#i am on board this ship it makes such sense but its so rare

[nerditudes]

"So many timelines-- so many weird realities. I still can't believe there was one where Logan dated Magneto." Not that they minded-- folks were free to live their lives however they wanted. They were both old stubborn war vets-- it made sense.

But damn if it wasn't peculiar.

[riddlesmoon]

being part of a few hermione fanfic groups on fb has been quite enlightening bc i get to see the kind of ships and dynamics that primarily cishet older women hp fans like. especially since i get to contrast it with, say, tomarry and drarry fans (mostly on twt, but some on tumblr too) and most interesting of all, cn fans. which, granted, are also mostly tomarry and drarry because, well, i also ship them so thats the kinda content im seeking out yk.

so whats interesting about it? well, to start with, i am putting this under the cut because holy shit my ass can YAPPPPP and no one actually gives a fuck but i wanna get it out even if no one reads it! Also an ever important DISCLAIMER that this is my personal opinion and is highly subject to bias and only seeing a certain sphere of people and i dont know what im talking about so please dont @ me im stupid.

as i said, theyre older (many married or with kids! they even sometimes talk to their husbands about said fics, which is... sweet), and... probably mostly het. so i would say (though i have no stats) the rough popularity of hermiones partners (in those groups specifically) are draco >>> sirius > snape, tom > rarer pairs like lucius theo dolohov viktor cedric >>> harry > ron and femslash (i will come back to this). maybe i could compare with ao3 stats later to see how well i pegged it but for now im mostly just going off popularity of certain posts and how often i see "please share fic recs of X ship")

i feel like millenial/younger hp fans would balk at the idea of sirius, snape, lucius, and dolohov, but i do think this can be chalked up to them being older and thus more interested in "adult" characters. and rarely do they talk about fics set in canon timelines, more often i see recs with time travel (which effectively solves many of the age gap problems), or otherwise set in the future, where age gap becomes less remarkable as theyre adults. marriage law or pregnancy are also common tropes...

i did wonder for a while if this was a yume/selfship phenomenon and that perhaps older western women just didnt know or use that term? after all, hermione is the most prominent female character in hp, and obviously can be very relatable since, like the reader, she is from the muggle world discovering the magical world, and a bookworm, which has a 70% chance of being true if you are a girl reading a book i think. so i was like, ah, shes can be kind of a good way to self insert into the hp universe or at least a good way find a vast amount of ship fic since shes so popular.

however i dont think this is the case—im not 100% sure of course, i asked one (1) time but it appears most of them are genuinely invested in hermione as a character and arent using her as a self insert board. not that either is bad or worse, im not passing judgement!!! though i do think it makes sense, since, from my view, the self insert phenomenon is often seen in younger fans who are less secure in their self image and want their fav to reassure them without fear of rejection soooo yk (and what does that say abt me who has a yume harem? well youre not my therapist so we dont have to talk about it)

aaaaanyway. this fucking long ass post is mostly just because i remember getting culture shock'd twice while looking thru cn comments. for example, i was surprised to see romione viewed so positively, because holy shit do those hermione fic fans fucking hate romione. and harmony next, but it isnt as bad as romione. any post asking for fic recs inevitably ends in "no romione", but cn fans think theyre kinda cute.

i have some theories. for one, they think ron is extremely unromantic. this is exacerbated by the yule ball incident, but in all honesty at no point in the books does ron really do anything romantic for hermione and in fact treats her pretty badly. the kiss at the end was, in my personal opinion, a bit random, but i dont think its an unpopular view that what ron does doesnt make up for the past years especially since the very cause he is advocating for (the house-elves) is one he has disparaged before.

of course you can argue the same for all of the other candidates, that they dont do anything romantic for her either, but i think there is a difference, because for all those candidates they dont have a "chance" in canon to pursue her (save viktor) because theyre not viewing each other as potential partners, but ron is in that position and goes about it pretty badly. for everyone else, writers can make up whatever they want! for ron, well, you have to work with (or against) what canon gave you.

next, i think a lot of them really like when hermiones prowess is appreciated. a lot of fic recs have her being quite badass or kind of holding things together (to be fair, she does this for the trio a lot) and her partner usually acknowledges her power while being on an equal or better level. so i guess that turns a lot of them off romione since he spends a lot of time in canon brushing her off while using her brains etc... being praised hits different when its a dunderhead who needs ur help vs someone just as brilliant ykyk. its not looking good.

side note on harmony: i think this suffers from a similar phenomenon in that canon gives us their friendship tgt and people have already seen that together, sparks dont fly. ofc people can make up whatever they want but when one char canonically says "i see her as a sister" you kind of have to overwrite that in your head and not everyone is willing to do that.

Sorry wtf was i talking about. uh. cn. right. so why doesnt cn have this problem? well for one i think they may be younger than this western group, which makes sense since the series is originally english so it hit foreign audiences a bit later. that and i wonder how many cn fans actually read the books vs the movies (which dilutes the aforementioned problems a lot)? the movies are def more accessible for non english fans i think. but yea i think those women, being older, are more no-nonsense and less fairytale daydream-y about their potential partner. thinking more realistically about who theyd settle down with versus younger fans who are like its fine if theyre hes silly and stupid theyre young. btw this also applies to jily which i see cn (and jp. all this applies to jp for similar non english reasons) post about more frequently; whereas in english sphere i FEEL LIKE (i must again emphasise this is all subject to bias) of the marauders i mostly only see wolfstar discussion. dgmw theres plenty of wolfstar in cn spheres!! i just also see jily where i dont in en)

And of course you can throw everything i said out the window because its not like i have a particularly extensive or wide range of sample data. very little actually. i just. noticed stuff. and was surprised. and want to TALK. Arugh

[agentnico]

Peter Pan & Wendy (2023) Review

Would that it weren’t for Once Upon a Time.

Plot: Wendy Darling, a young girl looking to avoid boarding school, meets Peter Pan, a boy who refuses to grow up. Wendy, her brothers, and Tinker Bell travel with Peter to the magical world of Neverland, where she encounters an evil pirate captain by the name of Hook.

I always find myself feeling apprehensive whenever another remake of a classic comes flying in. As rarely does a remake surpass the qualities of the original, as such begging the question what is even the point of redoing something that ain’t broke, besides financial purposes. That being said, recently I have been enjoying playing through the Resident Evil 4 remake that came out last month, and I would be lying if it didn’t make me rethink about the nature of remakes. For the original Resident Evil 4 on the GameCube was a classic. Still is a classic. So at first glance a game like that had no reason to be redone. Yet haven’t now experienced the new version I solemnly now see why it did. The new version manages to pay full respect to the original without hindering it nor trying act as a replacement, yet manages to also reinvent the title with new ideas, twisting expectations and allowing the love of that game to come to the hands of modern day players. The Resident Evil 4 remake is a total blast, so much so that I have now unlocked the Infinite Ammo Rocket Launcher, so now there’s even more blasting as you can imagine. But I digress; with the new Peter Pan remake that has now released on Disney+, straight away one wonders do we really need yet another take on Pan? There’s been so many! However I decided this time around to keep a more open mind, so I wacked on my Disney+, cracked open a can of H. Brompton’s London Ice Tea, rested my feet on my alpaca shaped foot stool, and allowed myself to be whisked away to Neverland...again.

This is an absolutely gorgeous looking movie. Having already shown he’s capable of delivering a mystic looking fantasy world in The Green Knight, David Lowery imbues this film with the dark, greenish-black atmosphere, though using lighting very cleverly to allow the sunlight shine through in parts throughout the setting to create almost painting like visuals. After all these years you can still tell how The Lord of the Rings trilogy dictates the look of young adult fantasy movies, with the long sweeping shots of the landscapes, with the cliff and sea shots very reminiscent of the later Harry Potter movies, especially The Half-Blood Prince. There’s definitely that sense of atmospheric fantasy awe as the camera swoops alongside Tiger Lily (Alyssa Wapanatâhk) on horseback, then cuts to a dramatic wide shot as she launches Peter Pan off a cliff and a flying ship.

As for the narrative, the first half of the movie is very much familiar ground, with Pan coming to the window of the Darlings’ home, and taking the kids with him to Neverland to meet the Lost Boys. To be honest, 30 minutes in I was finding myself wondering what’s the point of it all, as it’s exactly the same as we’ve seen before. However after a riveting clash with clampy killer croc (you can tell where the visual effects budget went), the movie takes a breather and here we realise what attracted Lowery to this project and script, as the movie then explores the backstory between Pan and Hook, one that is filled with tragedy and betrayal. That dynamic alongside the coming-of-age message that being a child is good, but one should be afraid to grow up are all brought really well to screen, and makes for an overall passable Peter Pan venture, that doesn’t really break new ground, but for a straight-to-streaming movie on Disney+ its perfectly acceptable. 

In terms of the cast, this is where I believe the movie does suffer. I must say though that I am a bit spoiled as recently me and my fiancée have been rewatching the Once Upon a Time series, and we’re actually just at the season where the characters are dealing with Peter Pan as the villain. And the actor who played Pan in that show both looked and felt like Pan. I mean yes that version of the character was super evil and an arse, but he was a powerful and memorable arse, you know? He was our arse!! Whilst Peter Pan in this new film (played by Alexander Molony) made me feel nothing. He wasn’t by any means terrible, but I simply didn’t buy him as Pan, and no Disney, just sticking the trademark Alpine hat on a random kid doesn’t straight away make them Peter Pan, just saying. As for Jude Law’s Hook - I appreciate what he was trying to do with playing the character less flamboyantly as previous iterations and instead giving us a salty, sombre man that’s hurt and broken, but his performance comes off as really bland. Certain strong lines of dialogue like “you’re guilty of being a child” should have been said with more power and gusto, but Law says it very monotone, making the moment lost. Again, I am spoiled by Once Upon a Time’s Colin O’Donoghue who played that Captain Hook so so charmingly. Honestly, season 3 of Once Upon a Time is absolutely ace - has to be said!

All in all, as remakes go, Peter Pan & Wendy is actually pretty watchable. It doesn’t in any way reinvent the Peter Pan lore, though it does not hinder it either. It’s visually amazing, with David Lowery bringing to life a real fantasy spectacle, and delving deep into the character motivations of Pan and Hook worked for some interesting if rushed dramatic tension. Also I was never bored, and I’m not a big Disney fan, so that must count for something, right?

Overall score: 6/10

[thefudge]

a few (okay, maybe quite a few) scattered HOTD thoughts now that i’ve finally caught up: 

yay for having a sick day in bed to catch up 

the good: 

1. definitely a better written show than GOT even in its heyday, and that’s because a lot of the character moments are about showing vulnerability and conflict, not about seeing who gets to say the cleverest line. hotd falls into that sometimes too, but it pays more attention to character

2. the battle/action sequences - i rarely ever enjoyed them on GOT but they’re sparse and well done here, at least for now. the dragon scenes have also been pretty good

3. love the fact that we have so many unsettling/creepy/indefinable dynamics and that hotd dwells on them and doesn’t let you forget lol. i also think this show is doing a better job at depicting the “shades of grey” for every character in terms of morality. 

4. the acting is pretty solid all around 

the bad (up to this point):

1. that whole wedding sequence in episode 5. started out promising. loved alicent’s bad bitch entrance. and then...??? ser criston cole just went nuts??? and it was so chaotic and confusing and unconvincing. i assume that we will return to that whole mess at some point? because it was not explained or fleshed out and it makes no sense why they just let criston get away with it. sure, we could argue that the two houses might’ve been relieved to see laenor’s paramour die....but they’d never do that to poor laenor and they wouldn’t have left the culprit go unpunished. was that whole sequence meant to be confusing and dissatisfying? maybe i’m just dumb and didn’t get it 

2. ser criston cole. is just. a cartoonish 2-dimensional villain now? i don’t get it. they’ve shown they can write characters with enough complexity and deftness that we both understand where they’re coming from and condemn some of their actions. but i guess they just gave up for ser criston? and decided to turn him into a weird incel. and how is he not dead or exiled after what he did??? what sorcery did alicent pull.

3. laena’s death. how did a pregnant woman manage to run past everyone, including daemon, and get down to the shore? why did no one stop her? what a waste of a character. i looked up her death in the book....and the changes they made are strange. i like the idea of her choosing to die like a dragon-rider, but everyone’s absolute negligence of her, and her sudden desire to die felt out of left field. laena struck me as someone who wanted to keep fighting, not give up.

ship stuff: 

- daemon/rhaenyra is solid and have plenty of chemistry, but maaaan, she should’ve been way more angry with him after episode 4. i feel like he got off far too easy (which i guess is a running theme with all his pretend exiles). he struck me as pretty callous and calculating, even if he was also conflicted and drawn to her. i’m srsly waiting for her to put him in his place when they’re married. i need that to be a “rhaenyra is boss” family. in general, daemon is fun but also...kind of obnoxious. i think we’re maybe making too much of him, but matt smith does play the asshole type well, what can i say. i guess what i am trying to say is that i see them less as romantic soulmates and more as "we love each other and use each other” kind of targaryen flavor. which frankly makes them more appealing to me

- harwin strong/rhaenyra - very sad and cute and wholesome. would definitely read smut 

- alicent/larys strong - deliciously creepy vibes, but more in the vein of cersei and qyburn. on board.

- alicent/otto - god, i love the fraught & repressed father/daughter relationship. we had too few scenes with them!! love the toxicity, love the devotion, love how otto pretends not to see alicent’s misery, love everything about them

- alicent/rhaenyra - liked them better as youngins, i feel like the tension between them as older women is somehow...less interesting? idk. i still hope they have more interactions in the future. (i loved that montage in ep 4 where rhaenyra was having a blast and alicent was staring at the ceiling in boredom and agony as viserys did his business. the queer longing alone!)

 - alicent/daemon - that one rarepair/crackship i’m probably going to obsess over. i already have an elaborate oneshot in mind. i love ppl who almost never interact but who would have such interesting one-on-one conversations. also the fraughtness of daemon/viserys, and how much daemon probably resents alicent for “taking” his brother. anyway! 

- alicent/criston - i could be down for this in the scenario where alicent just steps on him repeatedly and he thanks her for it. ugh. really bleh about ser criston. 

- alicent’s targ kids have interesting sibling dynamics.....i assume more incest is coming from that corner too lol 

(sorry yall, most of my ships are alicent ships because olivia cooke <3333)

- laena’s girls! baela and rhaena! i want them to have ridiculously complicated subplots & romances, i want them to take center-stage! least they can do after wasting laena/daemon 

i think that’s everything for now. i’m kind of wondering why we’re doing all these time jumps and why we’re not taking our time. have we not learned anything from GOT? anyway, i’ll probably share my final thoughts after all episodes air.

[teatitty]

Sparbossa Brainrot Part 10: We Did It Lads

Wheeze we finally hit the real actual end of this relentless saga can you believe I actually committed this hard to everything what the fuck

Pintel and Ragetti: betray Jack Jack: keeps them around anyway

Gibbs: points a gun at Barbossa Barbossa: keeps him around anyway

I’m sensing a pattern I think

Rip to the rum I know Barbossa hid his wine so they would have no choice but to use this instead lol

Willzabeth trope is them making weird faces in the background. Anyway wouldn't it be funny if this was why Barbossa wanted Jack here so badly

The ritual: you have to speak as if to a lover Barbossa: does anything that isn't that

Even Calypso is just "This is the best you can do? I should've picked a different Lord”

His genuine shock that it didn't work what a way to find out you suck at romantic gestures no wonder you're divorced

You gotta appreciate that Barbossa just takes the L on this and wordlessly tells Ragetti to try it if he's so sure about how you do it and then Ragetti fucking does. Biggest asset on this crew to be fucking honest

Kind of an erotic reaction but it has been 200 years of blue balls so ya know what I'm just gonna let her have this moment

Barbossa doesn't show fear often so him jumping back in terror and clinging to his torch as a weapon speaks volumes on Calypso

THE CALYAVY AND SPARBOSSA PARALLELS OF BEING BETRAYED BY THE MAN YOU TRUSTED WITH YOUR EVERY SECRET, I AM BEING A CRUEL BITCH WITH THIS BUT WHAT IF JACK LOOKED JUST LIKE CALYPSO HERE WHEN HE WAS MUTINIED

She does keep her word and spare The Pearl and its crew, is the thing. If she really wanted to she could've easily sunk them at any point. Sure she roughs them up a little, but she's a God, it's in her nature to bend her own deals

Believing Calypso to have abandoned them all, Barbossa, in a rare moment, simply... gives up. He doesn't see how they could possibly win against the EIC without her

Which is of course the exact moment she proves him wrong and the winds change and he grabs his hat to hold it in place after watching someone else's get blown away lol. Priorities

Jack was the one to break it to Elizabeth that her father was dead and back then she responded in hysteric denial. So it's only fair, then, that here it is Barbossa's turn to have the pep talk and this time Elizabeth lets herself accept the words

Something Barbossa himself was not expecting. And this scene is why I held off on saying Elizabeth was no longer a pupil at the same time as Will

Because here she takes the helm - takes command - the way she has seen Barbossa do: First by cowering those around her with presence alone and then with a rallying speech to unite them all

Barbossa is the only one looking around him, taking in the effect she is having on the crew and it's this moment that has Elizabeth gain his full respect

THIS! THIS SPECIFICALLY IS WHEN SHE GOES FROM PUPIL TO PIRATE: BY PARROTING BARBOSSA'S OWN WORDS THAT HE SPOKE DURING THE BRETHREN MEETING AND CATCHING HIS EYES AS SHE DOES AND USING THOSE WORDS TO REIGNITE THEIR LAST HOPE

Barbossa is the only one not giving a war cry and raising his sword because he has too much dignity for that but he admires her rally all the same

No words be exchanged but his choosing to stand beside her as an equal is all that's needed

Gonna point to this post about my thoughts on Elizabeth acknowledging that Barbossa is the only one on-board capable of sailing this maelstrom

Beckett said the same thing about Jack and he had his own humorous response so I'm counting this as more parallels between Calyavy and Sparbossa

More of Barbossa's brand of insanity as he laughs during this whole battle

Jack's brand of insanity is being concerningly calm while the ship he's on is getting blown apart all while fetching his things and deciding if he should interrupt Murtogg and Mullroy or not and then just leaving casually with the wholeass chest

The post I linked a little earlier talked about Jack and Barbossa being two of the best sailors, with my Jack example being when he steered The Pearl one-handed. But here's proof that they are also two of the best fighters in the trilogy: Barbossa is a no-brainer but at this point it's kind of easy to forget Jack was on par with him in BP. Good thing AWE is here to remind you by having him hold off Jones one-handed while lugging a heavy ass chest in the other and keeping his balance on the sail

Elizabeth remembers when Jack told her that a Captain can perform a marriage on deck at any time! I'm not going to post the whole sequence we've all talked about it enough over the years we get it

In case you needed proper proof of my "one of the best fighters" point for Barbossa, here he is holding off multiple dutchman crew members while holding a wedding ceremony and protecting Cotton so he can keep The Pearl on course

Biggest Willzabeth supporters. Wonder if they would react the same if Sparbossa did this stuff lol

He's been fighting Jones by himself for at least ten mins so I don't wanna hear shit anymore about Barbossa being the better Pirate they're both equals that's the point

JACK CUTS OFF THE KEY BY USING THE SAME MOTION BARBOSSA DID TO CUT OFF HIS PIECE OF EIGHT

Looks into the camera. This is the same pistol Barbossa left him that he then used to shoot Hector in the heart and now he's using it to shoot at another heart. Digest that for a moment

We had Barbossa being scared of Calypso and now Jack being scared of Davy. Completing the set!

So many of us get hung up on Barbossa's cruelty and terrifying threats that we forget some of Jack's. So I'm just highlighting this bit for my own amusement

Jack sacrificing what may have been his one shot at immortality because he couldn't live with himself if he let Will die here, thus proving Willzabeth right that he is a good man first and foremost... yeah

Jack accidentally saved and returned the monkey but here is Hector once again only focusing on Jack and not at all sparing a glance to Elizabeth once they're on board!

Middle of a war and they're fucking bickering again these two just never fucking stop

Even Barbossa is shocked that Jack is choosing to engage in a fight when he could easily run away from it. Where Beckett thinks Jack is waiting in place because he believes Beckett will "honour their agreement" Barbossa knows that Jack is waiting on something and stands with him with nothing more than Jack's instincts to go on. That by itself speaks of an immense depth of trust between them, especially when they are surrounded by an armada and could well be the proverbial sitting ducks

If you followed my suggestion of taking a shot everytime they do a head turn in sync like this I think you'd just die

Shall we talk about how Barbossa had no clue The Dutchman was going to show up and be helmed by Will and so was fully prepared to die side by side with Jack and in but split moments supports Jack's orders completely without any questions after seeing what they have on their side?

Note how no words pass between him and Jack, yet Barbossa takes the helm while Jack gives the orders, a further insight into some pre-mutiny relationship for sure

Can we just appreciate that while all of this was happening, these two not only snuck onto the ship but got changed into full pirate gear, have no idea why everyone is cheering and successfully get away with it

No words necessary for this

Pintel and Ragetti are the only ones who notice that Murtogg and Mullroy weren't here before but they take an instant liking to them so they don't say shit. Instant brohood unlocked

You gotta love the consistent hat love in this trilogy

All giving their respect not only to Elizabeth but to Will, and without being ordered to they give her a boat so she can meet him on shore and the final act of respect between herself and Barbossa

We adore a good callback that is simultaneously an inside joke

You're not allowed to judge me for the dick jokes I made when this exists

So couple things here they're very short I promise: The first is that Jack and Barbossa had to sail together for however many days - possibly weeks - it took to get back to Tortuga together without maiming or killing eachother even once and the second point being that Barbossa left him a dinghy this time so he could sail after them. How sweet!

"Why is it gone?" he asks as if he didn't sail here with the man he's been bickering with for days over who is and isn't the Captain of said ship

They can still see it on the horizon which means it wasn't that long ago that Barbossa left with it and yet Gibbs is still passed out asleep on the docks. Me too man

I'm in fucking tears over this bro he loses his ship to Barbossa again and he gets so mad he just comes clean on everything

And the fucking coup de grace:

The longing look he gives to the horizon his beloved ship left on

Barbossa's fucking face at having similar lines to what he used on Jack to get a treasure's location all those years ago turned on him is beautiful

Clap it up for their 10D Chess game because truly what else can you do but laugh at these shenanigans. Hector isn't even surprised by this he literally just rolls his eyes in irritation. What this also means is that Jack did, absolutely, expect Hector to take The Pearl again he just optimistically believed that his ex would have the decency to wait a few days first

Bonus: Throughout the movie we've seen Jack, during his "crazy mental states," constantly eating the same peanut over and over again, and here you have. Well. I want to make a Daddy kink joke really bad basically

AND THAT’S IT, I’M DONE, IT’S FINISHED, WE NEVER HAVE TO THINK ABOUT MY SPECIAL INTEREST BRAIN EVER AGAIN, GOODBYE

[creepling]

the shape of you - (smut)

pairing: din djarin x fem!reader

word count: 5.1K

summary: the mandalorian saves an intergalatic sex worker from a prison ship and brings her on board the razor crest. tensions begin to rise between the two as one night goes in a direction the other did not expect.

rating: EXPLICIT (minors dni) -- mentions of sex work/slavery, sexual dancing, oral (male receiving), masturbation (female receiving), doggystyle, begging, rough sex, breeding kink??, cursing.

a/n: this is my first time not writing in first person for a fanfic so sorry if it’s hard to read at some points!!

alternative link: ao3.

Ever since you were saved by The Mandalorian from the prison ship, for reasons that are still unknown to you, a sense of relief and freedom coursed through your body. If only The Mandalorian knew about your fate, he may sympathize with you more. All throughout your life, ever since your adolescence have you been bought and sold by many throughout the galaxy, either for entertainment or pleasure. If the authorities had not raided the trading ship you were on board upon you were to be in the hands of Jabba The Hutt; a grotesque-looking crime lord you were certainly relieved to be rid from. But alas, luck then comes with its flaws and instead you were trapped in a cell in the nowhere realms of the galaxy -- beginning to wonder if your body would wither away and die in the cell for years to come.

You had never set eyes on a Mandalorian until that day, not even as a client. You thought them more mythical than their opposing Jedi Knights. The shine of his helmet and his strong arms whisking you to safety brought a sense of optimism into your world view. It made you realise that there are some good people in the galaxy. And once you were on board his ship and encountered The Child, the sight of something so precious gave you a nurturing urge. The Mandolorian’s protectiveness over The Child was so rare to you. It made you yearn for his protectiveness, for a man like him to defend you at every corner. It made you want to be noticed.

Once arriving to a planet, The Mandalorian promised to bring back supplies, one of them included fresh clothes to replace the revealing garments you wore. You asked if the lack of fabric was distracting, showing your natural alluring nature. To which The Mandalorian replied with a bluntly logical answer, saying the clothes will not be suitable for travelling. As much as you agreed, you wished that he loosened up with you a bit more, beginning to wonder if The Mandalorian was even finding your company pleasant.

That night he returned with a sack-full of supplies. He arranged supper for the night, feeding The Child first before it grew too tired to eat, shortly after putting it to bed in its shut-off container within the ship. You had requested The Mandalorian some spotchka if he could find any, to which you looked through the sack to see an untouched bottle full of the glowing blue liquid. A smile came to your face and you immediately poured two glasses of the liquid. When the Mandalorian entered the room, you held his glass with an outreached hand, beckoning him to drink it. Then you said some words:

“I wanted to make a toast, in celebration! To thank you for saving my life yesterday. I would have gone out and gotten the beverage myself, if you hadn’t forbidden me to leave the ship.” You said, a sweet smile creeping onto your face, feeling a little bashful as you stood in front of his towering figure.

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” He said, his helmet tilting down as he glanced at the drink in his hand. “But I shouldn’t drink on the job.”

“I only ask for one drink, Mando. Just for tonight. I’ll look away when you take sips of it.” You promised, hoping he will feel more at ease with that statement.

He gave a low hum in agreement, bringing a smile to your face. You wished you could see his smile, see his face. See how he reacts to your presence. You clinked your glass against his and immediately turned around, taking a sip of your drink. Your inner voice urged you to turn, to take a glance at his complexion. Yet, another voice also commented on how the mystery of his identity fills you with arousal. You shook the feelings burning inside and whisked the rest of the blue liquid down your throat, gasping in quenched thirst. You hesitated before turning, “Can I turn around now?

“Oh um- Yes. Thank you.” He assured. Oh my, he was so polite. Possibly the only gentlemen you have encountered with such manners. You turned around, pouring yourself another glass of spotchka to go with your supper. To save Mando some rest you prepared the food and served him by a small table in the corner of the ship’s small room, taking a seat next to him.

Once you cleared up for supper, The Mandalorian willingly sat with you for a few more minutes. He seemed to be curious about you, asking questions that you were obliged to answer, if you wanted him to trust you. You wanted to reassure him that you were not a threat.

“How did you end up in the prison ship?” The Mandalorian asked, trying not to allude to your clothes giving away that information.

“I have been a slave ever since I was an adolescence. When I came of age, I began to do dancing and sexual service for whoever bought me. I was on a trading ship to Tatooine when the New Republic raided and took prisoners. I lost count of the days, but I was roughly in there for over a month.” Telling your story felt hesitant. You wondered how he would take to you being a sex slave, as a lot of people frown upon it. You wondered if he was disgusted or sympathetic, it was hard to tell his reaction with his helmet on.

“Why did you save me? I am internally grateful, of course. But what made you do it? You seemed to be in a rush to escape.” You asked, your eyebrows furrowing in question.

“I have seen many women like you.” The Mandalorian said, “I have done bounties for crime lords who keep their own sex slaves. As much as I needed the credits, it always pained me to leave with those women trapped with that life forever. I recognised your clothes; it was the ones they wore too. I thought, if I save someone like you once in my life, I would feel less guilty.”

His words moved you. It is very rare to see someone talk to you as a human. Many treated you and other sex slaves like objects, like droids without feeling. They did not care what you liked or adored, they only cared about their gain. The work has taken an emotional toll on you as much as it was hard to admit. Every day you wished you could be free, live in a home on a peaceful planet, fall in love, raise a family. That is not hard to ask for, is it?

“Well, you have made one more slave happy.” You said, reaching your hand to place it on top of his. He stared into your eyes, entranced for a moment, before nodding his helmet and giving your hand a gentle squeeze before retrieving it back onto his lap. After a few seconds of content silence, admiring him for a moment, you spoke up.

“Want to see some of my dancing?” You said, trying to lighten up the mood. “Don’t worry! I won’t touch you or anything!”

“I um- I dunno . . .” Hesitation dominated his voice, the first time you detected emotion from him. He leaned back on his chair and rubbed the back of his clothed neck.

“Honestly, it’s not as raunchy as you think it would be. I know how to be graceful when I need to be.” You said with a hint of light-heartedness. Once your words convinced him, he let out a low sigh and nodded his head.

“Go on then. Show me what you’ve got.”

A smile erupted on your face and you rose to your feet, positioning yourself from a comfortable distance in front of Mando. You raised your delicate arms outward to begin your routine. A routine that you have memorized for years, one that showcases your grace and beauty for audiences. Counting mentally in your head, you begin to move your arms softly either side of you. Your hips began to sway, your head held high to show your face. You moved your feet to slowly turn around, showing all the lines and bends of your body. The fabric of your dress swayed with the motions and complimented your skin. You stepped from side to side, giving graceful twirls, lifting your leg in a cursive shape like a ballerina. Your arms still moved like a dignified snake, going from up other your head to around your waist and along the small of your back. A content smile lay upon your face and your eyes peaked towards The Mandalorian through your winking eyelashes; a habit you took up to intrigue watchers and make them bashful. Even without music, you fell into your element and became lost in your movements. When being a slave is a horrible life to live, the dancing made you have a passion.

The Mandalorian could not take his eyes off you. He sat content at first, until your movements made him shift in his chair as he watched how your body moved with such beauty. Under his helmet, he bit the inside of his cheek. Yet, his eyes stayed traced on you, knowing you would have no idea where his eyes lay from the blockage of his helmet. He could not stop the thoughts that flowed through his mind, thoughts relating to your body. How you were posed so perfectly from the core of your body to the ends of your fingertips. You never slouched or tripped over your feet; every movement was without failure. And your hips, God, he could not take his eyes off your hips. And when you would turn and expose your backside; your rich-colour underwear cloaked under the sheer fabric of your dress revealing your smooth skin. The deeper he got into his thoughts, the more he became out of tune with his surroundings. And when you stopped dancing, his eyes were still fixated on you.

“Sorry if that wasn’t the best, I’ve did better before.” You humbly said, oblivious to the state you have put The Mandalorian under. Your voice knocked him out of his trance and out of shock, he shot up from his seat so quickly it startled you. His armour clanked against the table clumsily and his body grew stiff to keep himself steady. The bewilderment in your eyes lingered as you observed his tall body towering over you. You looked so petite next to his stature.

“Mando- Is everything okay?” You asked, a shiver running down your spine as your eyes trailed down his body. Only now did you realise how tense he was, noticing the fabric of his uniform clenching to his toned body. You could see how strong his arms were, your eyes darting from either side. If only you could just reach out and touch them, fall into his embrace. Your legs grew weak at the thought of being so close to him. Yearning for the proximity between you to come to a close.

The Mandalorian feared to move, until a sensation ran through his body like moments before. His face grew worrisome under his disguise and he slowly looked down. That is when he noticed the tent formed between his groins. A rush of fluster grew on his face and down his neck.

“I-I’m uh- I’m going to bed.” He called, rushing towards the door of his small chambers, leaving you dumbfounded by the dining area. His sudden goodbyes made you frown, and your head turned abruptly towards his door, only capturing the wisp of his cloak and the door closing shut. Suddenly a wave of anxiety flew over you, convinced that you offended him. As you were desperate to state an apology, still naive to his situation, you marched towards his chamber door.

The Mandalorian marched in panic up and down his small chamber. A situation like this has never happened in a long time, at least not in front of another individual. He unbuttoned his trouser bottoms in a panic, peaking the front of his boxers down to make sure the worst never happened. As he did so, he released his hardened cock as it popped out the removed fabric. Witnessing his erection made him sigh in frustration. He prayed that you would go off to your bunk and call it a night so he could deal with the matter. However, as you appeared in his mind once more, his erection pulsed and twitched and Mando let out a low moan from his lips.

“Mando- please open the door. I’m sorry if I offended you, it wasn’t my intention.” You called, loud enough in hopes he could hear your voice. You knocked gently on the door, getting a clank of metal in response. As the silence deafened you and left you impatient, you looked to the control panel and pressed all the buttons in hopes one opened the door. Once the metal door came flying open, you were greeted with The Mandalorian once more but in a position, you thought you would never see him in.

He stood there with his head flung back and his gloved hands stroking his member. Once he heard the door open, he flinched and attempted to hide his erection. It was already too late; you had seen what you needed to see. Your mouth lay gaped in shock, your hands grew tense beside you and a wave of embarrassment engulfed you. Mando began shaking his head, backing himself up against the wall, his massive, gloved hands guarding your eyes from his exposure.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry-” Mando kept repeating. “Why did you open the door? Why didn’t you knock?”

“I did knock!” You exclaimed, “I wouldn’t have opened the door if I knew you were doing that!”

“Okay, okay. I am really really sorry. Let’s just pretend this never happened!” Mando said, looking anywhere in the room that was not you. As your breath became heavy, the sight of The Mandalorian became your focus. He looked so vulnerable in that moment, seeing him in an act so sexual caused a wave of arousal upon you. You wondered; did I do that? Was your dancing so mesmerising to him that it excited him to this point? Is this why he left the room? My stars, you felt guilty for being so turned on in this moment.

Your feet began to take steps and approach him, your movement making him tense once more. He beckoned you to not get away closer, but you could not hear his words. You were drawn to his arms again, the ones that looked so defined-- even under his clothes. This time, you had the courage to touch them.

The Mandalorian fell short at protesting against you. He observed your small, soft hands gliding against his arms. Your touch bewitched him, making him bite his lip to contain noises of pleasure. Your eyes drew up to his gaze, his helmet blocking the intimacy. He was so mysterious, the thought of whatever facial features being under that helmet creating a sense of sensual excitement within. As your eyes left his gaze and looked downward to his hardened cock, you felt the burning sensation muster in between your legs.

“Won’t you need help with that?” You asked, the glint in your eyes growing promiscuous as you looked back up into his gaze. The Mandalorian was shocked, even if you were probably an expert in all things sexual matter. As much as he tried to protest his thoughts, he could not help making an image within his head of your lips wrapped around his cock. 

“Are you sure that is a good idea?” He asked, a hint of taunting in his voice. A smirk came upon your face and you shrugged your shoulders, your hands trailing up his arms, across his shoulders and slowly down his chest.

“I’m willing to do it if you want me to.” You beckoned. Not only were you willing, but you were also begging. The dirty thoughts running through your mind became fuel for your desire. Imagining his large cock pressed into your mouth, blocking your throat; his fingers entangled in your hair. As the Mandalorian gazed down at you, he gave a sign of approval by nodding his head timidly.

Instinct caved in and you began lowering yourself to your knees, your hands trailing down his abdomen. Slowly, Mando shifted his hands away from his cock, the release of pressure causing his member to spring up once more. Your eyes fixated on his length, gulping back excess saliva as you wondered if you could take his length without feeling any pain. You bit your bottom lip in thought, looking up towards Mando for reassurance. You observed him slipping off his gloves to reveal the skin of his hands. His olive-skinned tone becoming the first exposure to you. His fingers crawled under your chin, cusping your face, admiring the position you were in. Stars, you were so beautiful.

Your fingers curved over his cock, your sudden touch letting a shuddered moan escape The Mandolorian’s mouth. His free hand pressed against the wall to keep himself balanced, the other one continuing to cradle your face as your hand began to move up and down his cock, peeling back the foreskin to reveal the tip of his cock lubbed with precum. You caught the precum that fell underneath with your tongue and entered the head of his cock into your mouth, wanting every ounce of his seed in your mouth. The Mandalorian let out a ragged moan, the feeling of your warm saturated mouth upon his member sending shoots of fulfilment up his body. His strong hand motioned along your jawline and his fingers combed through your hair, resting at the nip of your neck. You began to close your eyes in satisfaction and slowly easing his cock into your mouth, every inch deeper causing him to tighten his grip on your hair. As you opened your eyes The Mandalorian could not help but notice the lust in your eyes, your stare becoming vacant. Your left hand guided itself upwards to his abdomen as the other had a grasp on his thigh, your fingers massaging into the fabric of his clothes. The softness of your touch soothed The Mandalorian into submission, his hips slowly bucking towards your face as he longed for the feeling of your warm tongue running along his shaft. Feeling his desire, you closed your eyes once more to indulge more into his length, cockwarming him as your nose reached near his lower stomach and stayed in place. A gasp left Mando’s mouth, his other hand reaching towards your face as he gained more grip of you, holding your head in place to have his cock bathe more into your warmth. When he heard a light choke conjure up your throat, he quickly released his cock from your mouth to give you access to air. The sudden release made him look down to admire your face, clocking the string of spit connecting the tip of his cock to your bottom lip. My stars, that image was now burned into his mind and sending his instincts into overdrive.

“What name should I moan while you pleasure me, Mandalorian?” You asked, your voice airy and deep with lust. You motion your hand to his cock once more and pleasured him. The Mandalorian hesitated, still drunk with your touch, his mind becoming cloudy and unresponsive.

“Din -- my name is Din.” He managed to conjure up. This new information was so subtle, but you cherished it. Having his name roll off your tongue while feeling extreme waves of pleasure, the thought of it gave nurture to your pulsing heat.

“Nice to meet you -- Din.” You hummed. Vocalizing his name made his breaths much heavier, the sound of your soft tones interwoven into his name giving him even more ideas of what he could do to you. As primitive instincts commenced, you suddenly felt his strong arm wrap around your waist and lift you off your knees. He held you at such a great height that you were able to wrap your legs around him, your arms clasping around his neck for support. Din suddenly pressed you against the wall and held you in place, his hands grasping onto the back of your thighs. He now had the high ground, lifting you as if you were as light as a feather. The tip of his cock was perfectly aligned at your entrance, feeling the friction between you as he grinded his hips towards you. Your skimpy underwear was soaked with arousal. In all your years of sex work have you never been as titillated as you were now. No credits in all the galaxy could satisfy you as this moment did. Your legs wrapped tighter around Din as you beckoned his body closer to yours, your hips grinding against him -- begging for his cock. You noticed Din’s fingers inching closer to your heat, his fingers shifting your underwear to one side and exposing your swollen clit and dripping walls. Then, his fingers nudged at your entrance. His sudden cold touch made you gasp for air and cling tighter to him, your head pressing back onto the wall. Din rested his bulky helmet onto your shoulder as he motioned his fingers towards your clit, drawing light circles around. The stimulated sensation shot up your stomach, your legs lightly quivering. The tip of his cock still poked at your entrance in a teasing manner, and you could not help but grind against Din’s touch.

“Oh my God . . . Din.” The sound of you gasping his name sent tingles down his back, encouraging his fingers to put more pressure onto your sensitive clit, his moves hitting all the right spots. The sensation began building within you, convincing you were near your climax. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.” Your words encouraged, sending Din’s actions into overdrive as he pinned you closer to the wall and his body. His rhythm picked up pace and low grunts escaped his mouth. As he your legs secured around him, he let his free hand grasp onto your breast. His touch stimulated you further, a giggle leaving your lips at the sheer pleasure.

Suddenly your climax began, and an uncontrollable moan escaped from you, your legs turning to mush as you clung onto his body. Din admired your reaction, seeing your eyes turn vacant, his fingers roaming your vulva before taking his hands to hold your delicate thighs, sensing you grow weak from overstimulation. Your eyes trailed across him, leaning your forehead on the cold shine of his Baskar helmet. A subtle smirk drew across Din’s face as he exalted your complexion, noticing an ardour glow come upon your face. 

It did not end there. At this point, Din felt edged on. Basking in your presence, he also bucked his hips closer to you. One hand clasped your warm cheek softly, a sense of gentleness soothing you into submission. You could sense his eyes staring at yours and at the intimacy, you had a sudden urge to kiss him. However, you knew there was no type of charming in the galaxy that would convince him to remove it. Until you got an idea.

“If I promise to close my eyes, will you kiss me?” You asked through heavy breaths, your fingers resting either side of his neck. Din thought of your offer, hesitating for a while. No living being should be able to see his face, not even in the heat of desire. Yet, if you close your eyes like promised, his oath would technically not be broken. Even if he just lifted the helmet up a little bit . . .

“You promise?” Din asked, grasping onto both your hands, interlinking his fingers into yours. You vigorously nodded your head, a smile on your face.

“I swear by all the stars in the galaxy.” You promised, pressing a little kiss on the tips of his fingers. You began to close your eyes shut, giving Din the clear to proceed and guide you to his lips.

Din slowly raised his helmet to expose his lips, guiding your legs to fall to the ground. Your feet landed on the floor, hands grasping his shoulders for stability. You never opened your eyes, keeping your word. Din slowly leaned down, pressing his lips against yours. The surprise to his touch inched you closer into him, deepening the kiss. Hesitantly, your fingers reached up to the nip of his neck and played with his hair. Din stiffed up, but softened just was quickly, tasting the flavour of his cock in your mouth. He grabbed your ass and you moaned into his lips. Your hands then reached back down his cock, stroking his member that was still hard as before. A growl left Din’s mouth, vibrating against your lips and he leaned off the kiss. Quickly dropping his helmet back into place, he lifted you back into his arms. The sudden movement made you flash open your eyes, noticing the helmet back on and Din carrying you to his bed. 

As the bunker bed was too small for the both of you, Din took your hands and placed them on the bar between the two bunk beds. Keeping you in place, he began to expose your backside by rapidly pulling off your dress and underwear. Din’s sudden dominant actions formed a flutter in your mind, putting your thoughts into what was to come. My Stars, you wanted him to fuck you hard. So hard that it knocks all common sense out of your brain. The sudden fleeting shift of how he handled you said so.

That is when he began to enter your cunt, stretching your walls as they tightly pressed back against his cock. The feeling of him filled you up instantly, a light whimper fleeing your mouth as you handled his length. Din had a similar reaction, his grip tightening on your waist as he felt drowned by the feeling of your insides. The tightness of your cunt encouraged him to get into motion, pumping his cock out and back inside.

“Din -- fuck me.” You breathed out, your grip tightening around the bars. You prompted one leg up onto the edge of the bed, so he had more gateway into you, which aided his full length to fill your pussy. Din leaned forward, pressing his stomach into your lower back so the entirety of his cock was inside you. In measurement, you knew that once he started moving, he was big enough to hit your g-spot without a doubt. Excitement engulfed your senses, and you began to beckon him.

“Fuck me, Din -- fuck me hard.” You granted permission. His name mixed into your vulgar language made him flustered from arousal but smirk mischievously.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” He groaned into your ear. And with that, Din did not hesitate to begin fucking you. Just like you wanted it, hard. His unrefined thrusts in and out of you sent your thoughts into hyperdrive. Your vision unfocused, basking in the pleasure. Just like you anticipated, the tip of Din’s cock knocked your G-spot with every thrust. Din watched as your ass jiggled from the friction, encouraging his hand to fall and smack against your backside. You gasped at the pinch of pleasure, biting your lip hard to contain yourself from screaming. Din detected your muffled sounds and was displeased. He wanted to hear you from for him. Beg for more. Say his name and plead for more pleasure. So, his hand gripped the front of your neck and seized you back, pressing your body against his. His thrust never stopping.

“Fucking beg for it.” Din demanded, “Tell me how much you want this.” He did not know what came over him in this moment, and you did not either. But you would be lying if you said you did not like this side of him.

“I- I want this so bad, Din. I need you to fuck me like this.” You choked up, feeling intoxicated as his grip around your neck lightly tightened.

“You want me to fill you with my cum, huh? Or should I cum all over your pretty little face?” Din taunted, another hand crashing down against your ass cheek which made you whimper again.

“Oh God -- come inside me. Please.” You begged, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes as all your feelings conjoined into one overall feeling of complete smut. Your mind felt like a mess, like you could pass out from enjoyment. Never in all your life of service have you felt so much pleasure.

When Din’s primitive instincts deemed you pleads redeemable, his thrusts became faster as he felt his climax coming. The sound of his skins slapping against yours became a dominant sound in the room. He still held your body close to his, his hands roaming over your body, gripping your breasts, smacking your ass, wrapping his fingers around the small of your waist. God, the way he held you was stimulating enough, every touch completely possessive of your body. Din was engrossed in the shape of you, how every inch of your body fit perfectly against him. How tight your walls clenched around his cock, enchanting him to fuck you harder with each thrust.

“I’m gonna come.” Din exclaimed, “I’m gonna cum in your pretty little cunt. Got it?”

His words excited you. “Yes -- please fill me with your cum. Please, please, please.”

Din could not hold it any longer. When he felt his release, he held your hips in place and deepened his cock into you, letting your slit cockwarm him until his climax came to a close. His body collapsed onto yours, causing him to shift your body on top and sit on the edge of the bunk, placing you gently on his lap. You rested your exhausted head on his shoulder, a smile of approval appearing on your face. Din wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a gentle embrace.

“Um -- Sorry I was so rough. I dunno what came over me.” Din apologised, his tone a little bashful.

“Don’t apologise. I’m sorry I enjoyed it so much.” You teasingly said, reaching your hand under his helmet to cusp his scruffy jawline. Din leaned into your touch, pressing a small kiss on your thumb.

“Now’s a good time for you to change into those clothes, huh?” Din light-heartedly said, causing you to chuckle and playfully nudge his side.

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[katatonicimpression]

Iceman!

do I like them:

Yes! Look, I know he's an annoying dork but have you considered that I too am annoying and I too am a dork?

5 good qualities:

He's smart. Smarter than people assume because he's always saying the dumbest things

He's kind.

He's creative, he makes sculptures and they're really good. He's an artist.

Connected to the previous one but he is just absurdly talented with his powers.

He's brave. Granted he is nearly impossible to kill so he doesn't risk a lot that often, but he's courageous as hell.

3 bad qualities:

His jokes suck and his fashion sense is terrible.

He shoots himself in the foot a whole bunch.

He's presumably a not great boyfriend...? Like, all his relationships fall apart and its not just the straight ones. Also he's lonely, almost always single and he HATES it. So what's going on there? By all accounts, he's a catch: he's nice, got broad interests, he's got money and he's hot - it's very clear that in universe he's supposed to be very attractive. So what gives? I think he's maybe just not all that much fun to be in a relationship with, probably because he's rarely that genuine with anybody.

favourite episode/etc:

I really love his storyline in the 90s with Emma taking over his body and the fall out from that. It's the one with the very blatant subtext that falls just short of saying he's gay because they weren't allowed at the time. Also it dives into his relationship with his dad which I find genuinely really upsetting. I also genuinely loved his 2017 and 2018 solo series.

otp:

Pyro (St. John Allerdyce). I can't help it I'm sorry.

brotp:

I like the Amazing Friends (Firestar & Spiderman), and his friendships with the O5, Kitty and Rogue. I also really like him with Bishop and I wished we'd got more of that in Marauders (although that one could easily not be platonic.. that said I feel like he's a bit too nerdy to be Bishop's type, but then again he's probably chaotic enough... who knows?).

ot3:

I actually did write him, St. John and Shinobi as having had a (non-explicit) threesome for some unknown reason...? It made sense at the time, and Bobby and Shinobi still had their situationships with Christian going on in that fic. Just one big poly disaster.

notp:

I don't think I gave any big "no way not ever" ships for Bobby, aside from not liking the straight ones for obvious reasons. I will say I'm not on board with him and deadpool..? I also don't really care about Christian as yet.

You think you've got problems. My fave's canon boyfriend is a bit boring. Think about that.

best quote:

So he's got a bunch of one-liners obviously. I googled iceman quotes and found this on the list:

"I am pulling the most totally bizarre vibes off the others."

Idk made me laugh. Why does he talk like this?

I liked his speech to thor here:

And is "Maybe I am a loser?" moment is iconic. Also when x-corps is happening like half his dialogue is just him calling Sean a nazi which is honestly pretty funny.

head canon:

I think he's not particularly religious in terms of his actual beliefs and associates conversation about religion with his very conservative parents (his dad is Catholic and his mum is Jewish) so prefers to avoid the discussion. That said, I think he's really into family traditions and that sort of thing. He still does all the holidays with enthusiasm... probably too much enthusiasm

He has being paying very little attention to any of the big events on krakoa (ToM, Inferno). Like, he's a few days out of the loop on events and isn't entirely sure what's going on but assumes they'll sort it out. I think he likes a lot of things about the island and the people there, but I don't think he's bought into it really. It's just another wacky stage of his life for him

He's often genuinely surprised by how alive his ice golems are and is secretly a bit freaked out by it

Despite being a teenager in the 60s, Bobby is clearly still under 35. With that in mind, I headcanon his music tastes as being very 80s and early 90s. There's a lot of synth pop in there, and I feel like he got really into Alanis Morissette.

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (72) || atz

You curse aloud.

“Oh dear, how crass.” The quartermaster shakes his head, his face bears a disappointed expression. You snarl when his fingers reach out to tug your face upwards, snap at them with your teeth. Someone hits you across the back hard.

“Chin Hae!” Hongjoong gasps. You cough, stars swimming in your vision, turning around to glare at the burly man towering over you with a roughly hewn oar - a clear culprit. For all your bravado, though, there’s a sinking feeling in your chest. The Treasure is nowhere to be seen.

The two of you are, for a lack of better expression, totally fucked.

“Just returning the favour for kidnapping us.” Your words leave your mouth as a angry hiss. The quartermaster only laughs, the sound like wind rustling over dry grass. It’s like poison wrapped in sugar. You don’t like it.

“I must apologise.” To your surprise, he holds out a hand, gestures to the crew. “Untie the lady. This is unacceptable treatment of such an important guest.”

Important guest? The words echo in your mind, but before you can make sense of them, there’s a hand roughly yanking you to your feet, slicing through the coarse ropes like water. Instantly you rub at your chaffed wrists, feeling the skin sting at your touch. Exactly how long have you been out for?

“What about my captain?” You demand lowly, cautious now. There must be a reason why he’s treating you like this, and you’re desperate to find out. Maybe you could find a way to negotiate your way out of this. Maybe you could find a way to save your captain. Maybe-

“Ahh, no, the pirate king stays wrapped up for now. I apologise for the discomfort, your majesty.” The words he directs at your captain are light and airy, yet they carry more impact than that of a loaded musket. Spiteful chuckles ring out from behind you at their quartermaster’s obvious jab, and your one hand clenches into a tight fist.

“Why did you kidnap us?” You demand, folding your arms across your chest to conceal the trembling in your fingers. The quartermaster merely tilts one corner of his mouth up in a smile, taking a seat on a chair that one of his crew must have brought out for him.

“Apart from the fact that two of you were clearly sneaking about on my ship?” You scowl, eyes darkening in response to the velvet smooth confidence in his voice. “Perhaps you don’t know how things work here, but anyone who steps on board this ship is mine.” His slate grey eyes only seem to reflect your image when you look into them, like the sheen coming off wet glass. You’re stepping on thin glass here. “Everyone here, from every slave who breathes to every member of this crew, their lives belong to me.”

Ghostly fingers almost seem to brush down your spine. There’s something chilling about the way he says it, with so much conviction, how behind him his crew nods in agreement, murmuring amongst themselves. He’s dangerously charismatic, you can feel it, for all his warped way of thinking.

“That’s not what I was asking.” You retort, desperate to get rid of the cold that has seemed to settle over you. “I was asking why you kidnapped us instead of killing us. It was a trap the entire time, wasn’t it? You want us alive for something, don’t you?”

“Chin Hae-” Your captain tries to speak, but a pirate simply fists his across the cheek and you nearly scream in horror, moving towards him when a rough hand catches you by the wrist, grip of iron firmly locking you in place.

“Captain-” You cry out, but the quartermaster merely shushes you with a finger over his lips, watching your captain spit on the deck, red staining the wooden boards.

“Don’t you know that it is poor manners to interrupt a lady when she’s talking?” He asks, voice charmingly soft, numbingly terrifying. Your captain gives him a look so dark that even you shiver in response, but the quartermaster merely ignores him, turning back to you with a pure smile painted across his face as if the little fiasco never happened. “What made you think that way?”

You force yourself to speak, tripping over words more than you’d like to.

“All of it was a trap, from how your crew was talking in the taverns to how little guards there were on your ship.” The answer spills out like water from a broken jar and the quartermaster nods approvingly. “How intelligent of you. Then, surely, you should be able to figure out the answer to your own question?”

You’ve known the answer since the second you’ve awoken, but you didn’t want to accept it. The mere thought of it terrifies you, of what it could mean for both you and your captain, but running away from it won’t help you in this situation.

You swallow. “... because we’re more valuable to you alive than dead.”

“Hit the nail right on the head.” The quartermaster’s voice is a silky whisper now. Hongjoong gasps behind you, and you know that he’s realised it too. “The Royal Navy-”

“Not so fast, little king.” The quartermaster shakes his head. “We’re only in it for the gold. We wouldn’t work with the bad guys. Pirates’ honor, am I right?”

You’re trembling. “How much?”

“Your captain? A pretty price of seven hundred gold pieces. Truly befitting the pirate king of the seas.” His gaze slides over to you, and a chill runs down your spine. “You, however... are a rare treasure indeed.”

“How much?” You repeat, voice a little louder, edged with something near panic. You’re not sure if you want to know the answer. “How much are they offering for me-”

“Two thousand.”

You’re not sure if you’ve heard wrong. Two thousand gold pieces is completely insane, enough to allow a person to live several lifetimes over in luxury. It’s enough to start a business, to become an aristocrat, anything! You haven’t even done anything to the Royal Navy, so why are they willing to pay so much for you?

“It seems that you weren’t even aware of your own worth, little jewel.” The quartermaster comments, but you don’t even hear him. Everything drowns out into white noise, and he lifts one hand to brush a strand of your hair back. “Every pirate is scrambling to find you now. Even if you are under the care of the one and only pirate king, who can possibly resist two thousand gold pieces? We are pirates, you know.”

“Get your filthy hands off her-” Hongjoong snaps, lunging for you, but the same pirate smashes the flat of his oar into your captain’s side and he crashes to the deck hard, wheezing painfully. You’re not sure if he’s broken a few ribs, but the two of you are utterly helpless in this situation now.

It’s inevitable, really. There’s no way to escape.

“Why?”

The quartermaster blinks, the smile faltering just a little. “Why?”

“Why did you do all those things to Wooyoung?” If you’re going to die, you at least want an answer. You don’t know why it matters so much to you, right now, even at this moment, but you’ve decided to stop thinking so much. “You said every member of the crew belongs to you, and yet, you seem to only treat him that way. Why?”

Silence, like a slow inhale. The quartermaster looks at you, and smiles.

“Because he was pretty, so I wanted him to belong to me.”

What?

You don’t realise you’ve said that aloud until the quartermaster rises from his seat, takes a step closer. The look in his eyes shine now, the same way they did when he’d called Wooyoung pet back in Tortuga. It’s at that moment you realise that this man is wrong, mind twisted beyond belief. The fact that he thinks people can belong to him is preposterous in and of itself.

“That’s ridiculous-” You begin to say, but the quartermaster ignores you, smiling so softly and so chillingly that the sea breeze seems to drop in temperature.

“I broke him because I loved him.” He’s almost singing now, and you’re terrified by the gentle look in his eyes, more than if he’d been enraged or furious. “He’s broken into little pieces and each crack has me written all over it. Even when those women tried to break him, in the end he was already broken for me! He belongs to me, don’t you understand?”

“You’re messed up.” You say slowly, unable to believe your own ears. The quartermaster merely hums, the most expressive you’ve seen him, a smile dancing across his face.

“Even when he left the ship, he was never really be free from me. I killed the coward that let him be taken, that fool of a captain.” The quartermaster sighs, stroking the key around his neck like its a lover’s token. “And now that I’ve stolen the two people that matter the most to him, I’ll live engraved in his heart forever.”

You open your mouth to speak, disgusted, but before you can, your captain cuts in.

“Wooyoung is one of my crew.” The quartermaster stills almost instantly, but your captain keeps talking. “Perhaps you don’t know how things work here,” he says, throwing the man’s words back at him, “but I only allow my crew to be part of one ship.”

The quartermaster whirls around to stare at your captain, voice dangerously soft. “What did you say?”

“I said, Wooyoung is my head gunner. Not yours. And he will never be yours ever again.” A chuckle leaves his bloodied lips. “You may have left cracks, but he’s more than capable of patching himself up. In time, you’ll be nothing more than a bad memory to him.”

Silence.

“How dare you.” The quartermaster murmurs, the one hand dragging roughly through his hair the only indicator of how agitated he is. “Wooyoung belongs to me. Mine, he’s mine.”

His gaze falls on you, and suddenly, his eyes light up. “I’ll make him mine again. I’ll carve myself so deep into his heart that he’ll never forget me.”

What on earth is wrong with this man?

“I was going to turn you in, my lady,” Suddenly, he’s behind you before you can even move, and you startle in shock to realise that he’s yanking your arms together tightly and binding them with rope from the elbows down to the wrists. You struggle, try to break free, but they’re done too tight and you can’t even move an inch.

“Bring me the old anchor.” The quartermaster demands and your mouth falls open in horror, attempting to struggle more, but the crew behind you holds you tightly in place. Another pirate drags what appears to be a broken stone anchor over to you by a long chain, but it’s only when they begin to tie the anchor to your ankles that you realise what they’re doing.

“Wait-” You try to say, but no words will come out. Air itself claws its way from your lungs but never leaves your throat, trapped there like a fluttering, dying bird.

“Let her go!” Hongjoong howls, thrashing against his captors, and your eyes only meet his blankly in terror. He redoubles his efforts to strain free, but it’s simply impossible, and the quartermaster finishes securing the stone weight to your legs. Both are bound tightly together, and you won’t be able to struggle even if you wanted to.

A pirate grabs you around the waist and lifts you up.

You’re going to die. You’re really going to die. You’re going to die.

“You took my most precious crew member from me.” The quartermaster whispers to Hongjoong softly, and your captain screams, trying to pull himself free. “An eye for an eye, pirate king. I want you to know that this was all your fault.”

He steps over to you with a smile, patting down your chains even as you struggle.

“I’ll definitely stay in his heart now.” He murmurs fondly, eyes unfocused and you tremble, shaking so hard you can hear the chains rattling. “To show my gratitude to you for sacrificing your life to help me,” The quartermaster pulls the key from around his neck, and your eyes immediately fixate on the tiny piece of silver dangling in front of you. “You came aboard to get this, am I right?”

You don’t want it. Not like this, not when it’ll never reach Wooyoung. Not when it’ll join your cold, still body on the ocean floor for centuries. You don’t want to die.

He strides to the side of the ship, overlooking the sea. Your breath catches in your throat when you see him raise the key, before he flings it into the sea, a glint of metal sparkling in the sunlight before it vanishes into the waves.

He turns to you with a bright smile. “I’ll help you get it.”

And then the only sensation you know is falling, your eyes meeting your captain’s for the last time, watching his lips part in a scream as he lunges towards you, and you hope your eyes can convey all you’ve ever wanted to say to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m thankful. I love you.”

You hit the waves, and all you know is drowning.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Animal Planet.”

I had the sudden desire to do one of those documentary style episodes today, so that is what you are going to get. This will probably have one or more episodes, but it should be fun. Hope you all like :)

“Ok, ok ok, everyone listen up!... QUIET DOWN PLEASE…. Ok very very good. Now we have been cordially invited to interact with a very special group while they are being quartered here on our planet.”

“Don’t you mean you pestered begged and threatened?”

“You know what, you, you can shut up.”

‘Why are we doing this anyway. Humans aren’t all that interesting anymore?” 

“That is where you are wrong! Universe-wide opinion polls state that, behind the drama with the LFIL, humans at large and the most sought after topic in the galaxy. My other sources tell me that only 5% of the galactic population has ever even seen a human. You should read some of the rumors about them, it is quite stimulating. 

“How did you even get this to work?”

“The humans seem to want good PR as much as we want good entertainment. Alright everyone! GET YOUR CAMERAS READY!” “Do you want us to turn on the translation software?” 

“No, of course not, well for everyone accept humans.”

“Why.”

“Well the public won’t exactly get a great thrill from them if they think they are intelligent speaking creatures now will they.”

“But they are?” 

“Shut up, and get ready.” 

“Three….. two ….. One.” 

“HELLO EVERYONE! I am Mendex of the Tesraki, and today on my journey through the universe to meet some of the most dangerous species known to the galaxy, I have taken a stop back on my own planet for a rare opportunity. Now my researchers have come up with a few statistics I would like to share with you before we begin. According to intergalactic poles only five percent of the universal population has ever met, in person, one of these creatures. Number two, since their introduction, these creatures have been the cause for a 15% incline in death rate and a .2% drop in life expectancy for your average dweller of the GA. They can digest metal,, and reports say that they evolved to run their prey to death….. A slow death towards exhaustion.”

The camera pans slowly over the face of the Mendex, his light brown fur accented by a scruffy red scarf around his neck. They are walking up a grassy pathway, though the grass comes in shades of purple and blue instead of green.

“Now as I said before, I have been given a rare opportunity to interact with these creatures in their own environment. Now based on the concerns of some of my producers, we will not be allowed to go in alone, but have connected with an Expert who will take us through safety. Now as I understand it, this expert has left society to spend entire swaths of time with these creatures. He claims to have been incorporated into their pack and has enough social standing with them that he will be able to protect us while we interact.” 

The ground grows steep for a moment as the camera moves up a hill and over the other side.

“Ah, there it is, their hive. Look at it. Now not much is known about how they build such complicated structures, but we do know that they enjoy the use of very hard sharp lines and corners. “ They trundle down another hill and towards the ship sat crouched in a field. Overhead clouds pass over the star.

“Oh, and there is our expert, waiting for us at the entrance to the hive.

The camera cuts for a second, and when it comes on the Tesraki and a Vrul are sitting side by side at the base of the hive.

“No more suspense. It is time for me to tell you what we are going to be seeing today….. HUMANS. Yes that’s right everyone, I have been given access to a human pack and the expert who has been living with them for the past few cycles now.” He turns to the Vrul sitting by his side, “Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself and your research, Docotr.”

The little creature glances up at the sun and then back towards the cameras, “Well I am Dr. Krill, and I have been working as a surgeon for as long as I can remember.” “As A surgeon, how did you end up here?” 

“Well, that is actually an interesting story. I was working at the Thevel-1 Andromeda Trauma center, when a human ship actually called in for an emergency landing. One of the humans had been involved in some sort of freak accident on board, and they required immediate medical attention, so I men them in the trauma bay, and, I will leave the details out, but as it turned out one of the humans had a metal rod logged in his brain, through the orbital socket.”

“No, you’re kidding me?”

“Not even a little. I had never seen anything like it. Accidents like that result in visits to the morgue, not the hospital, but the human was still alive, so I removed the object and watched his recovery. Now at this point I was so fascinated that I couldn’t just let them go. There was so much for me to learn.”

“So just like that, you hopped on a human ship, and went gallivanting across the galaxy.”

“I know, sounds strange every time I hear about it, hardly something I would do.”

“What was that like, first day aboard a human ship, surrounded by predators.”

“Terrifying as you might imagine. I was convinced that I was going to get eaten or worse, but of course I never did.”

“Now why don’t you tell us a little about humans.

“Well, Mendex, the first thing you should know about humans is how social they are. Humans generally require SOME contact with other humans weather it be in large group units or at least one other human that they can interact with. It is such a big deal in fact that isolation can drive a human to madness or worse. They are very perceptive to social situations, and that is what made my first day so terrifying because the humans have many social rules that are expected to be followed that just never crossed my mind.”

“And how dangerous would you say a human is?”

“Well that depends entirely on the human and the situation. If a human thinks they are in danger, they will either run or they will fight. Humans have a special hormonal response that, during times of extreme stress, can allow them to life objects up to 500% their own body weight. For most of us a human, even the weakest humans, have the ability to maim, injure or severely mutilate.” he held up a hand, “however, I am not saying that to make you wary of humans, they are generally very friendly and curious creatures, and as long as they don’t feel threatened they will at least be tolerant of you.”

“Why are humans so dangerous?”

“Well that is a funny question, it actually stems from the simple fact that humans aren't actually all that dangers…. At least not on their planet, on the basis of raw power or predatory instincts.”

“Fascinating, what do you mean by that?”

“I mean that humans were not originally a predator species, in fact they are actually pretty poor hunters compared to most everything on their planet. In fact prey animals have been known to maul humans if provoked. Humans are probably the LEAST durable species on their planet. They adapted to survive in a world where the prey animals were dangerous and the predators could decimate them with the sweep of a paw.”

“Is that why they are a pack-creature.”

“Precisely, you see, a single human has a very low likelihood of being dangerous on their own planet, but together they can hunt creatures three four five times their own size if not more. You see comparatively to other animals of their planet, humans are slow, weak, with a poor sense of smell, hearing and even sight, but they had the one thing that sentient life is known for, and that is intelligence. This intelligence allowed they to group together and create a strategy for surviving in a hostile environment. That then led them to the building of weapons and machines to the point that survival was no longer an issue, and hunting even the most dangerous of their previous predators had become laughable.” 

“That is fascinating, to think that a creature that dangerous could be so weak on their planet….. Have you met any of these other dangerous species?”

“Actually, yes/ Humans are so social and pack oriented that they have the ability to bond with non-sentient animals. They call it domestication, and it requires an animal to be, pack oriented, easy to feed, and have a short gestation period. The humans then take that animal and only allow the breeding of animals with specific desirable traits. In fact, they took a similar pack predator, and used their natural sociability to integrate them into human packs. The humans keep them as pets and began to use them as hunting partners considering their new pack member was faster, stronger, had a better sense of smell and hearing, but was now loyal to its human companions.”

“That doesn’t sound real.”

“Oh but it is. We have one aboard the ship.”

“And this creature could rip the humans apart?”

“Oh pretty easily, especially if she had the element of surprise.”

“Amazing, so what do we need to know before we get on the ship with you, you know for our safety and security.”

The doctor shifts in place. He is making a strange expression that seems unnatural for a Vrul, “Well you have to be aware that the humans have a strict hierarchy. When you get on the ship you are immediately assigned a specific sort of guest place in this hierarchy. The human pack alpha that runs the ship is higher than you as well as the betas below him and their immediate underlings. You can assume that your comfort is more important than the low ranking humans but you MAY NOT order them around since it is not your place and you have not been accepted into the pack. Generally speaking though, a human ship is a relatively safe place as long as you are polite, apologetic, and willing to do what is asked of you. Now the humans are likely to be very curious, try not to show signs of fear, but if you do they aren’t going to attack or anything. Depending on the human they may or may not gently mess with you, they may playfully try to dominate or scare you for their own amusement, but don’t worry they aren't likely to attack. Do not make any disparaging remarks or insult the humans.”

“Are humans very sensitive to verbal attacks?”

“Some are and some aren’t. In the case of insulting a human, I have found that it is not generally the human you have insulted that you should be afraid of, but the other humans around the human you have insulted. You see many humans have no issue in making an insult, but will not tolerate one directed at one of their pack members. They are very protective of each other, especially the alpha. It is also a good idea not to insult objects that belong to humans. The human bonding instinct is strong enough that they will bond to objects. So the ship for example, do not offend the ship. I made that mistake on my first day and thought the alpha was going to tear out my throat.”

There was a shifting amongst the crew.

“What are the rules on touching.”

“That is complicated, it also depends on the human. The general rule is not to go up and touch a human without permission. If a human approaches you first, you may make contact with them. Generally hands and arms are acceptable to touch though I would suggest avoiding any other part of the human anatomy for the sake of their privacy. Humans are very very serious about their personal space and their personal privacy 

“Are there any warning signs that we should be aware of, just in case.”

The doctor nodded, “Well there are a few things. Humans have a warning call they use to indicate to other humans that something is wrong, it generally indicates pain or immediate danger and is specifically designed to get attention and bring other humans to assist. This involves a high pitched sort of keening, it is very loud and very powerful, and will hurt your ears if you aren't careful. Generally though, I have only ever heard it used on a few occasions. As far as more subtle things to look at. If a human gets into a defensive posture in your direction it isn't a good sign. They will bend at the knees and have their hands up to protect their face. Their chins will be lowered to cover their necks. Another important signal to look at is the face. A frowning human could either be thinking or they could be anger. That is when the mouth sort of dips on either end like this…. Yes…. yes like that. But the important thing to look at is the eyes. The eyes will always give them away.”

“What is so important about the eyes.”

“Well, human eyes are enormously expressive. I swear by them personally. Humans have this habit of pretending one thing but meaning another, and looking at the eyes can tell you that. Eyebrows slanted down is generally a good indicator. A frown mixed with slanted eyebrows and…. Its hard to explain. If you look into the eyes and feel as if their expression could kill you, you probably want to stop doing whatever you are doing. Also sudden silence isn’t entirely a good thing either. Humans love talking to each other, there is always someone speaking, most of the tie, but if you are in an area with many humans and none of them are speaking there is either something wrong, or they have been ordered to behave that way”

“What is a good indicator of a happy human.”

“It seems strange, but showing their teeth is a good sign most of the time. A curious human is generally a happy human. They like learning and interacting with their environment, so encourage curiosity and the showing of teeth. Also there is a strange sound they make, sort of a repetitive revving noise that comes from the back of the throat or the chest. That means that the human is amused, and that should also be encouraged.”

“Alright…. Do you think we are ready.”

“I think so…. Follow me.”

The crew gets up and the feed cuts to black.

This episode will continue after the break.

[spell-cleaver]

DAY 17: WHUMPTOBER: I Didn’t See That Coming - Dirty Secret @whumptober2020​

The Pirate Son AU Masterpost. This is an immediate sequel to the previous ficlet (The Song).

Luke was still sitting in a small puddle on the floor of his room when Vader returned, staring into space. Vader just sighed, knelt down next to him, took the towel and wrapped it around Luke’s shoulder, starting to rub at his hair.

Luke looked up at him. Now dressed in a complete departure from his usual black ensemble, some ragged brown trousers, a beige shirt and a scrappy dark jacket, he looked totally different from the monster who’d hunted him for so long. That, and—

“Your…” Luke swallowed. “Your mask.” He wasn’t wearing it at all.

His father smiled at him—it was a quick, bitter smile, more a flash of the teeth, as though he hadn’t bothered with letting anyone see him smile in a long, long time. “It was getting rusty, and cold. I took it off for now.”

“Oh.” Luke was still staring.

Vader looked… He’d been right, Luke thought, all those years ago when he’d first met his father and worried that they looked alike. They did look similar, from the colour of their hair to the clefts in their chins to the shapes of their eyes. Vader’s were a vicious yellow though, and Luke found it uncomfortable to make contact with them for too long.

His father was deathly pale, too, with his skin clinging close to his skull and faint blue tinges at his temple. His hair was cut severely short, shorn close to his head, only adding to the harsh effect, enhancing the blue, and Luke couldn’t help but compare it mentally to his own hair, getting long enough that Leia had starting braiding it in the few days before his capture. He wondered what his father would’ve thought if he’d shown up with that. He wondered if he could try and braid his own hair, now that it wasn’t like he had much else to do…

He wondered why he kept distracting himself.

“What…” His voice was hoarse, his back ramrod straight—he wanted to lean into Vader, but he couldn’t—as he whispered, “What happened, then…?”

Vader paused in drying Luke’s hair and laid the towel around his shoulders again. “When Palpatine inherited the crown of Coruscant and started expanding his Empire with the promise of eradicating piracy from the seas, I joined him wholeheartedly. I hated pirates—they carried the slave shipment that my mother died in—and he promised he knew a way to make sure they never stained the seas again. My wife, Padmé, the light of my life… She was pregnant. I had a family to protect—scouring pirates from the face of the seven seas was certainly a way I was going to achieve that. So I joined him, as one of the most powerful sorcerers to sail the seas, and when I confided in him that I was worried about one day dying in battle and leaving my family alone, the way my father did to me… He told me there was a way to stop myself and others, from dying.”

Luke swallowed, and tried very hard not to think of the way that bullet three years ago had punched right through Vader’s chest, yet still he’d continued on. “That way was to become undead?”

“It was to strip you of your humanity, in the long run,” Vader said, his voice flat. “Taking your mortality is a vital part of that. I cannot eat—not that I need to—and nor can I die. Padmé was horrified by what I’d done to myself—and…”

Vader hesitated. He stood up, to open a drawer and pull out a change of clothes for Luke, so his back was turned to him when he said, “Horrified by the implication that this sort of half-life was what I’d been planning to give my wife and child, as well.”

Luke sucked in a breath.

He felt like he’d been punched.

“You…” He took several heaving breaths. “You— you want me to live like this!?”

“No,” Vader said. “I had not asked Palpatine for the details of the curse, and nor did he offer them. And it is a curse—one that was passed onto all my men, once he gave me a ship with which to serve him. I am bound to him so long as I am in this form, he can sense me and track me wherever I go, he can control every aspect of my life, and I will serve him.”

Luke gaped. “And you agreed to that?”

“No. I did not know what he was offering me—Padmé was right to object to foisting this hellish existence on our child as well, but…” He straightened up again, a nightshirt in hand, and half-turned back to Luke. His eyes were closed.

“She left,” he whispered. “She left me, when she was still pregnant. I searched for her for months.”

“I thought you said you killed her.”

“I searched for her for months,” Vader reiterated, slightly more harshly—then calmer, again, when Luke flinched. “I did not find her until I boarded and inspected a small fisherman’s craft, which she had paid for passage to Alderaan on, with our baby. She’d… she’d set up a life in the hills of Naboo, as far from the sea as she could be, in the months she was away, she’d said, but then… But then you had got sick,” his throat was tight, “with some illness, something magic-related that she couldn’t understand… Sorcerer children get it, frequently. She was travelling to Alderaan, where she would find Kenobi, an old friend who’d turned her against me when I was first cursed, who’d convinced her to leave me in the first place—”

“I know who Ben is,” Luke said shortly.

Vader took a breath. “Yes.” He turned around fully to sit cross-legged opposite Luke, and passed him the nightshirt. Luke put it on with scepticism, but it was dry and warm; he felt slightly better. “She had been travelling to him, to get advice, leaving her home in Naboo under the care of her sister.

“I told her that I could help you. I offered all my services, all my training—magic-related illnesses are tricky, but they are rarely fatal, and I could have found something—so long as you both came back to me. I wanted you back. But she refused and… we fought…”

Luke clenched his fists in the towel and didn’t meet his father’s eyes—suddenly, suddenly he had an idea— “Tell me you didn’t… No…”

“Pirates attacked.”

Luke jerked his head up. Vader continued, “Pirates attacked the ship we were on—bold of them to, but the Executor was separated from their little schooner by the fisherman’s ship, and they couldn’t easily fire on it without fearing to hit me… They boarded the schooner. I ran out to fight them off. But it was only me and a few of my men… You were in a crib on the other end of the ship, watched over by the fisherman, and…”

Luke bowed his head. He… could see where this was going.

“I tried to fight them. But they knew you were my son—they threatened you, they took you, and in the heat of the battle, I— I pulled out my pistol and I shot—”

Vader let out a breath.

“She was in the way,” he said. “I should have been more careful. I should never have argued with her—not to the extent that she made sure you were separated from us, away from our spat. I shouldn’t have ever driven her away.

“The bullet caught her in the chest. She died in minutes. And by the time we were able to hunt down the pirates… We caught up to them days later, but they said they had thrown you overboard and laughed as you drowned.”

Luke… didn’t know how to react to that.

That was awful.

“I… I knew that Ben rescued me from pirates,” he said shakily. “That he saved me as a baby. And he told me that you were my father, several years ago, and that my mother had made it clear to him while pregnant that if anything were to happen to her, she wanted him to look after her child rather than let me go back to you.”

Vader clenched his fists at that, stiffly, but said nothing.

“I made,” he said, “a grave error. And I have lived with it, and my curse, ever since.”

Vader looked away violently, for a second, voice choked. “They took you, son. I was haunted by dreams of a little ghost boy wandering the seas for years. I— I watched that ship retreat and knew that I had lost everything, and when I learnt your name—”

“When you learnt my name,” Luke said, “you decided that anything was justified, in order to get me back?”

Vader let out a breath. “Yes.”

“Killing my friends. Hunting me. Nearly sending me to the gallows—”

“I cannot disobey my master—he ordered that you join us, or be hanged, and I had to tread very, very carefully—”

“You sent me to my death!”

Vader said, “Yes. I did. And I am going to make sure that that is something that will never happen, ever again. I am going to break this curse.”

“How!?” Luke gave him a sceptical look. “It’s a blood oath, isn’t it? It has those hallmarks. Only Palpatine can break it, unless...”

“It is not quite a blood oath, no. It was his adaptation of an old myth—about pirates who stole the wrong person’s gold. Once you took a single coin from that chest, you were cursed for life, until it was broken. He adapted it to swords—there was an old creed of sorcerers, the Sith, who forged a thousand sabres and hid them in a cave on the island of Mustafar. The perfect killing weapons, imbued with the sort of magic that sees its wielder become the ruler of the seas, but once you fasten your hands around the hilt, the curse sets in. You cannot die—but neither can you truly live.”

Vader met Luke’s eyes again, for the first time, and somehow the yellow even had a tinge of red to it, now. “He married it with a blood oath, to make it especially binding. I am his immortal servant, forever.”

“And how do you break it?”

Vader was suddenly very interested in the hem of his shirt. “It is a steep and difficult price,” he said. “Now rest. You need it—your back—”

His back had been in agony the whole time, yeah, but that wasn’t what was important here. “What is the price?”

“We will find a way,” Vader promised, and then he left the room.

Luke listened carefully, but there was no tell-tale click of a lock. He wasn’t locked in, this time.

How did his father plan to break the curse?

Blood oaths… blood oaths often required, well, blood to be broken. The death of the person bound, or the person binding. Or…

Or of someone who shared their blood.

Luke swallowed.

His father had killed his mother.

But he wouldn’t do that, would he?

Luke didn’t know. He didn’t know the man at all. Everything… everything he told him could be a lie. Everything he did could be a lie.

Had he saved him from the sirens just so he could sacrifice Luke himself, later?

Luke didn’t want to die. He especially didn’t want to die like that.

He didn’t sleep very well that night at all.

[carewyncromwell]

The POTC AU is continuing, and with it, the reveal of the Brethren Court at Shipwreck Cove! Above we have six out of our seven Pirate Lords -- you’ll be meeting all of them in this section one by one, but to list them off, we have Merula Snyde; Arjun Singh (pictured with Aishwarya Mehra) @hogwarts9; Ellie Hopper @that-ravenpuff-witch; Jacob “Black Jack” Cromwell Roberts; Orion Amari; and Jae Kim.

Merula’s outfit is modeled slightly off of Angelica Teech’s from the fourth Pirates film, though with an oversized 18th century-style men’s undershirt rather than the “Renaissance Fair”-style shirt we get in the movie, while Jae’s most closely resembles Elizabeth Swann’s Pirate King ensemble from the third movie. Ellie’s is most closely modeled on Carina Smyth’s from the fifth Pirates film, though I did make some more period-worthy adjustments like the sleeve length and the light-weight scarf underneath the neckline, which were often worn by women of the time to obscure any deep cleavage and/or for warmth. Arjun and Jae, like the rest of the male pirates, I also gave facial hair because it was considered bad luck to shave while on board a ship, and so most pirates would invariably have beards of some variety, since they would be at sea much more than on land. In the 18th century in particular, beards were kind of “out of fashion” for men on dry land -- were you to have one, you were generally presumed to be eccentric, wild, uncouth, or just flat-out insane. (Which honestly kind of fits the traditional image of a pirate. XD)

The song “Hoist the Colours,” in the original Pirates films, actually refers to Davy Jones and the Brethren Court “binding Calypso in her bones” -- but since in this version of events, Finn McGarry/Davy Jones @theguythatdraws had no part in the Court binding Calypso (because seriously, OG!Jones?? Dick move), the “King” in the song is the original Pirate King, not Jones. It’s actually a rare case where one can take a lyric more literally than metaphorically. XD

A kumiho is a nine-tailed fox spirit from Korean mythology, rather like the Japanese kitsune. One of my personal headcanons for Jae Kim is that his Patronus is a fox. *grins at @kyril-hphm* 83

Previous part is here; whole tag is here; and also featured in this section are Jules Farrier-Weasley @cursebreakerfarrier (happy belated birthday, mon couer!) and Samantha O’Connell @samshogwarts!

x~x~x~x

Shipwreck Cove was a settlement made out of hundreds of wrecked ships, all stacked on top of each other inside of a dead volcano. It was an imposing fortress, lit by thousands of lanterns in the night. Even its location at the end of the treacherous Devil’s Throat gave it a sense of impregnability -- it needed no tall walls to keep its enemies out.

As soon as Charlie arrived on the island, his new First Mate Barnaby Lee cheerfully showed him and the rest of the Phoenix’s crew around before he guided them to the Hall of the Codex, the room where members of the Brethren Court gathered, whenever they convened. Barnaby advised Charlie to make sure he stuck his sword in the globe before approaching the table -- it not only signaled his status as Pirate Lord to the other gathered Lords, but it also was a sign of respect to the others, indicating that he would not incite violence at the meeting.

“You can bring other weapons to the table, though, so you could still start a fight if you really wanted to,” Barnaby added rather brightly.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” laughed Charlie.

“CHARLIE!”

The new captain of the Phoenix looked up, and his face lit up at the sight of a familiar freckled face racing towards him.

“Bill!”

The two Weasley brothers latched onto each other, squeezing each other in a giant hug.

“Thank God, Charlie!” Bill mumbled as he clutched at the back of his brother’s coat.

Jules ran over too so she could also bring an arm around Charlie, resting a hand on the back of his head as she and Bill both hugged him tight.

“We were so worried about you,” said Jules, her voice a bit more level than Bill’s but no less relieved.

She glanced curiously at the new hat and coat his new crew had lent him.

“...Is there a story behind the new clothes?”

Charlie grinned a bit sheepishly. “Uh...aye! Actually...”

“Can we send Weasley and her crew out so we can call this meeting to order already?” came a rather impatient female voice from the table.

“Captain Farrier-Weasley and the crew of the Revolution are my guests,” said the level, patient voice of Orion.

“This meeting is for Pirate Lords, Amari,” said the impatient voice irritably. “You can’t just invite non-Lords to it -- ”

"Jules’s father is the Governor of Port Royal,” said the logical voice of McNully. “Since Port Royal’s the current base of operations for Cutler Beckett and the Navy, there’s a 65% chance she’ll have some good insight about how to approach this whole thing.”

“And considering we’ll likely be missing a member of our Court, I thought it might be helpful to have another captain present who could fill in for our seventh Lord,” Orion added calmly.

"You can’t decide that all on your own, Amari!”

“He’s not trying to!” snapped Skye’s voice. “At least Orion’s trying to bring something to the table besides tantrums -- !”

“Skye, please,” Orion soothed quietly. “Samantha, is it against the Code for Pirate Lords to invite other captains to meetings?”

Charlie’s ears perked up. Samantha O’Connell was there too?

Jules beckoned Bill and Charlie with a jerk of her head to follow her into the Hall of the Codex properly.

There was a large, stained, circular table set up in the middle of the room, around which two women and two men --  presumably four out of the seven Pirate Lords -- were already seated with Orion. One of the Lords -- a young man with tanned skin, bright blue eyes, and a black ponytail -- had a dark-haired woman who closely resembled him standing behind his chair with her arms resting on top of the back. Charlie guessed they must be related.

“...The Code does state meetings of the Brethren Court are to be attended by the Pirate Lords and their crews,” said Samantha. She was sitting with her legs slouched over the right arm of a high-backed chair in the corner of the room, a gigantic, dusty, leather-bound book open in her lap. “But it doesn’t say that it can only be attended by those people...so any dispute to the rule could be settled by popular vote. If any other Lord wished to co-sponsor your guests, Orion, they could stay.”

Samantha then flashed a beady look at the brown-haired female pirate -- likely the one who’d been arguing with Orion -- across the table.

“What is stated, though, is that all active Pirate Lords must be present before a meeting starts.”

The blond female captain sitting closest to the door nodded in agreement. “And we’re still missing one Pirate Lord.”

“Technically we’re missing two Lords,” the tanned young man pointed out in a rather charming, amused voice.

“I doubt the Lord of the Pacific Ocean will show up, Arjun,” said the woman leaning against the back of his chair. “I mean, there hasn’t been one since the first Brethren Court...”

“You’ll have one for this meeting.”

Everyone turned around in surprise as Charlie strode forward toward the globe, stabbing his dragon-hilted blade into it just as Barnaby instructed.

“Charlie?” said Bill, perfectly stunned.

Charlie walked up to the table, the crew of the Phoenix following along behind, and stopped in front of the empty chair beside Orion’s. He shot Samantha a smile and a little wave, before he glanced around at the other Lords more more seriously.

“I’ll second Captain Amari’s sponsorship of Captain Farrier-Weasley and her crew,” he said firmly. He tapped his hat to indicate the S-and-anchor-trimmed “Piece of Eight” button he’d sewn onto it, before removing it and setting it down on the table as he took a seat. “The crew of the Revolution is welcome to attend this meeting.”

He shot a cheeky grin over his shoulder at his brother and sister-in-law. Bill’s mouth had dropped open in shock and disbelief. Jules looked rather stunned too, but she recovered more quickly and soon smiled broadly herself, coming up to stand between Charlie and Orion the way the woman with Arjun stood behind him.

Orion gave Charlie a muted, but still very pleased smile.

“Captain Charlie Weasley...allow me to introduce Captain Merula Snyde of the Blackbird, Pirate Lord of the Adriatic Sea -- ”

He indicated the impatient pink-eyed brunette, who was now slouching in her seat and crossing her arms irritably.

“ -- Captain Ellie Hopper of the Treasure, Pirate Lord of the Mediterranean Sea -- ”

The blonde pirate wearing the thigh-length teal dress and brown tricorn hat nodded politely to Charlie and smiled. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“ -- Captain Arjun Singh of the Naga, Pirate Lord of the Indian Ocean, and his cousin and co-captain, Aishwarya Mehra -- ”

The man called Arjun and the woman behind him both smiled and inclined their heads respectfully to Charlie.

“ -- Captain Jae Kim of the Kumiho, Pirate Lord of the South China Sea -- ”

A pirate with a long black braid dressed in a beautifully patterned gold silk tunic, who was slouching casually in his seat, raised his hand in an off-hand wave. “Hey.”

“ -- and last but certainly not least, Samantha O’Connell, Keeper of the Code.”

“We’ve met,” said Charlie with a cheeky grin.

Samantha’s lips were tugged up into a broad smile too as she closed the large book in her lap and got to her feet.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “And of course you already know Orion -- Pirate Lord of the Caribbean Sea.”

“So the last Lord is for the Atlantic Ocean?” said Jules after a moment, once she’d mentally listed off all the seas she’d heard.

“Aye -- that I am.”

Everyone looked up as a man with a long mane of dark curls and hollowed-out, almond-shaped blue eyes strode up to the round table.

“Black Jack!” said Barnaby in relief.

The rest of the Phoenix chattered happily at the sight of the Tower Raven’s captain. Charlie was relieved too, seeing that Carewyn’s brother was all right after all. Unlike the rest of the captains present, Jacob only had Ashe accompanying him instead of a full crew, and both men were also missing their hats and dressed in sopping wet clothes.

“Apologies for my tardiness,” muttered Jacob as he sidled into the seat next to Merula’s. “Ashe and I had to swim most of the way here, as that twat Rakepick decided to blow up my ship -- ”

“Swim?” repeated Merula, sounding both perfectly scandalized and disbelieving. “How could you have swam all the way here from...wherever the Hell you were?”

“Very strong lungs and muscles,” Ashe said in such a cool voice that it put an end to the train of conversation. He stood over Jacob much the way Aishwarya stood over Arjun, draping his arms around the back of the chair so as to hug Jacob from behind, and shot beady looks at the remaining Pirate Lords. “Seems they’re all in attendance, Jack.”

“Aye,” said Jacob. “Shall we begin, then?”

“Aye,” agreed Samantha. “Now, as per the Code, we can call this meeting of the Fourth Brethren Court to order.”

“Finally,” growled Merula.

She immediately shot to her feet and addressed the others.

“All right -- for those of you who aren’t aware...the Flying Dutchman, cursed ship of the damned, has been impressed into service by the British Navy. Then, under that arse Cutler Beckett’s orders, it attacked Tortuga.”

Jacob looked stricken. “Tortuga?”

Merula nodded. “Two hundred people have now been hanged in Port Royal, all for supposedly aiding and abetting pirates -- men, women, and children.”

Ellie looked back at her crewmates, visibly disturbed by the news. Arjun and Aishwarya exchanged a grim look.

“Both of the Captains Weasley and I were on Tortuga at the time of the attack,” said Orion, indicating Charlie, Jules, and himself. “I’m afraid the Flying Dutchman has burned the settlement to the ground. It’s no longer safe to return to.”

“It’s worse than that,” Charlie said lowly. He glanced from Jacob to Orion. “...Commodore Carey Weasley...warned me that Beckett is on his way here, to Shipwreck Cove.”

Orion’s dark eyes widened. Jacob stiffened sharply.

“You saw Carey?” said Bill, his voice strained with desperation.

Charlie glanced at his brother uneasily. “Yeah. ...He’s aboard the Flying Dutchman.”

The pronouncement made Jacob lunge to his feet so violently he knocked his chair over with a clatter.

“What?!”

His face was as white as a sheet as the rest of the Pirate Lords and their crews muttered amongst themselves. Ashe squeezed his lover’s shoulders that bit more tightly, his own brown eyes narrowing in concern. Bill had also blanched, his freckles sticking out sharply on his face. Orion’s gaze dropped onto his hands as he clasped them together on the table in front of him.

“Sh -- he can’t be on that ship!” Jacob shouted. “I explicitly told him to stay in Port Royal, away from the sea -- !”

“Carey had to have been ordered to go,” Jules cut Jacob off as gently as she could, even if she looked just as anxious as Bill and Charlie were. “If he got the order, he wouldn’t have been able to disobey it...not if he wanted to keep his position as Commodore -- to protect all of us.”

She glanced at Bill and reached out and took his hand, squeezing it empathetically.

Arjun exchanged a confused look with Aishwarya.

“I’m sorry -- but I think we’re missing something here,” said the Pirate Lord of the Indian Ocean with a bit of a sheepish smile. “Is the Commodore of the British Navy our ally now?”

“Of course not!” scoffed Merula. “Beckett’s been puffing his chest out for weeks, crowing about how he’s roped ‘the great Carey Weasley’ into his anti-piracy campaign. Rumor has it that the Commodore himself was the one who suggested sacking Tortuga in the first place!”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” said Jae.

Everyone turned to look at him, startled.

“Amari here captured Carey Weasley to send a message to the British Navy and the East India Trading Company, didn’t he?” said the Lord of the South China Sea. “Yet Weasley escaped him. Then, only a short while later, Amari got arrested in Weasley’s hometown of Port Royal, only to be ‘liberated’ by Weasley’s own brothers and the Governor’s daughter, who has now become his sister-in-law.” He nodded curtly at Jules, Bill, and Charlie. “...It seems clear to me that all of it must’ve been planned. There’s no reason I can see for Charlie, Bill, and Jules Weasley to break Amari out of prison unless he and the Commodore were allies.”

The Pirate Lords’ crews excluding Orion’s starting muttering again. Charlie glanced at Orion, but the Captain of the Artemis’s gaze was still solidly on his clasped hands on the tale.

“...That’s true,” the second eldest Weasley said at last. “Captain Amari and my twin staged the escape. That was the reason Jules, Bill, and I helped Captain Amari escape prison, so he could help us rescue Carey from Charles Cromwell. Carey may be with Beckett...but he’s only agreed to it so that he’ll be in a position to protect us, now that we’ve been branded pirates.”

“Your twin’s smart,” said Jae with a nod. His black eyes then flitted over to Jacob. “What I want to know, though, is how you know the Commodore, Black Jack?”

Jacob’s skull-like blue eyes narrowed very coldly upon Jae’s face. “My history with the Commodore is none of your business. Nor is it relevant.”

He turned his focus back to the rest of the Brethren Court, his eyes blazing. “If that bilge rat Beckett does know where Shipwreck Cove is, then we’ll need to make preparations.”

“What preparations?” said Jae. He looked oddly unconcerned as he slouched back in his chair. “Shipwreck Cove is a fortress. It would take ages for anyone to penetrate our defenses.”

“The British Navy has broken out their Man O’ Wars from the War against the Spanish,” said Jacob grimly. “No pirate I know of has a ship that large and heavily armed.”

“Even so,” said Arjun bracingly, “it would take at least a month for them to reach us here, even if they found Shipwreck Cove. Would Beckett really want to waste that much time?”

“And money too,” Ellie pointed out. “That’s always what men like him worry about most.”

“Not to mention all the lives of the men he’d lose,” said Aishwarya.

“I’m afraid those things mean little.”

Everyone looked at Orion. He slowly raised his gaze from his clasped hands at last to look at them all.

“Cutler Beckett may be a man of business,” the Pirate Lord of the Caribbean murmured, “but he’s also a vengeful, close-minded, and ambitious person. He seeks status and wealth, and he has no compassion for those who might stand in his way of achieving them. And right now, in his eyes, what stands in his way -- in the way of the East India Trading Company’s profits and his own personal ambitions -- is every person who sails under a pirate flag or who shows any sympathy for our plight. Beckett may be crafty enough to manipulate others rather than just using his own physical strength...but he only acts like a gentleman when he doesn’t have absolute power over another person’s life. When he does have that level of control over someone...he can be as ruthless as the Kraken itself.”

Despite the calm, serious expression on his face, there was an odd flash of cold emotion that crackled through his dark eyes. No one doubted Orion’s testimony.

“If the fleet Beckett’s assembled does contain Man O’ Wars,” said McNully, as he rolled his wheeled chair up beside Orion, “then there’s a 73.2% chance this could turn into a siege.”

Jules’s dark eyes became a little smaller and she set her jaw tightly.

“...Then we’ll just have to assemble our own Navy and fight back,” she said firmly after a moment.

The other Pirate Lords’ crews started to laugh.

“‘Navy?’” repeated Arjun. He wasn’t laughing, but he did look a little incredulous. “Captain Weasley...we pirates may have a Court and Lords, but we’re not a country. Even those of us who have fleets -- or had fleets,” he gave a nod toward Jacob, “don’t answer to anyone else.”

“Even Shipwreck Cove isn’t a military fort or town,” said Aishwarya. “People stay here, and it’s very well-protected...but it’s no one’s home.”

“No pirate has a home,” said Samantha solemnly from the sidelines. Her emerald green eyes had drifted off toward the wall absently. “Just a ship, if we’re lucky.”

Charlie’s eyes lingered on Samantha’s face, clearly struck by how grim and oddly sad she seemed, saying this.

Jules, however, didn’t falter in her conviction even slightly. If anything, her dark eyes grew sharper as she put a hand down on the table and leaned over it.

“Cutler Beckett is an ally of my father’s, so Beckett hates pirates just as much as he does -- likely more, if we take Orion’s word -- and we’re all pirates. There’s no way any of us could defeat Beckett on our own, and if he reaches Shipwreck Cove, it’s likely he’ll treat it the same way he did Tortuga. If that happens, where else will anyone branded as pirates be able to go? Where else will we be able to go, if we decide to run instead of standing our ground? Even if you don’t have a home, we all need a safe place to rest and resupply...”

Bill nodded in agreement. “We all need a sanctuary to escape to, now and again.”

Jacob rested his head in his hands on the table, interlacing the fingers over his lips thoughtfully. Ellie Hopper placed both of her hands on the table so as to hoist herself up and out of her chair to her feet.

“You bring up a good point, Captain Weasley,” she said to Jules, “but it’s as Captain Roberts said -- none of our ships are comparable to a Man O’ War. And although there are pirates who were once soldiers...” she inclined her head respectfully to Bill and Charlie, “...there are quite a few of us who never were. Most pirates who were once in the Navy were privateers -- sailors who only ever attacked merchant vessels, not war ships -- and others, including both you and me, have no military experience at all. We don’t have the strength needed to defeat an entire fleet of Man O’ Wars.”

“We don’t,” said Orion very softly. “But there is someone who does.”

He glanced at Charlie. “Charlie Weasley...is Chia Dalma still with you?”

Charlie blinked. “Aye...she didn’t seem to like the thought of meeting the rest of the Court, so she stayed behind on the Phoenix.”

Orion nodded, but seemed unconcerned -- likely he’d presumed as much.

“You all recall, I hope,” he said, “that the Brethren Court was first formed when the original Pirate Lords decided to steal control from the goddess Calypso?”

Most of the people in the room nodded and murmured in assent. Charlie, Bill, and Jules did not.

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that story,” said Jules.

“I’ve heard of Calypso,” said Bill slowly. “She’s supposed to be a goddess of the sea, isn’t she?”

“She was, once,” said Orion. 

“There’s a song that tells the tale,” Skye added.

They both glanced at Merula, who straightened up in her seat and sang in a rather lovely voice,

“The King and his men stole the Queen from her bed

And bound her in her bones --

The seas be ours, and by the powers, where we will, we’ll roam.”

The tune immediately sounded familiar to Charlie, Bill, and Jules -- it was the same one Carewyn had sung for Pearl, just before she died.

“You see, the original Pirate King, Henry Morgan, and his allies were buccaneers who were scared of how dangerous the sea was,” said McNully. “Because their livelihoods depended on their ability to sail, they all decided to tame the sea enough that it’d be safe to travel on, without them needing to appeal to the whims of a ‘heathen goddess.’”

Jules’s eyebrows came together tightly.

“And how did they ‘tame’ her, exactly?” she asked, her low voice betraying some cold disapproval.

“They ‘bound her in her bones,’” said Jae, “or, more simply, trapped her in human form. The transformation restricted the use of her powers significantly, making the seas less turbulent to sail on and therefore making it safer for the Lords and other pirates to evade the Navy and ‘ply their trade.’”

Jules looked furious. “So they cursed a goddess, just to help themselves?”

“To protect themselves,” Merula shot back a bit defensively.

Skye nodded in passionate agreement. “Calypso was terrifying at full power. She could create maelstroms out of fat air, send wild sea creatures to attack ships. She was the one who created the Kraken and the Flying Dutchman in the first place. Davy Jones was her lover, so they say...”

“The decision is more complicated than you think, Captain Weasley,” said Jacob, and his skull-like blue eyes drifted absently off toward the ceiling as his voice grew more thoughtful. “The Pirate Lords, much like us, could only support themselves and their families through their buccaneering. They did not come from wealth as you have. There was no other good way for them to make a living or a better life for themselves and their loved ones, as they weren’t land-owners and didn’t have any financial collateral. Not to mention many of them were God-fearing Christians who were intimidated by what they thought must be a servant of Satan, since there can be no other God before Him. What they did was cruel, of course -- no question...but it was made out of self-preservation and fear, not just greed.”

Jules crossed her arms, clearly unmoved. “It seems to me that people who so clearly value freedom shouldn’t try to justify why someone else should be denied theirs.”

“I agree,” said Orion, and although his voice was much softer and more level than Jules’ was, his eyes twinkled with something like approval in response to her words. “And that is why I propose that we reverse the First Brethren Court’s decision, from all those years ago...and release Calypso from her bonds.”

There was a silence. Then, very abruptly, all of the other pirates started shouting and arguing.

“Are you insane?!”

“That’d just make everything worse!”

“Cut out his tongue!”

“Calypso has no reason to help us -- she’d no doubt hate pirates, for what we did to her -- ”

“Give him a good shot to the head!”

“We’d be fighting both a sea goddess and the entire British Navy, if we did that -- !”

Even Skye and McNully looked at Orion with notable trepidation.

“Orion, I’d say you might want to pull back on that idea a bit,” McNully muttered to him.

Even if the volume and anger in the room did take him aback slightly, Orion kept his cool. He rose to his feet, holding up a hand for calm, but many ignored him and instead shouted louder. Seeing this, Charlie got to his feet too and, pulling his pistol of his belt, pointed it at the air and shot at the ceiling. The loud BANG scared everyone enough that they fell silent and the Lords who were standing all returned to their seats.

Orion nodded to Charlie in mute gratitude and addressed the rest of the pirates again, his hands clasped in front of him.

“We currently don’t have the force needed to overcome Cutler Beckett and his Company. We do not have the force needed to defend Shipwreck Cove, or even to ensure that we all escape this storm alive. We could hole up here for a month or so and hope that the Navy tires themselves out -- but as McNully stated, that could easily become a siege, at which point this place would become our tomb. We could all evacuate the island before the Navy arrives -- but as Captain Farrier-Weasley said, we’d lose the last sanctuary we have remaining in the world, as well as the last place from which we could plan a counterattack. We would all be out for ourselves at that point...leaving us to be picked off one by one by Beckett’s greater forces.”

His dark eyes grew a little smaller and more solemn.

“Therefore...the only path remaining to us is to stand our ground. And if we don’t wish to die on that path, we’ll need to gather whatever strength is available to us. Uranus and Saturn are set to collide in the Heavens...hinting to a climatic battle between order and chaos. We cannot know what the outcome will be unless we decide not to fight at all...but if we did that, then we’d only know the outcome because it would indisputably be failure.”

The other Pirate Lords exchanged wary looks among themselves. Jacob then gave a loud sigh and gave a reluctant nod.

“Amari’s right,” he said lowly. “Regardless of what your positions on releasing Calypso are...we don’t have a choice in whether to fight or fly. We will have to fight...and it’d be stupid and pointless to try doing it on our own.”

He glanced at Ellie, who nodded in agreement, and Merula, whose pink eyes narrowed disapprovingly.

“We can’t declare war,” the Pirate Lord of the Adriatic Sea pointed out in a rather arrogant sort of voice. “Only the Pirate King can do that.”

Orion actually blinked in surprise. “Really?”

He turned to Samantha. “Is that true, Samantha?”

The Pirate Dragon’s emerald eyes narrowed slightly as she reopened the large leather-bound Codex in her lap, flipping through the pages and scanning each line to find the proper section.

“...As per the Code,” she said lowly, “‘the Pirate Lords shall select a captain by popular vote to serve as Pirate King, who shall represent the entire Court when all cannot be present. The Pirate King alone can declare a state of emergency; declare war; take custody of the eight Pieces of Eight; take governorship of Shipwreck Cove; and give commands to ships that he himself does not sail.’ Looks like Merula’s right.”

Charlie frowned and turned to glance back at Barnaby, who’d been standing on the opposite side of him as Jules.

“The Pirate King is the leader of the Brethren Court, right?” he muttered to him.

“Aye,” Barnaby whispered in his ear. “Only, there hasn’t been one since the first Brethren Court.”

“Why?”

“Everyone from the other Courts just voted for themselves...so there was always a six-way tie and no one could decide on a winner.”

“I call for a vote,” said Orion serenely.

A lot of the other pirates in the room sighed in frustration or covered their faces and shook their heads. Jae himself plopped his chin down on his hand and rolled his eyes.

“Amari, are you serious?” he said tiredly.

Orion looked perfectly nonplussed. “Captain Roberts, would you start us off, please?”

Jacob raised an eyebrow at Orion and exchanged a suspicious look with Ashe, before he shrugged and nodded.

“I vote for Black Jack Roberts,” he said coolly.

He glanced at Merula sitting next to him.

“Captain Merula Snyde of the Blackbird -- most powerful ship on the seven seas,” she said, her lips curled up in a dry smirk.

“Ellie Hopper,” said Ellie uncomfortably, exchanging looks with some of her crew members.

“Captain Jae Kim,” sighed Jae.

“...Arjun Singh, of the Naga,” Arjun said after he’d exchanged a bemused shrug with Aishwarya.

When it was Orion’s turn, the Pirate Lord gave a quick sweep around the table with his eyes, before they shifted to his left, twinkling with something almost like mischief.

“Captain Juliette Farrier-Weasley.”

“What?” said Jules.

“What?” said Charlie and Bill, just as taken aback.

Orion’s lips actually spread into a full, broad grin seeing how much his choice had blindsided everyone.

“The Pirate Code said that the Pirate Lords must select ‘a captain’ to be the Pirate King,” he said airily. “It never said that captain had to be a Pirate Lord. So I vote for Captain Juliette Farrier-Weasley of the Revolution to be our Pirate King.”

He then nodded to Charlie. “Captain Weasley -- your vote?”

Charlie grinned broadly from ear to ear and he shot a glance over his shoulder at his sister-in-law, who had flushed a dark shade of red and looked very stunned.

“Captain Juliette Farrier-Weasley,” said the Lord of the Pacific Ocean.

The other Pirate Lords and their crews all started chattering at once.

“What?”

“If I’d known you could pick any captain, I would’ve voted for Aishwarya -- ”

“Choosing your own sister-in-law -- ”

“I call for a recount -- ”

“How long has she even been a pirate?”

“Pure nepotism, that’s what it is -- ”

Orion raised his eyebrows very coolly. “Am I to take this to mean you all will not be keeping to the Code?”

Everyone almost as a unit turned to look at Samantha, who was glaring very pointedly at them as she rotated a pair of grenades in one hand.

Ellie, the Pirate Lord who had reacted with the least hostility to the decision, turned to Jules with a solemn look.

“The votes have it,” she said. “So Pirate King Weasley -- what say you? What shall we do?”

Jules, her face still very red, glanced hesitantly at her husband. Bill looked at her with pride, his eyes sparkling fondly as he squeezed her hand. Her lips spreading into a comforted smile, Jules raised her head and faced the Court with new confidence.

“Gather together and arm every vessel that floats,” she said firmly. “At dawn, we’ll prepare for war.”

With the meeting having come to a close, the Pirate Lords departed one by one to begin their preparations for the battle to come. Jules (knowing that, even though she was now Pirate King, she lacked military experience) immediately asked Bill, McNully, and Charlie to help her with figuring out what strategy would work best to defend the Cove. Orion himself seemed very pleased with the final outcome -- Charlie had asked him why he didn’t vote for himself, but Orion merely smiled and didn’t reply. Bill, however, thought he could guess.

“I don’t reckon Orion’s the sort to want to rule over anyone,” he said with a knowing smile. “Guide them, yes -- lead them, maybe -- but not rule.”

Orion looked at Bill, his eyes as calm and unreadable as ever.

“Interesting conclusion. What made you draw it, Bill Weasley?”

Bill’s smile faded, but his brown eyes lost none of their warmth. “Because Carey’s the exact same way.”

There was a strange spark in the back of Orion’s eyes -- something almost like surprise, which then morphed into something warmer and softer...fonder.

“...True,” he murmured. “Although she may have the heart of a queen, and all of the grace...Carewyn Cromwell would never choose a crown for herself.”

Bill’s gaze softened. Before he could say anything, however, there was a very loud WHAM.

Jacob, who was still in his seat and had been talking to Ashe, had abruptly slammed the large table across the floor with all of his strength, nearly knocking it over as he barreled over.

“YOU!”

Out of nowhere, the Pirate Lord of the Atlantic seized Orion by the collar with both hands.

“Jacob?” said Bill, completely taken aback.

“Jack!” said Ashe, his eyes narrowing in concern.

But Jacob didn’t seem to hear either of them. His blue pupils were dark, irrational slits of rage.

“IT WAS YOUR VOICE! YOU’RE THE ONE WHO CALLED MY WYN BY HER NAME! YOU’RE THE ONE WHO SPOKE OF HER IN THAT SOFT VOICE, YOU MAGGOT-INFESTED BASTARD -- !”

“Jacob, let him go!” said Jules. 

Orion amazingly didn’t look the least bit scared -- instead his expression was rather tense as well as a bit confused.

“Captain Roberts,” he spoke quietly in an attempt to soothe the other man’s anger, “I understand what Carewyn means to you -- what you mean to her. I would never harm your sister. I could never hurt Carewyn, nor could I ever wish to -- ”

Bill was reminded of when Orion was trying hard not to fight him, back in Port Royal. Jacob, however, was just as unmoved as Bill had been.

“STOP CALLING HER BY HER NAME!” he roared.

Jacob yanked Orion around by the collar, slamming him roughly into the wall.

“IT’S BECAUSE OF YOU THAT JONES IS AFTER WYN! SHE WOULD BE SAFE NOW IF IT WEREN’T FOR YOU -- I’LL KILL YOU, YOU SCABBY, BILGE-SUCKING SON OF A -- !”

“Jacob, stop!” Charlie bellowed.

“Get off Orion NOW!” yelled Skye.

Samantha, Barnaby, Skye, Jules, and Charlie had all grabbed onto the back of Jacob’s coat and onto his arms, trying in vain to pull him off of Orion. Jacob, however, was ridiculously strong, and his grip tightened around Orion’s collar and throat, making the taller man wince.

Bill, his expression darkening more than anyone had ever seen before, very sharply skipped grabbing onto Jacob and instead stepped right between Orion and Jacob, taking his pistol out of his belt and pointing it right at Jacob’s temple. The move prompted Ashe to make an angry move toward Bill, but the eldest Weasley put out his other hand to hold him at arm’s length.

“Jacob, Carey’s not here, so I’ll say this for her,” Bill said very icily. “‘I’ll never forgive you if you hurt him.’”

Jacob gave a sharp flinch. His mad, hollow, slitted pupils never left Orion’s face, but they seemed to lose some of their focus -- almost as if he was looking right through Orion.

Ashe, furious at Bill having held him back, grabbed the red-haired man’s wrist and twisted it painfully out of the way so he could run over to Jacob himself. He brought both of his arms tightly around his lover’s neck, his face resting in the dark curls over Jacob’s brow as he hummed something under his breath. The sound seemed to calm Jacob little by little, making his shoulders loosen and his grip slacken. Light gradually returned to his eyes as he slowly removed his trembling hands from Orion’s throat, breathing shakily.

Jules immediately moved to Bill, bringing up a hand to his wrist to make sure it wasn’t too badly hurt. Once she’d confirmed he was okay, she turned to Jacob with a fierce look.

“Jacob, what do you mean Jones is after Carey?” she demanded. “Why is she in danger?”

Jacob’s gaze had fallen to the ground, throwing his eyes into shadow as he continued to take heavy, labored breaths. Ashe, still holding Jacob tightly, turned around, a very hard, grim look on his face as his eyes flickered from Orion to Jules.

“Jones aims to force someone into servitude on his ship,” he said lowly, “and he’s decided that person is Jack’s sister.”

[balloonstand]

Whetstone chapter 2*: Silver shaves Flint (5.2k, pwp)

It only took 4 years folks but we did it 

*this isn’t a sequel, just another version of the original

On a calm day, his thoughts would tread a neat path through his mind, proceeding like a lineage. First, in the present: capitulation, which is to surrender or yield on stipulated terms. Then, one generation older, one branch up the tree: capitulatus, the Medieval Latin, which is to draw up into chapters. Quite the leap, but his tidy mind could manage it on a different day. The next branch above that, the classical Latin: capitulum. Chapter or heading. Dangerously high in the tree, capitus, the diminutive. Little head. After that, the apex of the tree, but also the deepest root, the seed that became the whole lineage: caput. Head.

On a calm day, his mind would manage this regression through time and language to this seed of clarity quickly, tidily, to instruct him on his own thoughts.

Today, he has his head in his hands, mind awhirl with meaningless noise. Today he is pulling at his hair. Surrender. Chapter. Head. He doesn’t know what to make of them, these words buffeting him, storming around his mind. Refusing to show him their meaning or to teach him which direction his next step should be. He pulls at the roots of his hair. Surrender. Chapter. Head. 

He might tear his hair out of his head. He had been rather vain about his hair, in another life. He had taken the greatest pride in its length, lustre, and polish. As much as his uniform, he felt that his hair had been able to distinguish him, mark his rank and respectability. And Thomas Hamilton had only increased his vanity about his hair through the attentions he paid it. He would pull the ribbon from Flint’s- from McGraw’s- James’ hair and he would run his fingers through it over and again, and he would-

Flint pulls, pulls, and pulls at his roots.  Surrender, chapter, head . He can’t force it to make the sense that he needs it to make. 

There is a knock at his door. Flint almost doesn’t even hear it over the tumult in his mind. But he hears it, and if he thought that there was even the barest whisper of a chance that it was anyone other than Silver knocking, he would not have said, “Enter.”

It is Silver, of course it is Silver who steps into Flint’s room with all the comfort and familiarity of a person entering his own room. He closes the door behind him, then Flint can hear him pause as he takes in the sight of Flint, who has not bothered to unclench his fingers from his hair. Flint can sense Silver adapting to this. His footsteps, even, become softer, less boisterous than his knocking had been. He approaches more slowly and cautiously than he had entered. Flint wonders how Silver would react if Flint said, “Surrender, chapter, head” aloud. He wonders if Silver can hear it being said inside Flint’s mind.

“Quite the storm,” Silver says mildly. Neutrally. He might be making small talk about the weather. Every dialogue with Silver is like Silver holding a door open for Flint and seeing if he will walk through it. Asking where Flint would like to lead him. 

Flint wonders for the hundredth – for the thousandth – time who Silver was before Flint met him. All he knows of Silver is the way he takes his cues from Flint. There are only glimpses and guesses of what lies beyond. 

“Nothing we have not seen before,” Flint answers brusquely. He is embarrassed now that he let Silver see so much of him. He smooths his hair and looks Silver in the eye. “Wouldn’t you agree?” 

“Difficult to say,” Silver says, sitting opposite Flint. He does not look away; he never breaks a gaze. He should have been a courtier, Flint thinks. He may be easy to provoke, but he is nearly impossible to ruffle. Flint wishes to ruffle him. If Silver truly wants to join Flint in this mood, he will have to enter it ruffled. 

Flint arranges himself in his seat as though he is comfortable and tries to bring his thoughts in hand. He pulls the drawstrings of strategy to close the bag around the mess of his thoughts. He tries to count the number of times that he has wormed his way under Silver’s skin- very few. He does not need to count the number of times Silver has welcomed him in- none at all. Silver will be in his mind soon enough, so Flint tries to tidy it for him. 

Silver, rarely companionably silent, has begun talking. Flint listens to his tone more than his words. It keeps rolling like the tide, changing, modulating. Probing. Like waves breaking against the stone of Flint’s mood, wearing it down in precise and purposeful patterns. Flint knows that Silver has his own mind and motives, his own plans for Flint. Maybe it should worry Flint. Maybe he should send Silver away. But Flint finds it perversely intriguing. He wonders what Silver would do with him, given his way. What a surrender to Silver would mean for Flint. 

Surrender. Chapter. Head.  

Flint clenches around his thoughts once more. He notices Silver notice it and either of them could say something, but neither one of them does. Silver’s tone changes slightly, then rolls back into a different one. He is going to let Flint retreat; he will follow him and neither of them will mention why. 

“It’s not lice, is it?” Silver asks.

Flint glares at him and Silver grins back at Flint. Then he adopts a more innocently concerned expression and mimes pulling at his hair. “Is it because you have lice, do you think? I hear it makes your head-”

“My hair is clean.”

“Yes?”

“Cleaner than yours has ever been.”

“That would make your head a nice home for the lice, wouldn’t it?”

“Would you call my head a nice home for anything?”

Silver’s expression freezes, his fluidity stilled. Pinned down. One foot in the door, but Flint does not want to enter as an intruder. It would be so much sweeter for Silver to come to him, inviting him in. The thought of Silver welcoming Flint pangs and Flint–

Flint runs his hands through his hair, tugging at it. Ask me, he thinks. Just ask me and I’ll tell you anything. Don’t try to trick it out of me, just ask.

“Is- have you always been so vain about your hair?” Silver is smiling. His shoulders are tensed, ready.

Flint feels the familiar, almost nauseating mix of fear, disgust, and hope at this vulnerability of Silver seeing something that grows from Flint’s very core. And the small twinge of pride in Silver for being to leap the etymological branches that cluster around Flint’s true meaning. 

“Yes,” Flint says. 

“And do you keep it long and well-kept,” Silver asks, “so that one day you’ll be able to go back?” 

“Back?”

“To England. To whatever was before all this.”

Flint cannot stop himself; he lurches out of his seat and stands, breathing quickly. 

Capitulation. Head, chapter, surrender. 

No, Flint wants to say- doesn’t want to say. No, I keep it because I need to love it, I need to cherish one thing about myself. I keep it because I want to be seen for what I am. So that, someday, someone might run his fingers through it lovingly and tell me that it is nice. 

And it’s not even as long as it used to be.

Not because he wants to go back to England. Not because he could imagine himself returning to his position in her Navy. Not because he could wash his hair and his face, put on clean clothes, and blend in with the society that had turned away from him. 

This is all primed at the tip of his tongue, but something in his mind says  are they not the same thing? James Flint cannot have those fingers in his hair, soft touches, caring caresses. They belong to James McGraw. This hair belongs to James McGraw. 

“Yes,” Flint says. The word is choked and pathetic. “Not England. But yes. Before.”

Silver has stood too and his expression has that same stillness as before. But it isn’t panic that is frozen on his features now. It is more an expression of pain. “You think you-” Silver stops himself. Flint recognizes the effort that it takes.

“Don’t you?” Flint asks. Doesn’t Silver ever want to turn his back on the sea and walk forward into a quiet life?

Silver looks at him with astonishment in every line of his face. “No,” he says slowly. “And neither do you. Not really.”

Flint opens his mouth, then closes it. He studies Silver’s face, trying to understand.

Silver says, “You say it, but that doesn’t mean that it is true.” 

You should know, Flint thinks bitterly. Then: You should know, Flint thinks achingly. “It’s the truth,” he says.

Silver fixes him with a look. “You’re pulling it out, Flint. Your hair, you’re pulling it out.”

Flint drops his hands. He hadn’t even noticed that they had crept back to his head.

Head-

“It- it used to be longer,” Flint says lamely after a moment. “I cut it before I boarded my first pirate ship.”

“How many inches?”

Get out, Flint almost says.  Out of my room, out of my mind . 

Don’t you like it like this, he doesn’t almost say, do you think it would be better longer? Shorter? What would tempt you?  

He imagines it: laying against Silver’s chest, with Silver’s hand in his hair. Silver alternates running his fingers through it hypnotically and playing with individual strands until Flint’s body floats away on a gentle current and the only thing that exists is Silver playing with his hair. But this fantasy feels flat, like a drawing. The room is too bright. His hand in Flint’s hair is too clean. It is slightly wrong in a dreamlike way. McGraw could have those things, but Flint-

And to Silver, he can only be Flint. The name McGraw would be a lie in Silver’s mouth. 

“Flint, you’re pulling it out.”

Silver does not mean at that moment; Flint’s hands are clasped behind his back. His military at-ease. Feet shoulder-width apart, knees straight, left hand covering the right behind his back like his wrists are shackled. Put him in his Navy uniform and he would be entirely unremarkable aboard the  HMS Scarborough . It makes his stomach turn. 

“It’s too long,” Flint says finally. It is as much as he can say. He can’t offer much, but he offers it all. He puts everything in Silver’s hands and wonders if Silver knows it. 

“If it’s too long,” Silver says, “you should cut it.”

He says it simply. He sits as he says it. It’s settled, his casual body language says, and easily so. 

He does not know, then, that he has uprooted the tree of surrender, chapter, head in Flint’s mind. Flint had not realized how accustomed he had become to its shade until Silver had drawn it back and given Flint the sun. 

Flint sits too. You should cut it. A weight off of his shoulders. “Will you do it?” Flint asks before he thinks about asking it. Maybe he should look away from the surprise on Silver’s face after he says it, but he drinks in every little change in his expression and saves it in his mind for later. “I don’t have a razor here, but you can use the knife.” Flint nods to the knife sitting unsheathed on his table.

There’s a moment’s pause. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Silver says softly, almost to himself.

“I can’t do all your thinking for you,” Flint snaps. He should not have asked. “Will you do it or not?” So, he asks a second time. He knows that one cannot right a mistake by repeating it, but he always seems to do so.

Silver’s expression hardens. He stands up, grabs the knife off the table, weighs it in his hand. He takes a step toward Flint’s chair and Flint doesn’t move. He doesn’t care why Silver is approaching him with the knife. What matters is that he is stepping closer. Another and another step. And he is right in front of Flint. His leg brushes against Flint’s bent knee. 

This close, Flint can hear when Silver’s breath quickens and becomes audible. Flint could close his eyes and just listen, except that he can’t tear his eyes away from Silver’s face. Silver hefts the knife up like it is heavy. With his free hand, he takes a lock of Flint’s hair between his fingers. 

Flint almost flinches away from the touch. Once, when Flint was serving his first week on a ship in the Caribbean, he had gotten terribly sunburned. One of his crew mates had soaked a cloth in cool water and applied it to the burn. Flint had flinched away from that in the same way, the reflexive protection of the injury even from its cure. 

“I’m not a barber,” Silver says. Both of his hands are still, one on the knife and one in Flint’s hair. “I’m going to cut it very short. I’m going to shave it.”

Flint nods twice, just to feel Silver’s hand moving through his hair, although it is really more that his hair is moving in Silver’s hand. What is it to take something from someone who is not giving it? He does not want to be a thief; being a pirate is enough. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” 

He wonders what Silver is really asking, because he knows that this is what Flint wants. “Go on,” Flint says. He can feel his heartbeat in his throat.

Silver goes on. One lock at a time falls from Flint’s head and lands at his feet. It happens quickly. Flint is looking at Silver and he practically misses it. 

Then Silver circles around the chair until he is standing behind Flint, and Flint has nothing to distract him from every sensation on his scalp. He had not expected it to feel like this, cutting his hair. He has been pulling his hair out at the root for long enough that he had forgotten to imagine that cutting his hair might feel different from that. He thinks:  this doesn’t feel like losing something . And it surprises him. 

It all surprises him. The softness of Silver’s hands on his head. Even the knife is gentle, an extension of Silver’s touch. He had been ready for the bite of its blade on his scalp, too sharp to be a harmless razor. Silver has tamed it down to a caress. This, all of this, Silver’s touch is almost, almost, almost, almost- 

 “That’s good,” Flint says. He says it without thinking, and he does not think about it after he says it. 

Immediately, Silver’s hand falters and Flint feels the knife’s sharpness for the first time. He feels the opening of his skin under it. Not very deep, but some blood. Head wounds bleed a lot.

“You spoke too soon,” Silver says. His voice has the same shake as his hand. He presses his fingertips against the injured patch of skin. 

Too soon, Silver says. Too soon. Flint thinks he should have said too late, it is more true. It is too late and Flint still has not said what he should. 

A week ago, he could have told Silver, you’re the only person I smile with anymore when the two of them had been laughing at something clever Silver had said. Two weeks ago, he could have said, I am less afraid of being understood when it is you who understands me when Flint had turned to Silver after several quiet minutes of watching the sea to find that Silver’s eyes already rooted on him, unconcerned at having been discovered looking at him. 

And it is not just the beautiful things that he has bitten back. It is also the shameful, burning things that scrape his throat like rough stone as he silences them. It is when he has to look away when Silver is holding the neck of a bottle or the post of a railing loosely in his hand, and Flint could say yes, just like that, that is how I would like it. Or the mornings where he could have looked Silver in the eye and said, I couldn’t sleep until I had brought myself off to the thought of you. I touched myself and pretended that it was your hand. Then I slept soundly for the night. 

It is a mistake to think about that. Heat grows in him, twisting and spreading vine-like through his body and pooling low in his belly. He tries to focus on the pain from the cut, but Silver’s fingers are pressing tenderly on it, too tenderly to hurt. Through the descending haze of heat, Flint thinks that if the cut was deeper or wider, maybe a pedantic academic could argue that Silver’s fingers were in him. Maybe in a future tome of their intertwined stories, a historian could say, and James Flint did feel John Silver inside of him, just once, through a hole in his head. Silver slipped in and out in one moment and that is the whole story. 

Neither one of them has spoken a word in some minutes. Flint has surely stopped bleeding by now. He could say that, and Silver would finish his task and it would just be one more favor between them as the world continues on outside of this room. 

Flint reopens his should’s, this time in the present. This is harder. His mind works in the past tense.

He should be more upset at giving up his hair. He should be thinking less of the feel of Silver’s hands on him and more of this loss. He should be less aware of the heat of Silver’s body close behind him. He should stop wishing that Silver would step closer. Stop imagining that two people might be able to live in one body if they press themselves closely enough together. His mind should be in the past and not this hypothetical future or hypothetically-slanted vision of the present that will only hurt him when it does not come.  

But this will be the past soon enough. He closes his eyes and memorizes the feel of this moment so that he can live in it again later. He writes this all over his mind:  He is standing behind me so I can’t see his face, or anything else. But I can feel his heartbeat in his fingertips on my head, and everywhere else I can feel him not touching me in that way that almost feels like a touch. He has a knife to me but he is using it to free me.  

Another chapter for the book of Silver that Flint keeps in his mind, always open.

And Silver still has not moved. For a wild moment, Flint is certain that he is paused like this to let Flint commit the moment to memory, but then Flint realizes that he is finished. Finished cutting off Flint’s hair. But he is still standing there. He is waiting for Flint to react so he can react to it.

Flint reaches a hand up to his scalp to feel how short his new hair is. He gets up out of the chair – Silver’s hand stays motionless as Flint moves himself politely out from under it – and walks to the mirror, rubbing his hand across the surprising velvet of his short hair. He looks at himself in the mirror, sees how he looks. He looks how he feels when he calls himself Flint. It is not just his hair that Silver has cut away with the knife, it is the chain that connects him to the anchor of his former life, his escape from who he truly is now. Now he is only one person.

His expression startles him more than the sight of his hair; his eyes are dark and hungry, his lips parted and his cheeks flushed.

The strange and familiar sight of himself is not enough to distract him from noticing as Silver follows him to the mirror. He resumes his place behind Flint, just as he was while cutting Flint’s hair. Flint’s eyes meet Silver’s in the mirror. Their eyes are equally dark and hungry. Silver’s have a wildness to them that Flint wants to study, to record, to savor. He wants to unravel it and understand its every nuance; he could just ask, he supposes. But it is so sharply painful to ask someone for something when you do not know if their answer will be yes.

He turns around so he and Silver are face to face. The table the mirror is sitting on presses against his back. Silver is so close to him that it feels useless to try to estimate the distance between them. Flint feels a heightened awareness of his environment, like the bright clarity of his senses during a battle. And he feels that same calmness that he feels in a fight for his life, the calmness of necessity and single-mindedness.

Silver’s eyes move frantically, darting all over Flint’s face. Begging for something, some hint.

“What is it?” Flint asks.

“You let me cut your hair.”

Flint wonders if Silver is still holding the knife. “No, I asked you to cut my hair.” Silver still looks lost, so Flint tries again: “What is it?”

“Can’t you just tell me where to go?” Silver looks away, but only for a breath, then his eyes turn back to Flint like a weathervane fixed in the wind. “I don’t know where I am, but I think you do. Can’t you tell me where I need to go?”

Flint wants to reach out and take Silver into his arms, lead him to the bed and show him his heart. He wants to say  I was there before, I know the way forward  and then lean in slowly enough that Silver will know what is coming before he feels Flint kiss him. He could do this and Silver would accept it all, as he has accepted the other things that Flint has asked him to.

But he does not want Silver to accept it, he wants Silver to ask for it, with his words and his eyes and his hands.

His voice is rough when he says, “You cut my hair because you knew that I needed to have it cut.”

Silver leans in slightly, like he wants to climb directly into Flint’s mind. His eyes are locked onto Flint’s, so he would see if Flint dropped his gaze to those lips that are tantalizingly close and coming closer. And Silver would take the cue, Flint knows he would. So he does not look. 

He looks instead into Silver’s blue eyes. He watches them slip out from under Flint’s gaze and  jump from point to point on Flint’s face. He sees when Silver looks at Flint’s lips. Can Flint make his lips look softer and more inviting just by wishing it?

“Sometimes I feel that you know everything,” Silver says quietly. “That if I want to understand something I don’t need to look at it, I just need to look to you.”

Flint shakes his head slowly, keeping his eyes steady on Silver’s.

“You’ve been here before, haven’t you? You know what this place is called,” Silver says.

“I’m here now, with you.”

Relief washes over Silver’s face – Flint was ready for a hundred emotions to come over Silver’s features, but relief is not one that he had expected – and he kisses Flint. Their arms are already around each other, Flint realizes belatedly. He tightens his hold and parts his lips so he can taste Silver’s mouth on his tongue. 

Silver is not timid. His hands are strong and firm on Flint’s sides and he eagerly meets Flint’s tongue with his own. He is not following any lead but his own pleasure, Flint realizes. It makes him dizzy with desire. He wants to give Silver everything, even the things he doesn’t know yet how to want. 

Silver inhales sharply and Flint realizes that he has spoken some of this aloud. Or Silver can truly read his mind, just as he always half-suspected. 

And Flint says it again, just to make Silver’s breath come faster, to see his eyes get darker and to feel his erection grow harder against Flint’s leg. Flint spreads his legs apart so that one rests between Silver’s. Silver presses against it, sending waves of lust through Flint, shuttering his mind to any other thoughts other than want, need. He runs his hands across Silver’s back, drunk with the permission to touch as much as he wants to.

Silver’s hands are on the laces of Flint’s breeches and that flinching reflex tugs at him again, but now it is because he is already on the edge and he wants to love Silver slowly all night long. But he would never be able to pull away from Silver and he stands, dazed, as Silver pulls his cock out and begins to stroke him. He is not hesitant at all, not fearful. Even in his fantasies, as he brought himself off quietly in his bed alone, Flint had never been able to imagine that Silver would be this eager for him. 

Flint begins to talk as Silver strokes him. He says, “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought of this, of you. Ever since I met you, every time I’ve given myself pleasure it was to the thought of you.”

Silver’s hand falters. “Fuck,” he says hoarsely, “fuck.”

Flint reaches for Silver’s laces, trying to remember how to use his fingers. He manages it finally, clumsily, and wraps his hand around Silver’s cock. It is hot in his hand, silky to touch. Silver’s hips jerk forward and he loses his rhythm again. 

Flint follows Silver’s lead, letting him choose the pace for them both. Silver’s lust-dark eyes meet Flint’s, and Flint can see the effect it has on Silver. Flint wraps his free hand around the back of Silver’s neck and pulls their foreheads together. 

Flint is so close now. His hand keeps stilling on Silver as the world beyond the sensation of Silver’s hand on his cock recedes. He can’t stop the little thrusts of his hips. He pulls his head back at the last moment so that he can see Silver’s face. He looks at Silver’s eyes, the color in his cheeks, his lips that are red and shiny from kissing Flint. And he comes. 

Silver says, “Oh.” His voice is so raw with lust that Flint would surely come again if he could. 

Flint wants to say something, but no words can replace the act of falling to his knees in front of Silver and taking him in his mouth. So he acts and does not speak. Silver’s body tightens and the sound he makes is as sweet as Flint's release had been. His hands fall onto Flint’s head, and he is caressing the hair he just cut. Flint swallows him down deeply, the smell of Silver’s sweat giving him a heady rush. 

Flint draws back after a moment so that he can catch his breath, and he looks up at Silver. He takes in the beauty of him with his shirt rumpled from Flint clenching at it, his breeches discarded beside him, and his whole body shiny with sweat. His gaze lingers on Silver’s cock, standing up for him. He remembers what he said about giving Silver everything and he says, “Here.”

He turns around and braces himself against the table, half-bent over it. He doesn’t have anything, any oil. But he wants this. Silver split his scalp with a knife and it was a caress. This will be just as sweet. 

He hears SIlver’s sharp intake of breath. He feels Silver’s hands on him. Two dry fingers touch him and Flint smiles. 

“Don’t you need- don’t you have any oil or-” Silver sounds more aroused than anything else. 

“It’s all right, I want it,” Flint says. He'll beg for it if that is what Silver wants. 

“Flint,” Silver says. Flint looks over his shoulder. Silver’s expression is such an intoxicating mix of lust and tenderness that Flint nearly averts his eyes, certain that he is trespassing somehow by seeing this. “Flint, this is not the only night for us. We’re going to do this again.” 

We’re going to do this again  . Flint wants to ask him to repeat it, just so he can be sure he heard him correctly.  We’re going to do this again  . It is the same thunderbolt as hearing  then cut it  had been. Flint grabs Silver’s hand and kisses his palm, unable to speak. 

Still holding SIlver’s hand, he tugs Silver against his back. He feels Silver’s cock between his legs, sliding against him. The head of it presses against Flint’s balls. Silver moans and rocks forward again. Their mingled sweat creates a slickness that allows Silver to slide comfortably. Every time he pumps his hips, Flint hitches back to meet him and so every thrust is something they are doing together. 

“Next time,” Flint says, loving the taste of that phrase in his mouth, “next time you’re going to fuck me properly. You’re going to feel me hot and tight around you and you’re going to hear me asking for it deeper. I’ll come just from your cock in me, you won’t even need to touch me, that’s how much I’ll want to feel you in me.”

Those nights of touching himself and thinking of this, Flint had neglected to imagine so much. He hadn’t thought to imagine how Silver’s chest would be hot and sweaty against his back, or the way that he could feel Silver’s hair draping over him. He hadn’t considered that Silver would stop to kiss the back of his neck. And even in his most self-indulgent fantasies, he had never imagined that when Silver came, he would call out Flint’s name.

Flint would be content to stand there forever, the edge of the table biting uncomfortably into his hips now that there is no distraction from it, and Silver almost suffocatingly heavy across his back. But Silver pulls him up and looks intently into his face for a moment before drawing him in for a deliberate, soft kiss. 

When Silver breaks the kiss, he slides his cheek next to Flint’s and says quietly in his ear, “I’ve thought about it too. I didn’t know why, but you were always there.”

They stand there in an embrace that neither wants to break. They’ll have to break it eventually, but that is fine. This is not the only time this will happen. They are going to do this again. Flint tucks his face into Silver’s neck and breaths in.

He opens the book of Silver in his mind and begins to write.

[alliesweetsong]

Under the Moonlight

There hadn't been a day that she could remember since the war had begun that Allue had slept all through the night. Long before she had truly been witness first hand to the horrors of war, the recurring nightmares of her encounter with a warlock plagued her sleep. Now even that single event didn't seem to phase her even on nights like this, where her body and mind refused to relax.

Despite the curtains being drawn, moonlight flooded into her room through the crease of the fabrics casting long shadows on the furniture as she stared at the wall. How long she had been awake was anybody's guess including hers. The thought alone brought a frustrated sigh from her lips while she threw the blankets from her bare form. Walking to a nearby chair she grabs the robe Rian had provided her and slips it over her shoulders, tying off the fabric around her midsection. 

Typically when she couldn’t sleep, a walk around Boralus’s waterfront would do the trick. The ships in the harbor and personnel ferrying equipment and goods on and off them seemed to bring calm to her. Right now, that wasn’t an option for the woman, but after a small stroll down the hall to check on her sleeping son, the ranger began to hear the faint melody coming from an adjacent room from a piano. Curious who could be playing at this time of the night, she lofts an eyebrow and heads towards the music. 

The magus had kept his distance from the bustle of the manor, usually tucked away in a study or his room while others waded through the common areas. Once everyone had gone to bed or so he'd thought did he take a quiet leave from the modest room. The soft thud-tap of his steps echoed along the wood floors and down the stairs to the common room below. 

Dressed in little more than dark loose breeches and an untucked linen shirt, dark unkempt tresses hung just below his shoulders. Calloused fingers hovered over the ivories of the piano, hesitant to find the peace they often brought. He'd been the image of a scholar when he'd left on his mission to research Azerite. On his return the young baron held a worn appearance, more muscle and new scars mostly mended though they served as reminders of his time in orcish captivity. 

Silence had filled the halls a long while till the absent tapping of his steps was replaced by the quiet sound of the piano coming to life in the den below. The melody was nothing overly exciting, but rather a soft thrum more fitting for the night that's fallen over the grove.

(Mood Music)

As she made her way from the nursery down the hallway in the direction of the music, Allie pulled the robe tighter to maintain a modicum of decency around whoever was flooding the home with such hauntingly beautiful melodies. As she steps into the den and spots the dark haired man behind the keyboard. The melody was soothing to her and she didn’t wish to interrupt his playing. Opting to instead to take a seat nearby and just listen to the music. 

Though Theron felt the presence enter the room, he kept on with his playing assuming it only Rian with another lecture. Pretending he'd not heard or known she was there was easier than indulging what felt like a fruitless conversation. Part of the melody picked up if only briefly before returning to its softer resonance letting his own emotion flow from his thoughts to his fingers and into the music.  The last little came slower until with a final breath the last key was struck. 

The man was quiet a long moment before canting his head to the side, speaking over his shoulder without looking back, "I'm really not in the mood for another lecture." The tone was firm but not unkind, most telling of a weary soul.

Allie just sat there entranced by the gorgeous music and skill the human was exhibiting. The song was haunting in some parts, yet exciting towards the end before she felt the emotion as the final key was struck. Lofting a brow upwards though at the statement she let the quiet linger for a few seconds before inhaling softly. 

"I don't see any reason why I should lecture you after a gorgeous piece like that." she replies softly and warmly. "Surely that will be in my head when I attempt to sleep once more." she finishes with a soft smile. 

"I don't believe we have met before, are you one of the servants here?"

Theron gazed down at the keys before the voice answered his and found it to be one he'd not expected. Turning, brows furrowed as they found the elven woman confused. Not without some sense of manners Theron took up his cane and found his feet to offer a hastened bow of his head and chest, "My apologies Miss, I thought you were my sister."

When he rose up to meet her gaze once more, "I hope I didn't wake you, I was careless and forgot we had company." Lips quirked slightly though he held a solemn gaze as she asked just who he was. He'd lost track of how long he'd been gone, expecting anyone in the home  to recognize him when he hardly recognized himself seemed a silly notion, "I am, yes." While he knew she meant something entirely different, it was in his mind the truth.

Though she looked like a High Elf, the soft spectral echo in Allie’s voice would betray what she truly was as she laughs softly and bows her head in return to his own bow. "No, atleast I don't think I'm your sister, your ears aren't long enough." she replies with a chuckle. 

"My name is Allie Sweetsong, I'm a friend of the uh, owner, Rian." she replies lofting an eyebrow unsure if she was using the proper common there. 

"Ah! that makes sense, you must play for company and such?" she replies not assuming he was in fact a servant.

A huffed laugh met her chuckle, as he shook his head, "Ha.. No you're certainly not my sister. The eyes are a little different." He lifted a hand upward gesturing two fingers towards his own eyes then at her. 

Swaying some where he stood as she introduced herself, he decided to let the omission of his own name continue. At least a little while longer. "It is a pleasure Miss Sweetsong. The lady of the house hasn't had much company aside from this new suitor of hers. It's good to see she's expanding the doors a bit further."

He gave a nod at her assumption, "I do sometimes. Though truth be told I've not had anyone really to play for for a few years now. Probably for the best given it's only been recently I've been able to find hints of inspiration again." Theron lifted the cane and gave a tap to his leg he avoided putting the weight on.

Allie smiles brightly as the man brings a hand to his eyes and nods in agreement before her attention turned to the leg and cane slightly frowning. "Did you fight in the war as well?" she inquires tilting her head to the side as she leans back to get comfortable beginning to unfold her arms no longer feeling like she was in any sort of danger. 

"Lady Rian is one of my best friends. I can say I wouldn't be the person I am today without her wisdom, or her strength. I feel horrible I couldn't give her my company sooner, and now we have...this mess." she replies waving a hand in the direction of the woodline. 

Humming in thought letting that fester she gently shrugs. "You can play for me, i found that song to be beautiful, and soothing."

"A few of them. Though this last... I wasn't exactly a willing participant." HE confessed. "I do not recommend playing party to orcish camps." His words had hesitated before he simply cleared his throat and chose to speak on something else entirely. 

"Not your fault, there's quite a few who used to frequent and do not so much. In part for their lives being full of their own adventures or...  Part of me wonders if she's pushed people away. Not that it's any of my business or place to say." 

As she waved off, Theron glimpsed towards the boarded up windows, knowing full well what lay on the other side and beyond, regarding the elven woman's intent. "There always seems to be another brewing." His attention drew back to the woman as she requested he continue his playing. Bowing his head, though when he spoke, he did so in her home language, "As the lady wishes."

Once more Theron settled himself back to the Piano and settled his cane along the upper ledge. "I apologize if my playing is a little rusty." He offered a small smile before settling into a new melody for Allie.

(Mood Music)

Allie bites her lip remembering her own run in with being a forced participant in a camp. "I'm sorry you had to endure that. No one should play part to an orc war camp unwillingly." she replies before she falls silent while he begins to resume playing once more. 

Inhaling Allie couldn't help but smile as he spoke to her in her native language. "A human with education." she replies in Thalassian not straightening up some. "Rare to find someone who can speak elven fluently outside of Silvermoon." she continues in common obviously impressed. 

Though she did take note of his mentioning of Rian potentially pushing others away she made a mental note of it deciding best not to let heavy conversation bring down the magnificent song coming from his fingertips. 

"How did you end up serving Lady Rian and the house being so well educated?" she asks curiously

There was a subtle shake of his head at the apology for the mention of the camp. Letting the comment rest where it fell. A small smile pulled at the scruff along his chin as he managed to smile a little. Holding to the language for the woman's sake, "I did some growing in Dalaran. My mother insisted I know the language if I was to do some schooling there."

He continued to play a moment more before her last question brought the music to pause. Considering his words, he glimpsed back at Allie, "You could say we sort of grew up together. Here. In Dalaran. In Hearthglen. I'm no good for war at present, she's let me come here. Nearly insisted on it." He chuckled softly as he continued to play quietly for the woman

Allie's smile turned to a blush as he continued to talk in Thalassian.  It wasn't everyday she ran into a human who could actually speak her own language, and while she thought if she had ever met anybody who could do so fluently he mentioned Dalaran. 

"The city of Mages? I've heard stories though I can't think of a time I have been there myself. I would see its glow on the horizon when I ventured from Quel'thalas as a small girl." she replies warmly. "I would hear tales of how beautiful it was, rivaled only by Silvermoon itself, but I never got a chance to see it." she replies remembering fondly. 

Letting that thought steep for a moment she smiles now and nods in agreement. "So you two are childhood friends?" she asks in a curious manner. Yup he really had her believing he was a man servant "And that certainly sounds like her. Everytime we would see each other, She would always extend an invitation to come to her home."

Most of the magus' attention held on the piano, leaving him ignorant of her blushing demeanor. He gave a rocking nod as she asked about Dalaran. "Mhmm.  We had both started at he academy. Her ladyship fought for a different path. It's not for everyone of course."

He gave an agreeing nod, "It is lovely, and the rumor is true. Not that I've seen more than pictures of Silvermoon. But I've ventured to Quel Danas once or twice. I have assumed it is similar to the same thing."

When she continued to press about his sister he wavered with a so-so  gesture. "Not always but once we were older. We had a fair bit in common despite a mutual distrust of each other." He chuckled. "She likes taking care of people and playing the part of the hero. I'm guessing you two have that in common?"

The void elf hums before shrugging. "I wouldn't consider myself a hero. I just...enjoy helping others. Even if it has landed me in some...troubling situations." she replies smiling at the hand wave. "But yes, I do believe we share a common bond to make sure those around us are safe, healthy, and above all alive." she replies now leaning forward. 

"Wait, are you saying you went to the school of mages in Dalaran? And you're a servant?" she re-iterates mentally pressing x to doubt

"Surely there is more to the story than just being something of a guardian to a childhood friend." she replies humming as she leans her head back against the chair smiling at the beautiful music

"Does any hero that is worthy of the title ever truly accept and acknowledge that they are indeed a hero?" his counter came inquisitive with a more pointed look towards the elf as his hands continued to run the lines he'd memorized years prior. 

Focusing back on the music he let his eyes close in welcome distraction before letting off a chuckle of his own, "Dalaran has many schools, not just for mages. It just happens that is the path I studied for." His playing stopped for a moment enough that he lifted his hand to pinch the bridge of his noes and wipe some of the humor from his face, leaving some though more even tempered. 

"There is always more to the story. Always. Mage is simply a skill or pursuit in many cases. I could be a writer and still be a servant. Or a marksman..." He lilted a glance towards her. Had he heard of the woman before their meeting? Or been eavesdropping it was hard to say. Perhaps it had simply been a guess at her own skillset.

"Servitude is usually a matter of perspective. I have served the King as a soldier. I have served the Kirin Tor as much the same. Now I serve the people of my home and do so with much fuss despite it being an honor."

Allie thinks on the question the musically inclined mage posed to her as her eyebrows furrowed in thought while pulling her her legs under her form getting more relaxed as the conversation continued. 

"Well no, I suppose not.." she reluctantly agrees before shrugging. "I never wanted a title of 'hero' I just wanted to show people that if a small elven girl who watched her people decimated could grow strong and help others, so to could they." she replies with a shrug before her eyes go wide. 

"Wait how did you know?" she asks of him now when he makes the comment about a marksmen

Though she chuckles "Oh so now its your house?" she asks in a taunting manner "I know you're not Kenric, or erm, the other human I met some years back serving as her guard." she replies having already long put Thaylynns name out of her memory. 

"Seriously, who are you?" she inquries

Theron continued to play as the elven woman worked through her answers. When she questioned his regard for the house, he pressed against a small grin. "I would never claim to be Kenric or any other men Rian's claimed as a suitor. Though I never said it was my house, just that this is home. I could very well just as easily implied that this land is my home." He countered. 

"Who am I? Not satisfied with my simply being a servant to the household?" Hands mindfully worked through the last few notes of the song before he redirected his attentions more properly on Allie. "My name is Theron, if that is what you wish to know."

The reply gives Allie a pause as she just looks at him trying to place if the name and relation to Rian, a look Theron would likely pick up on. Inhaling deep and clearly confused she shrugs. "Theron, that name sounds vaguely familiar," she replies ignoring his first comment for now. "Like I saw you on a report, or someone mentioned the name to me at some point." she replies frowning as she clearly couldn't remember

"Regardless, it is nice to meet you, and listen to your talents, I haven't felt this at ease in oh...awhile." she replies. shaking her head 

"So you studied to be a mage, you can fluently speak to Quel'dorei in their native tongue, and you are experienced at playing music. Either Rian purposely hires well educated help or you are purposely being vague, to which I don't understand why you would be." she replies as the gears in her head spin.

The magus watched Allie try to sort out who he was. That she hadn't pinpointed him by now had him both intrigued as well as relieved. "It is not an uncommon name in truth. There are at least three others I have passed with the name in Stormwind." he admitted. 

"It is my pleasure, Miss Sweetsong." He reached for his cane letting it rest idly with his palms curled over the top. "Perhaps a little of both. Rian doesn't much care for education in the sense that the world does. She sees actions as qualifiers. Not terribly unlike myself. Though I should apologize for being vague. Please know that I do have my reasons. It is easier to gain a more genuine interaction when there is not the wait of expectation that comes with names."

"If you'd like the truth of it, my mother was a magister, professor at the academy for a time. Thus the education, the expectation of learning other languages, in particular those known to better call on arcane. There was also a requirement that we learn an instrument. Small odds and ends she thought we needed to be rounded out." There was a roll of his shoulders as if it wasn't as much as it may have seemed to be. 

"I should not keep you any longer. I'm sure keeping up with a little one leaves you wanting in terms of rest." The man eased upward with the aide of the cane.

Still trying to process things, in part due to the time of night it was, Allie inhales and places a hand on the robe so as to maintain a level of decency in front of the man, she uncurls her legs from under her form and rises to her feet with him giving him a proper bow of her head.

"It has been a pleasure Lord Theron," She replies in kind. Hoping she was not disrespecting the human by addressing him with a title that ill suits him

"Though i do understand now, but I hope with time you'll see I am like Rian in a similar manner. I care not for the history of the name of someone. I only care if their intentions are for the boon of others, or to bring others down around them. I would like to speak more  during my time here. As I stated before Rian is a dear friend of mine. And if she trusts you to walk the halls of her home at all hours of the night and play the piano, I too will do so in kind." she replies warmly. 

"I do hope you trust me during my time here, I love learning about others. Their histories, where they have been." she finishes with a bow and a chuckle. "He has been good the last few days, though that is in no small part because of the new surroundings we find ourselves in, I suspect he will test the limits of my energy in a few days." she states while walking to the door she entered through. 

"Sleep well, Theron." 

And with that the Ren'dorei departed, heading to her chambers once more to attempt sleep, humming the melody she had listened to the man play the entire time.

A brow lofted as she used his title, it was enough that he assumed she'd sorted out just who he was. As she prattled on about how similar she was to his sister, he offered a small smile. "You do not need to sell me on her qualities. Or feel the need to measure yourself against her. So you know. We all have our flaws." A finger was waved in Allie's direction. 

"I'm sure we will cross paths again Miss Sweetsong." With that he bowed his head more formally to mach the slight change in her demeanor as she excused herself. "Blessed dreams to you as well." 

Only when she was well out of sight and on her way did the Lord see himself from the den. Taking an alternate route to his quarters rather than give himself away through the halls.

Thank you @theron-valteric​ for writing this with me​

@lady-rian​ for mentions

[scotianostra]

Corpach Wreck.

I posted a phone pic and a wee bit history on the boat earlier in the week but reading up more about the wreck I was surprised that the owner, Lukas Pomahač, still has a hold on the boat and in fact boarding the vessel without permission is illegal, two emergency distress calls activated by trespassers on the ship in recent years have been responded to.

Lukas is still the registered owner of Dayspring, to give it her official name, another fact I unearthed is that it is not officially a wreck. Dayspring is still classed as being afloat and  so does not fall within the remit of the Receiver of Wrecks, despite being land-bound for the best part of a decade. As it is not polluting the area, not posing a hazard and, as Lukas puts it, he is ‘not causing any trouble’, no laws are being broken.

‘I would like people to realise that it is my home and not theirs to destroy,’ he said. ‘People can take pictures, fine, but they need to realise they are taking pictures of private property. I just want people to not think they can do what they want.’A highly-skilled carpenter, Lukas moved from Czech Republic to Scotland to learn traditional boat-building skills and worked at Corpach Boat Building Company in 2007 to learn the trade.He began restoring wrecks in his spare time and, after successfully rejuvenating two smaller clinker-built boats, Lukas’s attention turned to the much larger Dayspring. Stretching 26m in length, the boat was originally built by J&G Forbes in Sandhaven in 1975 and eventually found its way to Kinlochleven pier in 2000 where it lay untouched for several years.

Plagued by gribble and leaking water, Lukas nonetheless purchased the vessel with his then wife, Alla, in 2008, determined to restore the trawler to its former glory and convert for living.

‘We bought the boat to do it up and live on it,’ he told me. ‘One, for the love of boat building and, two, also for our own home.’ Lukas still sees Dayspring as his home.

After countless hours and a significant investment, the pair eventually got it to a condition where it could be towed it to Camusnagaul Bay. This is where they lived, aboard the boat, until disaster struck on December 8, 2011.

Lukas and Alla were visiting family when they got a call that the boat had broken its mooring. Crestfallen, yet still retaining a sense of reason, Lukas told the Coastguard not to divert their rescue effort to save his boat. They had more important things to focus on, he felt.

The Coastguard nevertheless helped control the landing of the vessel on the shore. The next day, some of Lukas’s friends tied some lines to the shore and help secured Dayspring.

Although safe from sinking, the boat was now a target for looters and vandals. Cordless grinders were used by some to recover valuable metal, brass plates and instruments from the ship – even the propeller was stolen. The living quarters on the inside were not safe either as cupboards were ransacked and the galley destroyed.

The tipping point came when one day he found that the ropes securing his boat to the shore had been cut. ’When people started cutting ropes, that made me feel sick,’ said Lukas, who still lives and works in Lochaber. ‘I felt very sad. I felt that this wasn’t very healthy behaviour in a community. Everyone sensible knows that there is a reason the boat is tied to the shore on a line.’

The scale of the damage, which he believes to be of ‘serious’ value, is almost too galling for Lukas to remedy.

‘Years on, I’m trying to fight the same situation by putting up signs and boards to stop people coming aboard. People are acting illegally by boarding a shipwreck in the first place. We would do three days’ work and then we’d come back and it’s all gone.

‘Now people realise there’s nothing to steal, they have gone for just purely destroying things.

‘After all this, and I’ve been here for 13 years now, I still call the Highlands my home.’

Keen to pass on his hardened boat-building skills to future generations, Lukas feels there is an opportunity with Dayspring to invoke the spirit of marine culture again.

‘I’m a person who wants to keep the old-fashioned skills, learn it and then pass it on,’ he said. ‘There used to be small jetties everywhere along Loch Linnhe and now they are ruined and not in use. I like the Highlands, the scenery, the wilderness. But we have somehow lost touch with the sea and marine activities.

‘I will persevere with Dayspring and not let it rot. It’s a case of a paint job and tidy to make the boat look okay again. I am not letting it go and I would like people to realise that such a boat is becoming rare.’

Lukas remains grateful to all of those who have helped him over the years with Dayspring and would like to thank everyone who played a part in its restoration, rescue and recovery, from Corpach Boatyard and Boyd Brothers to Alla and his friends in the area.

Now, he is willing to be creative in how to protect the future of the boat and perhaps recoup some of the costs of the damage. He is even still hoping to live on it.

‘I feel for this area and would like to do something the community can benefit from. Instead of throwing stones at it, let’s make it useful and serve people.

I hope Lukas can one day live the dream once more with Dayspring, but until then it will remain a popular subject of many photographers, whether it be me with my phone and "cheap" camera or the big boys with their expensive nobs and all ones ,, two of whom were there as I was on Wednesday, their kit mounted on tripods that probably cost more than my camera!

[bastardsunlight]

WIP snippet game, tagged by @original-jade

Post a snippet of something you're working on

“Look at ‘em,” Raynor grunted, lifting his mug of beer and gesturing toward the oddly mirrored pair across Hyperion’s cantina. “I mean… really look at ‘em.”

[[MORE]]

“I am,” said Matt Horner, the ship’s captain and soon-to-be admiral of the Dominion fleet. The promotion was in the offing, though it had not been officially sanctioned. Emperor Valerian Mengsk had formed a sort of parliamentary rulership as best he could in the few years they’d had since the final conflict with Amon and the ascension of the queen of blades. It wasn’t haphazard, per se—very little of what Valerian Mengsk did could have been considered so; it was not his way—but it was hurriedly formed. The details of moving motions to the floor and through the delegates was still in its infancy. All the same, he had assured Horner that it was forthcoming.

“I told ya,” said Jim Raynor, tossing back another mouthful of beer and sighing noisily, pleased with himself.

“And they’re so much alike—mirror images, Jim, not just brothers but…”

“The same man from a different world,” said the old rebel, waxing momentarily poetic. Matt spared him a look and then sighed, shoulders sagging. About a week ago—that was, assuming time worked here like it did in the Koprulu sector, which was up for debate, given that Tychus Findlay and Sarah Kerrigan were regular fixtures here—Raynor had radioed Hyperion for backup and Matt had answered the call, as always. Before parting, however, the commander had mentioned something about a “genuine, bona-fide Valerian Mengsk lookalike from a thousand and ten years ago”. The one thousand years was explained by the young man’s—he was a king, as it turned out, of a place called Stormwind—armor, which was finely-crafted, but could not have been considered modern in any way. Matt remembered likening it to the knights of old bedtime stories… VERY old bedtime stories. The ten years was because Anduin Wrynn had just reached his twentieth year of life, give or take, and Valerian Mengsk was about thirty (again, give or take; childhood seclusion had blurred a few years here and there and his father had hidden the birth records which Valerian still had not found).

As they chatted, one man in red, the other in blue, they looked, from a distance, as if they were identical, mirror images of each other; that was the only descriptor either Matt or Jim could conjure. It was eerie. Fortunately, closer inspection would reveal that Valerian’s eyes were the slate gray of Stormwind castle’s stones and that Anduin had eyes like the summer sky over Augustgrad. Anduin’s features were also a bit softer, with an upturned nose and nearly cherubic face. Valerian’s cheekbones and jaw had hardened into the rugged nobility of his father, though Matt would have sworn on any holy book someone handed him that he was much, much more attractive than Arcturus had been.

Unaware of their observance, or perhaps simply ignoring it in favor of such a rare meeting of minds, Anduin was complimenting the Emperor of the Dominion of Man on the décor of his ship—or trying. He was being kind at least and this prompted Valerian to interject.

“Truthfully, it was stolen from my father, but Raynor opted to keep much of the… opulence; he told me he… got a kick out of it.” Valerian’s smile lit up his face and prompted the young king of Stormwind to join him in smiling. “I would prefer something a little more spartan,” said Valerian after a few moments, “perhaps not austere, but certainly less…” He searched for the word.

“Gilded?”

They both stopped, locked eyes, and laughed, Valerian laying a hand on his companion’s shoulder. “Yes,” he said between chuckles, “less gilded by half; this is much too ornate for my tastes.”

“The cantina suits its occupants, at least,” observed Anduin after the laughter had subsided. “That is what it is called, yes? A ‘cantina’? Strange word—I haven’t heard its like in Stormwind.”

“Yes,” said Valerian, “it is a cantina and the one place that’s been… customized.”

The area was hung with trophies and placards, pictures, dart boards, and memorabilia. It looked much like a hole-in-the wall dive bar on a backwater planet like Mar Sara. Valerian winced at the thought of that lost fringe colony and the others the Protoss fleet had glassed—its sister planet, Chau Sara leapt immediately to mind—and he forced himself to put those events of a decade and change previous out of his mind.

“I admit,” said Anduin, “I was surprised when Commander Raynor invited me aboard this… contraption—forgive me, it is not entirely unlike our dirigibles and other flying machines, but dissimilar enough that I admit I do not have a name for it, either, aside from Hyperion.”

“It’s a Dominion Battlecruiser, the largest vessel terrans have ever built or used for war aside from the ancient Supercarriers which brought our people to the Koprulu sector,” said Valerian easily, only mildly unsettled by how quickly he was willing to divulge such information to a young man who, until about twenty minutes ago, had been a complete stranger. He has a face I can trust, mused the Emperor wryly. That was something else he intended to address, of course; it was simply too odd to ignore.

Anduin glanced out one of the portholes and tried to imagine what the vastness of space might look like. They were in what Matt had termed “low orbit”, because when they were here, in this place some called The Nexus, he wasn’t certain just how high the “ceiling” went. He did not want to risk his ship on a gamble. Turning his attention back to Valerian, he then spoke the question the Emperor had been stewing on for quite a while.

“We are very alike,” he said, his gentle lilt the only real difference between his voice and that of Valerian Mengsk, “I wonder why that is… don’t you?”

“I do,” said Valerian, nodding. “I confess, it… unsettled me at first, when Mat—that is, Captain Horner first told me of these… dreams he has been having.”

“So he also has the dreams,” mused Anduin. Raynor had admitted almost immediately that he had strange dreams which brought him to this place, in a conversation with Anduin wherein he seemed to be doing his best to avoid the scrutiny of a fearsome-looking woman-thing with wings like sword edges and hair like bony serpents. Anduin had not known at the time that her name was Sarah Kerrigan, but he had been astute enough to guess that there was some history between them, not all of it good. Not all of it bad, either, he reminded himself.

“Yes,” confirmed Valerian, “in fact, before I arrived, he had just been telling me about them—I must have fallen asleep thinking about it, or…” He trailed off, trying his best to make it seem as if the stoppage was not abrupt. What sort of conversation between an Emperor and a Battlecruiser captain might lead so quickly into slumber? He flushed, but the low light of the cantina protected him.

“And so you awoke here, on Hyperion,” concluded Anduin. It was Valerian’s flagship; the emperor had said as much. It made sense he would be sleeping on it.

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

Return to Me - Chapter One

Chapter One: Still Hurting

A/N: Hi all! I know it’s been a long time coming and probably no one is as excited as I am, but here is the first chapter of my rewrite of Return to Me. If you read the original series, thank you! and also, know that this rewrite will flesh out the things that didn’t make sense, add in new characters, new outfits, have more backstory, and really just be a better story overall. 

The entire story isn’t written yet, but I’ve got a lot of it done, and after seeing the Rise of Skywalker for the fourth time, I couldn’t wait anymore. If you want to be tagged in the next chapter let me know! I’m going to try to post chapters every three or four days. This chapter is going to have a lot, including some face claims to get you introduced to the characters. If you have any questions or anything to say about the fic, please let me know what you think! I hope you all like it!!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Word Count: 4,871 Synopsis: It has been two years since Poe and the reader saw each other last. As the pressure mounts from the threat of the First Order, the reader, now queen of Naboo, is asked to come back to the Resistance for some much needed help. But now, the reader must also face their daunting past as well.

Next Chapter

Since the days of legends like Padmé Amidala, the focus on painting a regal face on the monarch of Naboo had become less important. Royalty were no longer required to cover their faces with layers of white makeup and red dots on their cheeks; instead, a more natural look was given to the ruler. The people of Naboo wanted to see their rulers as they truly were, and as Naboo’s current queen, you were more than happy to comply.

Most mornings, you were up before the sun rose. Your days were filled with meetings and public events, dress fittings and policy discussions, and a million other little things that befell your title. You had to wake up early to get a start on these things, including sitting down with one of your handmaidens, typically Loré, so that your hair and makeup could be done.

Only on very rare and special occasions would you have to revert back to the traditional face paint. And unlike many of the rulers before you, you tried to stay away from heavy headdresses. You were accustomed to wearing big ball gowns, but the headdresses had made you fall forward more times than you would like to admit and were absolute torture on your neck.

You often got up early for all of this procession: the makeup, the hair, the clothing fittings, but today, it was the butterflies in your stomach that woke you up.

You couldn’t decide if it was nerves or excitement eating away in your stomach, but once you were up, there was no going back to sleep. You pulled out your datapad, going over your itinerary for the hundredth time. You had it memorized already, but if you didn’t keep your mind busy, it would quickly wander to more painful places.

By the time morning broke over Theed Palace, you had been up for two hours.

Nové and Sondé were the first to come in, the former, your oldest friend and most trusted handmaiden, the latter, another handmaiden and your double. Whenever there was trouble, or simply a misscheduling of events, Sondé took on the role of Queen Bhavisama when you couldn’t.

As they walked in, they both looked shocked at the fact that you were already awake, but Nové’s face corrected quickly. She knew exactly what had kept you up.

“Good morning,” Sondé said, bringing you a cup of tea.

“Morning. Thank you. Is everyone prepared for today?”

“We are,” Nové said, “And you, my lady?” She looked you in the eye, clearly trying to read an answer other than the one you were about to say.

“I am.”

“I know that General Organa has assured that you will be completely safe, but Loré installed a new lining to your coat. If worse comes to worse, and believe me, we have a million other precautions so that it won’t, nothing will be able to penetrate the coat.”

“Thank you,” you said to Nové, and as Loré came into the bedroom, looking as tired as you felt, you thanked her as well.

“Where exactly did you tell your council you were going?” Loré asked with a yawn, “I just ran into Lala Jrul in the hall and she wanted to wish us luck on our trip to Bith.”  You smirked slightly, glancing at Nové who had the same look on her face.

“As you well know, the Resistance isn’t exactly public. Most people think it’s just a myth, and until General Organa decides otherwise, we’ll keep its location and practices secret. I told Lord Broden where we were going as he has Leia’s permission, but the rest of my council thinks I’m going on a trip to Bith to discuss a trades deal with their leaders.”

“What’s going to happen when Bith has no recollection of this meeting and Jrul brings it up?”

“They’ll have memory of it,” you said, getting out of bed. Loré looked over at Sondé who answered her unspoken question with a nod. “Sondé is more than well versed on my trade policies, and the Bith are a friendly people, there’s nothing to worry about. She’ll do perfectly.”

“So, you’ll need two looks prepared?” Loré asked. You gave her a sweet smile. The visit to Bith had to be scrambled together quickly because Leia had only just recently invited you. Their resources were running low, and she needed help as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I love a challenge.”

She had you sit first. Your makeup routine was always the same. It took twenty-seven minutes every time, but it meant that you had to sit still for twenty-seven minutes and try to stop your mind from wandering for twenty-seven minutes. Once your makeup was done, it was another ten minutes as she braided your hair down your back and wrapped it in a crown around your head. Nové came in shortly after with your travel gown and coat.

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly as she helped you dress. She zipped the side of your dress up and dared a look up at you. She knew exactly where your mind had gone during those thirty-seven minutes. “It’s a short trip, Y/N.”

“I know.”

“He might not even be there.”

“I know.”

“You’ve already started campaigning for next term. The deal with Serenno—”

“I know, Nové,” you conceded. She fixed the hem of your dress and stood up, giving you a gentle smile.

“All set.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. She patted your arm as she went to fetch the dress that Sondé would be wearing on Bith, leaving you alone to center your mind on what was really important on this mission.

Your mother was a member of the Galactic Senate. She had told you about the rumblings of the First Order, and the senate’s complacency to let them continue their cold war with Leia’s secret Resistance as long as there was no open fighting.

It was despicable, and The First Order was only getting more and more blatant about what they were doing. There had been open violence, you had seen footage of it, but the Senate still refused to act. Leia asked you to visit to discuss getting the Resistance more resources, but you expected she would ask you another, more taxing question.

If the senate had already decided not to act, you weren’t sure a queen of one planet could convince them otherwise. Although, it had been done before. Leia would need to garner support with her allies and address the senate, either directly or through your mother.

“My lady,” the captain of your guard, Zaisa, said as she stood in the doorway, returning you to the present moment, “We’re ready for takeoff.”

“Thank you, I’ll be down in just a moment.” She nodded her head and closed the door behind her respectfully. You took one last look around the room, making sure you had everything you would need before plunging a dagger through your heart again.

You tried to take Nové’s advice. There was no guarantee that you would see him, and even if you did, nothing had changed. You were still the queen; he was still the Resistance’s best pilot. What happened before was done and you both knew it.

You took one last breath before making your way to your Royal Starship.

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“I’m sorry, Captain Nolbowl is training a new pilot,” Nové explained as your ship took another jolt, “I told him to make sure he was careful but—"

“It’s fine,” you dismissed. Your stomach was already churning before you stepped on board, but now you weren’t sure if you could make it to D’Qar without getting sick.

You were anxious to see your old friends again, but you didn’t worry about what was waiting for you once your ship landed. You stood immediately, ready to get off. Nové came to you first and asked if you were okay without words.

“I’m ready,” you said, and she nodded.

It had been nearly two years since you had been on the Resistance base, and yet, every memory hit you full force the moment the overhead door opened. The few spacecraft, the uniforms, the droids, even the smell reminded you of the five happy years you spent here, specifically whom you spent it with. You saw Poe everywhere, although he seemed to be the only one absent from your welcome.

A crowd of people had gathered at the foot of your ship, General Organa waiting at the front. You took one last breath and switched from Y/N to Bhavisama.

“Queen Bhavisama,” she said, taking your hands in hers, “It's wonderful to have you back on D’Qar.”

“Thank you, General. It's good to be back.” She smiled and looped your arm under hers as she led you across the landing pad. You couldn’t help but look around, aware that you were searching for one person in particular.

“How are you?” she asked, pulling your eyes to hers. Her question was congenial, professional, but you knew her underlying meaning.

“Things are well with my people,” you replied, making her smile knowingly. Leia grew up in politics, so she knew how to answers a question one wants to avoid.

“I'm happy to hear. The Naboo are truly our oldest and dearest friends.”

“Thank you for your kind words, General. We are always willing to lend a hand to you, and not just because you’re Naboo.” Leia gave you a kind smile and extended her hand towards the base.

“Please, come inside, we have much to discuss.”

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Poe stopped dead in his tracks. Leia asked Black Squadron to come down to the landing pad, claiming that she had a surprise for them, but if this was the surprise, he seriously underestimated her sense of humor. As he stopped, he knocked into Karé’s chest.

“You alright, Poe?” she asked, shoving him off gently.

“Hey, she’s my wife, Dameron. If you’ve—” Snap didn’t finish his thought as he saw what had made Poe come to halt. Across the way, you were walking arm and arm with Leia, getting reintroduced to Admiral Ackbar and Admiral Statura. “I— Did you know?”

“No,” he said weakly.

You looked different. You were still beautiful, Poe wasn't surprised by that, but something had changed in the way you carried yourself. You were somehow stiffer, more reserved. You wore a heavier looking dress than you had in the past, but you weren’t caked in the heavy makeup that you had worn at your coronation.

He wanted to go see you, but he knew he had no control over his emotions right now, and if he did speak to you, it would end in disaster. Snap put a firm hand on his shoulder, and soon, Suralinda, Jessika, and Karé followed his lead, letting him know silently that they were there for him. “I can’t see her.”

“Poe, Leia asked you to come down,” Sura began.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t an order. And until it is . . .” he stopped, looking to Snap for advice.

“I’ll make up an excuse for you,” he responded, making Poe sigh in relief.

“Thank you.” He looked over at you once more before turning back to his quarters. Black Squadron gave him a parting look but felt that going with him would only make Leia more annoyed than if just her star pilot missing.

“I’ll let you know how it goes.” Poe nodded his thanks once more before picking up his pace in case anyone decided to turn to their small group and see the Resistance’s most daring pilot running away.

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After getting reacquainted with some of the commanding officers of the Resistance and introduced to the a few of the newer ones, Leia led you into a conference room. She motioned for you to take a seat at the head of the Holo table , as she sat down on your right.

“It really is good to see you again, Y/N,” Leia said quietly, now that you were in more seclusion.

“You too,” you said, smiling genuinely.

The door opened on the other side of the room and instantly you recognized all of their faces. You tried to steady yourself for when you would see him again, but after Karé, no one else entered the room. A horrible thought that he hated you flashed in your mind, but you quickly pushed it away as Leia introduced the group.

“Queen Bhavisama, I believe you know the members of Black Squadron: Captain Snap Wexley, Pilots Jessika Pava, Karé Kun, and Suralinda Javos.” You smiled at each one of them, even though you were unsure why Suralinda was here instead of L’ulo L’ampar.

“Yes, of course. Please sit.” They cloistered around you, Snap sitting on your left, thankfully. Even though they smiled back at you, you knew each of them were pissed off about how things ended with you and Poe. Snap would be the nicest if they decided to take that anger out on you right now.

“Thank you all for being here,” Leia said, a definitive edge in her voice. “Where is Commander Dameron?” In a minuscule reaction that only Nové would have noticed, your back stiffed slightly at his name.

“He ran into a little trouble with BB-8 and Pava’s new droid,” Snap answered. By the look that the three pilots gave each other, you could tell this was an outright lie. Most likely Leia could tell, too, but she didn’t say anything.

“Well, we’ll just have to continue without him. Your Highness,” she said, looking at you, “To put it bluntly, we are running on fumes here. Our suppliers in the Outer Rim have started to deteriorate as the First Order gets word of them. Black Squadron are the only ones with ships, and every last contact we have is slowly slipping away.”

“I thought things were going better since you started spreading the news of who you are and what you do,” you said, looking up at Suralinda. Although you were surprised to see her in L’ulo’s place, you weren’t surprised to see Suralinda on the base. You had read her recent articles, revealing the atrocities that the First Order had recently committed.

“Thanks to Suralinda, our public perception has improved, but there are still not enough people out there who believe in our cause.”

“People believe in you all over the galaxy,” you countered.

“Maybe so,” Leia said with a soft smile, “But they don’t believe that the First Order is as dangerous as they are.” You nodded and pursed your lips in thought.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Well, I’ve already been in contact with Osira to keep her ear to the ground in the Senate, but until your mother comes up with an inlet to get our motion on the floor again, we need supplies. We need fuel and troops and intel and—"

“You need a rebellion,” you interrupted. She smiled slightly, nodding her head.

“I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“I have and always will support what you do here, General, but it’s not up to what I want anymore. It hasn’t been for a while,” you added bitterly, “I have to weigh all of this against what is best for my people.”

“I know, but you are our last resort. We have many plans to take down the First Order, but we can’t do them without getting our ships off the ground.” You looked back at your handmaidens, stationed at the entrance of the room, your eyes connecting with Nové’s for a moment.

“I will do anything I can, but I’ll have to discuss it over with my council first.”

“Of course,” Leia said, somewhat discouraged.

“I can personally get you some fuel and credits, but anything else will be a larger discussion.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Snap said, bringing your attention to the other side of the table. You nodded at him, hoping to plead in your eyes how sorry you felt about everything that happened. He nodded at you once, frowning just slightly.

“When is the next time you’ll need to leave base, Captain?” you asked.

“Ideally as soon as possible. Black Squadron has multiple ongoing missions, but we’re expected to meet a few smugglers with supplies in three days .”

“Nové,” you said, watching Jessika pick her head up for the first time and look at your handmaiden. She came to your side and you saw her look over at Jessika, too. “Open up a commlink with Broden. We’ll discuss this further with him.”

“Yes, my lady,” she said, excusing herself. Leia looked worried for a moment, but you waved your hand briefly to wash it away.

“Nothing will get out until you want it to. You can trust me, General.”

“I know. I always have.” She stood up, and you all followed. Leia smiled and patted your shoulder gently. “I have a few things to check on, particularly a few malfunctioning droids,” she said, looking at Snap who didn’t break her gaze, “But I would be honored if you joined me for dinner tonight.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“I know you’re eager to get back to Naboo, so I won’t keep you for too long, but your presence on the base has already re-sparked the light we were beginning to lose, and I’d like to hold onto it as long as possible.”

“Thank you, General,” you said sincerely.

“Threepio?” she called. The door slid open on the other side of the room and the protocol droid came hobbling in.

“Ah! Mrs. Dameron, oh, I mean, Queen Bhavisama, it is wonderful to have you back with the Resistance again.” One of the makeup tricks Loré had learned prevented any blush from appearing on your face, and you were grateful for it at this moment.

“Thank you, Threepio.”

“Did you give Bhavisama’s droid the coordinates to her room and adjoining situation room?”

“Yes, O9-I2 has all the needed schematics of the base.”

“I know you must speak with your council,” Leia said, looking back at you, “ But if you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, General.” You let your handmaidens lead you to the exit, just as Leia began to address the rest of the group.

“Black Squadron, stick around for a debrief? You’ll have to pass it along to your fearless Commander.”

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“You’ve never disobeyed me before, Dameron,” Leia said as she stood in the doorway of Poe’s quarters, making him jump and nearly fall out of bed. BB-8 wowed in response, beeping something about how he deserved it. “I don’t think I’m a fan of it.”

“I’m sorry, General, I just had, um . . .”

“Some droid problems I hear,” Leia said, raising an eyebrow. Poe only nodded his head, hoping she would drop this conversation. “You can’t run forever.”

“I’m not running.”

“Well, you can’t avoid Y/N forever,” she said as she sat down next to him. Poe frowned at her, making her sigh. “Since you only want to follow my orders, here’s one: you and the rest of Black Squadron are to join me, a few of the senior commanders, and Queen Bhavisama,” she said, making him cringe at the use of your new formal name, “For dinner. No more hiding.”

“Yes, General.”

“Relax, Dameron,” she said, walking towards the door, “She was just as nervous to see you as you are her.”

“Doesn’t make me feel much better.”

“You’re one of the bravest men I know, Poe, and the most daring of my pilots. You can face a slew of First Order pilots, but not someone you love?”

“Leia—"

“You can do it. And don’t worry, you’ll have someone there who knows exactly how you’re feeling.” Poe sighed and nodded his head reluctantly.

“I’ll be there.”

“I know. Wear something nice, we are in the presence of royalty, after all.” This managed to get a laugh out of Poe, which apparently satisfied Leia as she left him alone. Once the door shut, he fell back on his bed. He hated being in this room. In this bed. This was supposed to be your shared quarters; he shouldn’t be here alone.

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Walking into your temporary quarters, you could see that they were three times the size of the room you stayed in when you were simply a piece of the resistance. This was the room for dignitaries and heroes that came to see just what the legendary Leia Organa was up to; this wasn’t a place for you.

“My lady?” Loré asked as you stood outside the door for too long.

“Can you make sure Nové reaches the council? I’ll be fine on my own for a minute,” you said as she started to argue. “Don’t worry, Zaisa will be right outside my door.”

“Yes, I will,” Zaisa said, already stationing herself at the door. Loré nodded hesitantly and made her way with O9-I2 down the hall. You steeled your emotions and made your way into the room.

You shouldn’t be here alone. You shouldn’t even be in this room. You were supposed to just be Y/N Dameron. You weren’t supposed to be Queen Bhavisama who had to mask all of her emotions behind elaborate dresses and political jargon. With a heavy sigh, you let all your emotions wash over you as you crumple on to the bed, too upset to worry if anyone could hear you or come in.

A stupid belief system, you realized, as Zaisa cleared her throat a few minutes later. You shot up and looked at her, quickly wiping at the tears that were threatening to leave stains on your cheeks.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked sweetly. You smiled gently and shook your head. “Well, There’s a woman at the door. A Jessika Pava.” You took in a deep breath. “I can tell her to leave—”

“No, it’s okay. Send her in.”

“Do you want me to stick around?”

“I can handle Jessika,” you said with a somewhat nervous laugh.

“I’ll be right outside.” You walked towards your mirror and quickly dabbed at your cheeks with fresh makeup to hide the tear tracks that had started to form, just as Jessika walked in

“Fancy digs,” she said unappreciatively.

“Well, hello to you, too,” you said, turning to look back at her. She forced a smile on her face, looking amused and annoyed at the same time.

“What, were you expecting more of a welcome party?”

“I’ve learned never to expect anything from you,” you said, standing up, “You’re too much of a wild card.”

“Well, I’m glad you remember that,” she said, smiling as she sat down across from you

“I could never forget you, Jessika,” you said with a smile. “Nové talks about you too much for me to forget.”

“Does she?” she asked, smiling genuinely.

“Of course. It’s impossible for us to act like we were never here,” you said with a sigh. Jess smiled sadly at you.

“We’ve all missed you, Y/N.”

“I’ve missed you all, too.” It was nice to hear your true name, not the regal name you took on when you were elected.

“I’m sorry he didn’t come down,” she said. You shook your head.

“I don’t blame him. I don’t think I would want to see me either if I were him.”

“It’s not that. He does want to see you, it’s just—"

“Nothing has changed,” you finished. She nodded. “What brings you by, Jess? If you were looking for Nové, she’s off contacting my council.”

“I meant it when I said I missed you,” she said, chewing her lip, “But you’re right, there is something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding your permission.

“Suralinda joined us a few months ago, right around the time we lost L’ulo.”

“L’ulo’s dead?” you asked in shock.

“Yeah,” she said, frowning.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Me too. But we’ve got Sura now and she’s not a terrible replacement. She’s also not a terrible journalist,” she added quietly.

“What are you trying to say, Jessika?” you asked, quickly switching back to Bhavisama.

“She has it on good word that Naboo and Serenno will soon be joining.”

“A rumor,” you said, keeping your face blank, “For the time being. There’s not much I can discuss, and much less that I’d like to. I don’t want what you’ve heard to become true, but I’m not sure I have a choice.” Jessika nodded and stood up reluctantly.

“We haven’t told him.”

“Thank you, but he’s strong enough to handle it.”

“He’s the strongest person I know,” she said proudly, “ And I’m not so sure he could. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Yes,” you said, not looking up, the weight of her words too much.

“My lady, I got the connection— Jess.” You looked to the door to find Nové and Loré walking into the room.

“Hey, Supernova,” Jessika said, smiling at her. Loré looked confused and a little bit jealous as she turned her attention to you.

“They’re waiting for you, my lady.”

“I’ll be right there. Jessika?”

“I’ll see you at dinner.” She gave one more glance to Nové before walking out the door.

“What was that look all about?” Loré asked as the three of you walked to the situation room.

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“Of course I’m nervous, buddy,” Poe said as he slipped his jacket on and checked his curls in the mirror for the seventh time. “I haven’t seen Y/N in two years.” BB-8 commented on how much time he was putting into his outfit, making Poe roll his eyes. “I’m not trying to impress her. Or make her miss me,” he added after BB-8 called him out again. “Can’t a guy just look good when he goes to see his ex-wife?”

“Mine always did.” Poe spun around and saw Leia in his doorway again.

“Everything okay?”

“Something’s come up. You can’t come to dinner.”

“Why not?”

“Lor San Tekka finally reached out to me. I need you to go to him before the First Order finds out he has the map.” BB-8 rolled into action, coming right up to Poe’s boots.

“We’ll leave right away.”

“Thank you. And Poe?” she called as he started to gather his blaster and flying gear, “You will have to face her one day soon.”

“I know.”

“Good luck. And may the Force be with you.” He nodded and followed her out of the room, making his way down to his X-Wing. He had BB-8 send a message to the rest of Black Squadron, informing them where he was going. Just after he slipped on his jumpsuit and crossed the hangar, something pulled his attention.

Across the way, Poe could see Nové talking to you in great detail. You were clearly lost in thought, but whatever drew his eyes to you, brought yours to him. For the first time in two years, your eyes connected. Five years of dates, kisses, fighting, everything, came back to him in a jumble of emotions. He nodded to you just as you stepped back inside, and he climbed up onto his X-Wing.