistol shot regular bullets. You could reliably get six shots out before needing to reload, and the actual flint mechanism was automatic, unless you turned it to manual. The left pistol shot specialized bullets. Electric, tracker, exploding, If Statesman made it, you could shoot it. The left pistol could also, in a pinch, be loaded with regular bullets, just as it was right now. 

“Target?” You asked sweetly, watching Whiskey pick up his revolvers. 

Whiskey pointed down towards the far end of the range. “Those seven dummies in blue.” 

You nodded. You took some time lining yourself up on the red X taped to the floor, and when you were ready, you wiggled your stance a tiny bit more, raised your guns, and fired. 

Whiskey blinked as the seven shots rang out in such quick succession he didn’t even have time to count them. All of the dummies had perfect bullet holes through them, each and every one shot with deadly accuracy. 

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Forget what Champ said. That hat was well earned. I ain’t even gonna try.” 

You let out a breath, turning to face Whiskey. “Why thank you,” you said, calm as ever on the outside. On the inside, you were giddy with pride. 

That giddiness died at lunchtime. 

“Agent Mojito.” Champ approached your lunch table, and you looked up from your book. “I saw your shooting results. Heard about ‘em too. It seems we have a new best sharpshooter.” 

You nodded, smiling. “Thank you.” 

“That’s why I’m not hesitant about sending you on your first mission.” 

Shit. 

“With all due respect,” you said slowly. “Am I really ready?” 

Champ raised his eyebrows. “Why don’t you tell me.” 

Eventually, you agreed, and Champ handed you the file of information for the mission. Instead of reading your book, you ate your lunch and poured over the papers you’d been given, tucking the file under your arm to report to Champ’s office once you’d finished eating. You had a partner on the job, but the file didn’t mention who. It simply said a senior agent and a new recruit. 

You entered Champ’s office after knocking three times, suddenly filled with nerves. 

“Come in.” 

“Sorry I’m late,” you apologized softly, opening the door. “I got a bit lost.” 

Champ smiled. “It’s all good,” he said. “Why don’t you say hello to your partner for this mission.” 

You turned to the other side of the room, veins running cold upon seeing the other agent sprawled in an armchair. 

Agent Whiskey stood, adjusting his hat and nodding to you with a smirk. “Well this is gonna be interesting.” 

Blinking, you softly agreed with him. “Yes. I believe it will be.” 

[ragingbookdragon]

You Can Take Off All My Clothes And Never See Me Naked PT. 8

A Haytham Kenway x Reader Story

Word Count: 2,000 Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Past Assault/Abuse

Author’s Note: This chapter is probably the heaviest of them all. It mentions extreme past abuse, so please be advised and please be responsible. (Also Criminal Minds was a factor in how this piece was written) -Thorne

Her mind raced. Thoughts bounced off every surface as she shoved people from her way, not caring that they cursed her. Things she’d not thought about since her childhood came back, rearing their ugly heads so that she could see. Of all the things she’d expected, this wasn’t one. Not now. Not when she was almost free. Her boots slapped the pavement, but the sound was barely an echo in her ears, the sound of her pounding heart bursting over it. Air felt like it was trapped, like she hadn’t breathed in years, and her entire body was screaming at her to stop, at the very least slow down. But she didn’t. She had to get there. Had to warn Haytham what he was walking into. She had to stop someone else from suffering her fate.

***

           The man two seats down smiled as the Templars around him laughed at the story, and Haytham himself couldn’t help but chuckle as well. “And I told him that along with the supplies, the silk would come too! Just for insurance!” Another roar of laughter sounded around the man and he looked at Haytham. “Mister Kenway, you have a fantastic group of men here.”

           Haytham regarded the others around the table and took a sip of his wine. “They are a rather wonderful group, Ausilio. Good company as well.”

           Ausilio tipped his head. “I had a group once that I companied with.” He looked almost wistful at the thought. “Good men. Even better times.” They raised their glasses in a toast and the Italian asked, “So this group that you’ve sent for, tell me about them.”

           A smile crossed Haytham’s lips. “Not so much a group as a pair that are practically armies all on their own. A sailor named Shay Cormac, and a lady named (Y/N) (L/N).”

           Ausilio’s eyes went wide. “(Y/N) (L/N)?”

           The Grandmaster’s steely gaze found the man’s. “Do you know her?”

           “The name sounds familiar.” He shook his head. “I don’t remember from where I heard—”

           The doors to the backroom slammed into the walls and Haytham was surprised to see the woman they’d been speaking of running inside. He rose to his feet, making his way over. “(Y/N)?” she shoved him away, her eyes on Ausilio, they held an unbridled rage.

           “I knew,” she seethed. “I knew I would meet you again.” She shook with anger. “I knew that unless you were dead that I would never be free of you.”

           Ausilio’s eyes narrowed and he laid his palms on the table. “Hello again, Evelina.”

           (Y/N) audibly growled. “Don’t call me that! That is not my name!” She pointed to herself. “My name is (Y/N)! It is the name my mother gave me!”

           “Evelina, please. You’re being—”

           She pulled the flintlock from her side and pointed it at him. The entire room went still, the other templars leaning out of the way. (Y/N) cocked the hammer.

           “My name, is (Y/N).” Ausilio stared at her and she whispered, “I will not let you coerce these people like you did me.” Tears filled her eyes and she spat, “I will not let you lie to them.”

           “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

           Her eyes darted to Haytham who’d stepped into her peripheral. “Do you know what he does, Haytham?” She looked back at him with a disgusted expression. “He finds girls who are orphans. Who don’t have anyone to look after them.” (Y/N) breathed heavily. “He takes them in and feeds them, clothes them, educates them, pretends to care about them. And when one year has passed,” tears slid down her cheeks and she whispered hoarsely, “He gives you a contract that demands you pay back the millions of pounds he spent on you.” A humorless laugh left her. “Taking back interest, he called it.”

           Ausilio began to shift in his seat as the eyes of the men came upon him.

           “None of us could pay back that much money. We didn’t work when we lived with him.” Her hand shook. “We trusted you to take care of us and you lied! You used us! You enslaved us! You enslaved me!”

           “You are insane.” He countered and her eyes went wide.

           “Insane?!” Her free hand undid the leather armor at her chest, and she pulled the tunic up just below her breasts. “You stood above me and laughed as they branded me with your symbol!”

           He smiled and nodded at her. “All I see is a tattoo of a sun and moon. There is no evidence of branding.” His eyes darted to Haytham. “Mister Kenway, I think your lady here is losing—”

           “No!” she cried, stepping in front of Haytham, trying to shield him. “You don’t get to undermine his faith in me.” (Y/N) stared him down. “You don’t get to take what I have gained.”

“You sound like you have cracked under some strain. What are you talking about?” Ausilio said, his eyes narrowed in sadness; it enraged her.

She let out a sob. “All these years, I’ve been so afraid of you. So terrified that you would find me again.” Anger mixed with pain. “But that’s how you’ve always operated, isn’t it? You’ve built a life on sadistic pleasure and fear and making sure the girls and women never fought back. Because there was too much to lose if they did.”

           “I don’t know what you remember, Eve—” her pointed gun made him clear his throat and correct himself. “(Y/N). But I never did anything to you.”

           She shook her head. “It’s not what my memories are that are going to ruin you, Ausilio. You and I were finished the moment I left eleven years ago.”

           He gazed at her and huffed a laugh. “Then what are you doing discussing this?”

           (Y/N) pointed the gun at Haytham then back to him. “I’m making sure Haytham knows the kind of man you are.”

           Ausilio’s eyes narrowed. “And you think he’ll believe a hysteric woman like yourself?”

           She took a step forward. “I know that he trusts me with his life.”

           “Does he?” he challenged.

           “He does.” (Y/N) declared, then took another step towards him until the table brushed her thighs. “Do you know what happens to people like you? Once it all comes crashing down?” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Once the dam loses its supports and breaks, the flood comes.”

           She let go of her tunic and raised a hand, a single pointer finger in the air. “One woman steps up. Just one.” Another finger rose. “And then another one, and so on.” Her jaw clenched. “Because they are no longer afraid of you anymore. They know they’re not alone.” She pointed to herself. “I am your dam, Ausilio.”

           He no longer paid attention to her, turning to Haytham. “Whatever lies she has spoken of—”

           “They are not lies!” (Y/N) screamed. “You enslaved me for fifteen years! You raped me! You beat me until I was unconscious! Over and over and over!” By now, people had gathered at the doors of the back room, Shay and Gist just behind her and Haytham. “One by one, every girl and woman will stand up until you can no longer deny that their claims are just lies!”

           He stood in a violent rage and she couldn’t help but step backwards. “Do you have any idea how many girls I helped? How many women I helped get out of poverty?” Ausilio gestured to her. “Look at yourself, (Y/N). You would be dead if I hadn’t helped you that day.”

           Tears fell down her cheeks and she challenged, “Nothing I received from you was for free though, was it?”

           “I saved your life,” he defended.

           (Y/N) felt fury course through her and she snarled, “Na’ilah saved my life! I saved my own life! All the way to the top of the Templars!” Her voice rose. “I did that!” she declared.

           Ausilio walked around the table, but she kept the flintlock trained on him. “Are you saying that I had no part in your life? That I had nothing to do with making you into what you are?”

           In an instance, the anger seemed to cool, and (Y/N) gazed at him. “No, Ausilio.” Her eyes met his and she agreed, “Actually everything you ever did to me has made me who I am. You have everything to gain from that.” A relieved smile crossed his lips, but it was short lived as she explained, “Because of what you did to me, I am someone who will spend the rest of her life making sure men like you don’t live to see tomorrow.”

           He let out a breath. “Evelina, please.” His hands held out to her in a plea. “I never hurt you. I loved you.”

           (Y/N) shook her head and motioned downwards with the gun. “Get on your knees.” He didn’t move and she fumed, “Do it now!”

           Slowly he rose until he was on his knees in front of her. She walked up and pressed the muzzle of the flintlock to his forehead. “Evelina.”

           “You will never harm another innocent girl again. They will be free of your taint.” Her jaw tightened. “I almost don’t want to because death would be a kindness to you. You deserve every level of hell it has. And then again for a thousand years.”

           Before she could pull the trigger, a hand rested on hers and she looked up, wide eyed to see Haytham standing beside her, a frown on his face. “(Y/N), don’t.”

           She stared incredulously at him. “Is this some type of joke?! This man is a monster! He deserves to die!” she cried, and he nodded.

           “I know.”

           (Y/N) shook her head in disbelief. “Then…why?”

           Haytham’s hand squeezed hers and he pointed out calmly, “If you kill him now, you won’t help to free the others he’s still imprisoning.” Her jaw went slack. “We need him alive to free them.”

           Her eyes drifted to Ausilio and she gaped at him. Haytham’s hand squeezed again. “(Y/N), trust me.”

           “But he…he could get away. He could buy his way out!”

           Haytham shook his head. “He can’t escape justice now.” Her mouth opened but he insisted, “He will rot in a cell until every girl is freed, and when they are, then you can deliver his punishment.” She stared into his eyes and he nodded. “I would never lie to you, (Y/N). But I need you to trust me.”

           (Y/N) let him take the gun from her hand and her arm fell limply by her side. Haytham nodded to Shay and Gist. “Take him.”

           They yanked Ausilio off the floor and he screamed for her while he was dragged off, begging her, pleading her, but she didn’t listen, eyes stuck on the spot where he’d been. She felt numb all over, and tired, like she’d not slept in decades.

           Haytham set the flintlock on the table and came to her, gently placing his hands on her arms. “(Y/N).”

           She didn’t look at him. “I thought I’d feel relieved that he was finally caught but…I don’t know what I feel right now.”

           He softly urged her to walk, directing her to the doors. “It’s okay, you have nothing to explain.”

           (Y/N) vaguely remembered climbing into the carriage, stuck in a daze. “Where are we going?” she questioned lowly.

           “I’m taking you home.” He said, his thumb drawing soothing circles in the back of hers.

           “But the tavern—”

           “I’m taking you to my home, (Y/N). You will be safe there.” She felt tears gather in her eyes and she leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder. “And I will protect you.” Haytham bent down and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “No matter what, darling.”

           The last thing she remembered was the smell of his cologne before falling asleep. And finally, she felt the weight of worlds come off her shoulders. There was hope for tomorrow—whatever it may bring.

[emerald-echeveria-plant]

[Part 3 of ???]

The Lost Civilization

//Baozhai is doodling in a notebook. She drew a picture of the stranger aka Flint with little hearts draw around him.//

Baozhai, sighs in admiration: you're the most handsome man I've ever seen..

Cletus: Why thank you! I always did fancy myself as good-looking.

Baozhai, glares at Cletus: Not you! I'm talking about the stranger I saw from yesterday..

Cletus: Which one?

Baozhai: The handsome one..~

Cletus: ...

Cletus: Erik?

Baozhai: no!

Cletus: Sao?

Baozhai: No... The one that I felt I had a close connection to..

Cletus: Oooh! I know who you're talking about... The Captain is gonna be real mad if he finds out you're attracted to Haggis.

Baozhai: WHAT?! NO! NOT HIM! GROSS DEFINITELY NOT HIM!

Cletus: Well, then who is it?

Baozhai: I don't really know his name..

Cletus: If you don't know who the fuck it is, how am I supposed to know??

Baozhai, frustrated as hell by this point but somehow manages to stay calm: I'm talking about the guy that... Punched me in the face..

Cletus: Oooh... I already knew that I was just fucking with ya' *snickers*

//Baozhai punches Cletus in the stomach. Cletus falls the floor. He groans in pain as he clenches his stomach. Noëmie walks up to Baozhai and lightly taps her shoulder.//

Noëmie: Um.. Baozhai?

Baozhai, turns to Noëmie and annoyed: What do you want Noëmie?

Noëmie: I know almost everyone you talked to about your love interest isn't going to well... But uh, maybe the next time you see him, try to, I dunno... Get to know him more and tell him about yourself..?

Baozhai: ...

Baozhai: Noëmie... did you just give me advice about love?

Noëmie: Um, I think so..?

Baozhai: ...

Noëmie: ...

//Baozhai hugs Noëmie and twirls her around in her arms.//

Baozhai: Noëmie, you're a genius! That's a wonderful idea!

Noëmie: oh my, well, thank you!

Baozhai: Yes, I'll charm him! Flatter him! Make him mine! And if he doesn't accept it... I'LL RIP OUT HIS SPINE, GOUGE HIS EYES WITH A RUSTY NAIL, AND-

Noëmie, cutting her off: How about you don't do any of that brutalizing stuff..

Baozhai, genuinely confused: Why..?

Noëmie: Well if you love someone, you can't threaten them with violence and maiming. Especially when they don't accept your feelings.

Baozhai: Then, what do I do..?

Noëmie: Cry it out, accept thats how they feel, and move on.

Baozhai: That sounds good.. but what if I keep bothering him-

Noëmie: what-

Baozhai: keep professing my love to him-

Noëmie: wait-

Baozhai: and I'll make him mine..! I am such a genius!

Noëmie: Please don't do any of that..

Baozhai: Don't worry Noëmie, I won't do any of that unless he loves me back. You have nothing to fear! Because I am the master of charm 😏 oh! I better go practice putting on makeup.. since I don't really know how.

//Baozhai runs off to another part of the ship.//

Noëmie: ...

Noëmie, shakes head: This is going to end horribly.. I just know it is.

Islay, walking up behind her: You really shouldn't have said those things. Don't ya' realize the captain will take issue with her falling for one of Haggis's crewmates???

Noëmie: Oh dear! How could I forget their fueding..! I hope this infatuation is minor with Baozhai. Who knows what'll happen if the stranger falls in love with her too!

Islay: oh please, you don't need to worry about that. Baozhai has the literal sex appeal of a boat crash. It looks terrible but you just can't look away. I don't mean to insult her but it is true. Can't see any men or women falling in love with her personality or looks. And knowing Baozhai, she's going to do something stupid and dangerous to get his affection.

Noëmie: I mean she is rather distasteful at times but I wouldn't call her that...

Islay: This better not cause any issues. The captain already has enough on his plate with Haggis nearly killing him. But if it does, this'll be on your hands for getting those ideas into her head!

Noëmie: okay..

//Islay goes to help Cletus off the ground. She puts the injured man over her shoulder and proceeds to walk towards the hold. Leaving Noëmie alone on the deck. The dark grey canid poundered for a bit.//

Noëmie: I mean, it's not like Haggis and his crew are following us... Right..?

//And Noëmie couldn't have been more wrong. Because in fact, they were following right behind them... On Haggis's ship, they managed to fix up the hole that Bonnet had caused previously. Haggis was still pissed that Bonnet did that to his ship. He was getting revenge and they were going to pay with their blood. As Haggis navigated the ship, on the deck were Flint and Billy, swabbing the deck.//

Billy, looked over to Flint: So, you and that loony crewmate of Bonnet's... Kinda odd that they stared at you for a pretty long time.

Flint: Mhm.

Billy: ...

Billy: Not gonna say anything about that?

Flint: Whatever happened between me and that man was minor. So, no, I don't have anything to say about it.

Billy: Flint... That was a woman.

Flint, stops swabbing and looks at Billy: what?

Billy: That was a woman. That you also happened to punch. In the face.

Flint: Oh... Well, too late to take it back now.

//Flint walked towards the bucket of water. As he went to dip the mop into the bucket of water, Erik stepped in front of the path of the cabin boy.//

Erik: Hello Flinty~!

Flint: Erik. How disappointing to see you.

Erik: Oh you're such a charmer! Wonder if your little girlfriend thinks so too! *Chuckles*

Flint: What the hell are you taking about?

Erik: Heh, You think nobody noticed you and that little wench making goo-goo eyes at each other?? Because boy, everyone's been talkin about it!

Flint: First of all, he's- I mean, she's not my girlfriend. And secondly, I wasn't making "goo-goo" eyes at anyone. Especially towards someone who looks like they got their nose done by the front door.

Erik: hmm.. well, it'd be a real shame if someone told the captain about those rumors about you and that girl.. and told him they were true. Meaning you'd get punished some more for coercing with the enemy..😏

Flint, rolls his eyes: you want something don't you. Of course you do, I already know you too well... Now tell me what is it???

Erik, grinning: Give me half of yer loot when we find the treasure and I'll keep my mouth shut.

Flint: what if we don't find the treasure??

Erik: Then, I guess I'll have to tell the captain. Too bad you've barely gained his trust from the time you spent on this ship..

Flint: Just in case you didn't know, I loathe everything about you.

Erik, chuckles: Hehe, I know. So do we have a deal..?

Flint, sighs: what other choice do I even have..

Sao, interrupting their conversation: LAND HO!

//The crewmates put their attention forward. A few miles away from them was a planet with lush jungles and plants. Beaches with golden sand with oceans that seem so crystal clear you can see right through them. Not too far in a distance were tall golden buildings, along with statues of different deities. The ship came to a stop, landing near the sandy beaches.//

Captain Haggis, shocked: I can't believe it..

Sao: what is it captain..?

Captain Haggis: Don't you see it... This is the lost civilization of the Paititi! A city that has tons of gold hidden somewhere to prevent colonizers from stealing it..

//Haggis looks through a telescope. He looked towards where Bonnet's ship had landed. He saw Bonnet, what looked like giving his crew orders. Bonnet then pulled out several maps and passed them out to each of his crewmates. Haggis chuckled darkly.//

Captain Haggis: Too bad the "gentleman pirate" and his crew won't be as much as getting a dabloon of that treasure.. Sao, round up the crew and get them ready. I'm making sure they don't leave this place... Alive.

Sao: Yes Captain! Right away!

//Sao made her way down towards where the rest of the crewmates were.//

Sao: Alright everyone, Captain says to get ready.. we're going treasure hunting!

//The crew cheered with joy. Some lifting their swords and flintlock pistols in the air.

Meanwhile on Bonnet's ship, he finished giving out the maps to the rest of his crew.//

Captain Bonnet: Alright with these maps we can all split up into two pairs. They show where hidden booby traps are and how to get to the treasure.

Ironbeard: this all seems like a good idea captain but uh, why are you splitting us up into pairs exactly..?

Captain Bonnet: Because I think I'd be a much more quick and efficient way to do so! And also the twins have been freaking me out lately..

//Ironbeard and Bonnet turn their heads towards the Solace twins. The twins slowly crept their heads towards the rest of the the crewmates. They were holding hands and were side by side to each other. Their eyes looked soulless as they stared at the others.//

Solace twins: A horrible fate awaits to whoever dares to awake the beast's slumber from inside the depths of hell and they'll bring misfortune and misery if awoken.

Ironbeard: ...

Ironbeard: Yeah I guess I can see why.

((Bonnet, Baozhai, Noëmie, Cletus, Islay, and the Solace twins belong to me!

Haggis, Sao, and Erik belong to @chaossmith2))

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

top ten things comic writers fucked up

Marvel

10) House of M ending with NO MORE MUTANTS, fucking up years of continuity and shattering the whole community and shit. Given the circumstances I add Wanda and Franklin Richards suddenly losing their status as Mutants for bullshit reason (In the case of Franklin it was due to that bitch Dan Slott being a petty bitch).

9) The Ultimate Universe, but, like, not all of it, just the worst parts. Like that one time the Blob ate Janet Van Dyne alive for starters.

8) That one time Peter Parker was sexually assaulted by the Spider-Queen or some shit, which lead to him getting pregnant with himself, turn into a giant spider before dying and giving birth to his human body. This is also here because his wife MJ berates him for being, again, sexually assaulted, which is bad.

7) House of M having Peter's big wish be about him being married to Gwen with kids and MJ is a rich famous actress (homo sapiens actress in a pretty much mutant ethnostate? A testament to her skills I guess). Like, just the whole "Peter doesn't REALLY want to date MJ and thinks he's be happier with Gwen" and "MJ would be happier and more fulfilled in her career if she was single" propaganda bullshit Marvel keeps to spout.

6) I'm pretty sure there was a thing with Arcade and underage people dying during some death games? Either that one or Sins Past but that would make this a bit too much Spider-Man centric tho.

5) Dan Slott killing off MC2 Peter as well as several happy MJ X Peter couples from different universes during comic book Spider-Verse because he is a petty bitch.

4) Civil War being pretty much a allegory of the Patriot Act and still trying to paint it as a good thing, while also enforcing shit like concentration camps and bomb collared villain slave cops and also child soldiers programs and shit.

3) That one time Dan Slott almost had Felicia get r*ped in a woman prison post Superior Spider-Man because he has a issue with women. In fact, Dan Slott general treatment of female characters really, with how he treated Silk (his creation too mind you) in the context of Peter, The way he treated MJ and had Superior Ock almost r*pe her, the way he writes whatever sexually liberated woman in general, and I guess him trying to pull the same thing he did with Silk and Peter, but with Johnny and Sky, but instead of using spider-pheromones he used magical alien bracelets of love instead.

2) Avengers 200 attempting to "kill off" Carol from the narrative by having a extra dimensional being r*pe her via mind control and get her pregnant with himself so they can remove her from the team and have her "retire" in the extra dimensional being's dimension without ONE avenger raising objection to that.

1) One More Day and One Moment in Time as a concept. Period.

0) The Clone Saga as a whole I guess? Like, pretty much nothing surpasses that in fucked up shit, so here it is as special mention.

DC Comics

10) Amazon Attack. Like, as a whole, but especially the Female Concentration Camps the US President set up during the invasion. With trains running on time and all that.

9) That one time Kyle Rayner's girlfriend got cut to pieces and stuffed in a fridge for pure shock value.

8) Like, I get the story Moore was trying to make, but The Brutalisation of Barbara during the Killing Joke was unnecessary and also dumb (who the fuck doesn't check the peephole of their door in FUCKING GOTHAM). The animated adaptation was also bad.

7) That one time they fucked up Cass' whole character. You know, the one where she implied she wanted to bang Tim and shot her dad with a magical flintlock pistol with two bullets in it for some reason.

6) I guess that one time they had Wonderdog be revealed to be a hellhound and have him murder Marvin in front of Wendy before traumatizing and paralyzing her for life, and just to do some edgy "this is NOT your grandpappy super friends!" Or some shit.

5) Deathstroke seducing Terra, a literal underage girl, and the narrative presenting it as either Normal or as her being evil or some shit, like, the whole thing was icky especially how they treated her and the fallout of it all.

4) The whole "Batman can't be happy AND Batman" bullshit they used to fuck over Bruce and Selina's wedding.

3) The treatment Wally West got at times. Like, him becoming a mass murderer recently for starters. Not him being best buds with literal Fidel Castro tho that was extremely "based," as the youngsters these days say.

2) Hal Jordan as a whole, either him being even more of a republican compared to the LITERAL CEO Oliver Queen (Socialist compared to him, him dating a minor and saying it's fine since her ring aged her up to "legal" age, or that one time some jackass wrote he had a threesome with two members of the Gail Simone's Birds of Prey because they were projecting.

1) That one time an Apokolips Dude used mind powers to shoot a porno with Big Barda and Superman, pretty much committing r*pe on them.

0) You know that one time Sue Dibny was pregnant and they had her get killed for dumb reasons and shock value? Yeah, this isn't about that. I mean, it's ALSO about that, but more specifically, this is about that one time they had Doctor Light become a r*pist and then fucked his mind to turn him into a joke. That whole thing was trash since it also had Deathstroke solo the new Justice League as if that's how it works. Also the whole "villains can't change it become better unless mind fuckery is involved" bullshit shit like this and similar stories did, which is indeed less serious than this mind you, but is still related.

[chaoslordjoe]

Bloodlines AU - Misfire

The following skit you are about to read is based on a roleplay between me and my friend @darksaiyangoku involving my BlackSun offspring, Alex Belladonna. Dialogue has been tweaked to break free of me and others’ usual transcript format.

Blake guided her daughter through a killing house constructed from a spare shack outside her family’s manor. Alex had her flintlock-esque pistol at the ready scanning the room, while Blake had Gambol Shroud aimed at their 6′o clock as they both kept scanning. 

All targets eliminated on the 1st and 2nd floors. But the clock was running as the third floor had one room left. With 50 seconds to go, they had to find it.

“Who’s taking which side, mom?” Alex inquired.

“You take the 3 on the left,” Blake answered when they stopped at the door to the target room. “I take the 3 on the right.”

“Got it, got it.” Alex replied with a nod.

Shifting Gambol Shroud into it’s kusarigama form, Blake swung it across the room being careful not to hit Alex or their her own targets. With a viscous shout, she went for the kill.

Alex peaked inside, twirling her flintlock and snapping her fingers. In it spawned an orb of ghost-fire which she quickly bounced off into the door frame and inside. But the fire didn’t burn anything up, instead it was meant to blind targets which thankfully affected neither Huntress present.

------------------------

Blake was not impressed by her kid’s stunt. Sun immediately noticed when they came back appearing irritated.

“Okay...Let’s just take some space from each other, girls.” Sun offered.

“Yeah, dad.” Alex sulked, handing Sun her pistol.

Blake sighed. “I’m gonna go see mom for a bit, honey.” She told Sun.

Before Sun could ask if training really sucked that hard, their daughter went straight to her room while Blake headed to the gardens.

Inside the tiny greenhouse, Kali was busy feeding the fish. One of her favorite activities while Ghira was off on diplomatic work. Had to kill time somehow when your spouse is a politician.

Kali greeted Blake who sulked over to the bench.

“Great...” Alex moaned from her bedroom window, shutting it and putting on her cat earbuds booting up one of her RPGs on the computer.

“Hey mom.” Blake said.

“Is everything okay, dear?” Kali asked, seeing Blake shake her head. “Would you like to talk about it?” She then offered.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” The assassin answered. “Training with Alex got a little...Overwhelming.”

“Overwhelming?” The grandmother questioned.

“Well, no. It’s hard to find the right words, but the way Alex is progressing has me concerned. She’s way too comfortable using magic during combat, almost to a fault. It’s lazy and frankly, irresponsible. What if she ends up attacking one of her teammates by mistake? I got lucky, I’m not sure others would.” Blake rambled.

Sun peaked in seeing his wife in her current state of Blake-y-ness. In an attempt to break the tension he offered to check on their little girl after asking if the women needed anything.

Kali replied with some of her son-in-law’s famous banana cream pie. Going to check for leftovers, Sun then turned to Blake. She requested her husband to go fix up some tea. Soon as he left, Kali offered to go talk to Alex later on. To which Blake reassured that she could handle it.

------------------------

Last she left off, the teen was fighting a loot boss. The Belladonna scion frowned, tail flicking along with her ears being drooped as she left-clicked away at the boss’ minions thinking about how upset she made her mother.

An hour after a kitchen search for leftover pie and some tea, Sun went up to Alex’s room, knocking on the door to see her in sad sack mode.

“Ale- -”

“SHIT!” Alex exclaimed, slipping out of her chair and dropping her headset on the carpet floor. “Ohh, fuck my life. Need something, dad?” She asked Sun while attempting to ensure her ears weren’t cracked.

“Yeah. How you doing, pumpkin?” Sun cooed.

“Eh. Tell you the truth, I feel like I really screwed things up with mom.” Alex answered.

“How much did you hear?” Sun continued.

“Enough to know that my training is probably on hold.” She bitterly answered.

“You’re not in trouble, honey.” Sun corrected her. “Otherwise you probably wouldn’t be farming this boss here. Also, Fire Resistance affix. Just saying.” He then joked.

“I tried using the best fire gem I got.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’m guessing mom wants to talk?” The girl asked.

“Well, you grandmother does.” Sun replied.

Immediately getting the memo, the young sorceress gave her father a thankful kiss on the cheek going downstairs to join Kali in the gardens.

------------------------

Seeing that the tea was ready as she poured herself a cup, Kali smiled at her granddaughter who was awkwardly staring at the floor, ears flattened.

“You wanted to see me, granny?” She asked.

“I did. Come here, sweetie.” Kali insisted, patting a seat.

While the matriarch swirled her tea, Alex’s ears seemed to flatten further expecting a scolding. Kali wasn’t always the fun grandparent, after all.

“I think mom’s angry.” The younger cat began.

“She’s not angry. Just concerned.” Kali corrected.

Shaking her head, Alex muttered something. “I can handle my Magic. I’m not- -Granny, I’m using it to- -”

“Can you repeat that?” Kali asked, cupping one of her Human ears.

“I’m using my Magic because I’m not scared of it!” The teen blurted. “Back when mom was feeling worried about if I had dad as my favorite, I overheard her talking about how it felt like she was scared of her own Semblance again!”

Although Kali was stuttered, she still offered a hug. “Oh, honey. Come here.” She said, embracing her.

“I like to show it off because I don’t want you guys to worry so much.” Alex said with her and Kali’s animal ears brushing up. “But- -I don’t know where to start with hiding it.” She admitted when they released.

“I never said anything about hiding it all.” The elder cat said. “I’m proud of having a sorceress for a granddaughter.” She admitted.

What Kali spoke of was the presence of magical beings in this post-Salem world of Remnant. In Ozpin’s ascension to the afterlife so that he could finally be at peace, he had made a deal with the deity brothers to destroy the four Relics, spilling their energies out into Remnant.

This ‘Reliquary Cascade’ had even gone so far as to bring back select magi from the old world before the collapse of the first iteration of Humanity. But in Alex’s case, she received powers of witchcraft from being near a shrine full of dark magics. 

The shrine detonated, causing her as a kitten to being stuck in a space between the spiritual and physical planes of existence on Remnant. Now, she primarily uses her powers as a means of crowd control with hexes, circles and lots of ghost-fire.

“I mean, I know the whole ‘secret society’ thing we have going on.” Alex continued, despite not being a member of it. “If I or any other magical kids show off our powers, people freak out. So I like to show it off in your company.” She then confessed with her shoulders slumping.

Showboating was one of Alex’s habits she picked up. Being a prankster like her dad, Sun, she always enjoyed a good joke or display of awesomeness. There were a lot of green fireworks on Menagerie’s day of independence.

“I get it now. We’re not saying to stop, just maybe take a step back for a bit during your training?” Kali suggested. “Your mother wants your physical prowess to be at peak condition. And your powers are wonderful, but it shouldn’t have to be your end-all-be-all style.”

“Right.” The younger cat replied. “I wanna be as badass of a swordswoman as her, if not more. I’m just not a kitten anymore, Gran. I gotta prove it. Was I lost in the moment?” She pondered.

“Maybe a little.” Kali answered with a nod.

“Clock was ticking, so I had to think of something. I don’t even have a good one in mind for blinking to a target.” She said in reference to her ability to teleport a short distance. “Did your Semblance ever scare you?” She then asked.

Kali gave a grim pause.

“...Very much.” She finally answered. “Alex...My Semblance was as dangerous as it came. You’ve heard about the myths of the Berzerks, right? The ones your Aunt Nora told you about?” Kali asked.

“You were one of ‘em.” She plainly guessed.

“Yes, and that was also my Semblance.” Her grandmother answered. Almost like a war flashback. “I was much stronger and faster but at the cost of my sanity. I would lose myself more and more every time I used it.”

“How’d you keep it together?” Alex asked.

“It took plenty of training, combined with intense meditation.” Kali said looking less horrified. “In the end, my Semblance was more focused. My sanity was kept intact and it helped me during battle.” She admitted with another smile.

“Was this before or after you met grandpa?”

“During, actually.” Kali answered, her old smile widening. “You’re not a kitten, Alex. You’re growing up to be a fine magi and Huntress. And we couldn’t be prouder of you for that.” She said, now grinning.

------------------------

Finishing her tea and giving her grandmother a quick hug, Alex ran up to Blake’s room to see her less irritated on the bed and relaxing with a book. She tried knocking on the door only to step on a squeaky floorboard.

“I know it’s you, Alex.” Blake spoke without her eyes diverting from the book.

“You got me.” She said, opening the door fully.  “I just talked with gran. How are you feeling?” The teen then asked.

Blake still didn’t remove her gaze from the book.

“A little disappointed, I won’t lie.” She scolded. “You’ve got a knack for magic and I won’t forbid you from using it, but you can’t just throw it out there willy-nilly. It’s dangerous.” She then added.

“Yeah, I...I was being a moron about it.” She admitted. “I just wanted to prove that I didn’t fear my own powers. That I coulda used it in a...Clutch moment.” Her ears flattened as she confessed her mistake. “I just wanted to see if we were cool. And if we could try again tomorrow.”

Looking up from her book and sighing, Blake sat up.

“Alex, I understand what you’re feeling and that you don’t fear your powers. That you’ve learned to embrace them.” She said, holding her daughter’s chin up. “But using them too much is another extreme. If you focus too much on your witchcraft while neglecting your other skills, they can falter. You gotta keep in mind how others could be affected if any of your spells backfire.” She concluded.

“I can’t live with the idea of them affecting you, dad, Gran, or anyone else who’s not in my crosshairs hanging over my head. I’m- -Well, I’m sorry.” Alex moped.

And then, Blake embraced her kitten. “I’m sorry too.” She replied.

Their remorseful hug lasted for a minute, with Alex pillowing the side of her head into Blake’s chest with the tension gone.

“What’s tomorrow looking like, then?” She asked.

Blake smiled.

“Another training session.” She answered.

------------------------

By the time they reached the third room of the killing house again, there were 20 seconds left. Alex noticed her targets popping up rapidly as if it were Whack-A-Grimm.

“Crap, I can’t make out which is which!” Alex exclaimed.

“Use those sticky bombs I gave you.” Blake insisted, cocking Gambol Shroud and firing.

Alex nodded, using some of her mother’s sticky grenades she borrowed. She chucked both and hit one target. Could’ve hit the second, but the buzzer blared with Blake winning the challenge.

“Argh!” Alex grunted. “Okay, mom. We’re even.” She conceded, inserting a fresh clip into her pistol.

“That wasn’t so bad, Hellcat.” Blake admitted. “Though, this is what you get for neglecting your physical condition.” She teased.

“Yep. Guess I’ll join dad and Yang in the gym next time before this.” The teen snarked.

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked up a good appetite. You hungry?” ?her mother offered.

“Normally I’d ask about kahuna burgers.” She replied.

“But we’ve got salmon fillets!” Blake beamed.

“Oh fuc- -Er, hell yeah.” Alex caught herself.

“I’ll pretend you almost didn’t swear, young lady.” Blake said with a glare.

“Yes, mother.” She said. “Let’s eat!”

[second-chance-stray]

RP Log: Cravendy goes to the gun range with Lin! I think both of them have a terrible time again.

(Cravendy Hound) hehe so 1 idea is them going to a shooting range together! :D )) (Aislinn North) ((They look like they could do some damage!)) (Aislinn North) ((Loaded guns and full of resentments. Sounds safe! xD)) (Cravendy Hound) oh lawdy xD )) (Aislinn North) ((lol!)))

Aislinn needed to practice. Or, more to the point, she needed vent out a host of ills through the violent sound, feel and smell of a loaded handgonne. But she had learned her lesson the last time she had tried this. The Shroud wasn't safe for the likes of her to traverse alone. And the Company House was empty save. ...Cravendy. She knew the woman was familiar with a gun, she had seen her a time or two cleaning her weapon. And so, biting back all the reasons not to do so, she asked the Seawolf to join her in the Shroud for a round of practice.

Cravendy Hound had been blindsided by Lin’s request. From how things had ended last time, she had assumed that Lin would want nothing to do with her. But life was ever full of surprises. Cravs steels herself and follows Lin to the range, a hand gripped on her gun holster the entire time. You could feel the tension radiating from the Seawolf, thick as sour butter.

Cravendy Hound: “....Oi.”

Aislinn North Lin looked up at the greeting, giving a single nod. She could feel the woman's discomfort thick in the air as she approached. Not exactly a good way to ensure you're shooting your best. But maybe that was good. For both of them. After all, being able to shoot straight under pressure was what it was all about. Even so, Lin couldn't help but try to alleviate a touch of that apprehension. Cravendy did agree to keep her company out here, after all. "You've had much of a chance to practice?" 'Since waking up' went unsaid.

Cravendy Hound: “Mmh. Not recently. But I figure I don’t forget this sort of thing. Should be good...” Cravs glances over to Lin for a brief moment, then looks straight ahead again. “...for the both of us, I think.”

Cravendy Hound pulls out her gun - a jet black flintlock pistol that’s been well taken care of - and aims it at the target. Her breath pauses for a moment, then releases, and her arm goes slack. “Why don’t ye go first.”

(Cravendy Hound) me: *wildly looking up HOW GUNS WORK dfsdfs * xD )) (Aislinn North) ((hehe! Welcome to my RP world as a MCH!)) (Cravendy Hound) xD my partner is giving me a whirlwind summary ))

Aislinn North Eyed Cravendy a moment, her face schooled in an impassive mask. She nodded as though she thought nothing of the Seawolf begging off at the last moment. Stepping in line with the last free target on the range, Lin shrugged her firearm from its holster on her back and loaded several rounds into the chamber. Lifting the slender rifle, she fitted it tightly against one shoulder and bladed her stance as she had done countless times before. There was a pause as she sighted the target, and her breathing slowed. She was ever the patient shot, even with the tension hanging in the air. All at once the gun snarled to life, kicking hard and she let her body absorb the momentum. This she knew. This she could do without having to think about it. There were no awkward waters to navigate. Lowering the gun, she peered down the range, thinking she had hit somewhat close to center. "Alright. We're off and running now." she stepped aside and made room for Cravendy as she turned her attention to the Seawolf.

(Aislinn North) ((Battle stance is best emote for mch :D)) (Cravendy Hound) Ooo it's so sassy )) (Aislinn North) ((It is! It's all 'try it and find out')) (Aislinn North) ((Also Ren showed me this the other day and it is now my favorite thing for writing up RP posts: https://www.ffxiv-toolkit.com/)) (Aislinn North) ((It breaks any post down into chunks for posting. And corrects spelling errors. It's so handy!)) (Cravendy Hound) ooooo woahh )) (Cravendy Hound) I'm trying it out xD ))

Cravendy Hound hears an all-too-familiar ringing in her ears as Lin lets her gun do the talking. When the echoing finally stops, she lets out a low whistle. Despite appearances, Lin was quite the sharpeye...though she had already known that. “Not one bit of ‘esitation, eh?”

Cravendy Hound steps into place and shifts her shoulders to the left, such that they're 90 degrees to her outstretched arm. Carefully, she pulls the hammer back on her gun and squeezes the trigger. There's a flash, then a bang! And a bullet goes flying towards the target, nicking one of its outer rings. Cravendy groans and feels heat rise into her face - godsdamnit, she was rusty. She gives Lin an angry glare, hoping to intimidate her from pointing out the obvious.

(Cravendy Hound) Oohh the arrows are the thing that splits it )) (Cravendy Hound) INTERESTING. I like this tool )) (Aislinn North) ((yup! And then you can just click the copy past icon on the right for each post and dump it in the chat here. When you start, you can choose if it's /emote or /party or /say and it'll put the command in when it splits the posts) (Cravendy Hound) the power of technology :D )) (Aislinn North) ((Right? What a time to be alive!)) (Cravendy Hound) o... I think I meant 180 degrees, so she's forming a line with her arm and shoulders as she shoots. WHAT ARE....numbers xD )) (Aislinn North) ((hehe, I got it! A blade :) ))

Aislinn North There was a slight narrowing of Aislinn's eyes as Cravendy tossed a glare her way. As though she had anything to do with the wide shot. Half of her wanted to rise to the bait and meet anger with anger but the other half, the smarter half that had kept her alive this long simply took a look at the target. "Close. Few more rounds and you'll be right as rain."

(Cravendy Hound) oh no...Lin can't read Cravs at all *laughs* )) (Aislinn North) ((Nope! She has her all sorts of discombobulated! *grins*)) (Cravendy Hound) they do that to each other xD ))

Cravendy Hound feels herself relax at Lin’s levelheaded response. She’s so used to keeping a tight hold on her reputation, that this...all this. It makes her feel like a limp pile of spaghetti. But Lin had no expectations. She could be trusted. She could. Cravs sighs and waves her gun around haphazardly.

Cravendy Hound: “‘ard to shoot when ye got arms used to punchin’. Could probably break me gun if I wasn’t careful.”

Aislinn North That garnered a considering tilt of her head as Lin stepped up to the target once more. "Maybe. But something like that'd earn you a bit of a reputation." she said. "Maybe a battlename. Guncrusher." a slight, sly tug of her lips as she raised her rifle. "Pistolbane."

Aislinn North She fired off another shot with ease and though she could have emptied the chamber, she left it at that. No sense in letting Cravendy think she was showing off. Left of center again. Her lips twitched downward as she stepped back. "Settling in at Heartwood alright?" she asked as she reloaded. She hated how wooden her voice sounded, even to her ears.

Cravendy Hound crinkled up her nose in response to the titles. “Twisted scrag...I’m not lookin’ for any new names any time soon. Mine’s just fine.” She notices a tension holding her shoulders up, and lets them drop with a smirk and a ‘harumph.’

Cravendy Hound takes aim at the target again and fires. Her gun kicks back, causing her arm to swing up afterwards. It’s closer to the mark, but not by much. “Ye lot are as friendly as gang of fresh-faced babes, so settlin’ in wasn’t all too tough. The drinks are good, I suppose.” She casts her eyes downward at the dirt and ponders for a moment...a question held back like wind behind her lips.

Cravendy Hound: “I wanna ask ye something. But know if I ask, ye won’t give it to me straight.”

Aislinn North Stepped up to the target, and for a moment it might have seemed she hadn't heard Cravendy at all. Peering down the range line, she held the rifle loose down at her side, but there was a subtle tension straightening her spine. "Why would you think I wouldn't be inclined to answer honestly?"

Cravendy Hound blinks, words caught in her throat for a split second. Good question - why? Lin was one of the most straightforward people she knew. There was no reason to make assumptions now of all times. Cravs lowers her gun and rests her empty hand on her hip.

Cravendy Hound: “...Then I’ll just ask. Are ye okay?” A beat. “And I’ll answer for ye. No, yer not. I’m not either. We’re like opposin’ magnets, but that also makes us on the same side.”

Cravendy Hound turns to look directly at Lin. “I think we’re grievin’ over the same loss. Where do ye stand on it? Ye just accept that it happened, life moves on?”

(Cravendy Hound) *INTENSE WORRY* ;_; ))

Aislinn North The question slammed into her hard enough to shake her placid shell. For a moment, her fingers tightened around the grip of her weapon. "Well, if you were going to answer for me, not sure why you bothered asking." she said, again feeling that forced control in her voice she had when Bertram had tried to comfort her. She turned to face Cravendy fully, staring at her as if there was no other answer. "Tends to be the way of things. Accept that it happened. Move on. Don't see what good doing anything else will be. Can't bring her back now, can it?"

(Aislinn North) ((And gloooom!)) (Aislinn North) ((It's like the game knows and adjusted the atmosphere)) (Cravendy Hound) LOL I noticed that too )) (Cravendy Hound) I've never seen this weather before O_O )) (Aislinn North) ((odin's about)) (Aislinn North) ((It happens when he's up))

Cravendy Hound feels rage build behind her eyes. For a moment, she doesn’t know what to do with her arms and hands. Pull them out in front of her? Cross them? Hold them up, tense and angry? Eventually she forces her hands down, fist clenched. “I...How can ye say that?! What, a footnote in yer journal is all then? It’d be easier if ye were shoutin’ a storm at me! Let the fire yer tuckin’ away all neat like go! Let it burn out so ye can make sense of all this! So we can make sense of all this!”

Cravendy Hound huffs, winded. She rubs the space between her eyes, on the brink of furious tears. “Bugger...”

Cravendy Hound: "Won't bring 'er back. 'ells, it's not 'er I'm thinkin' about...have ye seen yerself?"

Aislinn glared now. Dark and angry. Who the hells was Cravendy to stand here and lecture -her- on how she should be acting. She felt the tethers on her fraying control fall away and in one swift motion, she swung her gun up and spun for the target. Rapid shots one after another in quicksilver succession until the chamber was empty, each one snapping and growling out as if it could drown Cravendy out. When the gun was empty she stopped short of tossing it to the ground. "There is NO making sense of this!" She whirled back to Cravendy. "NOTHING about this will ever line up and make sense! And. ..a FOOTNOTE? YOU don't get to tell me what you think Wyda was to me! Ever!" Her pulse thundered with ever harsh breath. She stepped closer into Cravendy's space. "I'm not like you. And like it or not I'll handle this however I need to."

(Cravendy Hound) ohh noo )) (Aislinn North) ((Pfff, it's really what she needed)) (Aislinn North) ((To get it all out))

Cravendy Hound - Lin’s energy only feeds the flames. Crav’s heart is racing, beating nearly out of her chest as the gunfire roars like an unchained beast. She doesn’t back down when Lin steps close. “Well, I’m tellin’ ye now! Cause that’s what it feels like to me! I feel like a...I mean, she feels like somethin’ yer tryin’ to brush off. An’ I can see ye hurtin’ as plain as day. Well, I’m hurtin’ too! If there’s anyone out there that understands what I’m goin’ through, it’s ye...so stop dealing with it yerself!”

Aislinn North jerked her chin up. "Brush off?!" she snapped with incredulity. "Did it ever cross your mind that it's too *hard* for me to just. ..just...*replace* her with you?" Aislinn threw her hands out at her side. A few of the nearby archers casting worried glances at the weapon she was bandying about. With a sharp sound of frustration, she holstered the empty gun. "Like nothing happened? THAT would be brushing her off." her voice broke at the end and she swiftly looked away, pain etched in her expression.

(Cravendy Hound) the TEA )) (Aislinn North) ((Just spilling it everywhere))

Cravendy Hound her eyes flickered with guilt. She took a step back, posture hunched. “I-I never asked ye to replace ‘er with me! I don’t want to, and what ye ‘ad with ‘er will never be the same as what ye and I could ‘ave. I...” Lin’s gaze felt red hot, as if it were burning a hole from her forehead to the back of her skull. “I...I...don’t...”

Cravendy Hound shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Seven hells, why was speaking to Lin so bloody difficult?!

Aislinn stared at the distant targets, the fire burning out of her as quickly as it had been stoked. Cravendy's broken words leaving her with the sadness she always seemed to be struggling to keep at bay. Ever since that day on the beach. This was the part where she explained. Where she tried to tell the truth of what she was feeling but the words felt too big and too sharp. "When I've lost people before they were just...gone." she said lowly. "But she left and you. ..woke up. What do I do with that? How do I not feel. ..Do you remember anything?"

Cravendy Hound bites her lip so hard it draws bloods - and a curse. Cravs takes another deep and heaving breath as she tries steady her nerves, and say the right thing for once. But there were no right answers, not here. Not now. But she has to try.

Cravendy Hound: “I wish I could tell ye I didn’t remember anythin’. But I remember it all. When I was a part of ‘er, an’ before. When I wasn’t.” Her voice shakes, vulnerable. And then in a voice, low and quieter: “I shouldn’t be ‘ere. Should be ‘er. Or Dots. Or anyone else. But I’m ‘ere because of ‘er, an’ I can’t let that go to waste. Nor can I stand idly by while yer dealin’ with all this.”

Aislinn North "No." she said, swiftly as she flicked her gaze back to Cravendy. "It's better if you remember. I've been forgotten before. Starting from the bottom..." she shook her head and swallowed hard. "It's better that you remember." she quietly repeated. It seemed hard for her to find enough air to form words. " 'Should. ' " she shook her head as if to say she didn't agree with Cravendy. "There's only did and didn't happen. That's it." she again tried to draw in more air. "I feel lost. Sometimes I think of something or see something and then can't wait to tell her but..." she trailed off. "And there was so much left she wanted to do. She had notes and notes of things we were going to do."

(Cravendy Hound) ;_; ))

Cravendy Hound lets the rain roll off her face. She is soaked. Tired. But angry? The fury has been replaced by a somber melancholy. “Did or didn’t happen. Ye can’t change it. But ye shouldn’t look away. The memories, painful or not...it’s all a part of ‘er. It’s all we ‘ave left.”

Cravendy Hound reaches out towards Lin, then flinches. A hug from an angry stranger, the source and reminder of her misery, is probably the last thing she needs. So instead, she pats Lin on the upper back. “Dunno ‘ow primals work. Maybe ye can still tell ‘er what’s botherin’ ye. She’d want to know.”

(Cravendy Hound) that feel when the weather ends before you can get the post off <_> )) (Aislinn North) ((hehe!))

Aislinn North Hung her head a moment and much like Cravendy, she seemed wrung out. "Sometimes it's just easier to look away." she said, but she knows there's truth in Cravendy's words. She was silent a long moment. "Could do that. But. ..could talk to you on occasion too." she lifted her head. "Assuming these shouting matches aren't gonna be a regular thing."

Cravendy Hound - Surprise crossed over her face. What, her? It -was- what Cravs had wanted, but she hadn’t been expecting anything. She’s silent for a time after, until finally, she just barely nods. “Aye. When ye feel like it.”

Cravendy Hound has reached that point where she’s so exhausted that she feels a bit lightheaded...or mad? Maybe mad. Who knows?! Cravs looks to the sky, eyes shut, and makes a sort of bone-rattling sound that eventually turns into a laugh. “Any more shoutin’ and I’m liable to go mute. Ye and me both. But I’m...I’m glad. I guess.”

Aislinn North nodded stiffly. "When I feel like it." she agreed. Tossing a look around the target range she stood there, the tension drained from her for once. "Aye, suppose that's probably enough practice for one day." she muttered under her breath.

Cravendy Hound: “Maybe next time I can actually ‘it my mark, prove that I’m not an embarrassment to my kind.” Cravs dryly jokes. She shoots Lin a look and then turns to head back to Heartwood. So much to work on...they’d take it one step at a time.

(Aislinn North) ((Well this RP honestly goes a long way to setting Lin back on track xD)) (Cravendy Hound) nice!!! )) (Cravendy Hound) don't bottle it up!! )) (Aislinn North) ((She has bad habits)) (Cravendy Hound) these two are so different and yet so alike haha )) (Cravendy Hound) THIS...was fun. I had fun :D )) (Cravendy Hound) ANGERY )) (Aislinn North) ((hehe, so true! It should be interesting to see how this evolves. But thank you for the dramatic RP! Yes, most definitely fun!!))

[jurijurijurious]

A snippet of Barbossabeth...

Here’s a sample of the Barbossabeth fanfic I found. The story itself only exists as lots of unfinished chapters that need threading together. I’ll hopefully give it some love when I find time, I think it’ll be worth the effort and a bit of fun, but I’m a bit rusty with my PotC fics - this draft is over 10 years old in itself.

It seems I had the idea to have a narrator begin or interrupt the chapters, then told the rest as a regular third-person narrative. It was also written pre-Potc4 and PotC5 but they might even help inspire an AU-type parallel story.

Anyway, you’re welcome to message me with comments if ye feel so inclined.

“Mate, if you choose to lock your heart away, you’ll lose [Elizabeth] for certain.”--Jack Sparrow to Will Turner, PotC: AWE

Chapter [x]: A Divulgatory Mood

Elizabeth followed Barbossa out of the tavern, glad to be free from the acrid aroma of rum, blood and sweat which hung around like an unmovable miasma within.  The night air in the street was not much better, though; the foul stench of alcohol out here mingled with vomit and raw sewage.  Tortuga was the gutter of civilisation, and yet it had a certain appeal to it.  Besides the fact it was the last free port, it was something of a haven, an escape from the outside world of law and order.  It was little wonder that many pirates in these waters rarely made port anywhere else, and spent the majority of their lives out on the seas.

Barbossa seemed to know Tortuga extremely well – far better than Elizabeth – and she wondered where exactly they were heading as he took her on a winding stroll down multiple, dark back alleys, from which out of the crevices they were monitored by wary gazes and hungry eyes.

“Where are we going?” she asked him at length, striding up to his side and angling her head up toward his.  “I’m beginning to suspect you’re taking me in circles.”

He favoured her with a little smile, his eyes twinkling.  “Ye’re as bright as ever, aren’t ye?”

She stopped in her tracks, feet sliding into a thick pile of mud, and she gaped at him.  “You are taking me in circles?” she asked in horror.

“Well, nawt exactly in circles,” Barbossa replied as he turned casually back to face her, placing one hand on his hip and the other on the butt of his flintlock.  “More like back and forth and side to side. Criss-crossing.”

She blinked, a frown creasing her brow.  “Why?”

He chuckled, giving her a once over with his eyes.  “Perhaps nawt so bright, then,” he murmured.

He watched how her lips tautened and her eyes flared at him, infuriated by the insult, which only caused him to laugh some more.

“My dear Mrs Turner, can ye think o’ no reason I’d take ye on a long and winding stroll?”

Her gaze tightened on his person, thinking on this for a moment.  “So that I might not know the way back?” she queried.

“P’raps,” he said before he gestured for her to come close.  Reluctantly, she did, but did not to let her expression waver.  Her face remained frigid and cold.

Barbossa put an arm round her shoulder, and she baulked, but he held her firm as he then whispered in her ear, “It’s more so we might throw off anyone who be following us.”

Elizabeth relaxed as she realised that he was one step ahead of her.  She still had much to learn, it would seem.  And perhaps, even now, he still aimed to teach her.

He released her with a pat to the shoulder and continued on his way, Elizabeth tailing him like a loyal dog shadowing its master.  There were more turns ahead, then a couple of passes through other unsavoury taverns, where they entered through one door and left by another.  Sinister eyes hawked at them both as they passed through, which left Elizabeth in no doubt that they were not welcome– or at least that she wasn’t.

As they emerged back into the streets, Barbossa made a turn to the left whilst overstepping several chickens that were loose in the alley, and Elizabeth, tired of this aimless trek, opened her mouth to protest.  She was silenced before she even had chance to begin, though, as a couple of extravagantly dressed ladies suddenly emerged from a doorway and closed in on Barbossa like lionesses to a kill.

“You in need of a spot of company tonight, sir?” the first asked, a tall blonde in a lush, red dress.  She slinked up to Barbossa and ran her hands up his chest whilst Elizabeth just stood and gaped.

“I thank ye, no,” Barbossa replied in what Elizabeth felt was far too easy a manner, and she watched the charmer in him flare up as he threw the woman a grin and gently moved her hands aside.  He was a clear old hand at this game.

“I have other business to attend to tonight,” he continued, tapping the lady under the chin before turning to carry on his way.

Elizabeth made a step to follow but stopped again as the second woman, this one a brunette garbed in rich purple, walked around Barbossa and took a hold of him from behind.  “Oh, surely you can fit a little bit extra on the side?” she cajoled, one hand sliding over his shoulder whilst she settled the other on the butt of his flintlock and began to rub it.  “You won’t be disappointed.”

Elizabeth could not help but gawp even more.  She wasn’t sure whether these two women were competing for the Captain, or whether they were asking him to come and ‘play’ with the pair of them; either way, she wasn’t sure what shocked her more – their open advances, or the fact that it was this man they were trying to draw some business from.  Surely there were other more appealing prospects on the streets of Tortuga…?

Barbossa, meanwhile, took hold of the second lady’s hands and removed them from his person, before he brought her round before him in a very gentlemanly manner and then bent to kiss her hand.  “Apologies, m’dears,” he said again, “but I can’t engage yer services tonight.”

And it was then that the two wenches deigned to notice Elizabeth who stood a short distance behind him.  Their eyes took in her breeches and jacket, her messy hair shoved beneath an uneven tricorn, and they sneered in disgust.

“You’re not with that thing are you?” the blonde spat.

Barbossa looked back at Elizabeth, face betraying nothing.  “Aye, but fer business, nawt fer pleasure.”

Elizabeth for some reason felt affronted by his choice of words, so folded her arms and cocked a brow at him.  “Then shall we get on to some business, Captain?” she pressed.

She saw the flicker of Barbossa’s brow telling her to keep quiet, but she was hardly in the mood any more.  Elizabeth Turner did not take to being snubbed lightly.  But her attention was drawn aside from Barbossa as the brunette cackled wildly at her.

“My word, look at her!” jested the whore. “I half thought her a youth!  There’s nothing womanly about her.”

Elizabeth glared at the woman, hand twitching for the pistol in her belt.

Barbossa ambled quickly between them, sliding an arm round the brunette and guiding her off toward the side of the alley.  “Like I said, m’dear, I have business with this young lady.  Nothing more.”

“I hope so,” the brunette scoffed.  “Ye be a Captain, right?  And a Captain deserves pleasuring by a real woman,” She ran a finger up his body, fingered the necklace over his chest, then tickled him lightly under the chin.  “Not a skinny wretch of a girl with not a curve or figure to show for herself.”

“What did you say about me?” Elizabeth yelled, fingers curving round the butt of her pistol.

The brunette flexed her fingers as if readying herself for a good catfight.  “You heard me, cabin boy.”

The blonde rounded behind Elizabeth, the pair closing in on her predators, but Barbossa stepped between them all, took a hold of Elizabeth under an elbow, and then put a hand to the hilt of his cutlass, eyeing the ladies steadily.  “I don’t want any trouble, m’dears,” he said to all three, eyeing them each in turn.

The two wenches glared at Elizabeth once more before turning their eyes upon the Captain.  His fierce eyes told them he was being deadly serious and they knew that, with hand upon his sword, he was not a man to mess with.  They backed down.

“It’s your loss, handsome,” the brunette grumbled, brushing up against him as much as she dared as she slid past him and left.

“We’ll still be here if you change yer mind,” the blonde added.  “When you want to remember what a real woman feels like.”

Barbossa watched them both disappear then rolled his eyes and pushed Elizabeth on ahead.  “On with ye,” he said, marching after her.  “We’re nearly there.”

Elizabeth straightened her clothes out with more ferocity than was necessary and kicked up a pile of mud in anger.  “I could have taken those tarts!” she snarled.

“I’ve no doubt,” Barbossa rallied.  “But it’ll do ye no good to be harming the locals, yer Highness.  This is their territory and ye be signing nuthin’ but your own death warrant if ye touch any o’ them.”

“You heard what they called me!  I don’t have to take that kind of talk from any one!  I’m a pirate lord, I’m –”

“Clam up,” he snapped shortly.  “They make their living off o’ men, and they’ll attack anyone they think might be takin’ some business off their hands.  They’re survivors, just like you and me.”

“Well they needn’t worry about me taking away their ‘business’,” she sighed, her fists clenching and anger fizzling within her like a lit fuse, burning through her veins.  She was suddenly filled with a feeling of restlessness and, for some reason, inadequacy, and it did not sit well with her.

“Just because I choose not to flaunt myself in public…” she mumbled on.

Barbossa rolled his eyes again before he realised they were near their destination and he quickly stepped up to Elizabeth’s side, put and arm round her, and turned her into the next doorway.

“Let it go, Mrs Turner.  They were cheap shots, don't take 'em personally. We have more import'nt business to discuss.”  And with a burst of cheekiness, he added, “Ye be married anyway.”

He didn’t look to see her face.

------------------------

The seeds of uncertainty are sown in the most unlikely of places. Elizabeth was unhinged by how easily the wenches had hit a weak spot in her person, making her suddenly very self-conscious.  But why did it bother her?  She had never cared before that she was not as comely as other women – in fact it had often played to her advantage to be otherwise.  Perhaps what had truly unhinged her was how attractive the wenches had appeared to find Barbossa.  Even if they were simply coating their words in honey to get his business, it cut her deep to feel so suddenly alone – even an older pirate was not short of company, but she… she had no choice but to isolate herself, for she was, as Barbossa had reminded her, a married woman.  The man she loved was out at sea, cursed to serve for an eternity aboard the Flying Dutchman, like Davy Jones before him, and was allowed but one day in a decade to come ashore and see “she who loved him”.

Sometimes love is just not enough.

----------------------------

The ramshackle building into which Barbossa led Elizabeth was leaning over on its rotting timber frames, as if it were as drunk on the foul Tortuga air as the town’s many denizens.  Inside it was a dark and gloomy place, and had it not been for the man in the corner, sat alone with a bottle of rum at one of the many tables (each of which was nothing more than an upturned barrel), Elizabeth would not have thought this to be a public house.

Barbossa strode over the straw-covered floor with the utmost care, as if he were expecting, at any moment, for an ambush might be sprung on him. His eyes searched the dark and empty interior, studying any gaps in the walls and any doors left ajar, his eyes lingering in particular on the lonely stranger on the far side of the room, but he was ultimately satisfied that he and his companion were safe (at least for the time being), and took a seat at a table right in the centre of the room.  He opened his hand to the stool on the opposite side of the table and Elizabeth, giving it a brief derogatory look, then seated herself before him.

A man in a soiled apron materialised all of a sudden from a backroom, and ambled across to the pair.  Elizabeth felt a little uncomfortable toward him; he was middle aged with greying hair, but it was his eyes, a pair of tiny but piecing black orbs, which really unsettled her.  She almost felt that he had the ability to peer straight into one’s soul.

Barbossa nodded his head at the man before asking for a couple of mugs of beer and flicked a few coins his way.

Elizabeth edged backwards as the man’s hand hit the table, gathered up the coins in a slow, slithering movement, before he pocketed the money and disappeared into the back another time.

Barbossa read Elizabeth’s frown before she even realised she had turned to stare after the man, and he said, “Ye’ve no need to fear ol’ Frank.  He’s a trustworthy soul.”

Elizabeth looked unconvinced.  “Just like you?” she retorted, which made the Captain laugh.

There was a snort from the man in the far corner, which made Elizabeth turn to cast a glance at him, but he appeared not to even have moved. Even more confused than ever, she returned her sights to Barbossa, who leant over the table and said, “Right, let us talk Jack Sparrow.”

“Why’s it your business?”

“Because he has something I need.  That’s why.”

Elizabeth smiled, lacing her fingers together and leaning her chin atop of them.  “Ah, so we’re back to bartering information?”

“Bartering?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.  “And what might we be bartering.”

There was a slosh of liquid as Frank slammed two pitchers of beer onto the table, then left again into the backroom.  Barbossa waited until he was gone, and looked Elizabeth hard in the face.  “Well?”

Elizabeth picked up the mug and sniffed at the contents, wrinkling her nose at it.  “What’s this? Smells like a latrine.”

“So what if it is?  I bought it fer yer so ye drink it.”

“But it might be poisoned,” she rallied jokingly.

“Oh, there’d be no point in killing ye, Mrs Turner. Nawt yet.”

She threw him a sultry smirk.  They were treading again on old boards and it was, for some reason, comforting.  She took a sip of the beer, found it to taste a lot more pleasant than she had anticipated, and then said, “Rumour has it you plan to find the fabled Aqua de Vida. Is it true?”

Barbossa took a long draft if his drink before he said, “Aye.  And whose loose tongue divulged that to ye?”

“Oh, just someone, somewhere.” Her eyes sparkled at him and Barbossa knew she’d be giving no more than that away.  She had certainly learnt well.

“News travels fast, Captain,” she continued, teasingly, “particularly when Jack Sparrow is at the head of the trail.”

Barbossa sat back and regarded her carefully.  She didn’t look like much, it was true, but the greatest danger always lay with those which were easy to underestimate.  Elizabeth had the advantages of not only appearing quite plain, but also of being a woman in a man’s world, and she used these cards against her foes with great skill and zest. He recalled that his initial relationship with Elizabeth had revolved around the pair of them constantly underestimating one another. After Calypso had brought him back to life he had been faced with the task of working alongside Elizabeth Swann again and it seemed that neither he nor the young woman had wanted to make the same mistakes with each other that they had the first time; and so a form of mutual trust had been formed between them, an unsaid promise that neither of them underestimate the other.  In truth, they were equals, and any conflict between them would quickly degenerate into a vicious circle of trickery and deceit.  At least when they were a team, their resources were pooled and their energies well spent, which in turn produced results.  There was no doubt that, had either one of them not been present at their last battle against the East India Trading Company, the enterprise would not have been a success.  A remarkable thought if ever there was one.

Barbossa smiled fondly at this memory before he said, “What interest is the Fountain of Youth to ye?”

“Does it matter?”

His brow rose.  “I guess nawt.  But ye be a pirate lord and pirate king these days.  Why don’t ye go off with your own men to find the treasure, if that be all that interests ye?”

“Because I don’t know how to get there.”

Barbossa’s eyes lit up.  Then there was still plenty left to barter for.  “I see.  Well, fortunately, I do – or at least I will do whenever we get Jack back.”

“So he has the location?” she inferred.

Barbossa nodded. “Aye.”

She leaned over the table toward him, lowering her voice to a whisper as she said, fixing him with a dark stare, “I do hope this isn’t another island which you can only find if you know where it is?”

Barbossa shook his head and chortled.  “Nay, it’s not.  I’d hold no hope of extracting the information from Jack if it were, either.  If he’s got any sense, he won’t likely trust me with such information again.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth concurred, taking another sip of her beer.  “So Jack has the directions?”

“Aye.”

“On a map…?”

“As is customary.”

“Why does he need the map?  Doesn’t his compass work for this?”

“Oh, aye, I’m sure it works fine if he can set his mind to it.  But if he has the map, then I don’t.  That’s the point.”

Elizabeth laughed – typical men, in constant competition with one another!

“And what makes you think Jack hasn’t gone off to find it on his own?”

“I’m nawt saying he hasn’t, but unless he’s commandeered another ship and got himself another crew, I find it unlikely.  Besides, he loves the Pearl too much.  He’ll want her back sooner or later.”

Elizabeth’s lips slid up into a smug smile.  “Well fortunately for you, he hasn’t got himself a ship or a crew.”

Barbossa laughed, expecting as much.  “Didn’t think so.  So, where be he now?”

“Locked up.”

Barbossa groaned.  “Locked up?  Ye mean we’ve got to spring him from gaol?”

Elizabeth held his eyes.  “It wouldn’t be the first time, now, would it?”

“Not fer some,” he replied.  “And what’s he gone down fer now, might I ask?”

“Oh I don’t know.  You could fill a book with the crimes that man’s committed.  They probably took a pin and stuck it randomly onto a list and charged him for it.”

Barbossa took a couple of swallows of his drink then slammed the pitcher down with a slosh.  “It’s bloody careless of him… especially after everything that’s happened!”

Elizabeth didn’t seem so irritated.  “He’s Jack Sparrow.  You expected anything less?”

Barbossa eyed her sharply.  “I expected never to have ta see his sorry carcass again.  Why is it that I always end up running after him, or him after me?”

Elizabeth made a mocking shrug.  “Maybe it’s destiny, Captain.  Or a curse.”

Barbossa scoffed.  “Don’t dishearten me.”  He then looked over her countenance carefully and said, “So what is it ye be wanting in return fer this generous sharing o’ information?”

Elizabeth sat back, smugness written across her features.  “I want a part of the prize.”

Barbossa blink then choked out a laugh of disbelief.  “Ye want some of the fountain of youth?  You’re still but a girl yeself!”

That didn’t impress her in the slightest. “Am I? Well, this girl might be able to sell her information elsewhere.”  She got to her feet, ready to leave, and was surprised at first when Barbossa didn’t rise to stop her; he wasn’t as easily swayed as the others.

“Ye may walk out that door, missy, but ye ain’t got a clue where ye be going.”

Elizabeth’s expression faded to slight panic.  He was right.  Perhaps this was also why he had chosen to bring her on the most winding, confusing of routes to this secretive little place.  And she knew that more than mere wenches might be waiting in the dark and narrow backstreets of this seedy underworld.  She could handle a sword; she could look after herself; but she was one woman lost in a dark underworld, it perhaps wouldn't be wise to go out there alone.

“You bastard,” she murmured, throwing herself back onto her stool with a definitive thud.

“Takes one ta know one,” he countered before flashing her a toothy grin. “So, let’s be straight with one another.  You get part of the plunder in return for divulging Jack Sparrow’s locale.  Agreed?”

“I want passage aboard your ship, too.”

He looked confused by this request.  “Why, in God’s name?”

“Because I don’t trust you, that’s why.”

There were words as yet unsaid, and as Barbossa lounged back and looked hard into Elizabeth’s suddenly reticent eyes, he thought that he understood what else this might be.

“And ye’re bored, aren’t ye?”

She pulled that face which denied all accusations set against her. “I am not!” she said.

Barbossa’s smile was full of confidence, though, for he knew he was right this time.  “Oh ye are, I can see it.  Not enough going on fer ye back at Shipwreck Island?”

“Enough, thank you.  The East India Trading Company are on to us, you know.  They keep sniffing around like hounds on a scent and –”

“And yer men can go out and deal with them, no problem, right?  Sao Feng left you a good group o’ pirates, did he nawt?”

“Yes but we still have to keep them away from the cove, and  –”

He interrupted again.  “Oh that battle will never end.  It’s always been there – the authorities versus the pirates.  Ye know that ye can fight all ye like, but we’ll never win.  We’ll kill one Cutler Beckett and another one will rise up.  Can’t be helped.  And you know ye can’t waste yer life constantly fighting them, or else ye wouldn’t be here now, would ye?”

Elizabeth scowled at him and folded her arms.  “You’d be the same if you were pirate king.”

“Don’t be so sure,” he rallied, and chuckled into his beer as he watched her puzzled face, trying to comprehend what was going through his mind.

Since she had lost a foothold in this situation, she sought to change the subject.  “So, are you a regular here…?” she asked.

Barbossa was puzzled this time.  “Here? What do ye mean by ‘here’?”

She inclined her head towards the door.  “Tortuga.  The wenches.  You seem an old hand.”

“Ah…” he nodded, comprehension dawning.  “Well, once upon a time, p’rhaps I was more of a ‘regular’, but that all stopped with the cursed gold.  There be no point in paying a woman to pleasure ye if ye can feel none of it.”

Barbossa monitored Elizabeth’s face, wondering if she might blush at such bluntness, but she did not.  That impressed him.  She was more hardened than that whelp she called husband.

“To be frank, Mrs Turner,” he continued light-heartedly, “ye perhaps be more experienced than I in those kind o’ things now.”

She giggled over her beaker at him, which brought a smile to his face. She could be pleasant enough company, if nothing else.

“What makes you say that, Captain?”

He ran a finger round the rim of his mug, looking down into the near empty pitcher before reconnecting his gaze with hers and saying, “I’ve nawt touched a woman since before I was resurrected, therefore I see meself as being a virgin all o’er again.”  He raised his mug in her direction before taking a swig.  “You might have ta teach me a thing or two now.”

Elizabeth seemed sceptical.  “Are you sure? You and Tia Dalma seemed mighty close on occasion.”

“Trifles. One can but have affection fer she who raised one from the dead.  We played around but nuthin’ happened.  It be too dangerous for a man to get entangled in her web.  Not worth sharing a bed with her, I tell ye now.”

Elizabeth laughed another time and shook her head.  “Very well, I shall do my best to believe you.  But I still count myself as rather inexperienced in the matter, so you had better go back to your whores and ask them to remind you how it’s done.”

He finished off his drink, put down the empty mug, and rose to his feet. “Now I can’t be doing that, Mrs Turner.”

She cocked a brow in jest.  “Why ever not?  Isn’t it what you always used to do?”

“It is, but well, but fer one, I’m loathe to part with me money, and two, I think I can do a bit better for meself now.”  He threw her a wink and turned to go.  “Are ye coming or will ye be finding your own way back?”

Elizabeth finished off her beer in one hearty swallow and then got up to follow.  “I’m coming.  I don’t fancy been left lost in the alleyways with all those tarts about.”

Barbossa’s lips parted in another grin.  “Aye. Would be a fine way for Mrs Turner to go, that.  At the hands of Tortuga’s women of negotiable affection.”

They turned as one to go, weaving in between the haphazard array of tables and stools, before suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, the man in the corner shot to his feet and proclaimed at the top of his voice.  “Genesis!  Genesis!  Genesis!”

Elizabeth and Barbossa turned, brows creased as the man continued to repeat the word over and over.  They then watched as Frank the bartender came out of the back room with an oar slung over his shoulder, which he promptly swung into the lunatic’s face.

There was a heavy ‘thunk’ before the man crumpled into a pile over his table, sending his bottle of rum rolling onto the floor.

Frank turned to the departing duo.  “’m sorry, guvnor. He raves, this one.”

Barbossa looked again at Elizabeth then shrugged.  “T’wasn’t raving at us.  T’is no problem.”

They then began to leave, but heard Frank mumble as they went, “Don’t be so sure.”

TBC…

[thefemdomenchantress]

The Enchantress: Passion in Steel

[Sequel to this]

Tight. Dark. Warm. Together. The hero and enchantress, having lost the tug o’ war of control to their base, sexual instincts days ago, stay embraced in their small space.

His hands upon hers. Hers around his. Her waist, his shoulders, her breasts, his neck, they paw at and touch each other every hour that their captive, the steel lady, allows them to be animate. But they cannot always have sex. For some reason this is not allowed...

Locked inside the body of a four meter tall lady of liquid steel, controlled with magical spells to bend to her whim, they are kept horny. They are kept touch-starved despite drowning in each other. They can not get enough of each other... The hero and enchantress’s lips stay together, and they are constantly desperate for each other. The steel lady is fueled by their lust, by their passion.

She will not let them have each other just yet...

*** ***  ***

Enjoying her freedom to roam and see the world, the steel lady rests one night atop a hill. 

She looks down at her torso, the forms of the sealed hero and enchantress barely visible. She fondly pats her stomach where she knows they are kept...

Steel Lady: Your passions fill me with power. How does it feel, after so long. To be trapped, unable to escape? To know I will forever be your cage and mistress, and that your body will forever be used to fuel me? Have you grown tired? Has your minds melted? Have you accepted this as your fate?

She feels the wriggling, trying in vain to resist their steel prisons. But with barely an effort she quells them with her magic liquid body.

Chuckling, she plans for the next day...

Using the power that she leeches from the enchantress and hero she has experienced peace and freedom. Now she will experiment with using the power for violence...

*** *** ***

Hero: En...enchantress...

Enchantress: Hero...

Hero: K-kiss me...

Sealed and molested by their shared liquid metal cage each day the hero and enchantress have become used to pleasure forced from their bodies...

The liquid metals shift their bodies, encasing their limbs and controlling them. The metal, cool, warm, and velvety smooth, perfectly enters the enchantress’s pussy or wraps around the hero’s cock, massaging and tickling, teasing and finally causing them to explode in orgasm... This is their daily torment... And it is this inescapable torment that powers the steel woman...

But not all of their passions and pleasures are forced upon them, they decided... It is possible, even in this prison, to create something meaningful...

Enchantress: Always, my dear boy.

Their lips meet, their bodies press against each other wherever possible... They cling onto each other with their lips whenever they cannot with their own arms...

*** *** ***

The lady of steel drops the surrendering warrior, who scurries off. She takes a look at the results of her battle. Four knights, soundly defeated or worse. She does not bother to check if they still live, but they’re certainly still.

A battle against the guard of a small town, one that she had been the victor of.

Inside her she feels the enchantress and hero kissing, feeling each other with whatever parts of their bodies she hasn’t covered in her metal. The desperation to feel in control of their own passion is delicious...

Steel Lady: Not yet, my sweet captives...

Inside her body the enchantress and hero’s heads are pulled back... The space between them is mere millimeters... They are so close, but can’t fight back...

*** *** ***

For another day the steel lady harvests their power to suit her whims, and no authority seems capable of stopping her. Spears break against her body, flintlock rifles make inconsequential, repairable dents, and even magic does little to slow her down when powered by the enchantress and hero’s energy.

Inside the hero and enchantress are teased and denied, teased and denied, for hours. Hands, feet, and now heads kept apart they struggle to just feel the other. Proof that they are not alone inside this woman who has consumed them...

Steel Lady: Yes, hero. Yes, good enchantress... struggle and struggle, fueling me...

The steel woman makes her way toward another town... a larger, and industrious one, already swarming with expectant guards... She prepares for her assault...

Steel Lady: Yes... Soon I shall allow the two of you respite... You’ve been kept away from one another for so long, you poor things. Though all you wish for is each other’s kiss and embrace, you’ve been forced to orgasm right in front of each other for my own sake... The frustration that must be within you, building up from days of denial... It will fuel me with such power that I will use to destroy and dominate this large town...

She approaches the town while feeling their struggling...

*** *** ***

Enchantress: . . . Hero? I know... you want to stop her...

Hero: But we can’t...

Enchantress: I truly am sorry, hero. I never meant for this...

The shock of hearing his enchantress apologize wakes the hero from his magic induced paralysis for just a moment, enough to think straight...

Enchantress: The steel lady... she was never supposed to become this powerful... I was careless and let her consume me...

Hero: Enchy... I forgive you...

The enchantress looks at the hero, her magical vision not at all hindered by the darkness.

Enchantress: You forgive me? How could you. We’ve been trapped, tortured for so long...

Hero: Please forgive me, enchantress... For not being strong enough to free us... to protect you...

Enchantress: Stop. I don’t... I don’t deserve that...

The hero moves his head toward her... The liquid metal holding him back seems lax now... Perhaps the steel lady isn’t paying enough attention...

He can’t see into the dark, but the enchantress’s bright eyes, millimeters from his face, is unmistakable. Stretching the bonds as far as he can he feels her...

The enchantress, too, fights the steel. She has more of her strength besides being drained for so long... Her hands slip out from the metal unnoticed... She wraps them around the hero...

She pulls him as close as she can, their foreheads touch... She feels so warm, so soft... Her fingers wrap around his own calloused hand...

The hero just wants to kiss her... If only he could reach her... If only he could fight this damned prison of steel just a little more...

Enchantress: I don’t deserve your forgiveness... I don’t deserve your pity... You understand that, don’t you? Please.. No matter what I say... No matter what anyone says... I was never.. I...

Hero: En...enchantress...

Enchantress: Hero... You are the one... who’s too good for me... Please... No matter what happens after this, please remember that... You deserve so much more...

Hero: Enchantress, stop. Please.

The magic suppressing him seems like a light buzz compared to the pressure inside him, the beating of his heart and the emotions swelling in him... He reaches forward, the liquid steel bonds giving way, and he holds his precious one.

Hero: I want you, enchantress. The clever, the mighty, the wonderful enchantress.

The bonds become softer and softer...

Hero: I love you, enchantress

*** *** ***

The steel lady falls to her knees on the dirt path.

Steel Lady: What is this? No, no, this is too soon!

*** *** ***

Liquid metal rises and swashes around, trying to bind and separate the two, but cannot harden.

A power borne from emotion more potent than lust, a craving more voracious than the desire to fuck swirls within the liquid as the enchantress and hero cling to one another, their lips inseparable...

The enchantress holds her hero tightly... Her most precious of all possession... A familiar sense of power surges through her veins again as her body regains its instincts at his touch...

The hero doesn’t let go... He follows her movements... She leads the kiss and he follows. She leans back and he follows forward, she presses him back and he obliges. Letting her command, as he always does, knowing it is for the best and his place is to be under her control.

Hero: Enchantress... please... never let me go... I want to live our lives doing our song and dance, fighting our fight, for all of time... I never want to be without your dominance... Let me stay with you...

She pulls him closer, the metal between their hips and thighs melting away in a glow of blinding light.

Enchantress: I want... to have you. So much. I want you kneeling before me, beneath my every step.... I want every part of that mind... every thought of yours... More than anything else, I want you to be with me... Forever... Please...

The metal melts totally...

*** *** ***

The steel woman shrieks and moans, magical ecstasy filling her body... It is pleasure and passion and desperation too potent and pure... She cannot hold her form...

She descends to the floor, crying out in passion, melting...

*** *** ***

The hero and enchantress stand before the half melted woman, staring down in pity. The steel woman struggles to regain form...

Steel Lady: H-how... I don’t understand... I had such a total grip on you both... I had such... ironclad control...

Enchantress: There are stronger sources of emotional magic, steel lady, than mere passion. I simply tapped into a vein of the strongest kind of them all. I’m sure you could feel it, when it radiated from you and wrested away your control.

Steel Lady: I don’t know... I couldn’t comprehend it...

With a snap of her fingers the enchantress seals the iron lady into her pocket.

She and the hero, naked and tired from their ordeal, stand alone.

Hero: . . .We, um... we both had to tap into some pretty potent emotions... to get out of that situation...

Enchantress: . . .

Hero: Um... I understand... if you don’t want to talk about it. Maybe.

Enchantress: Maybe...

She turns away from him, and he sighs somewhat disappointed, somewhat relieved.

He was exhausted, he was confused about his own feelings, and he was a little bit afraid... Just how much more powerful could the enchantress become if she learned to tap that power more regularly... If she and he stayed together, if their love fully realized... Would she become a god?

Enchantress: . . .I need space... We’ve spent more time together than even I would prefer.

Hero: Erm, yes. I’ll... I’ll see you later then...

He felt her approach him at high speed and instinctively became on guard. She gave him a quick hug.

With a light flash the hero was fully clothed, and the enchantress was gone.

*** *** ***

[I did kind of imply I would write a continuation to that previous Steel Lady story, and I did have an idea of how it could end... I decided that come hell or high water I would put this out there, and now I have. I hope to write more often these coming weeks]

[lebelletemps]

Chapter 3: The Revolt (Part 2)

T/W: Blood...lots of blood, use of the N-word, slavery themes, lynching, death, cursing, threats of death, themes of the occult, violence, revenge, abuse towards children and women...

A/N: It’s crazy how this quarantine actually brought my writing bug back! I actually wrote so much I have to split this chapter so in conclusion, yes...there will be a part 3!

If you need a refresher of where we are in the previous chapters here & here

The new cast additions are here!

Delphine entered the back door, still fuming from her argument with Cyrille. “The nerve of that man, if you could even call him that!” she spoke to herself. She was about to head into her room until a voice called out for her. “Delphine? Delphine, is that you? Could you come see me please?” Delphine made her way over to the parlor where the slave owner’s wife Josephine Dupreé was sitting on the couch, a slim framed woman with long, flowing bosom length black hair in stark comparison to her pale skin and rouge lip. “Come sit with me.” she patted her slender hand on the seat adjacent to her. Josephine was the exact opposite of Delphine, she always held a bright smile on her face. She seemed kind to all she walked past her, even the slaves thought so outside of the home. But Delphine and the other house slaves knew better. Josephine Dupreé was a vile, vicious woman. Under the veil of her Debutantism, Josephine has verbally, mentally and spiritually abused all the slaves in the home; especially Delphine.

As a child, Josephine would personally whip Delphine for any infraction even if it wasn’t her fault. Delphine used to be close friends with her daughter Rose, but Josephine removed them from each other and slapped Delphine across the face one time they horse played with each other. Now she wants to act like this was a social call? Delphine cautiously approached the aging woman and sat down beside her. “How are you doing dear?” “I’m fine.” “Well I wanted to speak to you about something important.” She placed her hand on top of Delphine’s. Delphine had instant traumatic flashbacks of the abuse she suffered and instantly became uneasy. “I wanted you to be one of the first inhabitants here to know that… I am currently with child.” “Well congratulations ma’am, I’m sure he or she would make a fabulous addition to the family.” Delphine faintly smiled. “I know this child will and as you also know, we only have so much space in the home for all of our children to live here comfortably. You do understand what I am saying to you, correct?”

“I’m not really sure how all this pertains to me Madame Dupreé.” “Well my husband Jacques, God bless him has been more than gracious with you being here despite your poor household management and child rearing skills.” “I am sure I have done more than my fair share of–” “No, no this is the part where you listen child. Now, when this child comes, you will be placed back out onto the fields and removed from the servants quarters.” “M-My apologies madam, but I don’t think that’s right. I’m sure your husband would reconsid–” “My husband already agreed to the arrangement and we’re moving out your effects as well. Can’t have a field nigger tracking dirt and debris into our home, now can we?” “No ma’am, but where will I stay?” “In one of the nearby shacks, I’m sure one of your kind would let you stay with them. Besides, my daughter Charlotte always liked your room. It would be just perfect for her to reside in.” Delphine arose from her seat not speaking a word, she normally would protest Josephine at every turn until it became futile but she knew that she must spend more time in learning how to take over the plantation once Allix & Rayan awoke at nightfall.

“Oh, one more thing Delphine?” Delphine slowly turned around and smiled at Josephine. “Yes madam?” “I haven’t heard from your brother all day today. Do you know where he might be?” “No, not at all.” Delphine cleared her mind to see if Josephine knew anything about what transpired earlier that day. “Look at her, filthy mulatto is lying through her rotten teeth! I should’ve taken her and her brother and drowned them when I had the chance.” “Is that all you needed from me?” Delphine added. “My son also hasn’t returned from looking into the deaths of those men out in the woods this morning, have you seen him?” “I’ve heard about that and that such a travesty and no, I haven’t seen him either. I hope whoever done this is brought to justice.” “You’re a whore just like your filthy nigger mother, walking around here like you’re better than everyone. If your father hadn’t sold her off, I would’ve killed her too. He wanted to spare her husband, but I guess him trying to run away with y’all sealed his fate.” Delphine ceased prying through her mind and waited for her next command. “That will be all Delphine, thank you.” “You have a great evening madame.” “Same to you.” 

Delphine could feel Josephine’s eyes practically burning through her skull as she walked back to her room. Once Delphine closed her door, she began planning her scale of attack, knowing the quickest routes within the house and where everyone sleeps. She remembers the weapon’s shed where Rayan used to work close to by the stables, she knew she would have to clear that out first and get them to the other slaves without detection. The only way that’s even feasible is if she reveals that she is a vampire, knowing that she would put herself at great risk; she knew that liberation was more important than the consequences of exposing her secret. She went under her mattress and pulled out a box that contained an outfit she had made a few months ago. A pair of Burgundy long-leg trousers with black suspenders and a long sleeved off white cavalier shirt, this would be considered her outfit for when the war began. She knew that no one in the family should be spared, so that no one would know of what was to take place here. Eradication of the Dupreé legacy from history was all she truly desired.

Underneath the clothing were a matching pair of Flintlock pistols Rayan made a year ago for her while the slave owners were away given that their hands on the plantation were negligent to say the least. Their lax nature gave him more than enough time to create weapons and bullets off the Dupreé records. He wanted to spill their blood as much as she did, the only thing they needed was time… and now their time will be fruitful once Allix and Rayan awake as Vampire. As nightfall approached, she took off her work dress, put on her new clothes and placed her pistols in her deep pockets to conceal them. She stared into the mirror as she pulled her black, finely coiled hair and tied it into a mid ponytail. 

She revealed her fangs as she marveled at her new attire. Then she was startled by a loud, rapid banging at her door. “Just a moment please!” Delphine rapidly retracted her fangs & put on her old clothes on top of her new ones, grabbed the straight razor she hid under her pillow hiding it under her sleeve and opened the door a crack to see it was Camille crying. “Camille?! Camille are you looking for a lashing?! What are you doing here?!” “It’s Cyrille & daddy! Th–Th–They gon kill them!” “Who?!” “Massa! They found his son’s clothes in our house and claimed that it was my daddy and my brother who killed Jack & those other men in the woods. Massa and his men took em and now they called everybody out to the back to hang them!”

Delphine eyes widened as she remained speechless. “THEY DIDN’T DO IT AND YOU NEED TO HELP THEM!” Camille demanded Delphine. “What am I to do?!” “You have abilities I may not understand, but they could be of good use right now! My family will not be ruined because of you, now COME ON!” Camille ran out through the kitchen and Delphine was taken aback, but soon being careful not to discharge her weapons. When she caught up with Camille she saw the glow of the torches that revealed that all the slaves had gathered around the back of the plantation. As the young women both pushed through the crowd to the front, Camille quickly ran to her mother’s arms who was already sobbing and inconsolable. A tall, medium built white man with a full mustache approached on the balcony between the twin stairs. He had black hair with silver streaks on the sides and a black and bronze embroidered suit with matching trousers & a gold vest decorated with floral patterns. Delphine has never seen such an ominous sight since her mother’s husband was killed, then the stone faced man cleared his throat and began to speak.

“What seems to be going on here is that we have murderers on my property. Earlier this morning my only son Jackson and a few of my plantation hands discovered a few bodies not too far from this here location, the tracks from that scene lead straight to the Beaulieu‘s home. Then when my son went over there to investigate what was going on, he never came back home. So I took it upon myself to see what happened to him and everybody said he was last seen at the Beaulieu’s.” Delphine started to slip behind the other slaves in attendance. “So I thoroughly looked into the matter and I found my son’s bloody clothes underneath one of their beds!” The crowd gasped in shock and murmured amongst each other. “This family has a history of having their kin attempt to run away from our home, neglecting their duties & disrespecting our family. And for their defiance of our generosity, the suspected culprit is still on the loose.” The enslaved began to murmur amongst themselves as Slave master Dupreé looked amongst the crowd. “Bring them out here!” The doors behind him suddenly burst open with both Cyrille and Desmond bruised and bloody from the beatings they’ve endured at the hands of Master Dupreé’s plantation hands. The look of fear in their eyes as they saw the nooses brought a few of the other slaves to tears at their helplessness.

At this point Maudette was inconsolable and sobbing as she gazed upon her husband and only son mistreated so badly. Camille couldn’t bring herself to even glance at their present condition.

“Now, we’ll try this again. Where is your daughter Allix Beaulieu?” “Massa, we don’t know where she is. She hasn’t been home all day.” Desmond shook his head frantically. “We haven’t seen her, honest!” Cyrille added. “It’s interesting you would say that, cause several of the others said they saw her in your home. And with Rayan no doubt. So now I have a missing son, dead bodies on my property & the suspected culprit somehow was home/wasn’t home? I don’t buy it.” Slave master Dupreé stared into Desmond’s eyes. “Put his head through the noose.” “NOOOOOOOOOOO!” Maudette screams holding her youngest child tighter.

Delphine was snuck around the back of the house trying to get to the weapons shed to get the artillery before they strike. She remained in the shadows to remain unseen, as she tried to peer out of the corner her arm was grabbed by one of Massa’s plantation hands. “Whoa whoa there lil house girl, where you think you going? The soirée is back that way.” Delphine struggled to get free. “Let go of me!” she grunted. “Hey, you’re Dupreé’s mulatto bastard aren’t ya? Almost didn’t recognize you in the dark, then again you darkies all look alike.” The man’s breath reeked of cheap ale and rotting tobacco between his teeth. “You know, I never knew what made Jean like y’all so much.” He chuckled in her ear as he groped her breast. “Maybe I should fuck you like he fucked your whore of a momma.” Delphine let the razor slide down her freed sleeve and spat in his face. He tried to grab her again but she quickly turned around and slit his throat open with the sharp blade in one clean motion. 

She watched the blood pour out of the man’s body like a fountain, wishing she could feed, but she had a more important task to handle. She took off her dress and revealed her new outfit below and took off running. She finally found the weapons shed and when she opened the enclosure she saw it was completely empty. “No, no, no! Where are they?!” she whispered in frustration. “You thought you was gonna get to the weapons first?” Delphine turned around to see her brother behind her with a shotgun in his hand. “You miss me twin?”  he revealed his newly formed fangs to her. Delphine took out one of her pistols and smirked. “Not a single Frenchmen on this estate will survive beyond tonight.” She exposed her fangs, then they heard a “NOOOOOOOOOO!” from Maudette and began to run back around to help save Desmond & Cyrille.

“If you lie to me again, he will die tonight. Spare your husband’s life and tell me where Allix is. WHERE IS SHE?!!!???!!” He screamed his demand with a rope in his hand. Desmond tried to keep his balance on the railing as he was barely able to keep his balance on. “I will give you lot till the count of three then he dies. “MASSA PLEASE RECONSIDER!” “One.” “WE DON’T KNOW WHERE SHE IS!” “Two.” “PLEASE DON’T DO THIS!” “Three.” He released the rope and Desmond went over the edge and was hung by his neck. Maudette screamed in agony as she saw her husband’s legs swinging for his life until he was gone. “PAPAAAAAAAAAAA!” Camille cried out in anguish as she saw her father’s lifeless body dangle in front of her. The crowd gasped in horror at the ghastly sight, everyone at that moment felt completely helpless. “The son is next.” Master Dupreé continued. Cyrille began screaming trying to fight off the men trying to force his head through the noose as he tried to escape his hand restraints. He fought as hard as he could then he heard a shot that barely missed his head. The men and him stopped moving and he looked at Master Dupreé. “Put your head through the noose boy!” He pointed his pistol directly at Cyrille’s head. “I won’t repeat myself a second time.” Cyrille tried to catch his breath as hot tears entangled with his blood from his assault earlier streamed down his face. The whole plantation was silent with the exception of Maudette who was still sobbing with her youngest child in her arms. 

The men put the noose around Cyrille’s neck and tightened it. Cyrille eyed Master Dupreé as if he was trying to stare down his soul. Master Dupreé looked right back at him. “I’m sorry it had to come to th-” Cyrille spat in Master Dupreé’s face and furrowed his brow not speaking a word as he huffed angrily. Master Dupreé wiped off the thick saliva from his right cheek and chuckled. “I going to love seeing your nigger body hang. Throw him over!” He addressed his henchmen as they struggled with Cyrille to carry out his sentence. “You and your whole family will die tonight, mark my words! Your family’s blood shall paint these damn walls!” Cyrille grunted as he struggled with the noose tight around his neck. The henchmen threw him over the railing and when he began to choke on the rope, he felt a strong gust of wind brush past him. 

The rope of him and his father was cut and the bodies drop to the floor, he quickly got up and saw the slaves gasping and staring upward in horror he quickly turned around and looked up to see Jacques Dupreé being hung by the neck over the balcony, his two henchmen murdered within seconds with their blood was viciously splattered across the walls behind where they once stood. It appeared like someone’s hand was around Master Dupreé’s neck, Cyrille looked up higher for a better look and saw it was Allix. She was covered with dirt from head to toe with a mischievous look in her eyes which were cat-like in an amber color with her fangs exposed. “I would kill you right where you stand, but I made a promise to a friend.” she replied as she dropped him from the ledge causing him to land on his ankles which were now broken upon contact with the cobblestone floor below. He began to crawl away in agony from the cobblestone to the grass.

She then looked down to see her frightened brother and the lifeless body of her father and quickly ran downstairs when Cyrille looked at his newly transformed sister, his eyes radiated a mixture of sadness, rage and relief. Allix reached out to touch her brother’s face and he reluctantly pulled away from her. “My God Allix, what have you become?” He raggedly breathed. Allix furrowed her brow and then faced the frightened crowd. “Enslaved people of Dupreé Plantation, I am Allix Beaulieu. I offer you a chance to be free of Master Dupreé or being under any European man’s rule! Right now, Rayan & Delphine are raiding the armory. Tonight, we take back this land and our lives. We shall be slaves no more.” “What makes you think you can set us free? Cause you broke Massa‘s foot’s off?!” One slave interjected. “You must think we’re foolish!” Another added. “You killed a couple of his men and think you can give us freedom?!” “Why should we even listen to you anyway, you’re the reason why your daddy is dead!”

The Revolt continues...