#and shamefully I've shared only a fraction of him

[what-the-flux]

Asura Appreciation Week Day 1 - OC Talk!

I cannot start off this week without talking about my man, the myth, the legend and my main for so many years, Oort the Truncheon! (and also the old namesake of this blog). Here is an (extremely simplified) history lesson (big post incoming and no read more EXPOSITION OR DIE): Born and raised in the outskirts of Rata Sum as an only progeny, his parents were prestigious researchers and scholars and were overachievers, accepting nothing less from their son. He had the best education possible and was accepted into the College of Dynamics, but he had become disillusioned with the whole system and asuran society in general and had no interest in being stuck in a lab or as he put it "a toady to the witless." He was always brilliant at metallurgy, fabrication and golemetric construction but he cared little for his studies as college wore on and he became unruly and a hard student to handle for his professors and his parents. He switched majors to Statics, coasted through before eventually dropping out right before he could graduate. His relationships with his parents and faculty and many of his peers shattered, he took up residence in the Undercube for a time and made a name for himself as a laborer and blacksmith, albeit with a foul and dangerous temper so had few friends. He ended up getting mixed up with a mysterious asura that won his trust before eventually blackmailing him and framing him for crimes she had been committing and revealing herself to be Inquest to boot. He ended up serving a stint in prison in Peacemaker HQ as a result.

Once out of the clink, Oort wasted no time in distancing himself from Rata Sum. Carrying not much more than his toolkit, a warhammer he forged himself and the clothes on his back he struck out for one of the furthest places away from Metrica he could manage: Hoelbrak. There he at least got along with more norn than he ever did with fellow asura and met who would become one of his closest friends and adventuring buddies. They traveled the length and breadth of the Shiverpeaks, Ascalon, the Steamspurs and the coastline of the Sea of Sorrows. She eventually joined the Priory, he the Vigil. Oort at this point had a bit of a reputation as being a competent but ruthless adventurer and his superiors were nervous he'd be a loose cannon but he quickly proved his mettle and reliability (though still hotheaded and with a habit of back talking), eventually earning the title of Warmaster. Though he himself is not the Pact Commander, he was present at all of the major campaigns and events that would transpire right before and after the forming of the Pact: Claw Island, the assault on Orr, the Fall of Zhaitan.

Over time and through the war in Maguuma, Warmaster Oort was renowned for his unwavering courage, ferocity, tactical mind and uncanny ability to survive things that would fell lesser individuals. Despite the conflicts and death and harrowing life he lead, he had time to fall for a powerful necromancer and would eventually marry, though sadly this relationship would also end badly for him later on. He would continue to serve in the Vigil with the events of Path of Fire into the Crystal Desert, collecting kills, scars and world weariness as he went. It wasn't until his worst near-death experience during the fight with Kralkatorrik in Thunderhead Keep and being buried under rubble and knocked into a coma for a week where he started to seriously evaluate the direction his life was taking. After Dragonfall, he declared he'd be going into semi-retirement from the Vigil.

This marked another low point for him. His wife had up and left, finding new ventures in an enclave in the Mists. He, knowing only conflict and battle now and being constantly on the move, was adjusting badly to a more peaceful life. He struggled for a time with the monumental trauma he had been carrying for so long but with the support of his new partners and the friends he had made over the years (whether he realized this or not), he would pick up the pieces of his broken self and built a homestead in Timberline Falls and find new purpose as a grandmaster weaponsmith and metallurgist, the passions he's had for his entire life finally realized.

That being said, his story is far from over. He still goes out and helps his partners Penny and Jaxxu with missions abroad, and he's been known to be convinced to help adventurers with especially dangerous ventures. And who knows what direction SotO will take and what sort of involvement he'll be in? (for those of you who read all this and stuck to the end, thank you so much for letting me ramble about one of my favorite and nuanced characters I've ever made.)

[straightupsickfics]

i had to give ed a cold + stede a little caretaking moment. because even blackbeard™️ needs someone to look out for him when he's sick, right?

right 🖤

*****

It's not exactly unusual for Ed to be in Stede's captain's quarters, though it almost never happens without Stede there too, and it definitely never happens in the middle of the day.

Stede wouldn't have found him at all, but he'd gotten his jacket absolutely filthy trying to show enthusiasm for Roach's cooking lesson that morning, and he was dying to change. So, he's unbuttoning his overcoat and only half paying attention when he hears something stirring in his bed, making him jump.

"Oh! Ed, you gave me a fright. Not that it's not nice to see you, just wasn't expecting you... here."

He takes in the sight before him: the distinctly Ed-shaped lump on the mattress, though he hadn't even bothered to cover himself with the many blankets and throws Stede had assembled there. It also, Stede realizes, smells distinctly like alcohol.

"Are you... drinking?"

There's more shuffling from the bed, and when Ed looks up at Stede, his dark eyes are red and watery, like he'd been crying, or needed a good night's rest. But his nose is the real worry, rubbed an irritated shade of red, and it looking almost puffy, standing out against an unusually pale, drawn face.

"Tried to... didn't help," Ed mutters. "Still feel like shit." His voice sounds raw and thick and entirely unlike the Ed he's come to know and...

Stede blinks at him, the coat predicament all but forgotten. "You're ill," he says, the realization hitting him all at once. "You need something like tea, not rum. And something for your nose... have you been doing that all day? Don't..." By now Stede's standing just beside Ed, and he leans down and gently tugs Ed's hand away from his nose before he can think the better of it.

They both freeze for a moment, and Ed leans into the touch just a fraction, Stede's sure of it.

Ed glances up at him, then looks away, almost shamefully. "Didn't mean to crash here. Just wanted somewhere to shut my eyes a minute... head's been fucking killin' me..." He trails off, rolling himself back into the blankets, but Stede thinks he catches something about just ending up here, that makes him feel pleasantly warm all over.

"Well, you can rest here as long as you like," Stede says. "I'll be right back, alright?"

He hurries into his closet before Ed can say anything either way, reaching into a drawer and plucking out a soft, silky handkerchief that would feel much better than whatever Ed was using now. Stede has a sneaking suspicion it was his sleeve, if Ed's sore nose was anything to go by. He gives a shudder at the thought, then returns to the main sleeping quarters.

Ed's propped up on his elbow now, breathing shallowly, and he mutters a curse under his breath before he succumbs to a fit of truly miserable sounding sneezes.

“huhUHH—httCHSHShhh’u! uhhTSHchsh!”

"God bless you," Stede says, offering Ed the handkerchief.

He takes it, frowning down at it and sniffling; Stede can see the uncertainty clear on his face.

"My guess is that'll feel much better on your nose."

"Id's...too n'dice for all that," Ed protests. He traces the floral detailing with a finger, holding it like it's something special, and Stede wonders not for the first time how this is the pirate everyone, himself included, had so looked up to, torn between admiration and fear.

He still admires Ed, of course he does, but he knows now, too, that there's so much more to him than the stories people tell.

Stede waves a hand, smiling. "Don't be silly, that's what it's there for! I've got plenty and I'm happy to share," he says honestly. Stede turns and pokes at the fire before Ed can protest again. It's not exactly chilly in here, but the extra warmth might be nice, what with Ed feeling so under the weather.

Behind him, he hears Ed snuffling into the handkerchief, before sneezing again.

And again.

"hh! Huh’EDTSSSHH! Ugh, fuck."

"Bless," Stede says quietly. "Best to get it all out, I think."

He feels quite protective, all of a sudden, seeing Ed like this, his head full of cold, tired and tucked up alone on Stede's own bed. Something about the fearsome Blackbeard completely undone, curled up around a handkerchief, sniffling, brings that all-over warmth back again.

With the fire going and handkerchief acquired, Stede sits somewhat awkwardly next to the bed, unsure what to do next.

Well, no, that's not quite it, he should probably leave his friend to rest and recuperate, but he doesn't want to leave him alone while he's feeling so poorly, and besides, something's niggling at him.

"D'you always do this?" Stede asks as Ed rubs at his nose through the soft cloth.

"Mm?"

"You know, hide away somewhere with a bottle when you're... when you... Feel badly?"

"Does the job," Ed says, which is all the answer he needs, really.

"Hm. Well, I can stay with you, if you like? Or I can give you some privacy if that's what you prefer," he adds quickly.

"Might be nice," Ed says, "some company." He looks over at Stede like he half expects him to change his mind. Stede nods, smiling a little, then leans over and adjusts the blankets so Ed's completely covered.

"Better?" Stede asks. He rests his hand on Ed's leg, over the blankets, and lets it stay there.

"Are you tucking me in?" Ed asks incredulously, though his voice sounding more tired and congested almost by the minute.

"Maybe. D'you mind?"

Ed sighs, shakes his head. "No," he admits.

"I thought not," Stede beams. "Now, if you want to sleep, you sleep. Or! I can read to you from this fascinating book I've been reading, about a young girl who runs away and..."

He trails off, wondering suddenly if maybe it's too much, if he's being too overbearing, too... soft. But Ed's looking at him with such clear, tired fondness that any doubt fades as quickly as it arrived.

"Right. I'll read to you for a bit, see how you're feeling?"

Ed nods, and Stede can't help but feel a little pleased when he drifts off only a few pages into their book.