#and killed another one's captain and made all the sailors get on his sinking ship so he could steal theirs

[saturn-noctua]

Twigg my beloved little man!!!1!!!!! he killed like 60 people today alone!

[heygerald]

Red Skies Warning: (POTC 2003)

OFC x Captain Jack Sparrow

Tortuga did not disappoint.

It was exactly what she had been picturing. Prostitutes dotted every street corner, drunkards sleeping in pig pens, alleys overrun with rats, and a bar fight nearly every hour. The streets stunk of piss, hay, and sweat. There was an ever present noise; people shouting to one another, Captains barking orders, cries of anger mixing right alongside the near constant cheers of jolly. And—

Edwina loved it.

It was everything she had read about as a kid, sneaking towards the docks to pry stories of life at sea from the returning sailors or begging the housekeeper—a well traveled lady by the name of Chandace—for tales of seabeasts and mermaids. All her life her mother had hated that sense of childish wonderment she had; her father hadn't been around enough to scold her when she was young.

And now, here she was, experiencing it all for herself.

"You rat bastard!" a voice could be heard in the revelry, followed by the sound of a bottle smashing and punches being thrown against skin. The barkeep shouted something towards the chaos, but altogether remained unbothered as he placed two glasses down on the counter. "I'll kill you—!"

"I think it's time for us to leave," a shoulder edged itself in between her and the fight, effectively cutting off her most recent source of amusement.

Edwina frowned irritably.

Will decidedly did not love the chaos as much as his redheaded friend. Worry lines had creased deeply into his face the moment they stepped off the HMS Interceptor, and his frown now seemed near permanent as he pressed them as far into the corner as he could.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic."

"Dramatic? Edwina, we just saw somehow get bludgeoned with a broken bottle."

"He's still alive," she said with a dismissive wave of the hand. The reaction—or, her lack of one—didn't seem to amuse Will in the slightest. "Will, honestly, no one else seems all that worried about the little scene."

"That only means they're used to it."

"Or that it's not a big deal."

Will's eyes rounded incredulously, and Edwina could already feel the beginning of a headache behind her eyes from the ensuing reprimand that she was about to receive. "You can't be serious. This—"

"We're not going to be here long," she cut him off before he could get started. It worked, though he still seemed entirely unhappy about their current circumstances. "We can't go anywhere without a crew."

"We got here without a crew," he muttered.

She wasn't sure their journey to Tortuga was a badge of honor considering how they had scraped a large section of wood off their ship when making port. Not to mention the fact that they hadn't slept during their journey at all just so they wouldn't run the risk of sinking themselves on a wayward reef. "Barely. Do you really want to be working crew twenty-four hours a day for however many days it takes to find Elizabeth?"

His frown flattened.

"It's going to be fine. You just need to, you know, relax a little."

Will took a long swallow of his drink—wincing when he realized that it tasted more like piss than beer—before he was eyeing her suspiciously. "You seem to be handling things... well."

"Should I be crying more?"

"A pirate's ship is no place for a lady. And this place," he added with a sour look around, his gaze lingering on the pair of ladies in the corner that wore dangerously revealing dresses, "is certainly not the type of establishment you should be lingering in."

Edwina rolled her eyes and took a long dreg of her own beer, purposely holding his gaze and not gagging at the disgusting taste. Will rolled his eyes when she wiped the spilt beer off her face with nothing other than the sleeve of her shirt. "Should I remind you that I didn't have any say in where we made port? I'm here, just like you, in the hopes that Captain Sparrow may not be as crazy as he seems."

You shouldn't have come at all, his eyes seemed to say. But Will wasn't as stupid as he looked, and rather than reprimand her for showing up, he decided to keep that thought to himself knowing she would likely be starting the next bar fight if he said something so sexist to her. "I could have done this on my own."

Edwina gave him a flat look. "You wouldn't have even gotten to the beach before ending up in irons," she reminded him shrewdly.

"We... would have figured something out. Sparrow's one redeeming quality seems to be his improvisation skills."

In perfect timing with the compliment, the sounds of a barfight kicked up from the other side of the bar, and the pair turned to find Jack Sparrow himself being smacked around by the very same ladies that Will had been avoiding earlier.

"You said you's 'was a Lord," one of the ladies hissed, as the other's mouth popped open into a perfect o. She added, "you told me you were going to marry me as soon as your mother died!"

"Well, technically, my mother ain't dead yet, so that's not a lie."

"Oh!"

They took turns smacking him across the cheek, before dumping their beer across his face. Amber liquid dripped a line down his jaw while they turned on their heels, huffed, and marched out through the front door.

Jack grimaced, flinging his hands dry as he watched the door slam shut behind him. The whole bar seemed to be staring now—if only out of boredom—and Edwina watched in mute surprise when his response was nothing other than a silver-toothed grin.

"What can I say, lads?" he touted, spinning for everyone to see, before he clapped his hands together. "The ladies of Tortuga are torturous, treacherous, and my favorite thing on this island."

Laughter echoed around the bar as several men raised their own glasses in some sort of vagabond agreement. Will was clearly not impressed with the little show if the disgust curling the edge of his mouth was anything to go by.

"He's going to get someone killed," Will told her pointedly.

Edwina just smiled. "Yeah, himself."

Jack meandered up to their side of the bar. He cast a mindless smile in Edwina's direction before ordering a drink from the bartender. When he realized that it was Edwina that he had just smiled at and not some hapless woman waiting to be hit on, his smile dipped into a suspicious frown.

"I didn't think you drank," he muttered, nodding at Will with a mocking, "you either, eunuch. Don't seem the type."

"Sure I drink. Just not so much with you."

His frown deepened—only to lift the moment a bottle was settled in front of him with a thump. Jack took a long swig before his gaze returned to the pair at his side. "Hmph. I'd almost take that as a compliment coming from you, love."

"Of course you would."

"Jack," Will inserted himself between the glaring pair with a beleaguered sigh. "Did we only come here so you could get piss drunk? I think you could have just done that on the boat."

"Couldn't't've," Jack replied nonsensically. "There's no more rum."

"Is this the only place to buy some, then?"

Jack took another long dreg, squinting at Will with his head tilted sideways, before deciding on something. "I've come to this bar, on this island, mate, because of the types of people that frequent this kind of bar on this kind of island."

"Prostitutes, you mean," Edwina supplied cheerfully.

"Sailors."

"I don't think those dresses would make for good sailing."

He narrowed his eyes at her shrewdly. "The men here in this type of place are the same men that are going to row us to find your little pretty Governor's daughter, eh? So, yes, dear William, we did have to come to this bar for this rum. No better way of finding a crew than waiting for the drunks to get their tabs at the end of the night that they can't pay."

"Right," Will deadpanned. "Drunks and beggars are going to be our sailors. Wonderful."

Jack pointed an unsteady hand at Will. "Careful who you call drunks and beggars, eh? There's all types lurking in places like this. In fact, I'd almost be inclined to say that you are a beggar. All for a woman, eh?"

The tension between them could have been cut with a knife. And, honestly, if Edwina wasn't tired of their antics.

"Will," she elbowed him sharply. "If drunks and beggars are going to crew the ship, then drunks and beggars are going to crew the ship. It's for a purpose."

"Ay, lass," Jack cooed, smiling something sickly. "It's for a purpose."

"Besides," she continued, a sickly sweet smile of her own aimed right at Jack, "drunks and beggars will fit right in with our Captain. Perhaps their mutual feeling of hopelessness will bond them together for a greater purpose. Eh, Captain?"

He pointed a finger at her, wavering in the air. "Just because you're a lady with the bits and the pieces doesn't mean I'll stand for such talk."

Edwina raised a brow at him, eyes lingering on how he swayed against the bar top. "If you have another unfortunate run in with a lady tonight, I don't think you'll be standing come morning."

"Heh, you offering?"

Edwina slapped Jack across the face with a sharp smack that had her skin hurting. It seemed to surprise Will as much as it did their Captain, and as Jack soothed the skin with his palm, both men looked at her with wide-eyed stares.

"What?" she shrugged, taking a single moment to finish off her drink, before chirping, "isn't that what all the women here do, Captain?"

Jack said nothing.

She suspected that there was nothing to be said in such a lull of conversation anyway, so rather than stick around in hopes he would learn the English language, she just tugged Will by the wrist towards the door.

"What did you do that for?"

"I thought you wanted to leave?"

"Well, I did," he argued, frowning. "I didn't think you would slap him, though."

"Should I slap you next?"

[ltwilliammowett]

How the USS Constitution got her nickname

The first major naval battle of the War of 1812 was between the USS Constitution, 54 guns, commanded by Captain Isaac Hull, and the HMS British Guerriere,44 guns, commanded by Captain James Richard Dacres. The two ships were classed as frigates and were similarly armed. The event took place on 19 August 1812. Now the two knew each other from an event that had taken place a few weeks earlier. The Guerriere was one of the ships of a British squadron that Hull and his crew had overtaken a few weeks earlier, leading to a race from which Constitution successfully escaped.

USS Constitution vs. HMS Guerriere, by Patrick O’Brien (x)

But now the two were alone and the Guerriere came within a mile of the Constitution, hoisted her flag and fired a broadside, but the cannonballs missed their target.

The crew asked Hull for permission to return fire, but he refused, not wanting to waste the first broadside. Soon, however, the Constitution pushed alongside her opponent and Hull gave the order to fire. The battle began. The Constitution's thick hull, made of white oak planks and oak frames, proved resistant to enemy cannonballs. During the battle, an American sailor was heard to exclaim: "Huzza! Her sides are made of iron! Look where the shot came out!"

In a letter written to Secretary of the Navy, Captain Hull (Captain Hull's account appears in: Grant Bruce, Isaac Hull, Captain of Old Ironsides (1947, reprinted in Angle, Paul The American Reader, 1958); Forester, C.S., The Age of Fighting Sail; the Story of the Naval War of 1812)  describes what happened as the Constitution continued to close with its enemy:

As we bore up, she hoisted an English Ensign at the mizzen gaff, another in the mizzen shrouds, and a Jack at the fore, and mizzen top gallant mast heads. At 5 minutes past 5 p.m. as we were running down on her weather quarter, she fired a broadside but without effect the shot all falling short. She then wore and gave us a broadside from her port guns, two of which struck us but without doing any injury.

At this time finding we were within gunshot...The enemy continued wearing, and maneuvering for about 1/2 of an hour, to get the wind of us. At length finding that she could not, she bore up to bring the wind on the quarter and run under her topsails, and jib. Finding that we came up very slow, and were receiving her shot without being able to return them with effect, I ordered the main top gallant sail set, to run up alongside of her.

At 5 minutes past 6 p.m. being alongside, and within less than pistol shot, we commenced a very heavy fire from all our guns, loaded with round, and grape, which was done with great execution, so much so that in less than fifteen minutes from the time, we got alongside, his mizzen mast went by the board, and his main yard in the slings and the hull and sails very much injured, which made it difficult for them to manage her.

USS Constitution vs. HMS Guerriere, by Anton Otto Fischer date unknown (x)

As the ships clashed, boarding parties were formed, and Lieutenant William Sharp Bush, commander of the Constitution's naval command, took the initiative. Sword in hand, he leapt onto the rail and shouted to Hull, "Shall I board her?" No sooner had he uttered the words than a musket ball struck him in the cheek, killing him instantly. Seeing Bush fall, Lieutenant Charles Morris jumped in his place, but he too was badly wounded by a bullet to the abdomen. On board the Guerriere, Captain Dacres was seriously wounded when an American musket ball hit him in the back. Before either side could regroup, the two ships were torn apart. The badly damaged Guerriere was forced to surrender.

I ordered a boat hoisted out and sent Lieutenant Reed on board as to see whether she had surrendered or not, and if she had to see what assistance she wanted, as I believed she was sinking.

Lieutenant Reed returned in about twenty minutes, and brought with him James Richard Dacres Esq. Commander of his Britannic Majesty's Frigate the Guerriere, which ship had surrendered to the United States Frigate Constitution.

Frégate Américaine La Constitution Prenant à L'abordage La Frégate Anglaise La Guerriere, by Valnest after Stradonwort; c.1814 (x)

Throughout the night the Americans tended to the wounded and dead and transferred the British prisoners of war and their belongings to the Constitution. By morning it was clear that the Guerriere was beyond saving, and Hull made the difficult decision to sink the ship by detonating the gunpowder in the magazines. The Constitution sailed with the prisoners to Boston, where she arrived on 30 August. Through this battle and the exclamation that her hull is made of iron. She was given the nickname Old Ironsides. 

[lokiandracoon]

Pairing ; Loki & fem!reader

Summary ; You sinked his boat, and you may sink his heart, but until then he’ll follow your lead through the seven seas.

Content Note ; Pirate AU, pirate!reader, prince!loki, angst, fluff

Sorry for grammar/spelling mistakes or misused words, English isn’t my first language (｡>﹏<｡)

AO3 link || Loki masterlist || join taglists || series masterlist

Next chapter; II. Sapphire

˗ˏˋ A SMOOTH SEA NEVER MADE A SKILFUL SAILOR — CHAPTER I ; RUNAWAY PRINCE

You watched with a blank expression as the water engulfed the lavish ship, next to it a small boat carrying its crew did the same as you.

You didn’t hurt a single one of them (well, maybe you did hit a couple in the head, but it wasn’t anything major), they weren’t your main goal. The ship also didn’t matter anymore, they could build more.

You wanted the gold, the riches they carried. Yet, you got a big surprise when you realised that they carried very much less than what you expected.

It just didn’t make sense to you. The ship was supposed to be of royal property, but even if it was fancier than many others, it didn’t seem as expensive as the ones the royal family usually traveled in.

They were making a trip to a neighbouring kingdom, to visit you guessed. Normally, they would carry exceeding amounts of goods to gift; yet, this vessel seemed to carry way to little. Only 3 middle-sized chests of jewellery, 5 of fabrics, and some furniture. And also a prince.

You just hoped your last minute plan would work.

A frown adorned your face as you turned around from the scene. On your own boat your crew was running around, preparing to follow another route.

Natasha, your right hand, approached you until she was standing next to you, watching over the people working.

“The prisoner wants to talk with you” you scoffed and turned your gaze to her, “Well then tell him to keep his pretty mouth shut, ‘cause I don’t want to talk with him” Natasha rolled her eyes and continued, “I can’t” she shrugged.

You frowned in confusion, “What do you mean you can’t?” “He asked for a parlay”.

You laughed at that, “And what else does our precious prince want?” you asked sarcastically, throwing your hands in the air. Natasha smirked as she lightly shook her head, “Just go and talk with him, he seemed like he knew something”

“Yeah, well I hope he knows that I’m gonna throw him to the sharks if he wastes my time” you sighed as you made your way down to the only occupied cell in the ship.

You walked until you were in front of the cell, carefully eyeing the prince you had kidnapped.

“Well, parlay then” you stated which made him get up from his uncomfortable seat and walk to the bars.

You had expected he would be yelling in indignation, demanding for you to let him go. Yet he was calm, he almost seemed peaceful.

You had heard stories about him, he wasn’t the best fighter although he was pretty skilled with knives. But he didn’t look like he wanted to fight; he hadn’t even resisted much when he was dragged out of the cabin of his royal boat and into the cell of yours.

“You’re committing a mistake” his statement made you want to laugh, he really just wanted to waste your time “Well, what’s new, right? If that is all, I’m going to leave” you started walking away when he called again.

“Captain, you’ll get nothing from the king” you turned to look at him the best that the metal bars let you, you could see his green eyes devoid of any emotion— did he not understand the situation he was in? “And then what? He’ll let you stay imprisoned by the dirty pirates he so much loathes? Or will he let me kill you?”

You didn’t let him answer as you made your way up to the deck.

You had given a message and a chest to the crew of the royal ship once they were settled in their small boat, and you hoped they would deliver them before you lost your patience and made the emerald prince walk the plank.

“Tell his majesty king Odin” you made a bow as you named him, which made Natasha chuckle slightly as she took her place next to you, “That I have his prince” with a devilish smirk you pointed to the raven haired man next to you, held by two of you swordsmen, “And I want that chest filled with those shiny golden coins of your king, or else I’ll make dinner for sharks and the main course will be his son” some of the men on the small boat shivered slightly at the tone of your voice, “I’ll be arriving on Bone Island in seven days and I expect my gold by then, you better not bring a fleet or anything like that. I’ll give him to you unharmed unless I have to pull out my sword; because then I’ll hand him to you in pieces” you gestured for everyone to move, ignoring the protests from the men below.

You didn’t want it to come to that, it really wasn’t in your agenda to kidnap a prince. But you had gotten desperate. You had spent weeks waiting to raid that vessel, expecting to find vast amounts of goods; yet you found almost nothing.

You slammed shut the door of your cabin as you entered, walking directly to the bed. Letting yourself fall into the sheets as you sighed.

This was a disaster. If it ends bad, you’ll be putting everyone in unnecessary danger.

It was a spontaneous decision; you saw the raven haired man and quickly recognised him as Prince Loki, you saw an opportunity and you took it. But if the king decides to arrive ready for battle, regardless of your condition, you may have little chances of getting out alive.

On the other hand, if this ends well; you’ll be getting a great sum of gold, the chest that you gave them was quite big.

“Captain” Natasha barged through the door, you sighed in annoyance and supported yourself in your elbows to look at her, “What?” you questioned irritated, “What did you get out of the prisoner?” you rolled your eyes and let yourself fall back on the bed.

“Nothing, he just wasted my time” you replied putting your arm over your eyes, then you realised the room was actually dark. It was nighttime already.

Natasha seemed to notice too as she moved to light the various candles around the cabin, “Did you actually talk with him or did you just make him shut up and then left?”

“Natasha, just let me be please” you whispered as you turned on your side to face away from the redhead, she sighed heavily, “Y/n, please, go talk to him” “Why do you want me to talk with him so badly?” you once again turned to look at your right hand, irritated by her pressing.

Natasha and you had been friends for a long time, bonding over your passion for the deep waters and the gushing wind. If there was someone who could read you, it was her. She knew you were worried of the outcome of your decision, and she wanted to help.

The redhead walked until she sat next to you on the sheets, “When you were talking with the people in his boat, he almost looked amused” she started, pulling your arm away from your face with her hands, “And then you started giving orders around, he seemed curious” you arched an eyebrow in question, “Where are you going with all of this?” you asked and she took a moment to look to the side and then back at you.

“He looks calm regarding the whole situation, it’s like he didn’t want to be there” you frowned in confusion. You hadn’t had time to carefully asses your prisoner in the moment, you hadn’t noticed any of what she said; yet again, maybe you wouldn’t have anyways, Natasha had always been the more observant to details.

You moved to sit next to her on the edge, “So you’re implying he wants to be here?” you asked and Natasha nodded, “Maybe he wants something, we could come to a deal” her answer got you thinking.

What could Loki want that pirates could get? Did he have a treasure he wanted to look for? Why was he on the ship and if he didn’t want to be there? Looking back you did notice he had put little to no resistance when being dragged to your boat. He hadn’t yelled, thrashed or fought, even though he was capable of doing so.

You got up from the bed and walked to the desk where a map was displayed, you leaned on the edge and crossed your arms. Natasha raised an eyebrow, waiting for your answer, “Is dinner ready?” you asked which made the redhead frown, nevertheless she nodded, “Last time I checked Wanda was about to finish” you hummed, “Maybe we should give our prince a welcoming dinner”

ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮

Loki moved his head when he heard the jingling of keys approach. He got up from the uncomfortable wooden plank he was laying in when the redhead came into view.

He observed her carefully as she opened the door of the cell with the key in her right hand, “You’re having dinner with the captain” she stated leaving the door open for the prince to move out, “Why?” Loki ventured to ask.

He knew he shouldn’t. He had read enough about life at sea to know he shouldn’t oppose a direct order from the captain, especially now that he’s a prisoner. Natasha raised her eyebrow and looked at him sternly, “Because the captain said so, now move” she demanded harshly.

He inferred the redhead was your right hand from how she gave orders after you had retired somewhere else when you had raided his ship, so he shouldn’t oppose her either.

Loki walked until he was out of the cell and next to Natasha, she threw him a final stern look before closing the cell and grabbing him by the arm.

As they walked out to the main deck, Loki scanned his surroundings. Everyone they passed was immersed on their own work, whether it was cleaning the wooden floor or polishing weapons.

He noticed how the majority of your crew was made out of men, he had barely seen any other women apart from you and Natasha. Loki thought it was peculiar, female pirates weren’t unheard of but there weren’t many.

Natasha guided him through the deck and towards your cabin. The candles could be seen lighting the room through the blurry glass of the small windows. The redhead opened the door for Loki and shoved him inside. He turned to her, not having appreciated the push but she had already closed the door on his face.

“You can take a seat” your calm voice spoke from behind him. Loki turned to look at your sitting form behind the table where dinner was set, he scanned the various plates of meats and vegetables and moved to take a seat opposite of you.

He watched intently as you poured what seemed to be wine in a golden goblet and extended it for him to grab. He moved his eyes between the goblet and your face, pondering if he should take it, but a raise from your eyebrow had him quickly reaching out for it.

As Loki took the goblet closer to his lips you reached to grab some grapes from the fruit platter to then sit more comfortably on the chair; looking back at the prince, you noticed he wasn’t eating anything, “Go on, you can eat” your soft encouragement had him reaching to put small portions of food in his plate and start eating, even if he didn’t really have the appetite.

“You know, I had eyes on your ship for some time before it sailed” you started making him raise his eyes from his plate to you, “One would think a royal ship is full of riches, but yours wasn’t” you paused to put a grape in your mouth, you didn’t move your gaze from the prince as you chewed and swallowed the small fruit, “Why” you didn’t ask him, you demanded an answer, and that was clear to Loki in the stern tone of your voice.

Your presence was imposing since the moment he entered the cabin. Loki didn’t forget how your aura was threatening and authoritarian when you raided his ship, you carried yourself with a confidence that overpowered everyone’s bravery, and that sheer action made it seem impossible to fight you and come out victorious. You were calm in front of him, no matter how trained he was, you had the control.

Now the stories about you made sense to the prince. You didn’t need a whole fleet to dominate the waters, just your presence was enough to make everyone succumb to your rule.

You were just what he needed in the moment.

“My father, the king, didn’t deem it necessary to carry so many things” he answered and you nodded lightly, “Why the furniture” your question made him frown, “I beg your pardon?” you shrugged, “The furniture, why where you carrying furniture” you explained, “As gift to the neighbouring kingdom” he replied and you tilted your head for a moment.

“That’s not true” he scoffed, “Are you calling me a liar” you smiled innocently, “Not necessarily, but you’re in my ship, you should know better than to lie to the captain” he rolled his eyes and dropped the silver fork in his hand, “I don’t know about pirate etiquette”

You rose from your seat with a dark look, grabbing the silver knife set next to your own plate, “I’m sure we could fix that” you replied walking around the table and closer to the prince.

Loki felt the danger in each step you took closer to him. But he masked it and refused to move his eyes from yours as you approached him. Once next to him, you harshly grabbed his jaw with a hand and planted the knife against his throat with the other. Loki couldn’t help but hiss at the contact of the cold metal with his skin.

You looked directly into his eyes with a somber expression, “Listen well your highness. I don’t like playing games, I have no issue cutting your throat right now, it wouldn’t be the first time a kill a member of high society” you whispered dangerously as you leaned in to talk closer to his ear, “So don’t lie to me again or I will give you a final you may not really like”

The tension only increased as you gripped his jaw tighter, which in return made Loki harden his hold on the chair he was sitting on. He could feel your breath in his neck and he found himself unconsciously wishing for you to plant your lips there.

Even in the situation that you were, even if you could cut his throat any second. He wasn’t going to deny your beauty, you were a gem of the sea and no one could oppose that fact, but he definitely could try to deny the attraction he felt when he first put his eyes on you.

On the other hand, you found yourself enjoying the moment. You always liked playing with men like this, it was amusing to you when they lost the control they so much liked. It had been a long time since you involved yourself romantically with anyone, and the pale skin of the prince seemed to call for your touch, your brain demanding of you to respond. He was extremely good looking, he was a prince at the end of the day; but you held back.

“Have I made my self clear?” you asked in a whisper maybe a little more closer to his earlobe than you should have, Loki nodded slowly and you pulled away.

You gave his eyes a last look before turning back and going to your seat. You noticed his pupils, darker than before, but you said nothing because you guessed yours were the same.

“Then talk, why the furniture” you said after making yourself comfortable once again in your chair, Loki coughed lightly which had you smirking, “For my stay” his answer made you raise an eyebrow in question, “Why would you need furniture for your stay?” you asked curiously, “Because I wasn’t going to come back” this just confused you even more, “Explain yourself”

Loki sighed and looked back at you, “I’m supposed to get married to the princess of the neighbouring kingdom” you nodded slowly in reply, that explained the furniture, “But you don’t want to” you replied, “It’s a marriage of convenience, it’s common” “Doesn’t mean that you want it”

He looked aside. It’s true, he didn’t want to get married, but Odin was aching to get rid of him so he didn’t have a chance at protest. He didn’t hold resentment against the princess, she was everything anyone would want; intelligent and beautiful, but he didn’t find it in his heart to love her more than just a friend.

He desperately found himself wishing for a sea storm to drown the ship and him in it, no longer being able to put up with his father’s mistreatment. If he died would Odin even hold a funeral for him?

You sighed when he averted his eyes from you. Now you felt bad for him, having to marry an unknown person that he may not even love just because his title said so, you couldn’t even imagine how depressing of a live that would be.

“I could offer you a deal” your words made him perk up to listen attentively, he nodded for you to continue “Raiding your ship and finding nothing in it cost me a lot” you started and he listened carefully, “You know the royal ships that carry the most expensive goods always take hidden routes” Loki nodded at this information.

It was to make sure they wouldn’t get raided. Not only did they take unusual and different routes every time, they were also camouflaged, swapped for cheap-looking boats to avoid suspicions.

“I want to know the routes and the ships” you said. Loki knew of a few vessels set to sail during the next few months but he wasn’t going to disclose that information now.

He had to prove himself useful to you, if he had just given you everything he knew you would have no problem throwing him off the deck and into the shark infested waters, “What will I get in return” he leaned in placing his elbows in the table to prop his chin in his intertwined hands, you smirked, “Going back to your very loving father” Loki cringed at his mention making you chuckle, “Well what could you want?” you asked.

Loki pondered. He didn’t want to go back to Odin, he would only send him again to marry. Leaving him somewhere along the way wasn’t an option either, they would be looking for him. After some minutes of thinking he finally opened his mouth to answer.

“I want to stay here in your ship, I want a place in your crew”

ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮

Loki woke up as someone abruptly entered the room he was assigned, “Come on! Get up, the sun’s about to rise!” an unknown female voice screamed next to his bed.

Loki turned to see a redhead woman looking extremely pissed. It wasn’t Natasha, no, he hadn’t seen this one yesterday.

“Move! What are you looking at?!” she yelled when Loki made no movement to get out of bed.

“Sorry” he said getting up finally, she scoffed, “There’s a lot to do, follow me”

As they both walked through the vessel, Loki reminisced on the night before. You had agreed to him staying in your boat, and called Natasha to assign him a spare room.

“You… want to stay here?” you asked incredulously as you looked at him with narrowed eyes. Loki almost felt embarrassed at his request. But it was what he wanted, and he wasn’t going to back down now.

“Yes” he replied and you laughed, Loki frowned at your response, “Oh my! Our gracious prince wants to be a pirate!” You giggled and mocked him a little more, you really enjoyed yourself, “Fine, but do you even know anything about life at sea?” you asked seeming like you were back at mocking him, but Loki could see something genuine in your eyes.

“I haven’t spent much time at sea. I know the basics but I am quick to learn” you nodded at his response, no more giggles or smiles.

You got up from your chair and made your way to him. Loki thought you would put another knife to his throat and for a moment he almost flinched, but he was surprised to feel a soft touch in his cheek instead. You had put your hand on the side of his face and gently guided him to look up at you, “You’re not made for this life, but you could try and we’ll see how much you last”

As your hand dropped from his cheek and you made your way to the door Loki could only turn slightly to look at you, “You can finish dinner, I’ll talk with Natasha about settling you”

Loki observed the horizon through the small window of the kitchen, the sun was just rising.

He was too caught up in his haze when he felt something impact with the back of his head, turning he was a potato in the floor and the redheaded woman fuming behind him, “I’ve called you three times!” she seethed at him and Loki looked down apologetically.

She sighed heavily and gestured for him to take a seat in front of her. Loki took a seat in the small stool as the woman handed him a knife and gestured to the barrel full of potatoes next to him, “Get to it” she said, “Throw the peels in this bucket then clean the potatoes in the water and throw them in that plate”

Not wanting to piss her off more, Loki grabbed one of the vegetables and started peeling it. It couldn’t be that difficult, he had peeled apples before, this should be the same.

“You’re doing it wrong” her voice made him stop suddenly and look at her confused. The redhead sighed and took the potato and the knife from him, “You’re peeling it but your taking too much of the potato in the process, you have to do it like this to not waste the food” she proceeded to peel it rapidly, showing him how the peel was thin and didn’t have too much traces of the vegetable on it.

Loki nodded, “Okay” he then proceeded to grab another potato and do the same she showed him, this time she didn’t stop him and he took it as a cue to continue, “My name is Wanda” she finally said making Loki look up at her, “I’m Loki” he answered and she nodded with a soft smile, “Keep peeling those” she got up from the chair and made her way out of the kitchen, leaving him alone.

Were all the women in this ship scary like this? As Loki peeled the potatoes he couldn’t help but recall his time in the castle, he used to play around the kitchen with his brother when he was young, yet never did he think he’ll end up working in one. It was an oddly calm activity, even if his hands were numbing because of the cold water.

Wanda came back into the kitchen and got to peel potatoes in front of Loki, “Can I ask where the ship is headed?” Loki asked while still peeling, Wanda raised her gaze to him and then returned it to the vegetable in her hand, “We’re going back to Sapphire” she replied softly, “Sapphire? Where’s that?” he was a curious person by nature, now he needed to know, “Hidden, so nobody goes there. It’s an island” “Your home?” Wanda nodded with a smile, “Yes, our home, It’s a beautiful place, you’ll love it” the twinkle in her eyes as she moved her gaze to the prince told him that she wasn’t lying, she seemed so happy to go back.

“Well, if it isn’t our local prince cutting potatoes” your voice sounded through the room as you leaned on the door frame, “Is it like a new royal activity?” the smirk on your face made it clear you were just joking, “Don’t listen to her, she’s like that” Wanda muttered to Loki who smiled back at her, “Oh wow! My own crew against me!” you feigned offence bringing a hand to your chest, Wanda rolled her eyes, “Could I have my tea please?” you asked taking a seat in a nearby chair, “Right now” Wanda got up making her way around the kitchen to prepare your tea.

“So, are you having fun?” you asked, this time genuinely so Wanda didn’t scold you, “It’s fine” Loki answered and you nodded.

Suddenly the image from yesterday flashed through your mind and had you averting your eyes to the side. Today he wasn’t wearing the full prince attire, opting for removing the heavy stuff. You could see the skin of his neck thanks to the unbuttoned shirt and you couldn’t help but remember how you wanted to kiss it the night before.

“There, done” Wanda handed you a cup of tea, making you snap out of your daze. “Thanks” you answered grabbing it and making your way to the deck.

It was early morning, the sun in the process of lighting the way. You walked the stairs of the quarterdeck and took your place behind the helm. You observed the waters in front of you as you reached in your pocket for your compass. You were headed the right way.

You sipped your tea as you took control of the wheel in front of you. This is the time of day that you loved most, when the sun just woke up and is slowly lighting up the world, it gave the water a mystical look. You basked in the peaceful silence as everyone was yet to come up and carry on their work on the main deck.

But your silence was quickly interrupted by your right hand as she walked the stairs and moved to stand neat to you, “How’s the prince doing?” she asked and you shrugged, “He’s cutting potatoes with Wanda” Natasha stifled a laugh, “Well that must have been a sight to see” “Yeah” you giggled with her.

“He’s handsome, isn’t he” she questioned moving to lean on the wooden handrail in front of you, “What?” you asked incredulously. Natasha only smirked, “I mean he is, isn’t he?” her pressing made your eye twitch slightly, something that always happened when you got annoyed.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, “Oh come on! Haven’t you though of… you know, with him” she gestured towards the side with her face, and you’re eye twitched again, “Like you and Steve do in every corner of my ship?”

Your question had Natasha’s face heating up, you laughed at her reaction as she came closer to slap you in the shoulder, “We don’t!” she was quick to deny but you only hummed mockingly, “No need to lie Tasha, I heard you. In fact, everyone on the boat probably heard too” you giggled and she turned redder than she already was.

“It’s a great way to blow off some steam, you should try” she said once she had regained her composure, you scoffed, “Yeah? With who? Sam? Bruce?” you asked sarcastically and Natasha rolled her eyes, “Loki’s pretty decent” “He’s a prince” “So what?” “He’s also my prisoner” “Not anymore” “Well, now he’s my worker” “And which rule says you can’t have sex with your worker who used to be your prisoner and also happens to be a runaway prince?”

You looked at her stoically, “Tasha, no” she sighed heavily, “Come on, I know you like him” she whispered coming coming to stand in front of you with the wheel separating both of you “I don’t” you were quick to deny, “You do” she finished with a smile and you rolled your eyes, there was no arguing with her.

“You can just do it to blow off some steam, cause you need a lot of that” she said making her way to the stairs slowly, “Someday I might just throw Steve off the deck and see how you manage yourself without your daily steam blower” the redhead grinned looking back, “You wouldn’t because then I would be insufferable and you have little to no patience” you nodded with a smirk, “See Tasha, this is why you’re my right hand and not one of those brainless idiots” Natasha laughed at that and made her way down just as Clint was walking up.

“Who’s a brainless idiot?” He asked and you shrugged, “Probably you” he rolled his eyes at your answer.

ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮ ྀ⏝ ི⋮

The sun was setting as you moved down to the larder in search of some much needed rum. Your day was boring, just like the majority of times that you made your way back to Sapphire, the crossing wasn’t very eventful to say the least.

You grabbed the glass bottle and turned to make your way out when you noticed an unknown moving thing from the corner of your eye. You moved closer to the wooden boxes and behind them you saw something moving, or more like someone.

“Loki?” you asked softly, watching how the emerald prince assembled vegetables in a big plate.

He turned to look at you, “Hello Captain, it’s for dinner” he said pointing to the vegetables, you hummed, “Really, what are you making?” he got up from his crouching position and placed the plate on top of a pile of crates, “Wanda said she was making soup” he answered and you nodded, he seemed to adapt well.

You noticed how his hair sticked to his forehead from the sweat, you guessed it was probably very uncomfortable. So you reached in your pocket and pulled up a cloth you used to use to tie your hair, “Let me help you with that” you gestured for him to get closer and he did, confusion written in his face.

You reached putting your hands softly in his cheeks and pulled his head down slightly. You started arranging the cloth so it held back his hair to stop it from getting in his face. You felt his eyes on your form as you carried on, but you didn’t dare look back at him. Since yesterday you had this desire to kiss him and if you looked at him in this position you risked giving in.

Finally you got a step closer to tie it behind his neck, close enough that if you tilted his face slightly you could place your lips on his. Once done you pulled your hands back although they seemed to linger a little longer than they should.

“There you go” you whispered and he hummed, “Now you look like a real pirate” you said with smirk that made him give you another one in return.

“Loki!” you heard Wanda’s voice echo from upstairs, yet you didn’t cut eye contact with the prince, “You should go before she comes down” the whisper that escaped your lips had Loki’s gaze moving rapidly to them, before he snapped back to your eyes, “Yeah” his gaze lingered for a couple more seconds before he grabbed the plate and left.

Loki walked back to the kitchen where Wanda was getting ready to preparer dinner, “You can wash them over there” she pointed to a bucket with clean water and Loki didn’t waste time to carry on his task.

As he washed the vegetables Loki replayed your encounter. He was already wishing for your touch after the dinner on the first night, and this occurrence only made him desire it more. He liked how your hands felt on him, he liked the way you looked at him. He really liked everything about you.

The whole time you were fixing his hair he found himself wanting to pull you closer. He had to put all his strength into holding his hands back, which itched to grab you by the waist and slam you to him.

“You done?” Wanda asked from behind him, “Huh? Oh, yeah I am” he got up with the plate and made his way to plant it next to Wanda.

“Is that the captain’s?” she asked gesturing to his head, Loki found himself running his hand softly over the cloth you had assembled in his head, “Uh—yeah, she gave it to me” he answered.

Wanda smiled knowingly, she hummed and turned to cut the vegetables, “What?” Loki asked puzzled, “Nothing, nothing” the redhead continued her task, “What do I do now?” Wanda looked around for a moment and then back at Loki, “There’s not much to do, you can take a small break until dinner” Loki nodded with a smile and made his way to sit on the spare chair you had used that morning.

The prince drowned in his thoughts while waiting for the redhead to give him instructions.

He was still pondering if this was the right decision to make. At least Odin wouldn’t find him for a while, so that was a good thing. And the fact that the ship was in constant moving would help him easily dodge anyone who was looking for him.

But was it the life he wanted? He just sold himself to work with pirates. You were right to some extent, he wasn’t made for this life. Although he liked the feeling of the swaying ship over the tides, the smell of the saltiness of the sea, and the fresh air.

And he liked you. But was it enough?

“Dinner time!” the new masculine voice got Loki out of his head, he hadn’t realised when the crew entered the room for dinner.

“Come eat Loki” Wanda encouraged, patting a seat next to her and a tall blonde man. Loki nodded and moved to sit next to the redhead as she passed him a bowl of soup.

That night he got to meet your crew closely. He was entertained by their charisma. To be fearsome pirates they still emanated a familiar warmth. They treated each other like family.

He listened closely to Tony and Bruce as they talked about how they needed to fix some planks, and Steve when he pointed out that they needed more gunpowder, and Clint as he recalled how he couldn’t wait to be back on Sapphire and see his wife and kids.

Later at night, with a full stomach and warmth in his heart, Loki laid in the not-so-comfortable bed and strangely felt at home. Maybe he wasn’t made for the life, but he could adapt to it.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it <3

Taglist (click here to be added) ; @moonlightreader649 @misswimberly

[midnightmoonkiss]

PIRATE DEKU 😩💘 but also.. pirate deku with a mermaid reader !!

Mermaid, ay?

This could go one of two ways..

Deku is in a ship wreck and almost drowns but you save him.. or

Deku somehow enters mermaid infested waters and it is not pretty.

Pirate Deku X Mermaid Reader

Word Count: 900+

I’m picturing this..

The infamous Midoriya Izuku, captain of the Sleeping Dove, fastest ship to sail the waters, somehow gets captured by other pirates

Old rope tears into his skin, tied tight and bound against a mast. Rain thunders down on them, his ripped, white cotton shirt that’s stained with dirt and blood is plastered against his skin.

Green locks frame his face, defining his cheekbones covered in freckles and sharp jawline.

He was stripped of everything but his clothes and boots, it left him feeling terribly naked and damn near afraid.

He knew the waters they were sailing into, he knew those rocks that jutted from the ocean and tore strong ships down, he’s seen it all before.

He’d warn the crew.. but a dirty rag was tied around his mouth. His screaming muffled, his thrashing about ignored.

The skies turned dark despite it being midday, unnaturally so, even in this sudden storm.

And then... they heard it.

The angelic noise that drove all lust-crazed sailors to their death-

The singing of a mermaid.

Hell, if he wasnt bound right now, he’d probably be driven to his death as well.

Confusion stirred on the ship, but it wasnt long until the majority of the crew was looking over the railing and into the sea where no doubt a plethora of mermaids call to them.

And finally..

One jumped in.

And it became a blood bath.

It all happened so fast..

The railing torn from the ship by seaweed, the creaking of the wood as she was pushed and pulled to and fro. For a brief moment, Deku feared the ship would be tipped over and he’d drown like the rest of the men aboard.

Honestly, he felt like that wouldve been a bit better than hearing the cries for help that pierced through the previously silent night.

The stench of blood made the air thick, the rocking of the boat making him dizzy despite usually finding comfort in it.

He had to get out of here.

In his panic to slither out of the ropes like a python, he didnt notice a mermaid staring at him from behind, her arms freckled in drops of sea that reflected the light of the moon like precious gems.

She found him pretty.

Handsome, even.

Too gorgeous to kill, yet she desperately wanted to dance with him under the waves.

He only noticed her when she cooed at him.

He froze with fear, laughing under his breath.

Mermaids love the scent of fear, it intoxicated them-

He couldnt show fear, he couldnt let it freeze his veins and numb his body - unless he wanted to die, and he most certainly did not want to die.

“You remind me of a fish trapped in a cage.”

Her statement caught him off-guard.

Sure, he’s her mermaids sing.. but never speak. They weren't much for talking as much as they were for tearing human flesh from bones.

He somehow got the cloth that silenced him out of his mouth,

“Is that so?” He felt the need to reply to hide his nervousness, “Well I hope I’m not trapped for long.”

Just then, another mermaid jumped high out of the water, spraying those still on board with salty sea water before grabbing someone screaming bloody murder and flopping back into the water below.

Izuku gulped.

“I hope so too.”

He inhaled sharply through his noise, her intoxicating voice right behind his ear.

While he was previously distracted, she jumped on board, gained her land legs, and made her way over to him.

The ropes then were sawed off by a jagged knife she held, and he was free.

“You know, if you stay here, you’ll die.” She giggled, watching him crawl cautiously around the boat, strolling after him.

“And if I leave, I still die.” He was in quite the predicament, but he needed the things stolen from him before the ship sank - which, by the sound of it, wouldn’t be before long.

He ran about below deck, searching for his stuff like a mad man while she watched with childlike curiosity.

Once he had everything, all that was left was getting the hell out of dodge.

The ship was sinking, and he was the only sailor left.

He didnt know what to do.

He may be Captain Midoriya, but fuck, that didnt make him some super hero that could easily escape deaths door - even if he’s miraculously done it several times before

“Let me help you.”

You offered with a devilish smile.

“Why.. what do you want in return..”

He was cautious, even now. Even if you did help him, mermaids were not to be trusted. They took that trust and ate you alive.

Your arms wrapped around him from behind, hands feeling up under his shirt.

“Take me with you.”

He didnt have time to argue, and so, he agreed.

Take a chance or die, and he wanted to fight against fate.

The story of how Captain Deku escaped mermaid waters became muddled as the story was passed around, it somehow turned from

‘A mermaid saved him!’

Into

‘He slaughtered every mermaid that came at him, sunk the ship, and took off on a row boat with a hole in it!’

Not that he would deny that story.

Hell, he’d even elaborate on it. Drunken lies didn’t matter, right? He’d sail away before dawn broke the sky anyway.

He didnt learn your name until a month at sea with you on his ship.

“(Y/N).” You whispered into his ear, hot breath sending shivers down his spine as your hips ground down against his hardening member.

“(Y/N)..” he repeated breathlessly, cheeks burning wish a blush, mesmerizing jade eyes glazed over with lust, lips soon becoming preoccupied by your own as you both fell back against his bed.

He would soon familiarize himself with the name throughout the night, and you’d be able to know the effect the title ‘Captain’ had on him in his bedroom.

Horny pirates, am I right?

[itsclydebitches]

I love that RWBY sat around for an episode talking about the risks for actions they took that quite literally no one asked them to take. If RWBY wasn't there Ozpin would still have found Qrow (unpoisoned btw) in a bar in Mistral, they'd have gone to Atlas, and Ozpin would have talked Ironwood down. Add in Raven chucking the lamp at Qrow's head after she still beat up Cinder and you'd be in a FAR better position than the current show. RWBY's risk taking just means pain for everyone around them.

This is precisely what a lot of people tend to ignore when they list all the reasons why it’s justified that the group is stalling. Regardless of whether we’re talking about the emotional tole of seeing Nora unconscious, or the practical question of what action they’ll take, the end argument is always the same: This is hard. Give them a break. They’re trying their best. 

Which is a 100% acceptable reaction to a situation they had no control over and are just trying to survive, but Ruby did have control. She wrested control from Ironwood. The problem is not “Ruby sits in a mansion unsure of what to do” but rather, “Ruby sits in a mansion unsure of what to do after she prevented another plan from being implemented, under the assumption that she would not risk an entire kingdom of lives unless she either had another, better plan, or would step up to create one... and then she didn’t.” By actively stopping Ironwood from saving what lives he could, taking out his elite forces for an unnamed length of time, stealing access to the one communication resource remaining, and making an announcement to the entire world that positioned herself as the person in charge, Ruby took on a responsibility. She looked at the current general in charge, decided what he was doing wasn’t okay, and (regardless of what we think of this action) stepped up instead... only to, mere hours later, cry, “This is hard! I don’t know what to do it anymore. Why is everyone looking at me? I just want everyone to live but no, I don’t know how to accomplish that. Just leave me alone to stall and cry on the staircase.” That’s reprehensible. If the captain of a boat dies and the random sailor is unexpectedly put in charge of saving the sinking ship, we feel for their attempts to do what they can when no one expected anything from them in the first place. When the sailor becomes furious at the captain because there isn’t enough time to save everyone before they go under (not his fault), knocks out the first and second mate, barricades the boats so no one can escape, announces to the ship that they’ll save the day, and then proceeds to hide in their cabin because they’re feeling overwhelmed, we go, “What the actual hell. You made this mess worse than it already was. Take responsibility for your actions and do something about it.” 

As you say, anon, no one asked Team RWBY to take those risks. In fact, their allies explicitly said it’s foolish and stupid to take those risks. You’re just going to get us all killed. A heroic story would be them coming up with a better plan (silver eyes, Oscar’s cane), convincing Ironwood to let them implement it, succeeding, finishing the evacuation, and getting everyone to safety while Salem reforms. Or more people to safety. Or maybe they fail entirely, but at least they tried. The group is sort of trying now with our latest episode, but it’s only to tackle the additional problems that have cropped up as a result of them trapping half the kingdom here in the first place. We obviously can’t know for sure what might have happened if the group was removed from this narrative, but what we do know is that lately the group continues to create problems rather than solving them. They brought the Leviathan to Argus by insisting they steal from and attack Cordovin. They ruined their relationship with Ironwood by lying to, betraying, and then refusing to compromise with him. They didn’t allow half the kingdom to escape because they were so sure they’d find a way to save everyone... and then they got upset when they couldn’t save everyone. You certainly have a kind of story when your heroes are doing more harm to the world than good, but it’s not the kind of story RWBY wants to be. 

[redstainedsocks]

The Vow

Pirate AU, part two! I don't have any more written than this, and I don't have a whole lot of plot planned for it, I'll just come back periodically and have fun in this fantasy version of the setting. Open to requests/suggestions if there's something you want to see let me know!

Notes: Decker's name changed to Ecker for the AU because I couldn't write about ship decks and have a main character called Decker... I just couldn't... xD

Content: aftermath of whump, death threats, angst, emotional whump, captive whumpee, failed rescue

[Part one] [Main Series]

Archer’s breath was thick in his lungs. Words stuck in his throat. The world spun and then stopped only to start spinning again as he tried to comprehend what was happening around him. The same way it had a week ago.

He never wanted to be one to put his crew in danger, but the contract to salvage certain things from a wreckage of one of the King’s vessels paid well, so he’d taken the job. It should have been easy and simple. The wreck was washed up on some rocks and mostly intact but incapable of getting back out to sea. They were to retrieve the goods and the captain's logs and some important scrolls and deliver them back to home shores. Tidy, straightforward. He knew the risk of pirating was high on a washed up vessel but he had a fast, manoeuvrable ship and good men, it was as likely to be them who braved the rocky seas first as anyone else.

But... Ecker. In a sleek schooner, with his evil, rank men. Ecker had got there first and hell had broken loose. Archer’s ship was better equipped for it, more cannons, more trained men, it wouldn’t have been long before they could subdue and overcome, and he had just hoped there wouldn’t be too great a loss of life.

In the midst of the firefight, between cannon shots and gunpowder smoke, and frantic sailing, a man had been dragged onto Ecker’s deck. A man blindfolded, in a loose shirt, hands bound, and too far away to see properly.

“Hold fire!” Ecker had shouted across the space. “Hold fire or I will spill his guts across the deck!”

Archer dismissed it, at first, because he couldn’t back down or lose ground just for some poor sod caught prisoner on Ecker’s vessel. Only then Jordan had handed across a looking glass, as drained of colour as the sun-bleached sail above their heads. It had taken one look through the glass to recognise the man. He would know that face--even half obscured--anywhere.

Zach—back from the dead. Zach, not lost at sea as they’d thought, but taken captive and held without word for two long years. All while Archer sailed on without him, without even knowing he left Zach behind.

So the world stopped and he called a ceasefire even as his head spun, and walked onto a sandbank with Ecker to negotiate the freedom of the friend who he’d lost two years previously.

“He was lost, lost at sea.”

“Seems like he was very much found, to me,” Ecker had said, gloating, drinking in Archer’s distress.

“Why wait this long, why not reveal your hand before now?”

“I knew a day would come where he would be a useful bargaining chip. Why present that on a platter when I held all the cards? Now I have leverage, and a way to get my ship out of your sights.”

“Fine, leave him behind, and I’ll let you sail away. Unscathed. You have my word,” Archer had tried to say it without sounding like he was pleading.

“Oh I don’t want your word, young Captain, I want your gold.”

“And then you give us Zach? Unharmed?”

“I can’t say unharmed, it has been a long two years for the poor lad. But yes, you pay, and he stays alive, and I’ll throw in the important bounty from that there wreck for good measure, if you like. You’ll meet us at my chosen location as soon as you have the ransom… but if any of ye so much as look at my ship wrong as I take my leave he’ll be dead before you can say ‘Davy Jones’. Locker”

He’d told his men to hold steady while Ecker sailed off into the distance, and did all he could to gather the damn ransom Ecker had demanded, and in return he was supposed to get Zach’s life as well as the logs and scrolls Ecker had pilfered from the wrecked ship. Ecker would go free, but he’d have his friend, he’d get Zach back.

So why was he now walking out of the Keep empty handed?

Zach had been—god, dragged away, without a care for his well being—and he’d rounded on Ecker with a snarl.

“What do you even want with him?”

“That’s my business, and if you want to keep your heads you’ll ask no more questions.”

“Tell me what can I do to persuade you? What will it cost? My life? You can take mine!”

“I want nothing you have to offer, and the look on your face is all the satisfaction I need. Now get out, before we throw you out… in pieces.”

Ecker’s threat had been real, he didn’t have to second guess that, so he took the chance to keep their heads. Their blades and guns and ammunition were dropped unceremoniously from the parapet above the gate after it slammed closed. Slammed and barred him from rescuing the one person he had sworn not to let down another time.

Turning his back on the Keep was the hardest thing he had ever done, it was surreal to place one foot in front of the other and walk away. And yet he was doing it. The sea was before him across the span of the small island, and his two most trusted crew were at his back.

So he walked, head swimming, just trying to keep them all alive. Treading the waters of his mind and trying to find some solution, a way out of this, even as it felt like drowning. His heart clenched as he cast one last look behind him at the Keep, half expecting to see a flash of dark hair at a window, a hand reaching for him. He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that he didn’t. He didn’t know if he imagined the scream ringing in his ears or if it was real.

“Archer, we can’t.”

Jordan’s voice was easy to tune out. He needed space to think. It was harrowing to consider leaving like this but he had nothing to hold over Ecker. “Nothing you have to offer.”

So maybe there was something, if he could just find it.

“Didn’t you see him, what they’re doing to him?”

Archer shuddered, pausing briefly before he kept walking through the scrubland. He’d seen. Zach’s bruised body, chafed and scarred wrists, how thin he was. More than that it was his eyes that told more than Archer could bear. They were haunted, hurting, desperate and then filled with hope that was snatched away so cruelly, so instantly.

“What if he doesn’t survive much longer?”

“Jordan,” Sasha snapped.

Archer held his head higher, it wouldn’t do to have Ecker’s men see him breakdown at the threshold of their own defences. He had to be stronger, prove he was better, not show how rattled he was. And Ecker had to have a weakness, something they could exploit. He wasn’t a god or a lord, he wasn’t even a good sailor, he just had enough people around him to make sure he couldn’t fail. If he could just get him alone, five minutes alone and he could best the man. But like this…

“Are you listening to me?” Jordan grabbed his arm and swung him around.

“No I'm not fucking listening to your petty whining! I'm thinking about how the hell we're going to get him out of there!” Archer said it in one breath and wrenched his arm loose. He buckled on his sword belt and stared above Jordan’s head, unwilling to meet his eyes..

“We can't do it here, not in this fortress, not so outnumbered,” Sasha said quietly from his right.

“No, we can’t,” he agreed.

“What’s the plan, Captain?” she replied.

“I don’t know yet, I have to think…”

“Archer, we can’t leave him here,” Jordan said and Archer finally made himself look at Jordan’s face, saw the pain there, and let that pain sink into him too. He’d carry all of their hurt, shoulder every burden.

“And if we get ourselves killed today, trying the impossible, who will come for him then?” he asked quietly.

Jordan paused, licked his lips, and dragged his eyes back to the Keep with a barely perceivable nod. “I understand, but to see him like that…. There are hurts there that even I may not be able to heal.”

“I know. It pains me too. And we will not leave him to rot with them, we only have to be smart about it. We wait, and we make a plan, and then we bring him home.”

He didn’t wait for a reply but turned and walked on, to the small beach where their row boat had been dragged high upon the sand. With practiced ease he hauled it back out into the water and tried to not to feel like a failure. It was only halfway back to the ship, with the spray stinging his eyes, did he finally let a few stray tears fall--when he could pretend it was just the splash of the waves on his face. He’d have to be strong again once they reached the ship, when he had to be Captain again and not just a man.

He wouldn’t look back. This was not the end of it. He vowed it with one hand on the pommel of his sword and the other on his heart.

I will save you, I will come back for you, this I swear.

[Taglist, let me know if you want to be added or removed from either the AU or the regular list! @haro-whumps @whumpthisway @hurting-fictional-people @lonesome--hunter @crowned-avery @extrabitterbrain @firewheeesky @outofangband @0idril0]

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

Just a 1am thought for you. You sneak onto Captain Blowhole’s ship bc the dicks just that good. When he catches you, he has to punish you of course. And find a way for you to work off your room and board in the captain’s chambers.

BITCH HERE IS YOUR WORST/BEST NIGHTMARE COME TRUE. THIS IS FOR SURE GOING TO HAVE ANOTHER PART TO IT. I ACTUALLY AM TOTALLY INTO THIS SHIT NOW. IM A PART OF THE PROBLEM. 

@safarigirlsp LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO! 

The swells swarmed the Atlantic in a storm like no other. Forty feet or more surrounding both sides of the Jolly Roger, crewmen frantically battening down the hatches, while Captain Flip manned the wheel as it spun furiously in the mood of the thunder and lightning. 

“Hold the sheet!” his crewman barked at the others spinning the mainmast as not to have it be struck down by the bolts that Zeus had rained down on them. 

“Watch the starboard side!” another shouted into the void of sopping men, struggling to keep the course for their next destination. 

“Captain, we need to find a shoreline or…. We’ll never make it!” his trusty first mate, Ron screamed his direction as his bulging muscles turned the captain’s wheel to the direction he pleased. Noticing his hat had flown from the gusts of wind, Ron picked it up and handed it back to him once the course was turned back to his liking. 

“Prepare for the worst, mate,” Flip solemnly nodded out of breath from keeping the course. He knew it was nearly impossible that he and his crew would make it out of the cursed triangle alive. He swore to himself when setting sail not even days prior that nothing ill would befall them. Karma certainly had its way of biting him back just as bad, if not, worse. 

Ron nodded back to him, returning to his post to keep the ship on course for as long as the storm would let the loyal crew set sail. Flip gazed out at the catastrophe before him, nearly tearing up at the fact that he may never get what he was fighting so hard for. He watched in slow motion as his crew battled the unforgiving waves, crackling lightning illuminating their horrified faces, the thunder drowning out their screams for help. 

Just then, a humongous bolt cracked down from the heavens into the front of the sip, sending a voltage of electricity through the wood of the vessel, causing a complete catastrophe. Crewmen flew into the abyss, shards of wood lost at sea. The last memory Flip had was his listless body sinking into the oblivion.

__________

His hearing returning to the real world echoed a mysterious melodious tune. A humming both angelic and alien in nature, his eyes fluttered as he took in his surroundings. Running his hands through the warm sun-kissed sand, his naked back on the heavenly shores of paradise. 

Putting his hand up to block the sun, of course to no avail due to the looming figure blocking the light. Thinking the shadow was a figment of his imagination, he moved to rub his eyes, groaning and flexing his tired biceps in the process. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, feeling like he had been hit by the largest monsoon this side of the Seven Seas. 

“Where the fuck…” he stammered off taking in the environment around him, the crashing shores, the palm trees swaying in the breeze, the beating sunlight of late morning, and that figure becoming more clear in his line of sight. 

The flowing locks in the breeze, the sunkissed skin of a goddess, the perfect form laying against the coarse sand, surrounded by sounds of seagulls and crashing swells. He blinked a few times to take in the fact that you were perched in the spot he’d seen previous, and sat forward, his muscles bulging, slightly burned himself from laying passed out in the morning light. 

“Hh-hello?” he questioned your direction, bringing his large hands around his thankfully clothed legs. You glanced over his direction, your naked form sprawled out facing away from him, only to show your globed asscheeks in the sunlight. Your alluring eyes batting those perfect lashes, your lip pursing into a gorgeous pout. 

“Well good morning to you there, sailor,” you sang his direction, rubbing your delicate hands over your side. 

“W-what happened to me? How in the fuck did I get here?” he suddenly and blatantly questioned you, still turned towards the ebbing waves of the Atlantic. 

You chuckled, playing with the shell you’d found while waiting for him to wake up, “Well, I saved you.” 

His eyes perked up at the out of this world comment you’d shrugged off, “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me, sailor,” you smiled over your shoulder, still rolling the shell in your hands, “I. Saved. Your. Ass.” 

Flip sat there completely dumbfounded. This gorgeous creature, dove into the abyss during a storm, of which he’d never seen previously, and rescued him from imminent death, dragged his burly over two hundred pound body, and brought him to an unknown shore, where you could have left him to rot in the sun and die. He wasn’t convinced given the fact that he hadn’t seen you on the seas the night before.

“No. No, you didn’t,” he shrugged and laughed as if he’d finally snapped. 

Taking his sarcasm as a complete insult to your kindness, you whipped your ethereal figure around, bearing your bouncing nude breasts and plump pussy to his eyes. 

“Yes. I. Did,” you asserted in the most melodic tone, floating towards his hulking body on the sand. “What?” you pouted, “Does my lil’ buccaneer not want to grasp the fact that lil’ ol’ me came from the depths across your lifeless frame, and scooped you out of near-death to save your worthless lil’ life?”

“Wait…” he stopped, standing to full attention, rippling pectorals, toned arm muscles, and a stern face staring into your soul, “you came… from the depths?” he cocked an eyebrow. 

You saddled towards his six-foot three-figure, no doubt him staring at your bare chest as you near him, and tilted his chin to your eye level, “Yes, sailor boy, I saved you. Do I need to spell it out any more than I already have?” boring your eyes into his, no doubt taking in the intense amber fired color they emitted as they scanned your every crevice. 

“N-no. No ma’am,” he gulped inward, simply agreeing under your entrancement.

“Thank you,” he whispered out, his trance only causing more tension between the both of you. 

“You’re welcome,” you murmured inching closer to his pink, full lips, taking in the rum-soaked breath he emitted. 

His eyes closed, and he moved in for the kill. Your lips suctioning onto each other, holding them there for fear of one rejecting the other. His calloused hands moving in synchrony against your warm body, feeling every single dimple, and curve you had. The left resting on one globe behind you, and the other snaking into your beach kissed locks, pulling ever so slightly. Your hands shot to his girthy chest, rubbing and caressing his peaked nipples beneath your dainty fingers. He gasped as you pinched the sensitive skin, pulling away looking half-lidded at your glorious features. 

“Who the hell are you?” he rubbed his thumb over your cheek, massaging the back of your head, causing your eyes to roll back into your head. Pulling yourself close against his swollen lips, you whispered on his breath, “Your dream come true.”

He smiled ever so slightly, letting out the smallest of chuckles, and shoved you back into his waiting lips, this time in a searing kiss that had his hands traveling down to lift you off the ground by your thighs. He shoved his tongue down your waiting throat, creating a symphony of moans and suction as he turned you around to lay your needy body on the sand. 

He loomed over you, pressing his very noticeable bulge against your pelvis. Grinding on you, eliciting more groans from his chest. He broke the kiss only to trace his wet lips along the outline of your neck, trailing to your budding breasts. He took one in his mouth, sucking ever so gently, and massaged the other with his mammoth hand. The sounds escaping you, only spurring his motions on even more so. He did the same with the other until you were writhing in pleasure and the buds turned to stiffened peaks. 

“God, sailor, I need you,” you pleaded, nearly out of breath, “Please.”

He looked up from the trail of his kisses on your stomach and settled his smiling face over your entrance. 

“Oh, now you wanna play nice with me? You haven’t even told me your name gorgeous,” he teased licking a stripe along your moist slit. 

“Uhhhh, fuck sailor, I could say the same to you,” you sang in euphoric pleasure. 

“Ladies first,” his hot breath sending vibrations along your clit. 

“Y/N,” you stammered unable to fully speak. 

He started to suck a welt on one of your thighs, and after breaking the suction looked up and moved his face to other, never breaking eye contact with your stare, “absolutely mesmerizing, Y/N,” bearing back down on the flesh, sucking for all it was worth. 

Just as he was satisfied with the bruising, he whispered back to you, “name’s Captain Flip Zimmerman,” and dove nose-first into your waiting hole, eliciting a scream from your lips. 

He traced circles around your pulsing vagina, humming at the thought of how turned on he was making you. His nose grazing your stiffening clit, every time his tongue entered your pussy. You twitched at every pulse his face was giving you. 

“Good, God Captain,” you cried out, “I-I’m gonna c-c-cum!” 

He moved his perfect lips to your aching bud, enveloped them in a French kiss, and sent you into the wildest orgasm you’d ever encountered. Crying his name out over and over again as he sucked relentlessly on your arousal. 

“There’s my pretty girl,” he cooed as you moaned in complete euphoria, “sing to me my sweet siren.” 

He slurped up your sweet release into his desperate mouth smiling in pleasure as his beard tickled your overstimulated pussy.  You came down from the high, as his face connected back to yours. Your hands brushing through his ebony locks, tasting your spend on his saliva. 

“Captain,” you gasped in between his kisses, “I need your cock.” 

He looked up with eyes black as his hair and began to pull his pantaloons down, releasing his Kraken of a cock to your hungry eyes. 

“You like what you see, siren?” he noticed your gaping mouth at his large member. 

“My God, sailor, your so fucking big,” pulling your hand over your precious lips, “do you think it will fit in my tight lil’ pussy?” 

“It will,” he moved to gather the wetness from his tip as well as the spend from your weeping entrance, and moved the mixture up and down his shaft. 

“You’re gonna take your Captain’s cock whether you like it or not,” he beamed back up at you, pushing his sword into your hole in a punishing motion. The stretch causing you to cry out over the crashing waves on the beach. He stilled, watching you writhe in pleasure and pain, drinking in your perfect little moans as best he could.

“Captain, please move, my pussy is so tight, I need you to stretch me out,” you begged, tears rolling down your face. 

“You’ll be patient and keep me warm, siren, I like watching you bend to my every will.” 

He stilled for a few moments, watching the tears roll, your lips gape open, and your sweet cunt flutter around his large dick. He could cum right there, he thought, watching the shadows dance on your pretty face. After a few moments of admiration, he pulled ever so slightly out and pushed back in.  

Setting a grueling pace, he emitted the deepest groan his chest could muster upon hearing the slapping of his balls on your ass, the squelch from your wet pussy taking every inch of him. He watched your face twist and turn as he pushed in and out, his pupils only dilating more as he took you in. 

“Siren, get on your hands and knees, face in the sand, ass up,” He pulled out, watching your tears fall at the loss of contact. You did as you were told, bearing your sand clad ass to his feining stare. He smacked it and a gust of sand fell to the earth, the roughness causing an instant handprint to show on your bare skin. 

“Motherfucker!” you steamed into the beach. 

“Watch your mouth, siren,” he smacked another hand on the other cheek, “no one like’s a dirty lil’ whore mouth.” 

He shoved his dick back into your gaping hole, setting an even faster pace than previously. The moans you both emitted spurring the release even sooner than you’d thought. His hands white-knuckled the sides of your hips, pushing your body impossibly closer. His balls slapping your skin, emitting howls as he plundered your special spot. 

“Fuck, Flip,” you groaned, “I-I can’t hold on much longer, I’m gonna cum again!”

“I’m. Almost. There. Gorgeous,” he punctuated on every thrust, bringing his hand to rub his thumb along your puckered asshole. Without warning, he punctured the perfect little hole, sending you into another earth-shattering orgasm. 

“Jesus. Fucking, Christ,” he screamed as you milked his cock of his sweet, succulent, spend, “Captain is blowing his whole load!” 

He stuffed you full of his cum, thrusting a few more times just to be sure it stayed up in your heat. Both breathless, he leaned over you, sweat dripping from his brow, hands gripping around your stomach. He pulled out, turning you over, admiring your utterly fucked face. 

“You alright, gorgeous?” he laughed towards you. 

“Y-yes, sailor,” you relented, “I’m more than just alright.” 

You pulled his face towards yours, tasting his salty sweat in his mustache. He grabbed both cheeks and shoved his tongue back down your throat, causing you to melt into his brawny body. 

He pulled away, “where did you actually come from?”

You smiled, looking away bashfully, “you really don’t understand do you,” pulling away and getting up from the spot you’d both wrecked each other in. You walked towards the waves, letting the cool water caress your feet the further you stepped in. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” he questioned almost alarmed. 

You looked back towards him, the smile eroding from your face, “home,” you said clear as day. 

And with that, a waterball formed around your goddesslike figure, consuming you in a snowglobe of sorts. A bright light emitted from your middle and expanded all the way around the cocoon. Your form changed from legs to a gorgeous aquamarine fin, your skin melding to the attachment, and the globe took you further out to the ocean. 

Flip stood there, dumbfounded again. He blinked a few more times, not even realizing what he had just seen. 

“Did I…” he told himself, “W-what the fuck.” 

He sat back down on the beach, contemplating what had just occurred, trying to justify the possibility that this was just his imagination. 

“I need a fucking drink,” he concluded. 

He scoured the island in search of more answers, only to come upon another impossible find. 

His ship. 

Parked on the beach, like it hadn’t been through any kind of storm in the slightest. 

He noticed his crew as well, packing goods away like he hadn’t witnessed them sinking to Davey Jones’ Locker the night before. He blinked several times, thinking it was all a mirage, or that he may have been drunk to no avail. 

Ron noticed his Captain gawking at the ship, and flagged him over, “Hey there Cap! Where ya been?” 

“I-uh,” he had no words for what had happened. 

“Hey Cap? Let’s get you back in the boat,” Ron pat his back, leading him to his quarters on the hull.  

After making sure Flip was okay to be left alone, he went back to his duties. 

The Captain sat at his wooden desk, feet perched on the top, his hands running through his mustache, trying to piece together what had just occurred. 

The storm, the destruction, you, his ship turning up unscathed. 

You. Holy shit. You. 

A fucking mermaid. You were a creature of the ocean, who had happened upon him during his hour of need, scooped him up and saved his entire livelihood in the process. You were enchanting. A literal siren song. He played through the moans you made, the sarcasm you shot at him, your whole aura was absolutely mesmerizing. He’d never encountered anything as perfect as you. 

He wanted to find you again. To feel your soft skin on his beard, look into those piercing eyes, and hear his name on your lips. He had to find you. If it meant he didn’t have any other purpose than that on the ocean. 

As he made his mind up, he took all the texts he had on your kind to study the lore, hoping to find the answer he so desperately needed. Upon hours and hours of inspection, he stopped at the Holy Grail. Picking up the map slowly, he chuckled like he’d lost his mind. 

The City of Atlantis. 

That had to be home. You had to be there. 

“Fuck,” he groaned out, now knowing what he had to do. 

He set the course, watching his crew scramble to get the ship headed the correct way, smelling the salted sea air on his nostrils. He tipped his buccaneer hat and looked into his spyglass. 

“Here we fuckin’ go boys,” he muttered, gritting his teeth, anxious to see you in the flesh again.

__________

CAPTAIN BLOWHOLE IS OUT TO FIND HIS LADY LOVE!

THANK YOU FOR YOUR THIRSTY ASKS PLZ SEND MORE I LOVE YOUR SICK MIND. 

🖤,

ray-nal-beads 

[johaerys-writes]

Fandom: The Song of Achilles

Summary: During his two month long sea voyage from Phthia to Skyros, Patroclus makes an unexpected friendship.

Chapter 3: Fate, the final chapter of At the Water’s Edge, is up! Where Patroclus finally reaches Skyros, and has an important decision to make.

Read here or on AO3! Or read from the beginning

The sun had set, and the night birds were gliding into the fast-approaching dusk when we finally returned to the ship.

The rest of the sailors had already gathered for dinner, the wide galley filled with the sounds of jest and song, with the smells of the fish stew that was being prepared. I didn’t usually join the crew during their meals, preferring to take them in my room, by myself, but that evening Xanthos had insisted I stay. He was sitting next to me now, with his cheeks still flushed from our trek through the verdant hills back to the port, and the wind that had combed through his locks had given him a wild appearance. There was a gleam in his eye, that I imagined matched my own.

The fish stew was rich and savoury, heavy with the taste of the sea and spices. Not all ships fed their crew this well, but the captain was a generous man, or so Xanthos had told me. After we had both finished our dinner, a nearby sailor treated us to some watered down wine. It was from the northern plains, near Macedonia, I was told, and quite strong, with a heavy aftertaste of berries and honeysuckle.

“Xanthos,” one of the men called. He was a tall man, strong like an bull, with his large head shaved clean. He had a bright and easy smile, which always made me somewhat uncomfortable, especially now that it was directed at both me and my companion. His gaze fell on the bracelet on Xanthos’ wrist. “What’s that you’re wearing? A little too fancy for you, isn't it?"

Xanthos smiled brightly, seemingly unaware of the laughter that broke out over the wide space. He raised his arm to show his bracelet to everyone who had lifted their heads from their drinks to look. “Do you like it, Thaddeus? I wasn’t aware it would be to your taste. I thought the only place you liked to wear jewellery was on your teeth.”

The other men laughed and jeered, banging their mugs on their tables. The jab did not seem to deter Thaddeus, who grinned even more brightly, revealing several golden teeth. “Everyone knows that, boy,” he said, laughing. “Did your friend choose it for you? You and I both know you couldn’t pick something nice if your life depended on it.”

I felt uncomfortable with everyone’s piercing stares that suddenly fell on me. Xanthos turned his body ever so slightly towards me, as if shielding me from the sailors’ crude jests. “He did,” he said, waving his mug casually. “He has a good eye. Which is more than anyone can say about you lot.”

They all laughed again, and Xanthos and Thaddeus exchanged even more jests, some of them crude, but none ill-natured. Before I knew it I was laughing with them too, and soon some of the sailors had come to sit around our table. Talk shifted away from Xanthos’ bracelet and into other matters, the ship’s journey and the highest price the captain had been able to get for some of the oils and herbs they carried, the details of the trade.

“Barley always sells cheaper here than it does in the mainland,” they would say. “Don’t know why the captain bothers with the Sporades.” Or, "Piraeus has raised the cargo tax to thirty three talents. Soon, they'll be charging an arm and a leg just to let ships into port."

I listened to their talk, quietly sipping on my wine. Trading held little interest for me. I had never in my life had to barter, sell or buy anything, apart from the rare occasions that Achilles and I would sneak away from the palace and go to the harbour to watch the street performers and musicians that sometimes ended up on our shores. It was always fun and exciting at first, but I would soon grow weary of the chatter and noise, of the heavy and sour smells of discarded fish and sweaty human flesh, of the rattling sound of the dice games at every corner. We would quickly retreat back to the olive grove, or our small secluded beach, where Achilles could run and throw his spears undisturbed. I would sit back on the warm sand and watch him move for hours, watch as the muscles rose and fell under his skin, as shadows pooled and stretched across his features with the passage of the dying sun.

A pang of longing drove through me at the thought, before I was able to stop it. My memories of Achilles had always been gold- tinted, as if the brightness of his presence made everything it touched resplendent, just like he was. They had always been a source of comfort for me, yet now they just made me ache for him all the more.

“Do you play, lord?”

I blinked at Thaddeus, jolting out of my reminiscing. At my baffled stare, he nodded at the stretch of table between us, smiling. “Do you play?”

I followed his gaze, and there I saw them. Four dice, their pips staring up at me like eyes. They were not white and made of bone like I was used to; they were red instead, made of terracotta stone. The pips were carved on their flat and smooth surface and painted over with dark dye. The shape and colour of them mattered not, though, as I found myself staring at them for what felt like a lifetime.

It was then that I remembered one of the reasons why I never joined the crew during their meals. Sooner or later, the tables would be cleared, and dice would be drawn out for games that lasted well into the night.

My pulse thrummed in my temples at the images that promptly rushed through me in waves; my anger at Clysonymus, at his blatant disrespect, his mockery. His eyes that widened as he fell back, losing his balance; the crack of his head against the stone. His blood trickling slowly on the dry ground beneath him, mixing with the soil and turning it crimson. I remembered how bright it was, as if it were before me just then. My stomach turned.

“Patroclus,” I heard Xanthos say beside me, but his words reached me as if through wool. “Are you well? You are pale as a sheet.”

I think I muttered a brief apology before standing up, almost making my chair topple over in my haste, then half-running towards the deck. My heart was racing; my mind was spinning, spinning. I was shaking like a fish out of water when I finally reached the railing and clutched it with trembling hands, my breath clawing at my throat.

It wasn’t always this bad. The sight of the dice didn’t always leave me this shaken, but my nightmares, ever since I had boarded the ship, were the worst they had been in years. Almost every night I would wake up trembling and out of breath, with cold sweat running down my spine. Those memories, Clysonymus’ face, the dice that rattled incessantly in my head; all those things were part of me, embedded in my bones. Had I honestly thought that one half day of careless enjoyment would be enough to ward off those ancient terrors?

I squeezed my eyes tightly, willing the images that seemed to be lodged there away. The night was dark upon the world now, and I felt swallowed by it, a pebble sinking to the bottom of the sea. It seemed as though if I let go of the railing for even a heartbeat, the waves would rush up and swallow me, drag me into their dark depths.

I jolted when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to Xanthos, who was watching me with evident concern.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m fine. Really.” I gripped the railing hard, taking in a deep, steadying breath. My heartbeat was gradually getting slower, and I could feel the fear that had gripped me only a moment before easing away. I stared out into the darkness, at the stars that now shone brightly above me.

“Did, uh…” Xanthos started shyly beside me. “Did Thaddeus do something to upset you? I could talk to him if you wish. He’s a rough fellow, but he didn’t mean to—”

“No. No, of course not. He did nothing wrong. It wasn’t… it wasn’t his fault.”

Xanthos remained silent. He didn't press me to speak further, to explain; still, I felt like I had to.

I took another deep breath, this time to ease the words out of me. I had never spoken about my nightmares to anyone but Achilles. Without him by my side, it felt like every memory, every image from my past was a stone, slowly grinding me to meal. The last thing I wanted was to dig them up again, but the need to share the burden, if only for a moment, was what urged my tongue to weave the words.

“There was a boy, once,” I started quietly. “When I was younger. We fought over… over a pair of dice. I pushed him. He fell and broke his head.” My fingers tightened so much about the railing, that my knuckles had gone white, the wood digging into my flesh. “I killed him.”

Xanthos did not speak then, but I could sense no judgement or horror in his silence. Only patience. His very presence there gave me heart, and I continued. “I did not mean to. It was an accident. Yet every time I see dice… they just remind me of him.” I glanced up at him, fearing what I would see in his eyes, but there was only understanding.

“How old were you?��� he asked softly.

“Ten.”

He let out a slow breath. “To have seen something like this, so young…” He shook his head, and his eyes glinted oddly in the night, reflecting the light of the waxing moon above us. “I am sorry you’ve had to live with this burden all those years, Patroclus.”

The sympathy in his voice made a wave of bitterness rise within me. I swallowed thickly, but the knot in my throat remained. “At least I got to live,” I said quietly. “That boy didn’t have that chance.”

I had never admitted those thoughts to anyone, not even to Achilles. I wished to stop my tongue from forming the words, to think of anything else, anything at all, but could not. “Sometimes,” I whispered, “I try to imagine what might have happened to that boy, had I not pushed him. How his life would have been, if I hadn’t been in it. He would have been at marrying age now. He might even have had children. He would have inherited his father’s titles, his lands… He would have been a man, in his own right. But he got to live none of that. Because… because of a pair of dice.”

My eyes burned as I spoke. I rubbed them stubbornly, determined to not shed any tears. I did not want Xanthos to think less of me.

Xanthos kept his silence for a long while. When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle, mingling with the sighing of the crisp sea breeze. “The night before I boarded my first ship,” he said, “I was terrified. The priests of Apollo had spoken of a terrible storm that was to come, the worst we had seen in ages. They’d seen it in the blood of a lamb they’d sacrificed, on Apollo’s holy day. I did not want to go. I sat on my bed while the wind blew outside and shook with fear. My father came in and saw me. He told me something then. It stuck with me.”

“What was it?” I asked.

“He said… 'A man whose fate it is to die in a fire, will never die in a storm'.” At my confused glance, he laughed softly. “What my father meant was, every one of us has a path in life. The moment we come into this world, the three Fates spin their threads and decide what is to come. If my destiny was to die in a sea storm, even if I stayed on land and herded sheep all my life, the storm would eventually find me. ‘Meet your fate proudly, boy,’ my father told me that night, ‘because you cannot escape it.’ ” He turned to look at me, his dark, almond shaped eyes meeting mine squarely. “You have your path. So did this boy.”

“But…” My old pains and fears rose to the surface, the dreams that had haunted me for most of my life. I struggled to find a justification for it, for what had happened to me, for what I’d done, something that would make it all make sense. I could not.

“It is cruel,” I whispered. “Is it not?”

“It is life, Patroclus.”

His hand on the railing was so close to mine, I could almost feel the heat emanating from his skin. I thought of his words, turned them this way and that in my mind. I had my path. So did Clysonymus. It did not change what I  had done, his life had still ended too soon. His death was still my fault. Yet if I had not pushed him…

I would never have left Opus. I would not have gone to Phthia. I might never have met Achilles. I would never have known him, followed him, loved him. My life, as I knew it, would only be a shadow of what it was, what it could have been. It was still cruel, but it was my life. My path, the one the Fates had carved for me.

The Fates had never been kind, nor fair. But they were absolute. Inexorable.

My hand crossed the distance between us to land gently beside Xanthos’. The waves splashed against the ship’s belly, and the night owls at the shore cooed. We stayed silent, side by side, watching the night stretch endlessly before us.

The following evening, when I went to the ship’s galley for my dinner, none of the sailors were playing dice. It didn’t take long for me to notice that it was Thaddeus’ wrist that Xanthos’ bracelet was gracing now. When I glanced at him, the unspoken question lingering in my gaze, he only smiled and winked.

“Fate,” he jested cryptically, and took a large sip of his wine.

I didn’t see another die being thrown for the remainder of the days I stayed on the ship.

~

The day that the rolling hills of Skyros came into view arrived much slower, and much faster than I’d expected. The bay that we pulled up on shimmered golden in the early morning light. I could just make out the last of the Pleiades disappearing into the rosy fire of dawn when the ship was pulled to harbour. I leaned against the railing, my bag with my handful of belongings hanging by my shoulder, my heart beating in my throat. Somewhere on that island, perhaps in that palace atop the hill, Achilles was waiting for me.

Xanthos was by my side when the ship’s ropes were tied to the old and worn out palisades of the long and narrow wharf. I had thought he would go straight to his bed after his shift had ended, to get what little sleep he could before they would be setting off again, but he walked down with me, then followed me to the beach, where the wharf ended.

We gazed at each other for a long moment, standing ankle deep in crystal clear water. I found myself tracing the lines of his features, the slope of his nose, his strong eyebrows, his heart-shaped mouth. His eyes were kind and warm as ever, but there was something else hiding in their depths. During those heartbeats that we looked at each other I noticed everything, even things I had never paid much attention to before, as if I was trying to commit his features to memory, keep them safe with me.

“So,” he said softly, “it is time.”

I nodded. “It is.”

I expected him to leave then, to climb back up to the ship and sail to his own destiny. But he stayed there, gazing at me.

“We’ll be going back to Euboea now. To Kymi.”

“I know. The captain told me.” I smiled when I said, “And then you’ll be setting off for the Eastern ports, right?”

His lips widened in a smile that mirrored my own, but it was not quite as bright and effortless as I was used to. It was almost timid. He shifted on his feet, cleared his throat. “It won’t be for very long. Three, perhaps four months. And then we’ll be back.” A light, barely perceptible flush crept up his cheeks as he said, “I was hoping perhaps… I could see you. When I come back.”

I blinked, taken aback. I wasn’t rightly sure how long I’d be staying in Skyros, whether I would be going back to Phthia next. In my heart of hearts, I wished to find Achilles and leave with him straight away, return to Pelion, where Chiron was waiting for us. Yet all of my hopes seemed uncertain and hazy, like trying to grasp at shifting sand. Three, four months… I did not know if there was any way for me to plan that far ahead. Gods, I didn’t even know if Achilles was still where I’d been told he would be.

My stomach tightened as I told him earnestly, “I… I’m not sure where I’ll be in four months, Xanthos.”

“I know,” he said hastily. “I know that it’s all uncertain now. But… You could wait for me here. I could come back for you. And then we could leave together.”

"Leave?" I frowned a little as he spoke, my confusion increasing by the second. “Where would we go?”

“Anywhere. Anywhere at all. We could return to Phthia together, or… or anywhere else you like. Go to the mountains, perhaps. You like the mountains. Right?” His flush brightened, and his eyes flashed with something that I couldn’t quite decipher. Something akin to hope. “After my trip to the East, I think I’ll have enough gold to build a home. A small one. Like... like the one you told me about. With a garden out front…” He let his words trail away, searching my face. His throat bobbed when he swallowed. “We… could stay there. You and I.”

I froze when I finally caught on his meaning. He wanted me to… to go with him. To build a life with him. To be with him. To… love him.

I took a breath, preparing myself for the blow I was about to deliver. “I’m sorry, Xanthos. I… could not.”

I saw the joy and hope that had been there a moment before drain from his features. I saw his smile quiver, and his shoulders slouch. “Oh.”

“It’s not—” I started, then stopped myself. My fists opened and closed by my side, helpless. “I can’t give you what you want,” I said quietly. “This person I’ve come here to find… He’s everything to me. He’s…” I paused, looking about me. My mind worked furiously as I searched for words that wouldn’t hurt him anymore than they had to.

Xanthos spoke the words for me.

“Your fated one,” he said softly. He gave me a wan smile, his eyes kind and earnest as they met mine, but I could still see the hurt I’d wrought there. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” The sun was rising slowly over the mountains in the East, painting his sun-bronzed features golden and bright.

“Pepromenon fyghein adynaton,” he said. Fate is inescapable.

I nodded slowly, not knowing what else to say. He reached out and tentatively placed his hand on my shoulder. “I wish you all the best, Patroclus.”

“So do I.” I met his gaze, looking deep into his warm, honey brown eyes. “Thank you, Xanthos. For everything.”

His fingers squeezed my shoulder gently, feather-light, before he turned to leave.

I stayed there for a long while, at the water's edge, watching as the ship slowly rowed away. When its sails were nothing but a white speck on the golden horizon, I turned around.

Somewhere on that island, in the palace atop that hill, my fate was waiting for me.

[mst3kproject]

The Atomic Submarine

I’ve had this one sitting around for a while. It’s a pretty dull 1950’s White Men vs the Saucer People movie, which attempts to differentiate itself from the crowd by taking place underwater instead of in outer space.  It features Brett Halsey from The Girl in Lover’s Lane and a few moments of Jean Moorhead from The Violent Years, and has parts for Jack Mulhall and Paul Dubov from The She-Creature.

It is… the future.  The US and the USSR are friends now, and passenger submarines regularly run between the two under the polar ice!  But all is not well – the USS Sturgeon, largest of this arctic fleet, suffers a reactor meltdown somewhere just shy of the North Pole, resulting in the loss of all hands.  The Pentagon convenes some guys in suits, and decides to send another submarine, the Tiger Shark, to figure out what happened.  When the Tiger Shark encounters a mysterious electrical phenomenon, their scientists conclude that the only possible answer is creatures from outer space!

I seem to be making a tradition out of starting with the shitty science, so here’s a good one: the Flying Saucer’s source of power is stated to be magnetic – that’s why it has to return to the North Pole every time it sinks a ship, to recharge.  Except… that’s not how the magnetic field works.  In the late fifties and early sixties, the north magnetic pole was somewhere near the southern end of Bathurst Island in Nunavut (as of 2020, it’s on its way into Siberia and is actually closer to geographic north than it’s been in centuries).  Sailors would definitely know that, making this plot point kind of hilarious to anybody actually in the navy.

I mentioned Moorhead… she and Joi Lansing (who was once in a movie called Queen of Outer Space) are the only women in the entire movie.  They occur in the same scene, which seems to serve only to remind us that women exist, and have no effect on the plot whatsoever.  Once we’ve entered the submarine where most of the film is set, the cast is entirely similar-looking guys in uniforms, and there are no romantic reunions at the end.  The Atomic Submarine couldn’t even give us the requisite 50’s movie Cute Girl Scientist.  I guess they were going for realism in their story about trans-arctic Soviet passenger subs and one-eyed semi-aquatic aliens.

On to the actual movie.  The first ‘character’ we hear from is the deep-voiced 50’s narrator, who sounds exactly like the guy rhapsodizing about radar at the beginning of The Deadly Mantis, but I looked him up and Patrick Michaels has never narrated any other movie.  I guess there’s just a category of men that have 50’s Movie Narrator Voice. His job is to sound portentous as he talks about things that are either irrelevant or else stuff the movie could have showed us but chose to tell instead.  He falls silent for long stretches of movie and then pops up again, interrupting the flow of the story every time.

The special effects in The Atomic Submarine are okay – they’re nothing ground-breaking, but considerable effort seems to have gone into them.  The saucer and the submarines are obviously small models but they’re nice and the underwater photography is quite atmospheric.  I especially like the little submersible the Tiger Shark carries, the Lungfish, which was clearly designed based on ideas for such machines that were in the works at the time.  There’s a shot of the saucer breaking through the ice cap and rising into the air which looks really good until the saucer itself actually emerges, wobbling on top of a rod.  The one-eyed alien inside the saucer is nice and gooey and parts of it look like they’re made out of living sea creatures.

Like many movies on MST3K, The Atomic Submarine has some germs of good ideas in it, and like the rest of them, fails to do anything much with it.  The flying saucer – maybe we should call it a swimming saucer – is described as a living organism, possibly the same organism as its pilot.  The aliens themselves are biological engineers who will use humans as a template for altering themselves to live on Earth.  That’s pretty cool, but is ultimately not important to the plot. Besides the pilot, who seems to have been assembled by a variety of marine organisms, the inside of the saucer doesn’t look particularly organic.  If nothing else they had an opportunity for some really neat visuals here, but let it slip through their fingers.

The alien intelligence remains unseen and inscrutable for much of the movie.  This theoretically builds suspense but there’s honestly not a lot of suspense here. A plot summary makes The Atomic Submarine sound like an exciting adventure, but the impression one gets from actually watching the film is that it’s kind of a day at the office.  In a way, that’s fairly realistic – the crew of the Tiger Shark aren’t a ragtag group of misfits, they’re professionals doing their jobs which just so happen on this particular day to include saving the world.  Unfortunately, this doesn’t make for a very exciting movie.  An awful lot of scenes are just suspenseful music over footage of men in uniforms frowning at things.  Rather than feeling any excitement, the audience just wants to get to the damn aliens already.

The movie’s only about half over by the time we do enter the swimming saucer to meet the one-eyed, tentacled beast within, but it feels like we’ve been here for hours.  Once the boarding party enters the craft, some things do happen but they’re still not exciting.  Three of the four men die, one by being cut in half by a sliding door and two getting melted by intense radiation – these deaths are surprisingly explicit and gruesome for a 50’s movie, but they’re drawn out far too long and don’t serve a plot purpose.  If the alien killed the men to stop them cutting the Tiger Shark free of where it rammed the vessel’s hull, that would be one thing, but it appears to do it just because.

The main characters all sort of look the same, as lumpy-faced white guys in old movies tend to do.  The only one who really stands out from the crowd is Dr. Nielson, the son of the scientist who invented the Lungfish and an avowed pacifist who’s only on this mission because he knows his father wanted to see the sub used.  He has a running beef with an old friend of his father’s who thinks he’s a coward, all talk and no action.  This is supposed to be the movie’s main arc and yet it fails to go anywhere on just about every level.

Neilson spends much of the movie insisting that he isn’t a coward, which one would assume is a lead-up to him doing something heroic.  It’s not. He’s just here to drive the Lungfish and that’s literally the only thing he does – he takes the boarding party to the saucer, and then sits there and waits for the sole survivor to return.  There’s a bit where the captain of the Tiger Shark decides to ram the saucer with the sub in order to get through its defenses, and Neilson speaks up, pointing out that this is a suicide mission.  Nothing ever comes of this, and it might be evidence of his ‘cowardice’ but I’m not sure… the movie is not nearly as interested in his character as it ought to be.  At the end he seems to have decided that war is cool after all… or maybe the guy he was arguing about has agreed that we need to set aside war with other humans in order to focus on war with aliens.  It’s very unclear.

If there’s a regular passenger service between Alaska and Siberia, doesn’t that suggest that in this future we’ve already set aside war with other humans?  I’m not sure this movie thought very hard about its worldbuilding.

In fact, watching the ending I don’t even know if the guy Neilson talks to at the end was the same man he was arguing with earlier, because, as I mentioned, the actors all look similar. Until that final conversation I thought the other dude had died aboard the saucer and honestly I’m still not convinced he didn’t.  What mainly makes me doubt the idea is that it would mean there’s no closure to the feud at all, which would be the height of poor writing.  I’ve seen movies where I would buy that they were just that careless, but other aspects of The Atomic Submarine are competent enough that I want to give them the benefit of the doubt.

So what does this movie want us to think about war and the military?  It certainly suggests that they’re necessary, since after all we have aliens to defend ourselves from.  One of the scientists on board is British and another has what I think is supposed to be a Russian accent, so perhaps its extolling the virtues of international cooperation.  This would fit with Neilson’s statements about how we need to leave war behind, but if that’s the movie’s point it hobbles itself by never talking about it in that light.

This is all made that much more annoying because, as I said, the effects are decent, the cinematography is pretty good, and while none of the actors are stellar they all do their best.  There’s no real reason why The Atomic Submarine had to be so dull and messy, unless they were just saddled with a half-assed script. Even then, they made a pretty good effort to get some gold out of the dross.  You might find The Atomic Submarine worth watching even if only to think about what might have been.

[jq37]

The Royal Report– A Crown of Candy Ep 8 Deep Bleu Sea

That Sinking Feeling

Welcome back to A Crown of Candy, the show where you’re forced to come to terms with a possible PC perma-death every single battle episode, no exceptions.

We left our five PCs in an extremely sticky situation last week--on a sinking ship, in open ocean, with two House Bleu ships gunning for them. The only real move here is to abandon ship and commandeer one of the enemy ships to make their escape.

This is one of those eps where a LOT happens in a very short period of time so, rather than a straight play by play, I’m going to make sure you get the mood of the fight along with all the key moments.

Amethar makes for the closest enemy ship while Ruby unhooks the grappling hooks that were going to be used to board their ship. Liam--newly christened war guy--has a HELL of a turn, fully killing one of the enemy ship captains, ignoring the difficult terrain that stymied Amethar to leap to the next boat, and not only can he see in the dark--the ship is largely in darkness--because the enemy pirates are using alchemy to get night vision, Liam is invisible to them. They hear him land on the ship but they can’t see him. Rage is apparently a good look on Liam.

Stilton, on his turn, wastes zero time. He swings over to the crow’s nest of the Colby and, on a Nat 20, runs Primsy through with his sword to the genuine horror of everyone at the table. Primsy drops to death saves instantly but he fails his rolls to strike again, failing to finish her off. Primsy has to make her first death save right away which she fails. Thanks, I hate it. The only silver lining is that Jet (owing to a Nat 20 stealth check last episode) is nearby, concealed, and ready to spring into action. 

New Kid on Deck

A rowboat comes to collect Stilton and bring him back to his ship and one of the rowers clocks Jet and yells, “Archers, archers! The princess!” Jet gets the sense that she’s about to be riddled with arrows when, all of a sudden, there’s a puff of swirling pink and red fog, out from which pops a pink and blue cotton candy monk--the same cotton candy monk from Theo’s flashback last week--Cumulus Rocks! He slams down onto the rowboat and declares “The Hungry One must feed,” doing a knockback attack that knocks all the soldiers into the yogurt (something that has already been established as pretty lethal considering the downsuction of the sinking ship and also the current). Welcome back Zac Oyama! Jet wants to know who this dude is and he says he’s a cousin to Amethar and he’s arrived to protect the magic of Candia. 

Not to be outdone, on her turn, Jet hits a Nat 20 to attack Stilton (with a soft, “For Lapin”) and not only pushes him into the ocean (already a death sentence) she also throws a dagger at him on the way down to the very bottom of the ocean. The dude is fully dead. She also tries to stabilize Primsy and fails (but does get her to do some more strong woman affirmations, which is something). She holds the rest of her action (which she intends to use to get herself and Primsy into a rowboat) until Ruby can send Yak to help her.

Theo gets a Nat 20 to throw his sword at some rope in the ship’s rigging and call it back so he can grab it and use it to get to Primsy. Brennann is gonna give him a hard time about doing it in full armor but, guess what? Bam! Another Nat 20! He makes it straight up to the crow’s nest with Primsy, no sweat. But, unfortunately, when he tries to stabilize her the classic Murph rolls come back and he gets a Nat 1.

Amethar jumps to the boat with Liam (doing 14 damage to the captain) and most of Annabelle’s sailors follow him. This is not at all relevant to the plot but I would be remiss to not mention how hyped both Amethar and Lou are about the concept of this squad of bad-ass lady sailors.  

Ruby, Mage Hand’s the rope from the enemy ship and ties it to herself like an aerialist so she can shoot from above and sends Yak to help Jet. Then she aims for the same captain that Amethar just attacked and guess what? Nat 20 Baybee! That’s 8d6 and she plugs him in the head, taking him out. 

Jet takes her held action now and brings Primsy into the rowboat with Cumulus. Liam continues to be Peppermint Batman and does a bunch of damage to help clear the ship. 

Primsy has another death save which she fails but, thankfully, not with a Nat 1 which would have been fatal. 

The marauders still on the Colby jump into their escape rowboat and square up with the other rowboat where Jet/Primsy/Cumulus are. The last Cheddar sailors make it off the boat but Theo is still on deck and Annabelle won’t leave anyone behind so she goes to help him. 

Cumulus jumps into the enemy rowboat and kicks ass. We also learn that he has the ability to, after killing someone, siphon their life energy in the form of temp HP. Theo yells and asks if someone named Lazuli made him and he says, “In a sense, yes.”

Jet uses Yak for advantage and stabilizes Primsy with a 19 medicine check. Annabelle sees her actions from her spot on the Colby and, once again, salutes Jet.

Into the Drink

Theo knocks a dude who’s been griefing him into the ocean and then jumps into the party rowboat, from there to the enemy rowboat, and then Action Surges so he can knock some heads.

Since Annabelle used her action to help Theo and not steady the ship, the ship starts sinking faster. Jet--standing in the nearby rowboat--has to make a Dex saving throw to not get jostled by the suction and she fails, falling into the ocean. Cumulus steadies the rowboat they’re in but Annabelle fails her save as well. The top part of the crow’s nest falls into the ocean, Annabelle along with it. Brennan has everyone (except Ruby) roll Strength saves to weather the storm and not only is Annabelle pushed underwater, Theo (who is wearing full plate mail armor--famously not buoyant) falls in.  

Amethar tries to maneuver the ship so it will be positioned to stop his friends from getting washed out to sea and, when it fails, runs and jumps back onto the sinking Colby. There is one last sailor on there that steadies the boat on his order and gets the broken mast of the crow’s nest near Theo.

Ruby, on a Nat 20, swings over to the enemy ship and Mage Hand’s Jet a rope. 

The big Bleu ship that they haven’t commandeered starts sailing away since the fight clearly isn’t going their way. (Sidenote, extremely wild that the big bad of this fight got unceremoniously taken out literally in round one and was really the least of everyone's’ worries.)

One of the cheese dudes tries to attack Cumulus. Murph, the genius, asks if he can use his reaction from Swirlwarden to move to take the attack--move from the ocean where he will for sure die to the safety of the rowboat. Brennan bestows upon him the title of motherfucker but lets him take a DC 20 Athletics check with disadvantage (cancelled by Sprinkle to a straight roll) to do that shenanigan. He hits it! As he’s drowning, Swirlwarden glows and Theo knows a member of House Rocks is in danger. He springs out of the ocean, and takes 13 points of damage for Cumulus, absolutely saving his life.

Annabelle nails three checks in a row so she can get her head above water and start making her way back to safety. Jet, on her turn, pulls herself back into the boat and then attacks a dude with a dagger so she can spend a superiority die to give Annabelle some extra free movement (which is a very wild thing to do--to kill someone incidentally so your friend can walk a little faster somehow--the mechanics of D&D are wild). Theo holds an oar out for Amethar to help him get off the sinking Colby.

There’s another round of saves and Ruby rolls a Nat 1 (so does Theo but he’s in a position of safety so it doesn't matter). She not only falls into the ocean, she falls off on the side of the boat where there’s no one to help her. 

Amethar needs to swim to the commandeered ship but Lou first tries to figure out if there’s anything he can do for Ruby. “I’m so far away,” Siobhan says, “There’s nothing you can do.” Lou fully disregards that and Amethar swims to the boat, rages, and starts chucking cheese dudes into the ocean, one of which he (on a Nat 20) throws into a piece of the ship which knocks down to where Ruby is so she can grab it. Ruby then throws a rope to Liam and calls Yak back to her to help. She pulls herself back onto the ship and throws the rope to Annabelle (though it goes a little wide).   

Liam continues to kick ass (fully clearing the ship) and also sails the ship closer to the sinking Colby to help the sailor still on it. Annabelle jumps onto the ship with Liam and takes the helm. Cumulus and Jet commit some quick war crimes and kill the two remaining cheese bandits from the rowboat that had already surrendered on their turn. The other big Bleu ship continues to sail away and they don’t chase it. There are some medicine checks and only one of Annabelle’s sailors ends up dead (which I’m sure is sad for her crew but, on a macro level, is frankly a miracle).

Rocks Family Reunion 

The fight over, they’re left to figure out what’s going on with this extremely clutch, Keanu Reeves-y, Cotton Candy monk who poofed in out of nowhere.  

On a Nat 20, History/Family Tree check, Ruby knows that Cumulus is a distant cousin who disappeared (not left, disappeared) 25-30 years ago, before the war. She Messages that info to Jet and Theo (interesting that Theo is in the inner circle now). Theo clocks a Lapiz Lazuli pendant around his neck and asks how he got it. Cumulus said he got it from the lady herself, that he’s an Order of the Spinning Star monk, and that he was created by her to protect the magic of Candia. 

Theo knew that Lazuli was doing a lot of cool/crazy experimental stuff but is a little taken aback by Cumulus. Lazuli never really talked about the monks and also didn’t call on them to help in the war, saying that they were doing plenty already, something that annoyed him at the time. She said that the war would preserve the kingdom but the monks would preserve Candia (which she also didn’t explain because what kind of Divination Wizard would she be if she was straightforward about things? That was meant to be rhetorical but as I type, the answer is Adaine/Ayda). 

He also knows that she had “different servants” to help her with different things. Theo’s not sure where the monks get their magic from but he knows it’s not wizard magic and he knows that Citrina got into a big fight with Lazuli once after visiting the monastery (which is a pretty big clue). Theo tells everyone all of that. Cumulus says that he was sent to help when Candia went to war and makes it seem like he was in some kind of suspended state (or maybe confined physically) until he was needed because of Candia’s war with the Concord. He doesn’t really get the specifics. He also doesn’t get why he hasn’t gotten any of the Rocks Family Christmas High Frosting’s Eve cards over the past 30 years. And, wildly, that’s where we end our episode!

Before I get to the normal post-recap segments, I have some business to take care of. There is an anon who I like to think of as my Angel of Death anon, who called Brennan’s shot on Preston before it happened and then called Primsy’s death before this episode. I said that if Primsy so much as went down and had to roll death saves, I would invent a Crown of Candy version of detention just for them and, as it turns out, she did, immediately. So, because I’m a woman of my word:

1 Million Years Dungeon!

Congrats anon! You get to be the first occupant of the dungeon and you’re not even an N/PC! Honestly, kinda impressive. 

Sunny Side Up

Not that I doubted them for a minute, but very gratified by the obligatory Gilear shout out while in the Yogurt Shoals.

“I’m trying to kill you Brennan, personally. I’m trying to make you die.”

(to Brennan who just claimed he’s being bullied on his own show) “*YOU’RE* being bullied?”

“Do I get an opportunity attack on Theo?”

“Do you think reality is being strained by the fact that a bird is helping you perform surgery right now?” (And then Siobhan’s assertion that Ruby and Yak have a telepathic connection so it’s actually Ruby--an 18 y/o bandit with no medical training--who is giving the help. So much better.)

Brennan says something like, “Kids, don’t try this at home,” about the absolute insanity happening in the battle and then Siobhan goes, “Yes, because they will definitely get the opportunity to do so.”

Whatever the hell was going on with Dome cheese.

Things I’m Concerned About

Like the whole attack at the cathedral, this is another fight that doesn’t look good on the Candians from an outside perspective. I mean, they’re already fully persona non grata but Stilton is a known man of the church. No one else really has a reason to suspect him of treason. So it just looks like they’re sniping Bulbians. Plus they left some of his men alive which means they get to tell whatever story they want when they get back. Like, maybe in their version it’s actually the evil Candians and their traitorous Dairy Island allies who ambushed the poor dearly departed Lord Bleu. They might have given the church a martyr.  

OK, so between the fight Lazuli and Citrina had about the monks and Cumulus fully declaring, “The Hungry One Must Feed!” before doing his life drain mojo, it seems pretty clear where his powers are coming from. We don’t yet know if the Hungry One is like the Bulb in being powerful but mindless or if it has motives--sinister or benign or anything in between--but, either way, fraternizing with an affiliate with the direct antithesis of the State Sponsored Deity™ (who also sometimes does war crimes) seems, como se dice, problematic.

What’s going on with the rest of the House Cheddar fleet? Were they given bad orders from Bleu that they had no reason to mistrust or were they in cahoots?

I, generally speaking, trust Lazuli but mmm, making full people (assuming that’s what Cumulus meant), dealing with entities beyond mortal comprehension, and keeping secrets from everyone aren’t things that have a history of going super smoothly. I’m getting Princess Bubblegum vibes and I always found PB so shady. Also, if you create someone in  lab, is cousin the title they get? Is that how that works?

This isn’t something I am concerned about so much as something I was concerned about but a Cotton Candy monk in an ocean fight is just a recipe for anxiety.

It seems like Caramelinda is gonna be in next episode and that just activates my fight or flight in a way I can’t fully articulate. 

Five More Things

Extremely funny that Lou, who plays a pirate’s son in Fantasy High, is truly just guessing when it comes to all ship words but Siobhan sounds like she moonlights as a boatswain.

Zac was the party healer, he died, and he decided actually? Only heals for myself from now on. And you know what? Valid. (He’s a Way of the Long Death Monk btw) Very interesting that Zac’s last character unlocked all this information about the Bulb and now it looks like he’s playing someone who could do the same for the other side of the coin. I think it was very smart for him to show up in the middle of a tense battle where the mood would be, “Is he helping? Great. Welcome aboard,” and not, “We are fugitives, we shouldn’t be trusting anyone right now.” And him apparently being a Rocks also helps. (Also, shoutout to everyone who called Cumulus as being his new character!) 

I swear, these fights keep getting more and more tense. A near insta-death mechanic like the ocean currents pulling people away really makes things crazy. At the end when it seemed like the fight was turning in the PCs direction and then people started falling into the ocean! I was already writing Ruby’s eulogy when Amethar made that amazing save. And Theo using Swirlwarden to take that damage and get out of the much deadlier ocean was Galaxy Brained. I get what the cast was saying about Nat 20s not even being exciting. They got what felt like ten Nat 20s this episode and that was the bare minimum they needed to just get everyone out alive.  

That being said, the Nat 20 to drop Primsy followed by Jet’s Nat 20 to double kill Bleu was pretty rad and cinematic. Just instant karma. 

Very curious about what the Dairy Islanders’ position on helping the Candians is now. About half of them almost died helping them survive--and this had nothing to do with them. This wasn’t trouble that followed them due to their fugitive status. This was all Cheese Drama. If the Candians hadn’t stowed away, they’d be dead. I have to imagine that makes a person more receptive to some light treason. And if they get implicated by the surviving marauders, they might not have much of a choice.  

One More Thing

On a serious note, everything is bad right now or rather, everything has been bad for a while and it’s all come bubbling to the surface. To speak for myself, I am black so these issues are pretty inescapable on the regular but they’re extra inescapable right now and it’s stressful as hell. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to post about it here and cross the streams but it’s important and also this is the show that also brought us Bud Cubby and rats fully eating a crooked cop so the streams are already well crossed. 

Anyway, Black Lives Matter, stay safe if you’re out protesting, and, if you wanna donate, D20 style, twitter user @sofiabikes is doing a donation/giveaway on her twitter so hit her up (update: more info on her tumblr here). Also, dropout is donating all June merch sales to BLM and Pride orgs so if you wanted a t-shirt or whatever and you’ve been holding off, now is the time. 

Edit: No new C.O.C. this week. Instead, there’s going to be a charity livestream for protester bail funds on YT, just an FYI. 

[ltwilliammowett]

Fireships

They were already used in ancient times, the first missions being known from the Athenian expedition to Sicily (415-413 BC) and the siege of Tyros (332 BC). And even in China in 208 A.D. the use of them during the batlle of the red rock was documented. But its main use was from the 13th to the 19th century. While only used sparingly during the Napoleonic Wars, fire ships as a distinct class were part of the British Royal Navy until 1808, at which point the use of permanently designated fire ships attached to British squadrons disappeared. Fire ships continued to be used, sometimes to great effect, such as by the U.S. Navy at the Battle of Tripoli Harbor in 1804 and by the British Navy's Thomas Cochrane at the Battle of the Basque Roads in 1809, the very last mission was probably during a battle during the Greek War of Independence 1821-29.Because for the most part they were considered an obsolete weapon by the early 19th century.

The Defeat of the French Fireships attacking the British Fleet at Anchor before Quebec City.  28 June 1759.

Structure and Function

Mostly small, old or retired ships like the pinasse or the sloop were used, but also larger ships could be used as we can see it on old paintings. A so-called fire chamber was installed on board the respective ship, which was mostly closed below deck between bow and main mast by a bulkhead or a shed from the other rooms. The combustion chamber was filled with bundles of reed grass, hemp heaps, shavings, tow and bush branches, all of which were covered with flammable liquids.

On a framework or gangboards, wooden tubes or gutters were laid in several parallel rows over the entire length and width of this combustion chamber, resin-coated from the inside, which were connected to each other and in which the running fire required for the ignition of the main burning material ran along.  On each side of the fireman there were usually five to six hatches closed by flaps which, in contrast to piece ports, could be opened from top to bottom by a hinge attached to the underside. In front of each of these closed hatches, a ten-inch iron tube with a five-inch diameter, closed at the rear, was installed, which can also be called a chamber gun. These chamber guns were loaded exclusively with powder and a wooden plug was driven into the tube in front of the propelling charge. In use, the chamber guns were later fired by the ignited barrage via a fuse in the ignition hole, so that the previously closed hatches were blown open by the shots and the additional fresh air that flooded the combustion chamber could provide more activity for the spreading conflagration.

Dutch fire ship attack on the English flagship Royal James at the Battle of Solebay (1672) by Willem van de Velde the Younger

Below the main and forestay shrouds, vertical tubes were installed in the firebox, under which a fire barrel stood. These tubes were covered with wooden plugs and a tarred tarpaulin on deck to prevent unintentional ignition or ignition by the enemy. Immediately before the ignition both were removed, so that the fire ignited in the fire chamber could spread over the vertical tubes fast at the shrouds and at the remaining rigging of the fire ship.

The fire barrels as well as the aforementioned fuel materials such as bushes, chips, reed grass, etc. were dunked in ethyl alcohol and sprinkled with fine gunpowder with a cotton fuse and could thus be ignited with a time delay.

In the upper deck there were also two further small hatches, through which the ignited fire could also spread well on deck, especially as the upper deck planks were specially resin-coated for this purpose.

The Burning of a Turkish Frigate, Constantinos Volanakis

On the sides of the fireman, pieces of canvas, so-called fire shirts, mixed with sulphur and gunpowder, were hung, which could be ignited with a pistol shot.

Since a fire could not be controlled and ignited by a single person, there were also crew, officer and captain's cabins on board, which were located in exactly this order behind the closed firebox and in which the ship's crew was accommodated according to their rank. Tradition has it that the crews of 10 to 12 sailors received double pay due to the high degree of self-endangerment.

Fireships were used particularly successfully against anchoring fleets, as they could not get to safety quickly enough. Sailing fleets sometimes had to perform breakneck evasive manoeuvres for the same reasons. Thus the order of an attacked fleet could disintegrate, which often led to defeat. A well-known example for this is the fate of the Spanish Armada, which had to accept a defeat against an English fleet equipped with only eight fire ships. The effect of fireships could be more devastating than gunfire, as the rigging, sails and hulls of the wooden sailors were often bone dry and sealed with tar against moisture. Completely undamaged ships could therefore be almost completely on fire in a few minutes and had to be abandoned.

Fireships on the Hudson River, by Geoff Hunt

In the battle, the fireship went behind the line(s) of the own warships. This usually prevented him from being ignited by enemy fire before he was deployed. The ship was equipped with grappling hooks at the cams and sailed during the battle towards the enemy. On the way there the protective covers of the vertical tubes and the fire barrels were removed and thus made ready for action.

The fireship then sailed through his own lines towards a certain ship and ideally hooked the grappling hook on the enemy ship, while his own crew also tried to moor on the enemy ship using grappling hooks. The ideal position for a fireship attack was a bow-to-bow position, as the enemy could not reach the burning fireship and countermeasures were hardly possible. If the fire had come close enough to the enemy or had even managed to moor, the captain ignited the two tubes with the wildfire and went with the rest of the crew via a hatch near the tube into a longboat and rowed away hastily.

The flames of the burning fireship, who was hooked to the outer wall of the destroyable ship, then spread to the enemy ship and ideally made it unfit to fight or manoeuvre. Often the action ended with the total loss of the enemy ship if the fire could not be extinguished in time and reached the powder chambers. To prevent a fireship from setting oneself on fire, i.e. when evasive manoeuvres with one's own ship or sinking attempts by the fireman were unsuccessful or impossible - fire hooks were used. Fire hooks were strong trees or spires that were spread through the piece ports to prevent the fire from getting stuck to the hull of the ship. However, it was most expedient to send out armed dinghies in the direction of the fire ship and to hijack this or the longboat of the enemy.

Special types

Dutch Hellbranders,

were first mentioned in the chronicles of the siege of Antwerp in 1584/1585.  On 5 April 1585 they were deployed on the Dutch Schelde off Antwerp against Spanish troops. Constructed by the Italian war builder Federigo Giambelli, they were used here against a ship blockade bridge reinforced with garrisons.

Although it was not possible to destroy the bridge and restore the navigability of the river, one of the unmanned Hellbranders ran up against a part of the bridge near the garrison there and exploded here. The explosion and its consequential damage apparently killed nearly 1000 soldiers in one fell swoop.

An engraving entitled "Pontis Antwerpiani fractura" showing the blowing up of Parma's pontoon bridge, used in the siege of Antwerp in 1585. Print from a book by Famiano Strada, 1623

An English infernal machine or hellburner,

was an armoured fire ship, which was further developed by the English on the basis of Dutch design patterns of Hellbranders and first used in St. Malo on 27 November 1693. The aim was to destroy the fortified city of St. Malo with such a ship, but this was not possible because the unmanned infernal machine ran aground before reaching the fortification walls. Another use of English infernal machines became known during an attack on a pier in the French port of Dieppe in 1693 during the Nine Years' War.

Section of a infernal machine with its various explosives and firing system. French print, circa 1692-1693

Rocket ships,

I had already written about them in a separate post. This can be read here again.

Structure and Function

English infernal engines as well as Dutch infernal burners were ships loaded with the fuels usual for fire ships. In addition, they were also equipped with a considerable number of black powder barrels in the combustion chamber and thus represented floating bombs, which were detonated by a combined clockwork and flintlock mechanism or another ignition delay mechanism.

In addition to the fuel and explosion materials described above, there were also scrap metal parts (e.g. ploughshares), gravestones and marble balls on board, which had a kart-like function due to the explosion of the black powder barrels and could therefore result in severe or even fatal injuries, if these were accelerated by the shock wave directly on people in the vicinity of the explosion or simply rained down. Buildings and fortifications could also be seriously damaged. The upper deck of the ships was often still covered with granite slabs, so that on the one hand a protective function against enemy fire was given and in the context of the intended explosion granite splinters or hitting whole granite slabs had correspondingly damaging effects on the enemy.

In addition to the devastating consequences of the explosion, the fuel originally loaded on the ships also caused additional fires to break out in many places on the periphery of the explosion site.

[queenbirbs]

the way home | Ch. 4 | Edward x MC

Pairing: Edward Mortemer x MC

Word count: 2,308

Warnings: language, violence, violence against women

Read from the beginning or continue on Read on AO3

Tag list: @writinghereandthere |  @not-sewell

------

By the next week, they’ve sailed across most of the northern Caribbean. 

Their crew hits a couple merchant ships and capsizes a few galleons. Captain Delaney is pleased when they manage to sink a frigate off the coast of New Providence, having some long-standing feud with the Royal Navy. Elena considers them to be kindred spirits in that regard. Attacking a royal vessel outright, though, paints a proverbial target on their back. 

They anchor inside a cove on St. Fisher, a hole-in-the-wall port among the long string of islands in the Bahamas. Delaney sends the crew off in a jolly boat to retrieve supplies before trying for Cuba to hide out amongst the Spanish. 

“He’s a moron for attacking them on their own turf,” Robert grumbles as they make their way through the town’s pastel-colored buildings. 

Elena, too busy scanning the shoppers in the market, hums her agreement. The stall up ahead sells gaudy-looking trinkets that catch the sunlight as they swing in the ocean breeze. She wishes she could send one to her sister, somehow. 

The cannonfire comes with no warning. 

Discordant blasts echo across the port again and again and again with not a single pause. Thick, billowing clouds of smoke rise over the palm trees, darkening the blue sky. While everyone rushes deeper into town, Elena and Robert race towards the cove, slicing through the flora and fauna that block their path. Seconds before they reach the flat stretch of sand, he seizes her elbow and covers her mouth, just in time to muffle her cry at the scene before them.

Little Death is keeled over, resting on its starboard side as flames consume what remains above the waterline. Delaney is nowhere to be found. The crew who made it to shore in time lay sprawled across the beach. The whites of their skulls gleam amongst the blood and brain matter coating the sand around them, each shot execution-style. 

“Their jolly boat’s missin’!” a navy officer calls out. “Search the island!” 

“Shit. Fuck. Shit.” 

“C’mon,” Robert growls as he swings her around and guides her back up their makeshift path. “We may not know this island, but--”

At the sound of men pushing down the path from town, he picks her up and bodily moves her into the forest’s thick foliage. 

“What the hell are you--”

“Shut up!” he hisses, shoving her down into the cover of wide-leafed bush. “Stay here.”

“What’s your plan then, to offer yourself up on a platter?!” Elena grabs his coat and holds tight, preventing him from moving off. “That’s the stupidest--”

“I can distract them, give you enough time to circle back and find a better place to hide. They’ll shove off with me, then another ship’ll come by soon and need an extra hand.” 

The sound of a pistol being cocked interrupts their hushed argument. In their crouched position, they both glance up to see swatches of dark blue uniforms peeking through the trees ahead. 

“Come on out, now, the both of ye!” one of the sailors taunts. 

Robert’s expression shutters as he rises to his feet and steps out onto the path. 

“If it isn’t Robert Cutter himself!” the officer crows. “Performed quite the disappearing act on us a few years back. Looks like fate caught up with you, though, hmm?”

“Looks like,” he mocks. Two of the lackeys grab hold of each arm; he bites back a grunt when the officer punches him in the stomach. 

“And where’s yer lady friend?” one of the sailors asks. “Come on out, miss. Don’t be shy!” 

Realizing that staying hidden is a hopeless tactic, Elena makes her way out of cover. Three of the men whistle at her, while the officer leers at her with something akin to delight. 

“I shoulda known the two of you would be mixed-up in this. Sinking a crown vessel, that’s child’s play for you two. Murdering a governor and an admiral is more yer style, idn’t it?” 

As one of the sailors strips her of her weapons, Elena glares at the officer. Though she can’t recall his name, he’s one of the men who stormed the beach while defending the Admiral.   

“We’re innocent of both those crimes,” she says. “Though I don’t expect you’ll believe me.” 

His shoulders shake with a sardonic chuckle. 

“No, I’m afraid not. Yer a pirate -- you only know how to do two things with that mouth of yers. The first is lying and the second is su--”

Elena grabs him by the shoulder and headbutts him. The officer caterwauls and clutches his nose. Blood trickles down his chin and drips onto his uniform in fat, red splotches. She hides her wince as Robert laughs long and hard, ignoring the sailors’ orders to shut up. “You bitch! I saw you make off with the Admiral. You dragged him inside that temple and sacrificed him to Satan himself!” 

“She’s a witch?” one of the sailors asks.

“I thought she were a pirate,” another mutters.

“I’m not a witch,” Elena scoffs. “And, for the last time, I didn’t kill your admiral.” 

“I don’t care what you are!” The officer yanks a handkerchief from his coat and dabs it against his nose. “Right now, yer a means to an end. We’ve heard all about the bounty on yer head. We’ll use you to draw Mortemer out. Besides, what’s better than catching one pirate?”

“Two pirates!” one of the sailors cackles. 

“Well, technically,” Robert says, “you’ve already got two of us here--”    

“Oh, shut up, Cutter!” the officer spits. “Take them down to the beach, men.”

The bickering around her fades to an annoying buzz as she trudges along the path. If they do manage to get word to Edward, she knows there’s no force that will stop him from coming after her. That he would be walking straight into a trap would cross his mind, and then he would do it anyway. Elena can’t fault him for it, because she would do the same. And, if it weren’t for the high probability of being executed, she would go along with it. But she doesn’t want their long-awaited reunion to be side-by-side at the gallows.

She comes to a sudden stop. The caravan of men behind her scowl and curse.

“What’re you doin’? Keep movin’!”

She digs her boots into the sand, lurching when the sailor beside her shoves her hard. Turning to catch Robert’s eye, she snatches the sailor’s pistol from his holster and takes aim. 

“Run.” 

Robert yanks free as she fires. The sailor shouts and grabs his bleeding arm, falling back when the other two come rushing forward. She twirls the pistol in her grip and smacks it upside another’s head, using the momentum to shove him into the bushes. The third man tackles her from the side and they crash down onto the sand. Struggling for control, Elena manages to work her leg underneath his massive form and lands a solid kick between his legs. The officer rushes over just as the man rolls off, clutching his injured pride. 

“Restrain her, you fucking--” he cuts off his own order with a sharp cry. He collapses onto his ass, clutching his leg as blood soaks his white breeches. “She-- she shot me! Get that pistol from her, you idiots!” 

A massive weight crushes her from behind and shoves her down onto her stomach. The sailor she shot slams his fist into her side, knocking the wind out of her. Elena gasps for air, choking on bits of sand. He plucks the pistol from her loosened grip with ease. 

“Hold her down,” the officer demands. “She’ll be less trouble if she’s unconscious.” 

Fear pounds through her chest when the sailor’s hand seizes a chunk of her hair and yanks her up. The last thing she sees is the pistol coming down. 

Underneath him, her body goes limp. He waits a few more seconds before pulling a length of rope from his pocket. After tying her up with a decent-enough knot, he sits up to assess his arm and check on his crew. 

“Oi,” he grumbles as he glances down the path, “where’d Cutter go?”

------

The brig’s interior becomes a familiar sight by the second day. 

That’s how long Elena thinks she’s been down here. The solitary porthole above her head is caked with too much filth to let any proper light in. So, she calculates the hours by the sorry excuses for meals that they bring her. A few crumbs of hardtack and bits of dried mystery meat make up most of her diet. 

Waking up on a cell floor with her hands and feet bound wasn’t an enjoyable moment. If she could rate it, she’d give it a solid zero out of ten. Especially when that immediate rush of panic ebbed to allow a fresh wave to roll over her: she was being carted along to be killed. 

The one plus side of her new accomodations, though, is the cold wall of the hull. It’s as good as any cold compress against her injured body. What she wouldn’t give for one of those ibuprofens she stowed away in her duffel bag -- the bag that’s buried on the outskirts of town on Santo Domingo. 

She hopes that Robert was able to escape. She hopes that he was able to get word to Edward not to come after her. She hopes that when Edward inevitably ignores the warning and comes anyway, she manages to intercept him herself. What’s that old saying about if wishes were horses? 

Footsteps on the stairs tear Elena from her woolgathering. The slow, measured pace of them tells her who it is before he shows his face. 

“How’s the leg?” she asks when the officer steps in front of her cell door. 

Officer Horowitz levels a grimace at her, his lips turning inward with disgust. He drops the wooden plate in his hand and kicks it underneath the door with his good leg; the meager contents spill across the dirty planks. Elena glances down at her dinner and back up at him. “I’m giving your presentation a one out of five stars on Yelp.” 

“That nonsense yer spouting has gotten old,” he spats. “It’s a good thing, then, that we’re about to anchor. You and yer pirate captain’ll be dancin’ in the gallows soon enough.”

She bites back that daunting feeling of failure and settles back against the wall with a shrug. 

“Sounds like I don’t have much time, then. I guess I should come clean with my sins and all that.”

“I haven’t the slightest interest in hearing about yer--”

“Really?” She tilts her head and studies him. “You don’t want to know what I did with the Admiral?” 

Horowitz bristles at the name, but shakes his head. 

“I don’t want to hear the gristly details of yer sick, ritualistic--” 

“For the last time,” Elena says with a dramatic sigh, “I didn’t kill him. I opened up a hole in the universe, and I put him in it.”

“That’s nonsense.”

“It’s not, really. It was as easy as tying your shoe. If you know how to do that, of course. I don’t like to presume.”

Crossing his arms across his chest, he scoffs. 

“Then where is he?” 

“I sent him to his worst nightmare: a place with no one to listen to him. There’s this remote island in the south Atlantic Ocean, about twelve-hundred miles from Argentina. Sorta like The Cask of Amontillado -- which you’ll sadly never get to read, it’s a great story -- but on forty square miles of uninhabited land. And without chaining him up or burning him alive.”

“You marooned him,” he surmises.  

“Marooning him implies that I gave him some food and a gun. But I didn’t. The island won’t be discovered until 1767. The Spanish explorers name it Isla de Aislamiento -- that means ‘Isolation Island.’ Upon arrival, they’ll find the oddest thing: a human skeleton, wearing what appears to be a British naval uniform and a few medals.”

“I don’t believe a word you say.” Clenching his hands along the cell door, he sneers at her. “Yer a filthy, goddamned liar. How are you to know the future?”

“I read about it.” 

Which is the truth, but Elena knows how little that will matter. After teaming up with Robert upon her first arrival back to her time, she found herself curious about Admiral Cochrane’s fate. After coming across a man with an identical rank and surname, she worried that she’d made a mistake and sent him farther into the future, that maybe he’d managed to escape and make something of himself. But the portrait of the other Admiral Cochrane, famed for losing the Battle of New Orleans, resembled nothing of the man she’d dealt with. 

Eventually, one of Robert’s many contacts sent her the diary entry of a Spanish explorer that detailed their unusual discovery. They left the corpse where it lay and pilfered the medals to melt down and mash into coins. The entry was as good as any death certificate. 

Judging by the look of disgust on his face, Horowitz doesn’t seem to find her explanation all that funny. 

“I knew you were a witch the first time I saw you. No matter how you spin it, I know that you killed the Admiral. Watching you two hang will be the highlight of my year.” 

He spits at her through the door and turns to go. Elena waits for the sound of his uneven footfalls to fade before she slumps back against the wall. Despite the heavy weight on her shoulders, she can’t help the small sliver of joy at knowing Edward is near. Horowitz had all but confirmed it, with his gleeful chatter about them hanging together. 

She just has to make sure that part doesn’t come to pass. 

------

References:

A few Uncharted ones, but they’re all very minuscule. Think of them like the hidden pictures puzzles in those Highlight Magazines they always had in waiting rooms when you were a kid.

[queen-scribbles]

Legends

Kei had been raised on legends of kraken.

Over the years, they went from bogey-monsters that would eat her toes if she got out of bed during the night, to pure myth, to real but rarely sighted leviathans that lurked in the deepest waters of the Deadfire 

And then she killed one. In a frozen lake under a fragment of a fallen moon, smack in the middle of the White March mountains. Seeing one herself, she thanked every god that came to mind the terrain worked to her advantage and prayed she never had to fight one of these monsters--which could easily swallow her or any of her friends whole--in its natural habitat.

Like so many other things she’d prayed for, the gods had very different--opposite in fact--plans.

It came in the middle of the night, well after the gentle patter of rain on the window had lulled her to sleep. A lurching stop, warning cries from up on deck, and the vague shadow of something big visible outside her cabin window, even through the rain. She didn’t even dare pause long enough to don her armor, just grabbed sword and shield and headed for the deck. The earlier drizzle had worsened into a torrential rainstorm that quickly soaked through her clothes and severely curtailed visibility.

Still, it was hard to miss the massive form that reared up over the starboard rail. Even as Kei took rapid stock of the situation, tried to process that they were being attacked by a kraken of all things(she’d almost have preferred fighting that vithrak pirate again), she caught the silhouette of a torso-thick tentacle swinging toward the deck from the opposite side of the ship. She was already moving, stumbling across the rain-slicked deck, before she’d calculated where the tentacle would hit.

And who was in its path.

The rocking of the ship threw off her aim, but Kei still managed to grab Tekēhu’s arm and half-spin, half-yank him out of the way just before the tentacle smacked into the deck hard enough to dent the boards and send up a shower of splinters. The two of them slammed into the mast but caught their balance a moment later.

Tekēhu grinned. “My thanks, Captain.”

Kei matched the grin as she dashed water from her eyes. “Would have been a bullshit end for Ngati’s favorite, and we wouldn’t want that.”

He laughed, the sound rising in harmony with yet defiance of the storm. “Very true, indeed. Let us vanquish this monster, instead, I say.” He tugged her down as the writhing tentacle swung toward their heads. “And add another impossible feat to our own legend.”

She shook her head at his teasing enthusiasm, water flying from her hair. “I’ll settle for driving it off before it sinks my damn ship!”

As if to underscore her sentiment, the kraken bellowed and slammed another tentacle to the deck, splintering the rail and knocking several crates into the turbulent water.

“Don’t let it wrap around!” Kei hollered, pushing off the mast with her shield arm to hack at the tentacle trying to do just that. It took three blows of her sword to cut away the upper part. The kraken screeched as it flailed the maimed tentacle away, knocking Irrena and Kostanten perilously close to the shattered rail as it withdrew. They caught their balance just in time.

Several frustrating minutes passed, where no one armed with guns or melee weapons could do much damage to the beast itself, thanks to either the pouring rain or the distance. Kei lost track of how many times she or Edér or Rekke wound up sprawled on their backside for trying. But there was only so much good that could be done hacking off tentacles; it would take more serious injury to drive away this beast.

Finally, however, the rain started to slack off even if the kraken didn’t relent. Indeed, it appeared the barrage of spells--along with several lost tentacles--it had suffered made it all the more determined to drag this ship down. Or at least exact recompense in kith’s lives. The tentacles not trying to curl around the Defiant or too badly injured swept toward sailors and companions alike, and there was only so much dodging one could do while also keeping the beast at bay. It showed particular malevolence toward Xoti, Aloth, and Tekēhu--the ones doing the most damage. Kei deflected so many hefty blows from arrow-pricked or bleeding tentacles in their defense, her shield arm started to go numb.

Xoti jumped a tentacle swiping at her legs and took advantage of the increased visibility to drop a pillar of fire on the kraken’s face.

It screeched and reared back, and a few seconds later came a muffled bellow belowdecks as a pair of the Defiant’s cannons took the opening to fire. Another, even angrier, screech filled the air and the tentacles snaking across the deck jerked back toward the water. One snapped a yardarm as it went, forcing several of the crew to scramble aside as the spar swung down toward the deck.

“Get this thing off my ship!” Kei hollered in frustration, and though the words were lost to the wind, the cannons roared again as if in answer. Two of the tentacles went flying, blown off at the root.

The kraken thrashed, bellowing and screeching in turn, the remaining tentacles flailing in search of something to grab, a way to claim recompense for damage suffered. Every time one started to close around a sailor or other kith, however, someone nearby pulled them back or made it pay. Another volley of cannon shot thundered over the dying storm, the casters each hit it with spells in quick succession, orange flame and purple energy illuminating the barrage of thorns, and Rekke and Serafen each hurled bombs at its head.

This final assault was too much for the kraken. What tentacles remained on or around the ship withdrew, still twitching.

“Kuldrun, get us out of here!” Kei yelled hoarsely toward the quarterdeck. Kuldrun’s reply, if he made one, was lost to the weather and what she hoped were the death howls of the repelled leviathan as he brought the Defiant about. She made a quick scan of the deck as adrenaline faded into exhaustion. They’d taken a beating, but nothing that couldn’t be repaired, and it didn’t look like they’d lost anyone, which was a minor miracle--

As if in a final Fuck You to the meal that got away, a tentacle whipped through the air, wrapped around Kei’s hips, and yanked her into the air. Her sword and shield dropped from her relaxed grip, but even as she cursed the lack of weapons, the tentacle fell limply away. Not that that improved her situation much; she was now in freefall over a part of the ocean she knew contained a very pissed, very hurt kraken, not to mention the still-dizzying waves from the storm.

She was close enough to feel the spray from the waves and see the kraken’s blood staining the water when something else wrapped around her waist and suddenly she was flying back toward her ship. Kei’s hands instinctively went to the pressure around her midriff, found it malleable and... wet? Water?  

Tekēhu. She smirked as the water-tentacle twisted around so she could see the rapidly approaching ship, her friends’ worried faces, and Tekēhu towering over the rest of them as he concentrated on reeling her back in.

The Defiant rode up a wave at the worst possible moment and threw off Kei’s landing. She hit the deck at the wrong angle, barely got her arms under her to keep from cracking her head, heard something snap on impact, and rolled a couple times before running into a crate hard enough she just knew it was going to leave a  bruise. She sat up with a groan, shook her head to clear the dizziness, and sent Tekēhu a still-dazed grin.

“My hero,” she said glibly, leaning back against the crate she’d hit as she started tallying various aches. “Knew sweet-talking the Watershaper would pay off someday.”

Tekēhu chuckled, but she could see the worry lingering in his eyes as he glanced at the wrist she held cradled to her chest. “Ekera, Captain, I would have preferred not to injure you in the process.” 

“Of saving my life?” Kei finished for him. She pushed wet braids out of her face, winced at the sting as her hand grazed a cut on her forehead. “Trust me, this is vastly preferable to being kraken bait.” She tried to stand, but her knee and hip both flared with pain.

“Or drownin’“ Edér chipped in cheerfully as he helped Beodul tie down loose crates. 

“Or drowning,” she agreed with a nod.

“The ocean, of all things, is not allowed to take you from me,”Tekēhu said, and light-hearted as the comment sounded, Kei could hear the underlying seriousness in the words.

“It hasn’t yet,” she promised with a wink.

“Perhaps not, but you still need to see the surgeon, beloved,” he returned quietly as he crouched to help her stand. 

“No arguments here,” Kei grunted. Besides the various other bumps, bruises, and aches, she was fairly certain her left wrist was broken. “But surely there’s others who need it more.”

“That’s why you hired more than one,” Aloth countered as he raked hair out of his face. “For situations like this.”

“True.” But thinking about the healers made her mind leap elsewhere as Tekēhu guided her up to her feet. “Oh, gods, Vela!”

“I saw Daelia scoopin’ her up on my way to the deck, Kei,” Xoti said, looking up from the bruise on her arm with a smile meant to comfort despite the priestess’ large black eye. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

Kei’s knees wobbled, a combination of relief and pain, and Tekēhu caught her elbows to keep her upright. “Thanks,” she mumbled, her good hand clasped against his bicep.

The soft light of ship lanterns showed the mischief dancing in his eyes. “My pleasure, Captain. Now, let’s get you seen to.”

Even if she’d intended to protest--she hadn’t--the faintest brush of his hand against her injured wrist made her whimper. Tekēhu gently shifted them so her arm was around his shoulders to help her cross the deck.

Kei tripped over the threshold as they reached belowdecks, started to rest weight on her bad leg to compensate, and yelped as she promptly fell against Tekēhu’s chest. His arms wrapped around her in support, and he seemed content to let her take her time recovering from the slip.

“How long have you been dreaming of me all soaking wet and snuggled close like this?” Kei asked playfully.

Tekēhu chuckled. “More months than is likely wise to admit.” He carefully wiped blood off her forehead with his thumb. “The injuries are a less welcome addition, I say.”

You and me both. She laughed, rested her forehead against his temple. “That’s a relief. Might’ve had to end things if you were fantasizing about me getting the shit kicked out of me.”

“Perish the thought,” Tekēhu declared, pressing a tender kiss just below the cut on her forehead. “I’d much rather you whole and hardy, my lioness.” He winked. “There is much more fun to be had then.”

Kei raised a brow and smirked. “Well, if we stop flirting and start walking, I think one of the surgeons can help with that.”

He eased back ever so slightly. “You are ready to continue, then?”

She nodded. “Fun as it is to flirt with my handsome fish, I would prefer doing so without various background aches.”

Tekēhu grinned. “Your handsome fish would prefer that as well.” He nodded toward her cabin, the door still ajar from her earlier hasty exit. “What say you wait in there, while I fetch one of the surgeons, beloved?”

Kei hesitated. She hated to be so much trouble, but walking was an ordeal right now, and steps would be extra tricky… “I say that sounds like a good plan,” she finally nodded. “One that minimizes further jostling of my injuries and doesn’t risk you hurting yourself to help me.”

“Ekera, Kei, never fear on that count,” he protested, carefully shuffling them toward her cabin. “You would be worth a tumble down the stairs, I say.”

“Very romantic,” Kei deadpanned, but she couldn’t fight a smile. Her wrist twinged and she instinctively cradled it closer to her chest as Tekēhu helped her across the room to the wide seat under the window. 

He kissed the top edge of her forehead. “I’ll bring one of the surgeons with all haste, beloved.”

“Only if they’re not busy,” she called after him. Badly as parts of her hurt, she’d hate to pull Daelia or Tylla from someone who needed the patching up more.

Tekēhu didn’t reply, but she thought she saw him shake his head slightly before he was out of sight down the stairs.

As promised, he was back only a couple minutes later with Daelia right behind him--and a giggling Vela wrapped around his arm like a spider monkey.

She let go as soon as they passed the doorway and dashed across the cabin to perch on the corner of the bed. “Did you win, Mama?”

Kei chuckled. “We did. Is it that had to tell?”

Vela shrugged. “You us’lly don’t get hurt so bad when you win’s all.”

“Usually we’re not fighting something so big,” Kei said with a smile. “Did you stay with Aunt Daelia like I told you?”

Vela gave an emphatic nod. “I ‘membered what you said if anything happened to the ship. An’ I was good,” she added, anticipating the next question.

“She was,” Daelia confirmed with a chuckle as she rolled up her sleeves.

“Happy to hear that, and happy you’re both safe,” Kei said. “Were there a lot of injuries?”

“Mainly bruises and the like,” Daelia replied. “Tuliak’s shoulder got sliced open, so Tylla’s stitching her up. And what about you, Captain? Aside from the obvious”--she nodded toward Kei’s swollen wrist--”what other injuries did you sustain?”

Tekēhu sat next to Kei as she started to list off the ones she’d found, lacing his fingers between those of her good hand. Daelia pointed out an additional gash Kei hadn’t noticed across the inside of her arm just below her elbow.

“Best to take care of your wrist first, though,” she mused, “since that’s the most serious.”

“Won’t hear me complaining,” Kei muttered, squeezing Tekēhu’s hand. She glanced at Vela. “You don’t have to stay, sweetheart. It’s late; you can try to go to sleep.”

Vela shook her head and fiddled with her carved fox necklace, a gift from Sagani for her last birthday.”I know you’re okay even if it hurts, Mama. You’re very tough and very brave.” She wrapped her hand around the wooden pendent. “‘I’m not sleepy anymore, an’ I wanna see.”

“Ekera, it seems you have a surgeon in training here, Kei,” Tekēhu chuckled.

“Or else just an insatiably curious daughter,” Kei said wryly. “You can stay if you want, Vel.”

Vela nodded. “I do, Mama.”

“Alright, then.” It didn’t really surprise her Vela wanted to stay; both to be close and out of that insatiable curiosity. 

“Would you like a better seat, dear one?” Tekēhu asked, extending his arm toward Vela in clear invitation.

Another eager nod. “Thank you, Teku!” she effused as she climbed down from the bed and up into his lap. She giggled and made a face--“You’re all wet!”--but settled in regardless.

It made Kei smile, even as Daelia started feeling out the extent of damage to her wrist and the pain spiked. She tightened her grip on Tekēhu’s hand, teeth grinding together.

“Fairly simple fracture,” Daelia  commented. “Shouldn’t be hard to set straight.”

“Good,” Kei managed between clenched teeth.

Tekēhu leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Breathe, my lioness,” he whispered.

Kei pulled in and released a deep, slow breath at the remainder, and it did help. Daelia was as good as her word; she had Kei’s wrist set and splinted in short order, then set about tending the other injuries.

Despite her assertion of not being tired, Vela fell asleep halfway through, curled up against Tekēhu’s chest. He just shifted her more center on his lap with one arm and settled in again, hand still intertwined with Kei’s.

Finally, though, everything had been tended. Her hip was just bruised, she’d wrenched her knee, the gash on her arm had needed a few stitches, but the cut on her forehead wasn’t serious, just needed cleaning and would scab well enough. After Kei had thanked Daelia profusely for her help(and the pain draught that had her a very pleasant level of numb), the elf took her leave and Tekēhu very gently settled Vela on the bed.

He ran a slow, appraising look over Kei, taking long enough she finally arched a brow.

“What?”

Tekēhu chuckled quietly. “Just musing on the likelihood you would desire dry clothes before turning in, beloved.”

“And planning to offer your assistance?” she asked, smirking.

“Ekera, it is as if you read my mind,” he grinned. “You do only have one good hand at the moment. And I promise to behave myself with your daughter in the room and you so battered.”

“What a relief,” Kei deadpanned, mischief sparking in her eyes. “In that case, I accept.”

His grin widened, but he made no comment as he dug in her trunk for dry clothes, coming up with deep brown trousers and a short sleeved, off-white shirt.

“Good choice, with this,” Kei said wryly, briefly raising her splinted wrist.

“My thoughts exactly,” Tekēhu confirmed. He returned to his seat by her side, helped her gingerly remove her sodden clothes and dry off before just as carefully pulling on the new ones.

Once she was dressed, Kei paused to cup Tekēhu’s jaw with her good hand. “Thank you, Teku,” she whispered playfully, leaning in to kiss him.

His low laugh rumbled into the kiss. “It was my pleasure,” he murmured, then kissed her back. “And I won’t tell Vela you stole her nickname.”

“Borrowed,” Kei protested with a smile, resting her forehead against his. “Just this once.” She kissed him again.

“Ekera, beloved, you are making it quite difficult to keep my promise,” Tekēhu mumbled, breath ragged, between kisses. His hand cupped the back of her neck, fingers toying with the narrow braids.

“Which one?”

“To behave myself.”

She leaned more fiercely into the current kiss for a moment before pulling back. “Sorry.” She traced a finger down his cheek. “You’re just extra irresistible when you’re being sweet.”

He favored her with a warm smile for that, turned his head to lightly kiss her palm. “All the more reason to do it frequently, I say. But for now…” He reluctantly sat back. “I believe Daelia instructed you to rest?”

Kei nodded, letting her hand fall to her lap, the warmth of his skin lingering. “She did. And it is very late. Or is it early, now?”

Tekēhu chuckled, helped her stand. “I don’t imagine it makes much difference either way. You should go to bed.”

It was a short journey, but he didn’t let go until she was safely settled in bed. Vela easily shifted in her sleep to curl up snuggled with her mama. Kei ran a hand over her hair and looked up at Tekēhu. “Thank you,” she repeated. “For everything.”

He bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You are most welcome, my lioness. Though I do wish my help had not cost you such an injury.”

Not wanting to wake Vela, Kei rolled her eyes instead of scoffing. “And as I said, I’d rather have a broken wrist than be kraken bait. Thanks to you, my handsome fish, I lived to tell the tale. My wrist will heal.” She smiled. “Now, you should get some sleep as well; you look ready to fall over.”

“I would lie to deny it,” Tekēhu admitted with a wan smile. “So if you have no more need of your handsome fish tonight, Captain, I shall do as you say.”

I always need my handsome fish. Kei giggled and rolled her eyes again. “Goodnight, Tekēhu,” she said, patting the bed next to her and Vela.

His eyes fairly glowed as he accepted the unspoken invitation.

Kei had been right; he was asleep with his head on her shoulder mere seconds later. Her own lingering aches made it take a few minutes before she followed into slumber, and she didn’t truly mind. They’d fought a monster straight out of legend tonight and lived to tell the tale(grown their own legend in the process, she was sure he’d point out). Sleeping sandwiched between her two favorite people in Eora was as perfect a celebration as she could want for now.

Everything else could wait until daylight.

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

Llyr and the Pirates - Day 25

Day 25: Trapped in Shallow Water

Ahahahaaaa I finally got the ship battle portion done! I’ve stopped caring about time and am now just getting excited over mundane accomplishments so hurrah!

For @amonthofwhump‘s Water Whump May in which it is now July but I refuse to abandon this. The masterlist with the rest of the series is here!

Tag list (dm to be added or removed): @spiffythespook, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @insanitywishes, @whumpingonarainyday, @burtlederp, @pepperonyscience 

Content warnings: threat of death, cannon battle (explosions and all that), aaand I think that’s it actually. A fairly tame chapter in terms of squicky content.

As the curling white tendrils of air parted and disappeared, he finally saw what it was.

There was another ship out in the water.

“Captain-!” someone shouted, but Gawain cut them off before they could finish speaking. Llyr felt the man go rigid, holding him tighter and pushing the sword harder against his neck. The pressure followed even as he leaned back and tensed up, breathing quick, shallow breaths.

“That was a warning shot! Everyone to the deck and prepare to fire back!”

“But captain,” Hugh interjected quietly, “are you sure? We’re at a great disadvantage-”

“And we can’t afford to surrender,” it waved a dismissive hand. “As for you...” it turned to Llyr, looking down at him with stony eyes. 

“Captain, sir,” Hugh spoke again, and Llyr felt Gawain’s frustration when the blade against his skin jerked and drew blood. He let out a strangled whimper before he could stop himself. “If we’re going to fight, I think it’s best we leave them alive for now… just in case we need a bargaining chip or two.” It was tense as it spoke, equal parts cautious and determined. The captain fixed it with a judgmental frown.

“There should be no room for bargaining once we’re done with them,” it said, pausing for a moment where a look of careful consideration passed over its face. “But, if you so desperately want it, I’ll leave them for now. This brat’s slow death will be a suitable reward for your work, I suppose.” Gawain laid on a heavy, sweet tone, and Hugh ate up every last bit of the praise.

“Thank you, and... for now?” Hugh asked, a twinkle in its eye.

Gawain swiftly lifted its sword from Llyr’s neck, replacing it with a sharp kick to the jaw that knocked him out cold.

“Right,” Hugh nodded, and walked off with the captain as Ray watched on in a panic. They had a short, whispered exchange, pointed back at him, and then disappeared down the stairs. 

Ray took deep breaths, trying to keep himself together when he realized what situation he was in. He’d been whipped half to death, tied up in a position he couldn’t hold for much longer, and was now being shot at by an enemy ship. Not to mention he was facing away from the action and could really only see part of the other ship if he craned his head. 

He squinted hard to try and make out the details, but it was no use. Ray turned back and saw Llyr instead, splayed out and unresponsive in front of him. His body shook with small, shallow breaths, and blood dripped languidly from his mouth out onto the deck. And to think Ray had intended to protect him... Llyr stumbled into their arms out of pure chance and had now been harassed, captured, and tortured all because he’d been desperate enough to seek care from a gang of pirates. He’d nearly been killed too just then, and was still a priority on that corrupted sailor’s hitlist.

Guilt crushed him and he sunk down further on his knees, heedless of the pain and pressure against his flayed back until it flared up so badly that his knees buckled under the strain. He let loose a shout as he fell against the wheel, the middle of it scraping roughly up his back and he couldn’t even scream because he didn’t have the breath. When the pain subsided, it was replaced with drowsiness that made him slump bonelessly against the wheel.

It was as Ray had nearly fallen back into unconsciousness that the next explosion sounded, startling him back to awareness. The entire boat shuddered with the force of a cannonball making contact, a loud thunk and the sound of splintering wood coming from below. A quiet splash followed, meaning the ball thankfully hadn’t broken through the tough wooden hull.

In the relative silence after that, he heard sailors hurrying around and talking as they prepared to strike back. It wasn’t long before another cannon shot at them, hitting further up on the boat and rocking it harder than the last. 

By the time a third cannonball had crashed into the side of their ship, smashing through the thin railing and nearly rolling up on the deck, the sailors were finally ready to fire back on their assailants. Cannons fired on both sides, heavy booms and smoke filling the air, shaking the world around Ray until his head was ringing and his vision blurred at the edges. It felt as if all his teeth were vibrating numbly, the entire world reduced to that high pitched whine echoing through his skull. 

The crew was still frantically scurrying around when he looked back at them. Out on the water, the other boat had moved further along and seemed to be closing in. With how shallow the water was here, though, he doubted they’d get much closer. But… the longer he looked, the more familiar it became. Something about the blurry shape of it in the distance, the bow out front, and the figurehead he couldn’t quite make out...

Then he saw the flag and his heart stopped.

A large, black cloth hung from the mast, white markings painted on in the unmistakable shape of a cutlass lain across cracks and abstract, shattered shards. And Ray knew that if you looked close enough at those cracks, you could spot three letters outlined by careful brushstrokes. Letters that, if you knew what they stood for, would mean The Thief’s Halyard.

He would have wept tears of joy at the sight of his own ship were his throat not already parched. Ray couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gotten a good drink, and just the thought of it made him nauseous. But he would soon. 

He believed in his crew now more than ever, and hoped they could get him and Llyr out of this awful nightmare. 

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

“You’re sure it’s them?” Floyd asked tentatively, and Mabel raised the telescope back to her eye, squinting through the misty rain settled over the area. She wished she’d thought to climb up to the crow’s nest, but their lookout was already up there, observing as well as he could.

“As sure as we can be,” she sighed, “And we’ll have to trust that. Those scraps of wood on the beach clearly used to be a boat, and look about the size of the little thing Ray ended up heading out at sea on. Then on that shipwreck over there, there are four people, and three of them look a lot like Ray, Hugh, and that kid-” “Ah- his name was Llyr, I believe,” Floyd chipped in softly.

“Oh, Llyr. Thanks. And yeah, we’ve nearly circled the entire island at this point. If they’re still anywhere we could spot from sea, then this is it. Otherwise, we’d have to search on foot and risk weeks of lost time.”

“What do you think they’re doing on a wreck like that? With some oth- some other crew no less?” Floyd’s question was nervous, stilted. As if he suspected he might get an answer he didn’t like.

“Well, unless our fierce and loyal Ray has turned on us, I figure they just… oh. Oh shit-”

“What is it?!” 

“That symbol right on the bow, really small up there. The round one: I’ve seen that before on transport ships for the Nation. And they don’t exactly… tolerate what we do. They wouldn’t voluntarily help a pirate, and I don’t think ours could keep a secret like that.” “Then-”

“-they’re not there of their own volition, no.” A tense silence fell over everyone. Nobody wanted to suggest what came next, so nobody did. “So, we’re all in agreement that we should launch an attack against them, yes?”

The rest of the crew nodded along, and Mabel was quiet for a second as she instinctively waited for Ray to chime in. He didn’t. He couldn’t… obviously.

“So, anyways, we fire a warning shot first, watch their reaction, and open fire if need be. We won’t be able to get much closer but they’re at a major disadvantage already.”

After a few minutes of preparations they fired off their first shot, landing just short of the other ship in a warning shot as planned. The misty rain was starting to clear up as they watched on, and the moment they saw the others working to retaliate they shot again, aiming to make contact now.

“Why are they fighting back?! Lord knows it won’t be worth it for them,” someone shouted over the noise, their frustration at having to fight to get the missing crew members back evident in their voice.

“Could only mean they’ve got something they want to protect... probably- our, uh,” Floyd swallowed compulsively, unable to finish his sentence.

“More reason for us to believe we’re right and go forward with this,” Mabel summarized. Floyd nodded with a shaky sigh.

The two sides fought fiercely, the shipwrecked crew surprisingly competent. After long enough, the air was heavy with smoke and yet another cannonball slammed into the side of The Thief’s Halyard. 

“We have to get out of range!” one of the crew members shouted, “They may sink us if we don’t!”

Mabel wanted to argue, but they were right. The other ship was far more aggressive and heavily armed than they’d expected. Somehow, they didn’t seem to have lost very much when they wrecked. 

“Aim out, towards that archipelago. I’ll dismount there with a select group and we’ll launch an attack on foot. The rest left on here should bring the ship to a safe distance. If you can make a shot through the rocks then go for it, but don’t push it,” she shouted above the sound of further cannonfire.

Half of the crew scrambled to direct the ship while the rest stayed back to fire on the enemy. Somehow, they managed to avoid any further damage before getting within a hundred meters of dry land.

Along the way, Mabel had called on a few crew members to dismount with her, and she was just getting ready to give the command when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She spun around to see Floyd, an uncharacteristically resolute expression set into his face.

“I’m coming,” Floyd said. It wasn’t a question or request. He stated it simply and firmly.

“Floyd…” Mabel trailed off, conflicted. Whoever these people were, they’d already proved they weren’t to be messed with. Floyd had never been their strongest fighter, and she couldn’t bear to lose him when there was already so much else at stake.

“I need to see Ray. I need to help him, I owe it-!”

“Okay, no. You will not be doing this under the guise of ‘paying back his kindness’, Floyd. Ray has protected us all at one time or another, and we will always do the same for him.”

“Then let me protect him now!” he shouted, more assertively than Mabel had ever heard him speak. Floyd broke eye contact for a second, resolve wavering when he realized how demanding he was being, but he shakily focused back on her. He wasn’t going to let go of this until he got what he wanted. 

“On one condition,” she said, and Floyd bounced with nervous anticipation. “You will scale the side of their boat by rope and keep yourself hidden from view. They look to be alone at the moment, but stay on your guard. And you do not engage in combat unless absolutely necessary. Understand?”

“Understood,” he saluted, untying his sword belt and securing it diagonally across his back instead to keep it as safe and secure as possible in the water. When Mabel handed over a knotted rope with a grappling hook fastened to the end, he carefully draped it across his body, resting on the opposite shoulder. She gave him one last once-over, nodded jerkily, and moved back to the rest of their rescue team.

Each person received instructions for their role in the infiltration and by the time Mabel had nearly winded herself from speaking, they were as close to the land as they were going to get. They gathered around the ladder on the side of the ship, heading down one by one. 

Floyd’s hands were shaking when it was his turn, and he lowered himself quickly down the rungs. He stopped halfway down when the ladder ended, bracing himself with a deep breath. Then he let go. 

Next part

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

Second idea, but feel free to ignore!

Captain Blowhole in action mode, kicking ass and taking names, to res use his favorite philly.

@safarigirlsp I HAVE HAD THIS SITTING IN MY BRAIN FOR EVER AND IM SO SORRY I’M FINALLY ANSWERING THIS NOW, BUT I WANTED TO MAKE IT WORTH THE READING AND ADVENTURE THAT YOU DESIRE BITCH! 🖤

ALLOW ME TO TELL A WHALE OF A TALE MY SWEET SIREN...

He knew he’d fucked up. Knew he shouldn’t have been so greedy with his booty, and his other booty, so to speak. Following the undead buccaneer crew to the depths of the Isla De Muerta, in search of gold and glory, and all for what? For you to be captured by the undead crew? Doomed to be touched by Barbosa himself? 

The thought of his skeleton fingers encapsulating your precious throat, nigh, his precious throat, made his stomach churn with anger and remorse. 

He stared into the abyss of the fog ridden ocean, squinting as the Black Pearl came into his view. A devilish grin falling over his face as he patted the large chest sitting by the captain’s wheel, the cursed treasure sitting at his waist as he conjured up negotiations for your freedom. 

He bit the skin on his nails, thinking of clever ways to bargain with the dead, who were long past their time to be able to touch you, to smell you, to do what they willed. The thoughts of how illy you were being kept rattled around in his head, making him seethe more and more as the black sails grew closer to his vision. The billowing blackness of the clouds surrounding the cursed ship, the holes in the sails, and the undeniable black flag that whistled in the bustling breeze. 

His first mate came to his side, patting his shoulder as he tensed from the touch, handing him a flask of rum as he spoke, “do ya think she’s okay?” he questioned, concerned for your welfare as his buddy bit at his stupidity. 

“I sure as fuck hope so,” he grunted, swilling a drink of liquid courage, “I’ll kill every motherfucker on there if she isn’t,” exhaling as the warmth coated his throat, wiping the drippage from his beard as he handed the bottle back to Ron. 

“She’s probably not too happy with ya right now, Z,” he commented, giggling as he took a swig again, placing a hand on the wheel to aim the ship starboard for the attack. 

Flip smirked, huffing a deep laugh as he contemplated the words, “you’re probably right on that account, buddy,” clapping his back as he glanced back down at the stone chest, “but I have ta make it right either damn way,” he growled, placing hands on his hips as he gazed towards Ron. 

“Plus,” he placed a hand over his mouth, chuckling at his own dirtiness, “I kinda like it when she’s mad... It... does things to me,” shuttering as he thought of your claws pawing his pristine back muscles, hearing your pained cries underneath him in a round of hate-fucking that was destined to ensue when you both were reunited. 

Just then, the anchor lowered, placing the Roger side by side with the Pearl as the canons were shuttered open from both camps. 

“Well, well, well,” a booming voice called out, “look who finally decided to show up, gentleman?” a chorus of laughter coming from the black shrouds on the enemy side. 

“We don’t want this to be a fight, Barbosa,” Flip shouted back, his voice looming over the waves and the wind as he noticed the captain come into view, “I brought a trade opportunity for you, in fact,” leaning on the case like a sleazy salesman. 

“A trade you say?” the dirty seaman rubbed his festering beard, yellowed eyes boring in Flip’s direction, “a trade for what, blowhole?!” bellows of heavy chuckles ringing out again at his insult, causing Flip to roll his eyes, wishing he was blowing his hole in your cunt instead of negotiating with the dead. 

“You know exactly what I want, Hector,” the shocking reveal of his first name sending the enemy captain in a furied frenzy, “show her to me you snake!” Flip growled over the tidal waves brewing around the vessels. 

Barbosa bored his jaundiced eyes towards Flip, the two of them not even stopping to blink as he watched him mull over the command, “show her, and I’ll give you the one thing you want most in this world,” he taunted again, the words stinging the old captain’s face as he heard every pronounced word. 

After a few moments, he indulged his curiosities, “bring the slut,” he chanted to his mate, who nodded and promptly went to fetch you. 

Flip grimaced at the slur, his fists balling at his sides as he tried to compose himself. ‘take some deep breaths buddy,’ he chanted in the recesses of his mind, ‘she’ll be back with you in no time, maybe,’ exhaling at the notion. 

The crewman produced your writhing form from the gallows below, your hair in complete chaos, stripped down to your skivvies as you gnashed at the whistles and howls from the enemy crew taking you in. 

“Get the fuck off of me you bastards!” screaming at the top of your lungs, your body freezing as the cool air hit your undergarments. 

“Now, now, lil’ lady,” Barbosa gripped you in his crusty hands, pushing you to be shown to your lover, “you need to play nice in this negotiation, pet,” running greasy fingers through your tattered hair, the feeling making your face contort in disgust as you shut your eyes. 

“I’m not a prize to be negotiated,” spitting on his buckled boots as you were slapped across the face by his first mate. 

“You will behave, whore!” he shouted, you hissing from the pain of the blow as your feral form looked over to finally lock eyes with your sailor. 

“Flip!” you yelled, “Flip you fucking jackass!” a combination of angry and relieved as you were forced to your knees on the deck of the ship. 

“As you were saying,” Barbosa continued, his crewman wrapping a gag around your mouth as you groaned and bit at him, “produce your trade, captain,” he taunted, curious what could be more important than a lowly whore. 

Flip snarled as he watched you be treated like an animal, the blood boiling in his veins as he backed to produce the chest, “Here, is my trade,” he pronounced, the stone top hitting the wooden deck in a thud. 

A hush grew over the crowd of scalawags, bugged eyes gazing at the Aztec gold as is shimmered in the sunlight. Flip’s cheeky grin appeared as he saw the captain squirm under his prize he’d thought he’d had over him, crossing his muscled arms over his chest as he waited for Barbosa to reply. 

“Name yer terms, Zimmerman,” he snarled quizzically towards the handsome sailor, placing an iron grip on the top of your head as you panted below him staring into the eyes of your lover. 

“You give me, Y/N,” he cocked his head, deep voice radiating your name like a siren song, the wetness forming in your britches as you angrily writhed again, wanting to choke the life out of every sailor on the Seven Seas including blowhole. 

“And?” the scheming captain pandered, gesturing for the rest of his demands. 

“And,” looking you dead in the eyes as he retorted back with sarcasm, “I’ll give you the answer to your problems, Hector,” smiling as he tipped his cap towards him, “I know you crave to... feel again,” the final nail in the negotiations pinned as he waited on baited breath, canons at the ready in case of a mutiny. 

“Well,” the captain contemplated again, ripping your face to meet his as his ratty finger stroked your pristine cheek “let’s get this goin’ then shall we lass?” chuckling as he lifted your weight to his eye level. 

Flip watched as he drug your body towards the end of the ship, eyeballing his crew as they readied for any kind of foul play. 

“You want her so badly, captain?” he mewled at him, “then go fetch your whore!” flipping your ass off the end of the ship to sink you in the depths of the black ocean, a series of screams echoing coupled with a splash as you fell. 

“Mother fucker!” Flip yelled out, ridding himself of his cap and jacket, to bound over the edge of his ship, a chorus of yells erupting on both sides as canons began to flare in an all out brawl. 

He penetrated the cold water, hair erupting around him as he sought out your figure flailing in the ocean, hands tied around your back as you struggled to meet the surface for oxygen. 

He stroked over to you, a frenzy of waves crashing overhead as he gripped your waist to pull you to the surface. A huge gasp leaving your lungs as you felt the cool breeze on your wet face. 

“I’ve got ya, darlin’,” he panted, pulling himself and you towards the Roger as gunfire clouded the ships, “I’ve got ya,” using his brute strength as you helplessly floated with him. 

He pulled you to the back of the ship, shoving you in a porthole before he climbed in as well, the thud of your body causing him to chuckle slightly as he remembered your restraints. 

As soon as he climbed in he was met with a slap on the face, the strength of it knocking him back to the wall of his ship. Your raging fists in front of your face as you’d escaped your ropes.

“You lying,” stumbling over him, fists balled up in a fury, “cheating,” gritting your teeth, “sleazy, son of a bitch, pirate asshole, motherfucker!” screaming as another hard punch landed on his prominent nose. 

“Jesus fuckin’,” he groaned, the blow causing his nose to bleed as he shook himself back to reality, your angry apparition clouding his vision. 

“I-I’m sorry darlin’,” putting his hands in retreat as you had hauled a piece of wood to beat him with, “I-I’m so fuckin’ sorry!” cowering slightly to prepare for an ass beating he so rightfully deserved. 

“You’re not fuckin’ sorry at all you asshole,” heavy sobs leaving your lungs as you watched him get up, the faint sounds of shotguns blaring amongst the waves, “If you were sorry you wouldn’t have left me to die on that goddamn island you cowardly shit!” heaves coming out from you as you fell to your knees, cowering in the reality that he was using you for his own trade deals. 

“I-I you’re right,” he stammered, watching as you wailed from the drama over the last few days of your capture, “I-I’m such a shit,” he agreed, trying to inch closer to comfort you, only to have you pummel his kneecaps in revolt. 

“Don’t,” you looked up, seeing red, “don’t you fucking touch me, Phil!” releasing a breath as you gathered your thoughts again. 

“In fact, why don’t you go save your precious crew while I stay down here and think about all the things I’m gonna do to you later you fucking dick!” shooing him away with cat scratches as he stumbled up towards the fighting. 

“I’ll be back, my sweet siren,” trying to signal his apology, his amber eyes boring into yours as he looked for any sign of forgiveness, “and you can do whatever you see fit to me,” bowing as he smirked, running his ass up to fight the good fight as you rolled your eyes, thinking of ideas to pummel his ass later on. 

I HOPE THIS WAS CHEEKY ENOUGH FOR YOU! BLOWHOLE IS NEAR AND DEAR TO MY HEART AND HE’S SUCH A DICK HE DESERVES A RIGHT BEATING FROM US FOR SURE! 😂

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