#perhaps a little coat on top and a little captain's hat... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ver-rai-ety · 1 year ago

Text

Pirate AU pt.4

------

The sun was rising over the horizon for Captain Drake as they watched over their crew dividing up loot, and welcoming new members from their recent raid.

“Captain, our crew is dividing up the haul with Miss Fang supervising.” The muscular woman explained, gesturing to the combustions expert with the fiery hair down on the main deck, threatening any greedy hands with a swift punishment.

“Divide my portion among the new recruits and liberations.” Drake replied.

“Of course. The weather is looking quiet and smooth as well, it would be a good opportunity to rest Captain.” Miss Talon suggested.

Captain Drake agreed as they made their way to the captain's quarters.

“Captain, a word if I may.” Miss Talon requested.

The captain obliged, inviting one of their most trusted crewmates into the captain's chambers.

The only three who had ever been in these chambers were the fiery Miss Fang, the tactical Miss Talon, and of course the Captain.

“Speak your concerns.” Drake stated, not stopping to move as they paced the room, removing the large coat and hat that adorned the towering captain.

“With all due respect, what were you thinking back there?!” Miss Talon dropping any form of formality she previously held to the captain.

Unresponsive, the captain continued to remove their boots and weapons.

“You took on three armed opponents by yourself, and let one of them go! It’s almost certain that they will be coming after us once they reach shore!” The muscular woman worried.

“They’ll be coming after us regardless, so what's the harm?” Drake responded, taking out the rolled up parchment previously belonging to the man they had sent to the oceans depths today.

“The harm is the number of ships we can deal with. A plunder or two is easy for us, but we are still a small crew, and you just had us attack a ship with some of the wealthiest and most powerful people on this side of the coast. you even killed two of them!”

“Mr. Eric and I came to an agreement. He’s a very reasonable man.” Drake commented as they rolled out the paper, revealing a map.

“You had us take over the ship for a simple map? How do you even know you can trust that man? I don't mean to question your leadership, but if this has something to do with your past and your fam-”

Her worrying was cut off by the captain's hand slamming on the table.”

“You say you don't want to question my leadership? Then you shouldn't.” Drake approached their 2nd in command, towering over her. The captain removed their mask, revealing a very attractive woman with an icy glare that could freeze the whole ocean.

“I haven't given you a reason to worry before, so why start now, Konani?” She loomed over her subordinate with a calming but stern tone. She was close, perhaps a little too close for the muscular woman, now known as Konani.

“I have always followed my instincts, and I've always had something good happen from it. If not for them, I wouldn't have met you or Vea. We wouldn't have this ship. And as of today, we wouldn't have this.” She explained as she held up the map they secured.

“B-but Captain Tia-”

“No but’s! I’ve been searching for my first major lead since this!” The captain ordered, taking off her right glove to reveal a hand covered in scars that travel up her arm, nearly to her shoulder.

“Go get Vea. We have a map to chart.”

—-----

While the captain was advised to rest when the sun rose, she wouldn't truly feel the effects of tiredness until the sun had already begun to set, as she and her two trusted crewmates “Vea and Konani” had spent the entire day trying to decipher the strange map.

As they continued to examine it, the few words they would make out in a legible tongue seemed random and pointless, with a whole second and possibly third language they couldn't make out.

On top of that, the geography of the map didn't seem to line up with most of the known routes.

Vea and Konani suggested that the map was fake and not worth their time. However, Captain Tia was absolutely convinced this was the key to exactly what she was looking for.

From the information she gathered, research conducted and especially the strange symbol she saw scribbled on the map. It resembled a set of wings and a monstrous creature face.

This symbol seems like typical decor for a map, but she knew this was something different. She just wasn't sure what.

She could feel her heart racing and hear the beating of her ears as her anticipation and frustration began overwhelming her.

“GRAAAAAHHHH!” She erupted, slamming a fist on the table, nearly knocking a lantern off of the table.

“Capt’n, maybe we should rest n’ try again in the mornin’?” Vea suggested with a yawn, only to be met with a glare that would make a great white shark in fear like a jellyfish.

“I can't rest now. I’m so close to reaching my goal. This map will take us to the Sea of Beasts. All I need to do is figure out how to read this damn thing!” She explained with another slamming of her fist.

“Even if we find out what all of this means, we aren't prepared for such a trip just yet. You should rest, Tia.” Konani tried to reason with her captain.

“I’ll rest when i’ve deciphered this map and have found the entryway to-”

“MAN OVERBOARD!!!” The captain was cut off by the shouting of their lookout, followed by a large commotion.

Dawning her mask and coat once more, Captain Tia became Captain Drake with first mates taking charge to get control of the situation.

The crew was hoisting up ropes to bring the rescue boat back to the deck, with its two crewmen and a third man.

A stranded sailor was nothing too uncommon in these seas. However, even in his unconscious state, he clung onto his satchel for dear life, and the coat he wore resembled that of high authority, perhaps navy?

Captain Drake made her way through her crew, inspecting the new body for any significance, curious about his belongings, but her eyes widened under the mask as the sight of a brand on his wrist.

The same Beastly Face with Wings as the one on the map.

“What should we do with 'em’ Capt’n?” a man asked.

“Bring him to my quarters.”

#ranger rai #mod post #rai art #pokemon ranger #rai headcanon #pirate au #pokemon tier list #rockstar au #pirates #pokemon

5 notes · View notes

kamiacosplay · 2 years ago

Text

Crowns and Swords

Pirate x Princess Reader

Female Audience

“WAKE UP!!” You open your eyes, it’s your maid. For every day since forever it’s been the same routine. You wake up to the same horrible screeching voice every gosh darn morning. This morning was particularly bright and taunting for what was to come…your coronation. YOUR CORONATION!!! Good gosh you almost forgot that it was today. You rolled over, not yet wanting to start your day. Your maid pulled the covers off you as you writhed around on your bed. “It’s time to get up your Highness”, she said as she quickly scurried around your room pulling dresses and shoes and accessories for you to try on. You reluctantly got out of bed and made your way to the bathroom. “Oh by the way, your Highness, you received a letter.” You rushed out of the bathroom and snatched the letter from her hand. “Leave me.” you ordered, and the maid bowed and left. You tore the letter open and your heart was full of joy when you realized it was from Jacques. Jacques always had amazing stories to tell. This time he was writing to you about a war with the Dread Pirate Lord Carey. The Lord was losing to Jacques and his men but they weren’t out of the woods yet. However his letters weren’t just fun stories, they were messages updating you on the war that was across the sea.

You had met Jacques a few years ago on an undercover trip to the village. You had put on a disguise and managed to sneak out of the castle for a few hours. He was tall and handsome with perfectly tan skin and shoulder length wavy brown hair. His eyes were the color of honey. He was gorgeous and his beauty is what made him stand out from the village backdrop. He was perfectly beautiful except there was one problem. He was a pirate, plainly obvious as he was adorned with a hat, a beautiful green coat with gold fasteners, a peasant top in the signature design for a man of the sea, simple black pants and boots, but perhaps most obvious of all was a shiny gun and a silver sword with a gold handle that rested on a belt around his waist.

He had immediately caught your attention but not only because of his beauty, but because of his spirit. He was helping a little girl who had fallen and scraped up her knee. He was binding it with such care and attention. After he had finished, she jumped up and hugged him around his leg. After she ran off, he noticed you watching from a few feet away. Your eyes met and he walked over to you. He held out his hand to you, “Hello, m’lady” he kissed the top of it. A light blush crept across your face. He couldn’t possibly know who you were, you’d never seen him before. You had met plenty of suitors, but he was different. A little rough around the edges, but your heart fluttered all the same. To your relief he didn’t know who you were, or if he did, he was good enough not to say so. “I’m Captain Jacques.” Your heart flipped. Captain. Was this man dangerous? He couldn’t be. “I Captain a Ship called The Lost Maiden.” At this point he had fully revealed his character to you. You should have run away, to forget him, but you couldn’t. You just stood there, in absolute shock. “What do they call you, miss?” You snapped back into reality. “Never mind what they call me, I work at the palace as a maid to the princess.” Your eyes fell as you realize that you could’ve just put your and your family in great danger. “I’m sorry, I must go. The princess needs me.” You turned and rushed back to the castle. It took several months of letters between you and the Captain for you to finally reveal your true nature as the princess, and months after he confessed that he hadn’t stopped thinking of you since the day you met, and you conveyed that you felt the same way. Just one problem however, you were betrothed to Prince Dominic, and he knew it. Which is what made some of his letters quite sad.

At the bottom of this letter he wrote, I made port yesterday. I hope to see you, my princess, before you must marry Prince Dominic, I love you. Your heart was sad at the thought of never seeing your Pirate lover ever again.

You rushed out of the castle and ran as fast as you could down to the tiny inn by the docks. When you arrived you opened the door and slipped inside. When you made your way to where all the men were sitting and playing a game similar to poker, you stopped. Without caring who heard or saw you, you lowered your hood and called out “Jacques!” After a minute, a man who had been sitting in a dark corner with a drink stood up, his eyes finding yours. As he came into the light your heart skipped several beats as the man you met a year ago, approaching you, looked even more handsome than you remembered him to be. He had on his coat, which glowed emerald in the light. You rushed towards him and fell into his embrace. “My Princess,” he whispered in your ear. All of a sudden you were struck with a brilliant idea. “Come to my coronation. Please. But before you do, prepare your ship and your men for immediate departure.” He looked confused but nodded his head. “It shall be done, Princess.” You kissed him on the cheek and left.

Three hours later you were standing on the altar in a beautiful dress that you could barely breathe in. You were scared, but you had already made up your mind. You could barely make out what the bishop was saying because all your thoughts were swimming around your head. You looked over the crowd, remembering that the Captain had promised to be there. You found him in the crowd. He had a concerned look on his face. “Stop!” you said. The room got so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You took a deep breath, though it was very difficult to do in your dress. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I can’t be your queen. And Dominic, I’m sorry. I can’t marry you. I won’t marry you. I don’t love you.” You dropped the robe off your shoulders and ran through the crowd. When you were near enough to your true love you said loud enough for everyone to hear “Jacques!” Gasps arose from the crowd as the Pirate Captain, fully adorned with his pirate garb, rose from the crowd and flung his beautiful jacket over your shoulders. “Let’s go.” He said, as he signaled another man in the crowd to follow. You fled to the port, knowing and trusting Jacques and his partner to keep you safe. You made it to the ship and boarded with your Captain. He spoke, “Men, set sail for the Horizon!” You sighed in relief as you looked up into his eyes. “You saved me. Well kinda… it was my idea after all.” He let out a laugh so beautiful it made you melt. You watched the castle grow smaller as your lover wrapped his arm around you. “Fynn.” At that moment a man rushed out and presented you with a box. “It should be your size my love, I just hope it’s the right color.” You looked at Jacques, surprised. so he had figured out your plan from the start. Good for him. You found an empty room and closed the door behind you, then quickly changed into the beautiful outfit. It was a white peasant top, black pants, and a beautiful waist sash in exactly your favorite color. You went back out with your dress balled up in your hands. Without saying a word, you walked over to the side and threw it overboard. It slowly sank under the waves, and you were not sad to see it gone. You walked back and the whole crew was cheering. Jacques presented you with a sword and welcomed you to his crew. Jacques pulled you into a kiss, and the whole crew whooped and clapped for their Captain. As you sailed further and further away from your home, you realized you were already there. You were free, free to love Jacques and free to be who you wanted to be. That night on the ship was the most magical night of your life. There was a fire going and everyone was either drinking, dancing, singing, or doing all three at once.

As you and the crew watched the sun rise the next morning you knew that this is exactly where you wanted to be. And from that day on you sailed the seven seas with the man you had only ever been allowed to dream about. But now your dream was a reality, and you couldn’t be happier.

Art by a good friend of mine

#short story #pirates #fem reader #fantasy #ocs

4 notes · View notes

heavens-sin · 7 months ago

Text

Doflamingo in turn - sucking in a sharp breath when sharp canines bit onto the pink muscle. unashamedly groaning in delight when the taste of iron coats his tastebuds. his tounge retracting only to smear his blood onto luffy's cheek and jaw. Doflamingo's agility and dexterity proved to be Luffy's undoing.

Brilliant blues watched in sadistic glee watching the ever ambitious straw hat captain yap away. Using his "Ever White" ability, Doflamingo entangled Luffy and Law in his unbreakable threads. The more they struggled, the tighter the threads constricted around them, their Haki proving useless against the near-indestructible cords. The sharp threads dug into their flesh.

the god reveled in the state they were in. a state of desperation . .reveled in their helplessness. the blond pushed him down to the ground with his foot. He used his power over the threads to tighten them further, the ravenette in a supine position. Then, with a flourish, he sat on the his stomach without a care of his weight, his fingers poised above Luffy's neck, threatening to snap at a moment's notice. Doflamingo chuckled, the sound dripping with mockery as he surveyed the fallen Luffy with disdain. His sharp eyes gleamed with a dark amusement.

❝ FU FU FU FU . . . Oh, how the mighty have fallen . . ❞ Doflamingo sneered, his tone oozing contempt. ❝ im finding it very hard to believe that law bestowed so much trust in a little shit like you . . . to you. a pathetic excuse of human life. A little girl stuck in her own pathetic little dream world perhaps. But not here. you won't survive let alone become pirate king as you are. look at you now, barking and yapping like a little bitch as if it will change the result of the fight., a mere dog, barking and howling pathetically at the sight alone of unfathomable power . . .❞

Doflamingo's free hand descended ; slipping beneath the fabric of his top, feeling along his toned abdomen and up the sides of his body, taking the shirt up as his hand moved upwards. the other hand still on the neck of the strawhat squeezed. his gaze never leaving the smaller captain. each caress deliberate, each movement a declaration of his ownership. his looming & towering shadow revealing the full extent of his imposing figure, a living embodiment of divinity, power and control. The atmosphere thickened with a certain tension as his palm lingered closer to one of his breasts, nails dragging and leaving bright red welts, like a predator closing in on its prey. blue hues reveled how his body reacted . The heavenly yaksha threatened to grip tighter, the disdain on his face deepening. ❝ What a lovely sight . . . ❞ The words roll off his tongue effortlessly, the tone of his voice smooth like honey yet laced with poison, his grin wide and feral as his fingers dig into the soft flesh, the pressure hard enough to leave a mark. ❝ if i could paint this as amural i would.. but its hilarious...I could break your pretty little neck right here, right now, and you wouldn't be able to do a thing about it. You're not even worthy to kiss the soles of my feet, so don't ever dare to tell me what to do. ❞

an unsettling sensation washed over his very being, His eyes, cold and calculating, bore into Luffy with a predatory intensity , fueling something within him .. something that slowly rose to the surface. ❝ A lap dog without its leash,❞ The true and rightful royal mused, savoring the taste of Luffy's defeat like a fine wine. The once-prideful and truly ambitious strawhat, now reduced to a pitiful wreck, clutched on the ground as if it were a lifeline. The oppressive weight of his defeat hung in the air and it was practically suffocating.

He extended his hand, finger joints folding in a variety of gestures as invisible threads snaked out, wrapping around the opposing male's limbs like ethereal chains. ❝ Pathetic, just pathetic ❞ Doflamingo hissed, his voice dripping with venom. his presence overwhelming. ❝ You came all this way, risking your lives and the lives of your precious crew, only to end up like this? Did you really think you could defeat me? I hope you savor the taste of your own humiliation, because that's all that's left for you.❞ lips widened into a grin , revealing a set of gleaming sharp teeth that seemed almost feral in the dim light, the strings' coils tighten, restricting his movements further. With a sudden yank, Doflamingo pulls on the invisible strings, forcing Luffy to still his hand reached out to grasp the his chin, forcing him to meet the gaze of his new found deity, his face mere inches away from luffy's, the icy gaze piercing through him like a dagger. the hand that once grasped his breast ventured down, caressing his toned abs, nails digging and leaving bright red welts as he reached for the hem of his shorts, the other hand holding his chin still. His touch was firm, demanding. It was clear that he wanted control. that he needed it. and he would be damned if he did not get it.

❝ your little rebellion is over. ❞ Doflamingo chuckled darkly his voice is a low whisper, breath fanning against Luffy's face, his hand trailing lower until it reaches the waistband of his shorts. He pauses, the grin on his face widening and turning even more feral before he dips his hand under the fabric and past the underwear. slender fingers rub and prod against him, his thumb encircling his clit as he slipped two of his digits passed slick lips and began to pump them in slowly. "

❝ youre so wet already? ❞ words like honey as he purred, his voice dripping with malicious intent. ❝ You're a Fucking Slut, .❞ a hand fisted into Black locks and yanked his head back, before biting down on flesh. ❝ Do you feel it ?❞ he taunted, pressing his hips shamelessly against the smaller man's , to purposely reveal how much he was savoring every nuance of Luffy’s distress. his long serpentine like tounge sliping past his lips to trace along the lips of the other.

Exhaustion drapes over him like a wet blanket, muscles buzzing, crying for him to stop but it’s not an option not now, not ever. The delirium makes him sloppy, his punches not quite hitting where he intends and of course there’s the strings. Endless miles of threads shimmer at the edge of his vision, attacks easily dodged five minutes ago scrap across his back and catch on bulky limbs. Luffy should be faster than this, boundman should be enough to end this once and for all; he’d promised before unconsciousness took him and ushered Dressrosa’s last hope into unseen hands. Law believes in him, his crew is down there, pushing back against the birdcage, the least he could do is end this quickly.

It’s not enough and Luffy finds himself at the end of his rope again, body finally empty even though the frayed edges of his mind are still screaming to move. Head lulls forward away from the warm darkness, bruised limbs jerking in their binds and lips pull back to hiss. Everything hurts, cut open and bare to the former warlord’s endless boasting, a sore winner the worst kind.

“Mercy?” Nostrils flare with a weak snort, something in his chest protesting the simple action but Luffy summons the strength to drag his head away from the man’s tongue. As long as their fight was Mingo still sees a glimmer of weakness, kings don’t beg and a loss doesn’t mean the end of his dream.

Him?

Adrenaline pulls torn muscles to attention, Law’s crumbled form igniting the fire behind his scar again. Why is the surgeon still here? Why had he come back! Luffy’s tensing has threads cutting deeper, tattered remains of his shirt soaked through before he slumps in Doflamingo’s grasp, panting like an old dog. “Ew! Don’t!” Head weakly turns away from the heat in the man’s voice, mind trying to will haki into his limbs, to snap these strings and lunge for Law but it doesn’t come. Recognition does tenses his features, weak trashing pausing long enough for him to glance backwards and down. New rage doesn’t summon the burst of energy he expects at the revelation of Doflamingo’s open arousal, how someone could enjoy the hollow streams of thousands dying by their hand was behind Luffy. All he wants is distance between them but bondage pulls him further into the man, a foreign mouth too hot on his throat. Luffy gags, lips pulled back to bare his teeth, grimace turning to open mouthed horror when large hips begin to grind.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Volume is all he can summon, indignation thick. “I’m Monkey D. Luffy and I’m still going to kick your ass!” Teeth snap at the man’s overly familiar tongue, large canines sinking into tender flesh and pulling until blood coats his mouth and runs over his lips.

#sillygum #TW://NSFW #« ♛. 𝖆𝖙 𝖒𝖞 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖉; 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑. » ━━━ 𝑣𝑖𝑖𝑖. › Verse i.#« ♛. 𝖆𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖉𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖙𝖞. » ━━━ 𝑖. › IC.#tw:// degration

3 notes · View notes

kharti · 3 years ago

Text

[ In Over His Head #26 ]

( first | prev | next )

It was high time Stede did something well and truly befitting of a pirate. Yes, they had boarded a few ships and got in some nasty scuffles and he was actually starting to like the taste of rum, but he needed to do something more.

( Continue reading on AO3 or... )

He sighed as he stared out at the endless expanse of ocean, his silk robe wrapped around him, holding a cup of fine china with freshly brewed tea.

Yes, it was past time he got a little dirty and acted like a right scallywag.

Just to show he really meant it, he threw the cup overboard and watched it sink down into the drink, as it were.

He strode across the deck with new purpose, shedding things as he made his way to his quarters. The silk robe was first to go, falling from his shoulders with ease, as if it was ill fit to begin with.

The cufflinks were next, followed by the shiny shoes that hit the floor one after the other with a distinct thunk, thunk.

Finally in his quarters, he stripped down to just his undergarments and pulled up a floorboard to reveal the small compartment beneath.

He’d prepared a special outfit just for this occasion, for the day he was ready to fully embrace his new life as a pirate captain. Perhaps it was getting ahead of himself a bit, but he might as well look the part on the day he achieved his dream.

The black leggings were first, and strangely quite a trial to put on. He thought he would lose some weight from all the piracy and the lack of afternoon tea’s desserts, but he didn’t do much of the former and, for Ed’s sake, had kept up the latter.

No matter, though! He got them on and the tightness just made him look thinner, so long as no one looked at the waistline. And that would be resolved by the wonderful frock coat, black with gold and red embroidery along all the edges and cuffs.

Yes, it was still a little extravagant, but some bloodshed would surely wear it in just the same. Not today, necessarily, but it wouldn’t be long before it got a couple tatters in it and perhaps a hole through one shoulder to show he’d been shot and lived.

The boots were next, and unlike the pants, they seemed a bit too big. They nearly reached his knees, and would go halfway up his thighs if he unrolled the tops.

But they made a nice sound when he took them for a walk around the room, and he only nearly stumbled once. He’d get used to them before the day was through, he was certain of it.

Lastly, and most importantly, the hat. A beautiful tricorn hat, wide and bespoke with three large plumed feathers.

He stood in front of his full-length mirror, hands on his hips and his most serious scowl in place.

And his spirits fell.

He looked absolutely ridiculous. Not at all like the dashing pirate he’d imagined himself to be. More like a child playing dress-up and make believe.

There was a knock at the door, and Ed’s voice filtered in from the other side.

“Ye all right, mate? Found your robe and shoes on the floor, and—”

Before he could say anything, Ed had already opened the door and was looking right at him.

Stede tried not to sound as pitiable as he felt as he quickly said, in a voice too small for a pirate captain, “Please don’t laugh.”

Ed stared, unmoving, unblinking. The shoes fell from his hand, yet another thunk, thunk against the floor where they landed.

He swallowed, his neck visibly bobbing, and just slowly shut the door, leaving Stede alone with his embarrassment.

( next )

📚 view a list of all my current stories!

#our flag means death #ofmd #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #ed x stede #in over his head - blackbonnet ficlets

29 notes · View notes

sttngfashion · 4 years ago

Text

5.26 and 6.1 - Time’s Arrow

Oh my god. Y’all. It’s a new Fashion It So post. In the year of our Picard 2020. Yes.

For literal years, Charlie and I have been like UGH WE NEED TO DO TIME’S ARROW PARTS 1 AND 2 BUT IT’S JUST SUCH A MONSTER.

Well, I’m doing a complete rewatch of the series with my partner and we just got to these two, so IT IS TIME.

We open in a cave in San Francisco, where Data and Picard are checking something out:

Rent for the cave is $6,000 per month

Showing them around is this guy in a Science Outfit:

He’s ready to go night biking

We’ve seen this look before in both Silicon Avatar and Devil’s Due, and it’s functional, yet cute. Basically a windbreaker in jumpsuit form.

They find a couple of items in the cave, including a pocket watch from 1889 and also:

I left my head in San Francisco

IT’S DATA’S HEAD!!! And it’s been there for FIVE HUNDRED YEARS. What could have caused this? And why is Data’s head so absolutely terrifying?

Is that fondant

This head is, in a word, haunting. The 2020 of heads.

Data and Geordi chat in Ten-Forward about what the presence of Data’s head in the cave means. Data says it means he’s mortal; that someday he will die, and that’s comforting. Spoiler alert: that’s not what it means. But it’s a nice conversation.

Also, Guinan is here!!!

Merlot My God!!

Or maybe: Burgundy-lightful!! Or perhaps: De-Crimson-alize Sex Work!! Okay that last one was a stretch but I really think I missed my calling as a nail polish shade namer.

Anyway, she’s here in her classic look of a pizza-sized hat and a flowing gown/coat/top/robe. The collar here is a little too close to a mock turtleneck for my liking and honestly - this is a little staid for our friend Guinan. I want a TEXTURE or a SWEEP or some WIDE RIBBING or some PLEATS. Don’t worry, though...she will get plenty more later.

Then there’s some plot which frankly we DO NOT HAVE TIME to get into but let’s just say: the away team goes to a planet, there’s a temporal disturbance, and Data ends up here:

Huge mood

Where are we? Or should I say WHEN are we??

Well that old-timey font is a good clue...also the horse

Are we in the Old West land of an off-brand Disneyworld? Are we going to ride something called Large Lightning Mesa Train Tracks? What colorful characters will we meet here?

Winner of 1893’s Mustache Medal

This type of ‘stache is called a Fu Manchu, after the character Dr. Fu Manchu. It’s not...a great look? But it is memorable, which is sometimes enough. He’s also wearing a simple black cap, probably made of silk. He’s keeping it cazh.

So where are we?

SAN FRANCISCO, OPEN YOUR GOLDEN GATE / YOU’LL LET NOBODY WAIT / OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR

Yes, it’s San Francisco. And it’s *eyes popping out of head like a cartoon wolf seeing a busty babe* 1893!!!! That temporal disturbance was...disturbing.

So who else do we have hanging out?

Please check out our Vaudeville act, Knit Cap ‘n’ Bowly

These dudes understand those famous Bay Area MICROCLIMATES, amirite? We’ve got a Henley. We’ve got a buttondown. We’ve got a vest. We’ve got a coat. No matter which way the thermometer decides to go, THEY ARE READY. Also loving the pop of forest green on Knit Cap’s knit cap.

We also have a 49er:

No, it’s not Steve Young. I googled “famous 49ers” to complete this joke so if there is a more famous 49er please let me know

It’s a literal 49er. Since it’s 1893, this guy’s been hanging around in town for a while, and he’s also familiar with the layering techniques one must master if one is to conquer the Bay Area’s climate. He also has a kicky Colonel Sanders-type tie. He asks Data for money and gives him a few panhandling tips. He’s chill. We like him. But don’t get too attached if you know what I mean!!!!

Data decides he needs somewhere to stay, so he finds a hotel:

Brian.

Why is this so funny to me. Brian. Why would you name your hotel Brian. Brian!!!! I know it’s a last name but like...Brian. HOTEL BRIAN.

This bellhop’s name is not Brian:

Where’s your hat, bro

He’s giving us a classic bellhop look, complete with too many buttons. He gives Data the very important information that there’s a poker game happening in the back of the hotel, which means: Data is about to be RICH rich.

The poker game includes a few good looks:

Louie Anderson IS Wolverine IN a Lands’ End barn coat

Two plaids? Sir...I salute you

Colonel Sanders Goes to Carnaval

Data, of course, wipes the floor with them so hard that he wins their clothes:

Didn’t get that barn coat tho

Yes, that’s the actual vest and the actual hat of those guys from the previous scene. Oh, I love it. I love Data in a vest over his uniform and I love Data with a feather in his cap. Let’s call it macaroni.

Meanwhile, out on the street, the plot is happening:

Beige: inescapable

This is our first taste of the decadent 1890’s sleeves that appear in this episode, and these aren’t even the best sleeves!! These are an amuse-bouche of sleeves. An armuse-bouche, if you will.

Anyway, these two are aliens disguised as humans who are here to steal the 49er’s life energy.

Pew pew pew

I told you not to get attached!!!

Back on the Enterprise, Guinan is doing mixology:

She would never call it something as stupid as mixology though

She tells Picard that he needs to go check out the temporal disturbance, too, even though captains don’t normally go on away missions, and then she gives him this look:

It’s that serious

When Guinan looks at you like this, you do what she says.

Now this outfit is much better than the earlier one. We have some pleated sleeves, which I didn’t even think was a thing you could DO. We have some sort of functional(?) strap(??) across the front. We even have matching fingerless gloves which always make a look A LOOK. And if Picard wasn’t sure whether he needed to go on this away mission, she then gives him THIS look:

Okay now it’s REALLY serious

Back in 1893, Data is making something:

It’s actually just a really complicated and large music box that plays “I Left My Head in San Francisco”

He’s gotten his hands on some more period-appropriate clothing, including a bow tie and a vest. Since he’s not wearing arm garters and his sleeves appear to be the correct length for his arms, we can conclude that the shirt was custom-made, not ready-made, because Data is now a baller due to his poker earnings.

Then, Data sees this in the paper:

I know her!! From work!!!!

Yes, it’s Guinan. In 1893. In a hat!!!!

We cut to the literary reception, which is honestly not as well-attended as I thought it would be, considering it got a GIANT photo of Guinan on page THREE of the paper, but okay. And who should we spy there but:

You’ll love my secret blend of 11 herbs and spices

No, it’s not Colonel Sanders. (Sorry, I really have Colonel Sanders on the brain because of that Lifetime movie.) It’s Samuel Clements, AKA Mark Twain. I had an English teacher in high school who explained the origin of his pseudonym (it indicates a mark of two fathoms, aka twelve feet, on a steamboat) and for some reason she shouted MAAAARK TWAAAAAIN when she told us that story so now her delivery of that line is in my head until I die I guess.

Anyway, it’s Mark Twain.

He’s wearing his iconic white linen suit with a black bow tie, and he’s also wearing a lot of prosthetics, because the actor playing him (Jerry Hardin, AKA Deep Throat from The X-Files AKA Melora Hardin AKA Jan Levinson-Gould’s dad) (was that too many AKAs) (you get it, right?) didn’t look enough like Mark Twain, I guess? In conclusion: what if eyebrow wigs were a thing?

Twain is having a chit chat with “Madame Guinan,” who is wearing what can only be called a sumptuous gown:

It’s 11:30 and the gown is sumptin’ sumptin’

There are so many ELEMENTS to this look! First of all: the color. Royal purple. Fit for a queen. Appropriate.

Then: those sleeves! These sleeves are known as “leg of mutton sleeves” because they KIND OF look like a leg of mutton. Have you ever seen a leg of mutton? I haven’t. I’ve only seen these sleeves. Plus they have a stripe?? No, I don’t know why, but I LOVE IT.

The cuffs and the cravat bring this from “dress” to “lewk.” Top it all off with this hat and you have a true 1893 mood.

What bird is that feather even from

We get a few good extra looks in this scene as well:

Pink Lady is NOT wearing a corset

Look, sometimes you don’t have enough period-appropriate undergarments for all the background people and that’s fine. But I WILL notice.

Is that Loretta Lynn

I am loving all of this! That purple dress is fantastic, those stripes? I die. Military man has some fun flair on his shoulder, and there is a dude in a beautiful turban back there. Plus, another Black lady in addition to Guinan and That One Ensign Who Is On The Bridge Sometimes.

Data rolls in to the literary event in a different suit with a CRAVAT:

Craving a cravat

Data is like “we serve together on the same starship in the 24th century” and Guinan is like “huh” but then she’s like “okay” which...I’m not sure if I would believe that? But let’s just say it’s fine.

Over in the 24th century, the literal entire bridge crew is checking out the temporal disturbance and I DON’T LIKE THIS AT ALL:

Blue Man Group...on ACID

These beings are like ghosts but also like Dr. Manhattan but also like pure energy.

Then everyone goes through the temporal disturbance AND THE SEASON ENDS.

Fortunately for you, this post will continue...right now.

Okay, so we’re back in San Francisco in 1893. You can tell by the horses:

Also the fruit carts

Samuel Clemens is strolling around with a reporter, telling him that he has a great story for him that involves time travelers and, like, protecting the nation.

Here’s the thing about this episode’s version of Mark Twain: he’s kind of a dick. Was the real Mark Twain kind of a dick? I just feel like Mark Twain should be JAZZED about meeting time travelers and not acting like a fuckin’ time cop* and trying to put the Enterprise crew on blast.

Anyway I love his double-breasted vest.

See my vest

The reporter’s hat is technically period-accurate, but that style is SO associated with the 1930s-1950s that I would have gone with something else. He looks cute though.

Meanwhile, Data is wearing a three-piece suit:

My positronic olfactory synapses are interpreting something as...a fart

I hate brown, but this is fine.

Additionally, the beige baddies from before are back and this time, they’ve got a SNAKE CANE:

Love the snake cane, hate how they suck the life out of people

But we are not here for them, we are here to see our faves in period clothing. Our first look is at Riker, who is dressed as an actual cop, not a time cop like Mark Twain:

The past just had...so many buttons

I guess if you��re a time-traveling white man there are worse disguises than a cop. But WHERE DID HE GET THIS UNIFORM? I choose to believe that he found a cop with a similar large handsome body to his own and beat the shit out of him and stole his clothes. Now we can all enjoy imagining a cop being beat up.

The badge that Riker is wearing is a great historical detail; the SFPD started wearing them in 1886 and are reportedly the first law enforcement agency to have worn the seven-pointed star, which is now a common shape among sheriff’s departments across the United States.

But let’s move on to a better look: Dr. Beverly Crusher:

Curlz MT

Okay, now I have more questions. Beverly obviously wouldn’t beat someone up for their clothes, so where did SHE get HER outfit? And who did her hair? Did she do her OWN hair? Where did she get a curling iron? Does she know how to use a curling iron? Was it one of those ones that’s actually made of iron that you have to heat up in a fireplace?

We will get answers to zero (0) of these questions.

We actually get a much better look at her dress later, so let’s focus on that cloak!!! I love it and I also love her hat. Okay, I guess I had less to say about those than I thought.

Bev and Will, along with the rest of the officers, have somehow procured a room/apartment in some lady’s lodging house. It’s cute!

They gave it 5 stars on AirBnB

This also raises questions. How did they get this room? How many bedrooms does it have? Are they sharing one large bed? If so, who has to sleep crossways at the foot of the bed and why is it Geordi? We will get zero answers to these questions as well, so let’s move on to arguably the hottest costume in this two-parter:

I’ll be in Holodeck 4

Whewwwwwww. He’s giving us a rolled sleeve. He’s giving us a casual tweed vest. The pants? They’re perfect. And he KNOWS how that slouch is working. It’s working VERY well. But the Irish landlady? She’s having NONE OF IT.

Absolutely NO nonsense

She needs the rent, but Picard charms her and she leaves. So I guess that’s how they got the room. Her look is knitwear-forward:

Eileen Fisher does sound like an Irish name

She’s got a shawl AND a cardigan! The cozy factor is OFF THE CHARTS. She also has a brooch, because a touch of fancy is always welcome. I will say that her hair is a little more fashion-forward than I’d expect for a woman of her age and station. This is straight up 1890s hair, and she would probably still be rocking an 1860s look, which isn’t as sweepy and would likely involve more braids. Still, she looks lovely.

Geordi is also here looking dapper:

Make the collar as high as you can. I want to be sliced open by my own collar

You CAN go wrong with a three-piece suit, but it’s difficult to. He can’t wear his visor, so he has some kicky shades which we’ll get a better look at in a sec.

Back at the Hotel Brian (lol), the bellboy (who we learn in this scene is Jack London, inspired to be a writer by Mark Twain [citation needed]) lets Mark Twain into Data’s room and allows him to look around unsupervised. This is very bad hotel management.

Great Scott

Then Data and Guinan show back up, and Mark Twain hides in an armoire.

One short day in the emerald brocade

I think one reason I love Guinan’s looks so much, both in the 24th and the 19th century, is that our color palette is very similar. We’re both winters. Bold jewel tones are the vibe. This one is in a beautiful deep green fabric with what looks like a velvet flocking pattern on it. The collar is also velvet, and I love that sleeve with a flounce on top like there wasn’t already enough fucking fabric on the sleeve so they just added a random piece to be like “yes, bitch. I’m a sleeve.”

Naturally, the hat is also jaunty af:

San Francisco’s hottest milliner is: Madame Guinan

This hat has everything: feathers, netting, a brim, an angle that makes you think it’s going to fall off but it doesn’t. We stan.

Meanwhile, Picard is setting up a sensor in a hospital while wearing a hat:

I’m bowled over

We haven’t even asked where Picard got these clothes, but I would like to point out that he’s dressed as a lower-class guy, while Riker is a cop, and Geordi looks like a gentleman. Was there even a discussion they all had about how they would disguise themselves? Was Picard like “I just really want to wear a beat-up bowler hat” and since he’s the captain, they extrapolated from there? This episode is NOT CONCERNED about any of this. They all have clothes, end of story.

Bev even has TWO outfits!!

Hello nurse!!!!

I love this look. She still has her unlikely hairstyle happening, which means her nurse’s cap is sitting atop her voluminous hairstyle. (Not very practical, but realistic!) She’s sporting a simple striped dress and a button-on apron. (Look closely and you can see the two buttons holding the apron to the dress.) The fabric underneath might be cotton seersucker, but it’s likely a lightweight cotton or linen twill. You can see how closely her look matches these nurses from a similar time period:

Hello nurses!!!!

Deanna is also in this scene and this episode, but you wouldn’t know it from what she’s given to do. HUGE SHOCKER: TROI NOT GIVEN ENOUGH TO DO IN AN EPISODE. 🙃

She still looks beautiful:

Why aren’t capelets more popular

We never get a really GREAT look at her whole outfit, but I can tell you that it has a capelet, it’s in the red family, and the hat has a lot of business going on. For those reasons: approved. It has a flounce in the back too:

More fabric = more wealth

Sometimes I think about just how much fabric it took to make these old-timey dresses and I’m like...how did anyone get anything done?? It takes me like 4 weeks to finish a pair of leggings and those have like 5 seams and I own a serger. These historical bitches were sewing whole ass dresses in no time at all.

Okay, so Bev is in this hospital and here come some more energy-stealing aliens, disguised as healthcare professionals this time:

I cannot take a medical professional wearing a LIGHT BROWN TOP HAT seriously, sorry

Bev AND this energy-stealing alien have BOTH managed to get their hands on the SAME nurse’s uniform?? I guess in the case of the alien, she is a shape-shifter, so she got her clothes from...that. And her hair.

I hate this light brown top hat. If you’re going to wear a top hat, don’t DISRESPECT IT by making it BROWN, but if you’re going to make it brown, make it a good brown, like chocolate. Stupid energy-stealing aliens.

There’s a skirmish, the energy-stealing aliens disappear, and the real cops show up:

MOUSTACHE

Of course, the cops showing up is bad, because when has a cop showing up ever made a bad situation better? Never. Defund the police, but don’t defund handlebar mustaches. Those can stay.

Fortunately, Data has gotten a ping on that machine he was building before and shows up on a motherfucking HORSE:

Brent just wanted to show off

He’s back in his brown striped suit and red tie. Okay.

Everyone returns to the boarding house to suss out the situation, and we get a look at what Riker is rocking underneath his cop jacket:

Suspend me daddy

You can see very clearly here how the collar is not actually attached to the shirt. This was a thing people in the olden days did so they could wear their shirt for multiple days in a row and just switch out the collar and cuffs so they looked clean. As someone who is wearing the same sweatshirt for the third day in a row, I support this method. (If you’re interested on more info about collars, here is a very enjoyable article about them.)

We are also blessed with a better look at Deanna’s sleeves and bodice:

Black lace cuffs? Decadent!!!

You can also see Geordi’s shades, which suit him really nicely. One thing I’ve been enjoying on this rewatch is just how well LeVar Burton can act without having his eyes visible. He’s great. Let’s just all think about how great LeVar Burton is for a second

And also Bev’s dress:

I legitimately want this dress

I don’t think those buttons are functional. Can you imagine how annoying THAT would be? But I am absolutely in love with this dress. Two paisleys, Beverly???? A goddess. I’m also dying for that brooch with the chain. A+ look all around, great work.

Finally, FINALLY, Guinan meets the rest of the crew:

When you meet someone you won’t actually know for 500 years

She is wearing a hat that looks like a toilet paper cozy. Did your grandma have one of these? They’re so stupid and I love them so much.

Picard and Guinan meet for what is the first time for her, but not the first time for him, and honestly it is...sensual?????

If I got a m’lady from P. Stew I wouldn’t even mind

Patrick and Whoopi truly do some nice work in this ep. But we are here to yell about clothes, so: LOOK AT THIS DRESS ON AN EXTRA:

Gimme dat dress

I just want that dress to wear around my house. I legitimately bought an 18th century costume dress to do just that, so don’t think I won’t literally do this.

OKAY, WE ARE ALMOST TO THE END.

The crew, plus Guinan, go back to the cave where this all started:

Cave Club, the only club that meets in a cave

We get a nice look at the bodice of Guinan’s dress here and guess what: MORE BUTTONS. Buttons on the lapels, and also buttons on the front panel with the pointy top. I wonder if she has multiple front panels for that dress in different colors, like a Swatch watch.

Unbeknownst to them, Mark Twain followed them!! Then there’s a scuffle with the energy-stealing aliens during which a few things happen:

Data’s head flies off

Mark Twain gets sucked into the temporal disturbance

Guinan gets hurt

Picard stays behind to make sure Guinan is okay

So we end up with Mark Twain on the Enterprise, where he sees Worf, and he’s like:

Buh-WHAT

Worf is also confused:

This is...extremely perplexing

We have a few more looks back on the Enterprise, including Regular Guinan:

ShoulderSpreads™: The Bed Spread for Your Shoulders

I love love LOVE this outfit. The color is perfect, the shoulderspreads are perfect, the front draping is perfect. It looks like a velvet housedress from the 1960s except FANCY which is kind of my ideal aesthetic. And it’s red (my fave).

We get a quick glimpse at the barber uniform:

Bitch let me pass, idc if you wrote Huck Finn

This barber does. not. give. a. fuck!!!!

Geordi reattaches Data’s head, the one they already had, which means this whole thing was a ding dang closed loop. The reattachment also kind of diminishes the whole conversation they had earlier about how Data’s head in the cave meant that Data could die someday, because...he didn’t. He still might, but his head is back and he’s fine now.

Meanwhile, Picard is still back in 1893 and they have to go get him, but only one person can come back through the temporal disturbance, so Mark Twain is like “duh I’ll go get him.”

And finally Guinan and Picard can talk about how their friendship spans 500 years!!!!

Hey girl

Hey

YOU’RE WELCOME

*abolish the police

#SEASON 5 #SEASON 6 #TNG #TNG FASHION #STAR TREK #STAR TREK FASHION

281 notes · View notes

misumeaw-blog · 3 years ago

Text

13 Days 13 Fanfics | Counting down Albedo’s Birthday

Pairing : Albedo x GN! Reader

Genre : Fluff | Established relationship

Warning : None

Word count : 1,699 words

note : I can die peacefully now, I believe the entire family can hear me screaming. Day 13 will be based on Albedo's mail. I suck at kissing btw, sooo I tried

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

Day 12 Moment of Birth Part 1: Midnight

Light from houses in the city of freedom starting to turn into darkness; but not all, liveliest place in the slumbering city in the lake still filled with drunkards and music from the bard. Angel share, is night-active with drinks and socializing drinkers.

You have a meeting with your friends to discuss what to give Albedo for his birthday, Although..

“You guys seriously haven’t kissed yet? It’s been nearly a year”

things seemed going in the completely wrong direction “Shhh quiet please, Captain Kaeya. It’s not a big deal, I understand he wanted to take things slow” Still, there are times where you yearn for more than hugs and pecks on your face.

“Our Chief Alchemist has really taken your advice Too well, Kaeya” Lady in purple attire and a large witch hat, decorated with roses spoke up “That little genius never opened up for this sort of relationship” eyepatch man took another gulp to his mouth “I’m still surprised you managed to make him fall for you”

“Kaeya, rude” lightly zapped the one-eyed captain before turning to you “If he doesn’t make the first step, you’d need to do it” she placed her finger on your lips “Alright, alright, stop everyone” you harsh your friends before things getting out of hand “I just wanted a piece of advice on what to give Albedo for his birthday, so how did this turned to-“ Yup, that sparked your idea.

Both Knights of Favonius glanced at each other then back to you “Do you still need our help?”

The following morning you knocked on the Acting Grand Master’s room “Come in” an assertive voice flew out from the wooden door “Good morning, Master Jean. Do you know where Klee is?” “Good morning, I think she’s by the lake near Wolvendom. Oh and if you’re going to meet her, please make sure she doesn’t explode all the fish” she spoke without looking at you, eyes on massive amounts of paperwork

“One other thing, Acting Grand Master. I would be greatly appreciated if you kindly grant Albedo’s leave on his birthday” you figured your boyfriend might need a day off, in case he wanted to spend time with you and Klee “Oh right, his birthday is approaching” she glanced at the calendar “Yes of course, please do send him my regards if I couldn’t inform him myself” Closing the door after thanking her, ‘alright, off to Wolvendom’ you recalled your plan

Explosions can be heard from afar, the little girl should be nearby. Fish flying out in the sky, big splash easily visible. A small girl in red clothing having fun tossing bombs into stilled water. You called for her and she turned around “Y/N! Klee missed you” red coat sprinting to you, hugging you as soon as you’re in her reach By now she sees you as another sibling, despite you’re actually dating her brother. “Having fun today mh Klee?” glancing at the amount of dead fish on the ground “Yup! The kind uncle at the fishing asso..asso..” “Fishing association?” “Yes! the fishing association told Klee there’s a bunch of new fish all over Mondstadt, Klee will blast them all” You know fishing normally is better for the fish, but you let it slide for her happiness “Hey Klee, I have to borrow your brother the day before his birthday; well, tomorrow, is that alright?” You crouch down to the little girl’s height “Aw, but Klee wanted to be with big brother Albedo..” “I know Klee, but by that time you would be asleep. Would you like to help me prepare snacks for Albedo then?” “Yayy, Klee wanna help!” “Alright, keep it between us m’kay?” Holding out a pinky finger for the young one to hook with hers

‘And to keep Albedo busy..’ You head to the fountain plaza to one of your boyfriend’s assistants, Timaeus. “Morning Timaeus, do you know where Sucrose is?” A bit weird to start a conversation about her, since you and Sucrose don’t really get along “Sucrose? I’m not sure. Do you want me to help find her?” “No, no no no, uh, Timaeus, I need you to help distract Albedo tomorrow, mild difficulty experiment, anything” “Is that all? All Right” Scholar alchemist agreed to lend you a hand “Thanks, Timaeus”

You headed off to your next destination ‘Alright, time for a hard part’ the last part of your plan is rather hard, you wondered if he gonna help you

“Mark it as done!” wow that was.. easy, perhaps it’s because of three high-quality bottles of wine in his hands. You asked.. or rather, hired anemo bard to play songs for the night and extra requested to let the wind carry the song to you.

In the evening, you have scouted the area you wanted to give the alchemist your gift and found the perfect place. An area where you can see both the city of freedom and the icy summit, high enough for the gentle breeze to flow, beautifully decorated with flowers and greenery. Starsnatch cliff, also the home of the flower which held meaning, the truest feelings of prodigal son, Cecilia.

The next day everything went according to plan. Light meal fully prepared with the help of the pyro girl, Timaeus kept Albedo busy so he couldn’t come home and caught you and Klee in action.

Quite late night when you knocked on Alice’s door, the blonde, still in his usual attire opened to greet the unknown guests. “Y/N? What are you doing here this late hour?” Judging from the angle of the moon, it's around 9-10 PM “Hey, what about me?” eyepatch covering male’s hand and he placed his elbow on the opened door, the alchemist only nodded to his presence “Evening Bedo, I would like to show you something, could you come with me please?” you don’t normally use the formal language after being with him for so long. He can sense your shyness from the way you speak and your body language “I’d love to go but Klee..”

You pointed to the man behind you “Don’t worry about little Klee, just go enjoy your time” he basically dragged the alchemist out of his house

Chitchat along the way, fingers intertwined with his “Not sleepy yet aren’t you?” you bent down and look at him in the eyes “Not at all, I’m rather excited about what you prepared for me” giggled to his answer “Good, 'cause the night is still young!” you have reached your destination, Large fabric covering the grassy ground, a basket filled with snacks lies atop, along with a flower vase to decorate the scenery. Log of wood has bags and books resting against it. The wind bringing the scent of white flowers and the tune of the harp. Moon and star shining bright, needlessly of other light sources.

“Didn’t know you had anything romantic in mind” he teased your boldness “..well, what do you think?” hiding your embarrassment and teases the alchemist back

Sitting down to the location you prepared, he started to examine the scene “There’s no musician nearby, nor to any instruments.. Am I the only one hearing the melody?” Trying to find a scientific explanation for a strange event “The wind carries messages. Was music not a kind of message too?” He wrapped his arms around your waist, drowning in the love you gave him

“Enjoying it hmm? Here, I prepared some light food for us” slowly getting plates and snacks out from the weaved basket, the fabric is soon filled with various types of dishes "You’re not gonna sit on your seat?” his arms tightened, head bury to your shoulder “..I don't want to move” it’s rare seeing him clingy to you like this “you’re adorable you know” finally commented on his action

“We got your favorite,” one of your dishes has turned to Albedo’s favorite “These are canapés, I chose bread base, topped with different types of savory” bite-sized dishes, you know he prefers smaller portions

Pointing to each topping one by one, explaining what each one is made of. In his eyes, you’re like a professional chef

“Bedo, check this one out” you pulled out Fisherman’s toast with clover ketchup, onions, cheese, and heart-shaped parleys “..Fish-Flavored Toast, Klee’s specialty. You’re so thoughtful, I have to thank her later” he pecked your cheek, definitely in love

“And we got desserts- after savory alright Bedo?” His hand was already reaching for the dish, you have to stop his fast hand Brownies, Berry Mille-Feuille, and a jar of chocolate chip cookies are all making him drool “Shall we dig in?” He suggested, perhaps the desserts engaging him.

Your hypothesis was turned down after seeing him having a high appetite for savory, you figured he actually wanted to savor your cooking

Hours passed and you both are finally full, cuddling against the wooden log, enjoying the melody floating in the air. His platinum hair reflects the elegant moonlight, half-lidded eyes resting against your neck, handheld on yours. You looked up in the sky- its almost time

“Albedo?” He replied with a sweet hum, glancing up at you “Do you know what day is tomorrow?” “..my birthday. but I still don’t understand why you chose to celebrate it tonight” “Wouldn’t be nicer to receive a gift directly after the clock strikes midnight?” Lifted his chin to face you, he’s so close to you, closer than usual

Both yours and his cheek painted rosy, he cupped your face and look deeply into your eyes. “was all this not my birthday gifts?” “nope.. would you like to find out what it is?”

Moon motions overhead, the clock strikes midnight, soft breeze touched exposed skin, the sound of the harp soaring in the sky. stars as the witness, Cecilia as the oath, feelings as vow sealed between the two bodies.

Hand slide by the side of his neck, placing on the backside and pulled him closer, half-lidded eyes slowly closed, chest-pounding hard, tilted your head to the side a little-

sweet lips finally placed on his loving ones, passionated and full of affection, butterflies flying in your stomach. After a while, you break the timeless kiss

“Happy birthday my beloved Albedo”

#albedo x reader #albedo genshin x reader #albedo x you #albedo x gn reader #13Days13AlbedoFanfics #genshin x you #genshin x gn reader

19 notes · View notes

madlymiho · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas @aibhilin-atibeka!

Hey there! I have a little gift for you! ❤️ I’m your Secret Santa for this year! 🎄I hope you’ll enjoy this little prompt I write for you! ❤️ I can’t help but throw some heavy feelings in my writing, that’s my default mode with the ASL brothers... but! I had fun writing this!

Words: 1702

Informations: hurt/comfort - fluff - angst

Forever Brothers

He head feels heavy, terribly heavy. It has been hours since he didn’t sleep, and he lost track of time. He doesn’t even properly know where he is. How does he feel. Everything is so mixed up at this point. It’s freezing suddenly. He blinks a few times, only to witness he’s in the middle of nowhere. When did he land here? It seems so blurry. He frowns, the vivid colors surrounding him quite difficult to see for a moment. There’s snow everywhere as well, heavy and sticking, the one which stays on the boots even when you tap your foot against the wall. He pushes his hat down, probably his only way to protect his grey eyes from the luminosity. It feels so cold, he shivers from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. He doesn’t even hear this little kid arriving like a rocket near his thigh, grabbing his coat with a rather energetic gesture.

“Luffy!” Someone yells from behind a bush. “We told you to stay hidden!”

“It’s safe! He has a cool hat!” Luffy barks back, and chuckles with all his teeth exposed.

Law looks down, his eyes widening for a second. Luffy… Can he be the one he already know? Last time he saw him, he wasn’t laughing that way… Last time he saw him…

“Hey, brat, step away from my little brother!” The same voice barks, as a raven-haired boy stepping out of the bush he has been hiding behind, freckles covering all of his face. “We don’t like adults here! You’re an enemy!”

“Wow, Ace, easy.” Another kid, following the eldest, comments. He has blond hair, curly a messy, and probably a missing tooth as well. “It’s not because he’s an adult that he’s a threat.”

Ace tuts, Sabo rolls his eyes, amused. Of course Ace he’s the one who’s the most wary among them, but he has always been this way. Luffy is reckless and spontaneous, Ace is bitter and doesn’t trust people, and Sabo in the balance between these two chaotic energies. Law remains speechless, quite surprised and lost to be in the middle of this squabble, wondering for a moment what could have happened for him to be there. He crosses his arms around his chest, and raises an eyebrow, as Luffy tugs on his coat and doesn’t seem to let go.

“Have you ever chased a winter tiger before?” He asks, the same solar smile plastered onto his lips, radiant and pure, a blessed vision even for Law. “We were hunting it before you stepped on the island!”

“Yeah, and as every adult around, you spoiled the fun!” Ace growls again, arms crossed, somehow imitating Law in his gestures. “We were that close to catch him!”

The ghost of a smile appears on Law’s features, as he feels quite amused to see their smooth and yet conflictual interaction. They are definitely some wild energies, unable to be tamed nor reasoned, and deep down he feels like he understands it. He has never been a quiet child in the first place, eagerly protecting his sister when she was still alive, or yelling at Corazon, perhaps to hide his own emotions. They seem to be just like him when he was a kid; alone, but so eager to live, so eager to find some adventures. At least they are not gloomy and depressed. At least they have each other. Law shrugs, and looks back at Luffy.

“I have never tried, but it doesn’t mean I’m not a good hunter in the first place.” He states with his eternal unreadable tone. “What do you think if I help you to find it back?”

“That would be so fun!” Luffy chirps happily, and immediately turns around to seek for his brothers’ approval. “Ace, Sabo! Come on! He wants to help us! We can find the winter tiger back and share the meat for dinner! Meat!!”

Sabo seems to be ready to indulge Luffy’s whims, but Ace, as always, squints and eventually clicks his tongue. He grabs his homemade weapon, and eventually steps forwards, grabbing Luffy by the shoulder to pull him away from the stranger.

“Fine.” He eventually accepts, throwing another of his challenging look to the adult. “But after that, he’s gone!”

Law smiles to the offer, and squats down to offer his hand, his own adult way to seal a promise with the wary kid in front of him. Ace, at first in a defensive mode, eventually nods and shakes his hand. It doesn’t seem that this grown up could really harm them anyway…

After hours of hunting, squatting down in the middle of bushes, chasing for the tiger’s footsteps on the fresh snow, they eventually managed to spot their prey. Law has been able to display his best abilities, shifting rocks and leaves to protect the three brothers from a potential deadly injury, while the beast has been intensely hard to take down. Law, deep down within, has truly been impressed by the strong capacities of these three brothers. They have something uncommon; a powerful link which could never be shattered nor erased. Tired after such a long day hunting, they eventually all decided to have some rest around a fire, eating the meat they have been hunting all day long.

“Meat!” Luffy drools all over his own thighs, as Ace gives him a slap behind his head. “Hey!”

“It’s not ready!” Ace growls, and pushes his brother back onto his rear. “Remember when you burnt your mouth the other day because you wanted to eat first? Don’t do that again or you’ll cry like the baby you are!”

“He’s not that wrong Luffy…” Sabo nods, all pressed against the log he’s using as a backrest, looking at the stars above his head.

Law smirks, amused, and eventually looks up at the stars himself, amazed by the winter show in front of his eyes. It feels so quiet… Peaceful. He doesn’t even notice that Luffy came to seat right beside him, putting his cheek against his waist. Law freezes and almost flinches to the sudden proximity. He eventually sighs and rolls an arm around his shoulder.

“Hey mister… Do you have a family?” Luffy asks, his profound chocolate eyes scanning his treats to find an answer.

Law doesn’t really know what to answer. He used to have one, back in Fleavance. Lovely parents and an adorable little sister. Then, he found Corazon. Then… He has been alone for years until he recruited Bepo, Penguin and Shashi. His journey isn’t what he can call a lovely and happy one, but when Law thinks of it, despite the pain of the loss of many of the people he loved, he still remembers them with tender memories.

“My name is Law, you can stop with the mister. I lost my parents when I was around your age.” He confesses, while he feels all the eyes on him. “I found a new sort of father, but I lost him too…” He clears his throat, and continues. “But today I have my crewmates. I found my family.”

“So… You know how it feels to be alone…” Sabo mumbles, scratching the snow under his foot with the tip of his boot.

“But you have a crew! Which means you’re pirate!” Luffy almost jumps back onto his feet, if Law’s arm wasn’t in the way to prevent him from using too much of his energy again.

“Yes, somehow.” Law answers, as he looks back at all of them. Behind their confidence, he can see a layer of loneliness, even if they are all fearless. To reassure them, he eventually pats Luffy’s dark hair. “I’m a captain, but you three have each other now. A good brotherhood, even if it’s not coming from the blood, is a truly important gift. You need to protect each other, no matter what. The world is cruel out there, and it will try to take everything from you.” He offers a quiet smile. “But I’m sure you’re going to be fine. You have a strong bond.”

Luffy happily cheers to the statement, while Ace and Sabo strongly nods. It feels just like home to be with them, and share their evening. Law wishes that this moment would never stop, never fade. He wants to see them all cheerful and happy, until the end of times. He gasps when he feels Luffy rushing right into his belly, snatching a rather powerful hug, as Law eventually surrenders and wraps his arms around his shoulders. Perhaps… Perhaps he should stay himself and protect them as well. Maybe it’s his purpose after all? Those kids should never suffer from the loss of a parent anymore…

“Ace… Ace…”

Law opens his eyes, his heartbeat erratic. He feels droplets of sweat dripping down his forehead, the bite of the winter slowly leaving his skin. Was it a dream? It takes him a few minutes to recognize his operating room. On the grey and metallic table in front of him lays Luffy. Not the kid he saw in his dream, but the one he just rescued from Marineford. The one who just lost his brother, and called for him and the other one in his sleep. Law feels his bottom lip trembling for a second, a sudden sadness invading all of his body. As Luffy still moans the name of his dead brother in his agitated coma, Law eventually raises his hand, and gently grabs his arm, squeezing it just slightly.

“Don’t give up, Luffy…” He murmurs, harassed by many emotions now. He knows how it feels. “Don’t give up, because he didn’t. Ace didn’t give up on you, so you have to fight. You’re not alone…”

Oh, he wishes he could find a way to tell him that he dreamt about their wonderful brotherhood, and that time itself would heal his damaged heart. He wishes he could share those moments with them. His hand still pressed on his arm, Law promises himself to never let it happen again. Luffy will live. Ace will survive in his heart. The strong bond they have been sharing will never fade. And the whole world will remember the three brothers…

@op-secret-santa-2020

#op-secret-santa-2020 #one piece scenario #trafalgar law #portgas d. ace #sabo one piece #monkey d. luffy #law one piece #luffy one piece #ace one piece #christmas gift #one piece #angst #hurt comfort #asl brothers

66 notes · View notes

sailtoafarawayland · 4 years ago

Text

Oh, Captain!

Summary - Emma think’s she’s hurt Killian and deals with the consequences, saving him from himself just might be the one she didn’t see coming.

Rated for all, no warnings.

Tumblr Exclusive for now- will be posted over at AO3 and FF (Farawayland) when life allows. I just needed to write some happy what with all this not happy I’m watching on the news. Most likely a one-shot.

Chapter 1

Emma’s heart was in her throat.

He knew.

He knew, and she hadn’t even been the one to tell him.

“Don’t!” she pleaded, catching up to him and snatching at his sleeve, her fingers seizing the thin, black fabric and wrapping around his forearm. “Killian, please…”

The warmth of her hand, the chill of her fingertips—they were always so cold, despite his many attempts to warm them—stopped him in his tracks, the tension between them slackening as he allowed himself to be swayed back toward her, but she held on tightly, too afraid to let him go.

Afraid of what he would do.

“Am I supposed to simply let it go, Emma?”

She could hear the outrage, low and dangerous, in his voice—and it hurt, because she knew it was her fault.

“Belle shouldn’t have said anything—I told her not to, that I would handle it. I just wanted to wait until after tonight. I was afraid if you knew he’d kissed—”

“He kissed you?” Killian growled, his features darkening as he yanked his arm from her grasp, the prop hook clattering to the floor between them as he stormed toward center stage where Neal was mid-scene with Tinkerbell.

“Shit,” Emma groaned.

Belle probably hadn’t mentioned that, had probably only implied she’d seen Neal hitting on her and refusing to take no for an answer, but had left out the part where he’d tried to steal a kiss.

Emma didn’t know why she had so much trouble with words—why the things in her head couldn’t just exit her mouth in the right way, or at least in a way that didn’t always make things worse. It should have been so easy to explain—that the minute Neal leaned in, she’d shoved him halfway across the library, and if that hadn’t left an impression, she had a right hook ready. That in that moment, she’d been so sorry that she’d insisted on keeping her relationship with Killian a secret. That she wanted nothing more than to have been sitting there with his hand wrapped in hers, for everyone to see—no one else trying to take what wasn’t theirs.

Emma wavered where she stood, not sure how to process the shit show everything had become in such a small space of time. Killian was seething, his black leather coat flaring behind him as he stalked across the stage—much to the surprise of the cast performing. Ashley stumbled over her line and twisted her hands in the lime green tutu she wore as Killian reached them, his long fingers wrapping around Neal’s shoulder and jerking him into an about-face.

The gasps of confusion from the opposite wing were audible as everyone tried to figure out why Killian was on stage when he shouldn’t be, and the murmurs from the audience were no better. She was sure they were all wondering why Captain Hook was confronting Peter Pan out of nowhere. Time slowed as she watched Neal’s features twist from surprised to nervous, her eyes snapping down to Killian’s hand as he clenched it into a tight fist. She couldn’t take her eyes off the chunky, heavy jewelry from the prop department adorning his knuckles.

Props that she knew he was about to drive into Neal Cassidy’s face.

Principal Gold’s son.

The man who always had it out for Killian.

“Shit.”

Her boyfriend was about to get expelled, and it was all her fault. She should have told him earlier, but she couldn’t fix that now. She had to do something—anything—now.

Trying not to think about how far from normal this opening night was turning out to be, or how Wendy had no place in this scene, she rushed after him, doing the only thing she could think of to keep him from getting thrown out of his senior year.

“Oh, Captain!” she cried, feigning exhaustion and leaning heavily against the backdrop of painted, wooden jungle. She paused for a moment, catching her breath and glancing warily behind her, as if she were afraid at any minute something dangerous was going to pounce from the bushes.

Three sets of eyes from center stage turned to her, along with every head in the packed auditorium.

She caught her breath and tidied the blue bow perched on top of her perfect curls. “You found me! I thought I would be trapped here forever—”

Killian’s grip was still white-knuckled on Neal, who was starting to squirm uncomfortably, and Ashley looked like she wished she could actually turn into a ball of light and fly away, but she could see the curious sparkle in Killian’s eye beneath a cheekily arched brow, and it gave her the bravado she needed to keep going. She had no idea where this scene was headed with her at the helm, but it didn’t really matter.

Saving the play wasn’t the point.

Saving Killian was—the rest would just be a bonus if she could pull it off, so she continued.

“—stuck caring for Pan’s lost boys, washing their socks, cooking their meals, and do I ever get a thank you, Wendy—what delicious coconut salad, Wendy? No, never!” Righteous indignation flooded her face and she straightened her dress brusquely, angling toward the audience as she arched an eyebrow and rested her hands on her hips. “And let me tell you, not a single washing machine or microwave on the whole island.”

Not waiting for the reaction, but smiling inwardly as the wave of laughter rippled through the crowd, she turned her attention back to the strange trio that was a squeamish looking Peter Pan, a very nervous fairy, and an inscrutable Captain Hook. Relief washed over her as she saw Killian’s face losing that dark edge as she approached, her breath catching in her throat as they locked eyes. It may have been a cliché, but he’d always been able to do that to her, to just steal her breath away. It didn’t help that he looked sinful as anything in that pirate get-up. She thanked her lucky stars that he’d tossed that ridiculous wig and hat in the trash and decided to give Captain Hook his own spin.

He met her halfway between the wing and centerstage, letting go of Neal’s arm without a backward glance. To her surprise, the spotlight followed him, bathing them both in its glare as they came together. Her hand brushed along the rough stubble of his jaw before settling on the back of his neck, his arms circling her, and though he was dressed as a pirate, the possessive squeeze of his hand at her waist was all him.

There was anger and regret simmering, she could see it in the way he held his jaw, but there was also happiness, and laughter, and something more in the warmth of his eyes—something she would catch glimpses of sometimes when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, but she knew what it was, and that he held back for her—because she’d been so insistent about keeping everything between them a secret, because for some reason she was terrified if she admitted what she felt, and what she wanted, that she would lose it. It was a silly thing, and now it had hurt them.

“I never thought I’d fall in love with a pirate—” and it was not how she thought she’d tell him she loved him, so it was probably good that technically it was Wendy telling Captain Hook—“but you see me when no one else really does—made me realize that I have dreams, Captain. I can do anything I set my mind to. I can be anything—a lawyer, a sheriff, a high-end fashion designer specializing in faux-crocodile-vegan-leather accessories…”

She had no idea where that came from, but the raucous laughter from the audience made her feel a little better—at least they were having a good night. Then her gaze slipped to the side and she finally saw all of the horrified faces of the cast and crew watching the debacle from backstage. Well, maybe there was no way she was going to save the show, but even if Gold let loose, he couldn’t put the blame solely on Killian now. She was in the thick of it too, and she doubted he’d go so far as to expel Sheriff Nolan’s daughter.

“I’ve yet to see you fail, Wendy,” Killian asserted, and though the name was wrong and he was projecting enough to reach the back of the auditorium, she knew the words were meant for her, because he’d always believed in her, always believed in them.

She hated that she had been so afraid of what this could be, that she hid it away, worried if she put her heart out there, it would all fall apart.

“While I used to think that catching that crocodile was my happy ending,” Killian continued, grinding his jaw at the thought of the sneaky reptile, “I know now that it’s you, it’s always been you, so tell me, love,” and he dipped his lips closer to hers, teasing a kiss before turning his gaze on the audience, a rakish grin spreading across his face as he gestured broadly over the crowd, “will you sail away with me?”

“Always,” she breathed, “to the end of the world, and time!”

There was a roar of noise from the audience—laughter, clapping, whooping, whistling—and while she had no idea where the words had come from, what came next, well, that was no mystery. She grabbed her pirate, hands fisted in his jacket as she rocked into him, bodies swaying as their lips clashed. It didn’t matter that they were standing in front of the entire school, every detail illuminated by the hot spotlight—in that moment, there was nothing but the two of them.

It wasn’t until they broke apart—and if people hadn’t known about them before, they sure did now—that Emma heard anything outside their bubble, but then it hit—the crowd was clapping and laughing, perhaps at the insanity of it all, but who cared. Gold’s voice was cutting through the chaos backstage, reaching that thin, forced pitch that meant he was furious, and Belle was already picking up the pieces. Neal was grumbling and nursing his arm—maybe the best acting he’d ever done—beating a retreat from the stage, and the rest of the cast and crew couldn’t take their eyes off of her and Killian as they scrambled to close the curtains and help Belle figure out what came next.

Emma tugged Killian into the wing and back through the stacks of equipment and props to a quiet corner, wanting to find a place they could speak, but also to remove him from Gold’s eyesight as quickly as possible.

“I’m so sorry. I should have—”

“Emma,” he murmured, tilting her chin up so she could see the truth in his words. “I’m not upset with you. How could I be?”

“It was my fault. If I hadn’t insisted that we keep our relationship a secret, then he…”

“Oh, Swan. It is not your fault that Neal assaulted you.”

“Assault is a little…look, if he had known we were together, he wouldn’t have tried to kiss me.”

“He shouldn’t have tried to force a kiss on you, regardless. You’ve been more than clear, for years, that you have no interest in him. Though, maybe I shouldn’t have lost my temper and stormed the stage,” Killian admitted, ducking his head and scratching his ear in that way that always made her heart flutter. “Thanks for saving me from myself, lass.”

“I meant what I said, Killian,” she whispered, her voice dropping as she pushed the words out before they could crawl back in. “I think…I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

“Are you sure it’s not just the hook, Swan?” he teased, giving her the out, because he just understood her that well, but she could see the hope in his eyes, and suddenly all of that old trepidation was gone.

“You’re not even wearing the hook,” she pointed out. “I’m sure, Killian Jones. I love you, whether you’re a smoldering-eyed pirate, or not.”

“You think my eyes smolder?”

“Stop it!” she laughed, shaking his shoulders gently as he waggled his brows at her, the both of them enjoying the smile of the other before he grew serious once more.

“And I love you, Emma—so much.”

“Yeah, I know.”

* * *

Gold’s fury had tapered down to mild annoyance by the next morning, no small thanks to Sydney Glass and his cover story on their humble production. He’d praised the comical genius of their work, calling it far from ‘just another retelling of the same old story’. He highlighted the unexpected romance and praised the heartfelt acting of the two leads, whose whirlwind chemistry swept the audience away. He even went so far as to paint the play as a tongue-in-cheek examination of eternal youth versus personal growth, and while Emma thought that the whole piece was a little lofty, she was more than happy that there hadn’t been any blowback on Killian for his stage-crashing.

Overall, opening night hadn’t been a total failure, and Belle had been more than capable of a hasty rewrite for their follow-up performances. While Neal wasn’t thrilled with his sudden decrease in lines, Emma was hardly going to complain that she got to kiss her smoldering-eyed Killian Jones on stage each night—and if the hook and pirate costume went missing from the prop department for some reason, she doubted anyone would notice.

END

#Captain Swan #captain swan ff #emma swan #killian jones #captain hook #cs fanfic #cs au #cs ff

55 notes · View notes

vankeppel · 3 years ago

Text

|| age of piracy au

Governor Thomas Gage was a kind man, very easy in manner. Captain Clinton suspected it was this gentleness that allowed him to be loved by the inhabitants, but not feared by his enemies.

“Again, I apologize for the absence of my lieutenant governor. Lord Cornwallis is away on business at the nearby island. Keeping up good relations and all.” Gage waved a hand.

“Ah. Of course.” Clinton stood, nodded stiffly.

“I do appreciate your arrival, Captain. We have been sorely lacking in a naval presence for over a year.”

That reminded Clinton of something he’d been meaning to ask.

“My predecessor...I wasn’t told much about him. I apparently ran into his brother yesterday-“

Gage’s smile soured into annoyance. “Damn. I told Billy not to bother you.” He sighed, his look softening.

“Forgive him, it’s been hard. The Howes are a well settled family in England, but relatively new to spreading their roots across the ocean. Richard was given the naval posting here and it was decided William should follow along. The rest of the family is still in England. Even after Richard’s passing, they insisted William stay here, even more desperate now to establish themselves.”

Gage looked out the window, a little bit downcast. “He’ll probably go into business here, a merchant lord, if you will.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. He did seem...upset.” Although the man had been rather rude, Clinton did feel sympathy for him.

Gage fiddled with his pocket watch. “I held off for so long, too long, in asking for a new naval commander. William was certain Richard would return...a replacement would only confirm his fears.”

“You pity him?” Clinton asked not unkindly.

Gage smiled softly. “I’ve been governor a long time here, so I didn’t mind looking out for them when they arrived. The lads’ father died as governor of Barbados when they were but children in England. Their eldest brother died in the last war while fighting here. The tropics have not been kind to the Howes.”

Clinton picked up on the tiredness in the other man’s voice, realized he looked much older than his forty-something years.

“Well, thank you for the context. I’m sorry for the loss of Captain Howe. I’m sure he did well, here.”

Gage looked at Clinton a moment. “Yes, thank you. I think you’ll do fine here, too, sir.”

———

The clouds provided cover for the old ship as it silently glided near the harbour.

“There she is.” Gentleman Johnny spied the island through his glass.

“This is nothing more than a scare. The mere preliminaries. Our entr’acte, if you will.” Burgoyne paced the deck as the pilot steered closer. He looked at Richard.

“If that new captain’s anything like you,” A sly smile spread across his handsome face, “and I’m sure he is, he’ll come charging head first at us.”

“Not every Navy man is the same. Perhaps he’s smart enough to be different.” Richard shrugged, staring straight ahead.

“Pah! They’re all the same! If difference was allowed I would be in there!”

Burgoyne hopped up onto the railing, hanging onto the ropes by an arm. His long wine-coloured coat billowed about him in the breeze.

“Easy now, almost there.” He muttered.

Once they were close enough to his liking, he turned round, called to Richard.

“If you’ll pass me my hat, there, and call up the crew.”

The hat was a grand affair, a cocked one with a ginormous plume of feathers and laced in faded gold braid. His rings clanked together as he ran a hand through his long hair before placing the hat on top.

His ears perked up at the faint sound of music floating across the water.

“Why...yes...” He smirked to himself.

“They’re here.” Richard tugged at his coat tails.

Burgoyne faced his crew, nimbly walking across the railing as he spoke.

“Why, it seems they’re having a party! Such a shame they forgot to invite us!” He grinned, and the crew roared with laughter.

“Alright! You know what we’re here to do. I want cannons loaded and manned! Make sure to defend the ship, the rest of you...follow me!”

And with a dramatic flourish, he swung from the rope onto the harbour deck.

———

There was a ball, tonight. It was courtesy of an elite family, Clinton hadn’t bothered to learn the name.

He really preferred to stay away from such large engagements. He’d always been uneasy around them, would rather be reading at home or playing his violin.

It was Governor Gage who insisted he come along, inspire the populace with his presence. Indeed, he’d garnered many smiles and handshakes through the evening, everyone dazzled by his dress uniform and what it symbolized.

Of course, these introductions were easy, all Clinton had to do was repeat the same thing to multiple faces. Anytime someone made to start a real conversation with him, he’d quickly find an escape.

“Oh, come now! The evening isn’t even half over, Captain.” A high voice chided Clinton, who was standing in one of the room corners, sipping his glass.

It was Margaret Gage, the Governor’s wife, Thomas on her arm.

Due to frequent introductory business, Clinton had been to the Governor’s house many times the past week, meeting both Margaret and their children. They were obviously a happy couple, content in life.

“Ah, my apologies, Mrs. Gage. I’m afraid these past years on solely ship and sea have taken away from my social aspects.”

“Well, you’ll never get any better if you don’t start now. Join in a dance!”

Clinton had come to like the Gages almost instantly, so he shrugged and set down his glass, following them to the floor.

“There he is, that’s the devil.” William, watching Clinton across the room, whispered to his friend Frances.

She slapped him playfully on the arm.

“Hey!”

“Billy, you hardly know him!” She scolded.

William pouted. “I know that I don’t like him.”

She sighed. “I know you’re still upset, but he bears no responsibility for what’s happened. He doesn’t need your ire.”

William nodded, looked down. Fanny was the only person who could talk to him about Richard like that. He knew she did it in good nature.

He exhaled, looking upward, a few strands of hair falling in front of his face. He smiled down at her.

“Yes, I know. You’re right.”

“Of course I am.” She stuck out her chin and smirked, but her eyes were kind.

“Now, why don’t you introduce me to him?”

And before William could object, she pulled him by the hand towards the Captain.

“Excuse me? Sir?” A female voice piped up behind Clinton, who turned to find a young lady with voluminous curls pulling along...William Howe.

Great.

“Well?” The lady whispered sharply to Howe, who looked quite pained to be facing Clinton.

Not like Clinton wanted to encounter him either.

“Captain Clinton! I believe we’ve...made our acquaintance before?” William forced a smile.

“Ah, yes. How could I forget.” Clinton’s manner was equally as forced.

“My friend wanted to meet you. This is Miss Frances Conolly.”

A repeated gesture again. Clinton felt the tightness in his chest fade. This he could do.

“Captain Henry Clinton. A pleasure, Miss Conolly.”

He took Miss Conolly’s hand in due courtesy, and she smiled.

“We’re all thrilled to have you here, Captain. It’s been a while since we’ve had royal ships defending us.”

Clinton saw Howe flinch.

“Well, I’m ever glad to do my duty, Miss.”

“You didn’t perhaps know Captain Richard Howe, by any chance?” She asked earnestly.

The tightness returned. “Ah, no. I’m sorry.”

Clinton was quickly thinking of a way to get out of this, when, miraculously, it was provided for him.

Of course, he would have preferred something a little less dramatic.

“We’re under attack!”

#Gage is here! Frances is also here bc I love her! whooo!!#AOPau #byrd writes and screams #Fanny’s look is purely hc since no portrait exists of her RIP

5 notes · View notes

yeahinoticed · 5 years ago

Photo

Trimberly Pirate AU

There are Very Many ideas in my head. If you’re interested in them, take a look at my feeble attempt at fic writing below.

Perhaps they were fated to meet, or maybe it was simply chance. Either way, there was no turning back. Their story was an inevitability - its movements as sure as the tides themselves.

A Pirate AU wherein Trini is a notorious pirate captain, and Kimberly just wants to be free.

Read it on AO3 here!

She had never expected to be here. Though Zack’s plans were wild to be sure, she had to concede that more often than not, they worked. Still, she’d rather it was him in her place. But as great a strategist as he was, Zack was terrible at keeping his cool. His excitement was likely to get the better of him, and if it happened here, it would spell the end of their careers - and most probably their lives. They just couldn’t risk it. Trini fiddles with the gaudy looking brooch pinned to her lapel. It looks like any other - a brassy little trinket engraved with a crown, vibrant red gemstone studded proudly in its centre. They’d picked it up in Havana last year, not long after their first success. Trini had been adamantly against spending their newfound gold on such frivolous things, but Zack would insist it was a token of celebration, a small purchase he’d treasure forever. It was hard to say no to such blinding enthusiasm, so she’d simply rolled her eyes and turned away, which he’d obviously taken as approval. Trini thought he’d get bored of it and sell it at the next port for some other shiny thing, but true to his word he’d held on to it, and the cocky grin he’d worn when brandishing it at her this morning had her reconsidering their partnership. Nevertheless, it was becoming useful now, so she supposed she couldn’t really fault him.

She’d always thought such things were kind of tacky. Blatant shows of wealth and title weren’t really her style. They make you stand out. And in her line of work, standing out makes things a whole lot harder. Yet here she is, clad head to toe in a flashy formal ensemble. The mustard coat, the breeches, the stockings, the dastardly wig and feathered hat - the whole lot. The frills of her shirt tickle her neck and hands, a constant irritation in the back of her mind even as she peers up at the garish manor before her. Rendered cream walls, framed by extravagant trimming reflect the bright midday sun so brightly that they almost glow. The dark gravel path up to the manor is edged with smooth stones, dividing it from verdant garden beds which are somehow both calculated and unruly at the same time. At the base of the path, two uniformed guards flank an ornamental wrought iron gate. Its bars twist intricately to resemble thorned roses, and its top edge is studded with spikes. They glare at her, suspicion evident in their faces, hands gripping their rifles ever so slightly harder - imperceptible to an untrained eye. She understands their wariness - while her linen garments give the impression of status, she isn’t their typical wearer - no woman is. Trini might be accustomed to the blade, but it was time to put her sharp tongue to use.

“State your business ma’am”.

“Isn’t it quite obvious, good sir?” she replies. The accent doesn’t come easily to her, and if the guards notice, they give no indication of it.

The one who had spoken looks to his comrade, visibly apprehensive. It was a difficult situation for him. If he gave the wrong person trouble, he’d be out of a job before evening. Yet he couldn’t simply stand aside, for then he wouldn’t be doing his job at all. He hadn’t signed up for such dilemmas. He sighs.

“Your invitation?”.

“This is all hardly necessary” Trini remarks as she slips the folded letter from her inner breast pocket. The guard scans it over, thumbing the seal that identifies its sender. When he scans it a second time, his eyebrow quirks.

“Forgive me ma’am, but you don’t quite look like an ‘Oliver’ to me”. His partner scoffs at this, before clearing his throat and making to smooth the collar of his regimental red coat, directing his gaze somewhere in the distance. Trini replies without missing a beat.

“My father was quite set on the name before I was even born. Though I do wish someone had talked him out of it, I don’t very well mind being named after my grandfather”.

The guard squints at her, before his frown eases in thought. Her reasoning wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility.

“Very well, Miss Bennett. I’m sure Governor Hart will be glad for your arrival. I apologise for the inconvenience. I do hope you enjoy the party.”

At the guards nod, Trini makes her way through the gate.

“It’s quite alright, I get it all the time”.

---

As she steps into the main hall, Trini is struck by the atmosphere. A low chatter echoes off the stone floors, intermittently joined by the soft clanking of cutlery. She can still hear the familiar whispers of the ocean in the distance, beckoning her back sweetly. Around her, the guests are dressed much the same as she is. They converse with false smiles, many holding silver goblets filled with what she can only assume is a fine wine. A guard stands at the foot of the main stairs, rifle up against his shoulder. She passes another who stands at the entrance to the dining room. There were more than she thought there would be. How bothersome. She isn’t two steps into the room when the idle noises of the manor are joined by the gentle moan of a violin. A grand wooden dining table is set against the main window, adorned with an assortment of food, though she’s sure it normally resides front and centre. As tempting as it looks, it's not what Trini is here for. She lets out a quiet chuckle. Zack would’ve been right squiffy by the day's end, if he’d come along. The people in the room begin to pair up, swaying slowly to the violin’s song. While she’d prefer not to partake, she’s sure to arouse suspicion just standing here - and she’s not sure she could hold a real conversation without giving herself away.

Trini glances around the room. Standing by one of the large windows is a woman in a silken, rose coloured dress. She’s strikingly beautiful, with her dark brown hair in an elegant updo. It catches the afternoon light in a way that steals Trini’s breath for a moment. She’s about to look away, find someone else, when the woman turns, meeting her eyes. After a pause, the stranger smiles faintly, tilting her head in silent questioning. Rats. With one deep breath, Trini slips back into her persona. It was time to dance.

---

Kimberly Hart has attended many a party in her twenty three years. Her father’s parties, his friends’ parties, his enemies’ parties. It was expected of her really. Don a pretty dress, be receptive (but not too receptive) to her potential suitors. Gossip idly with girls who have far too much time on her hands. She didn’t mind it, most of the time. She had to admit though, it could get a little boring. This was her father’s third ‘dance’ of the year and it was only February. He had to keep up appearances of course. How else would his peers know of Port Royal’s thriving trade if he did not celebrate it with fine wine and finer appearances. Even so, Kimberly could only tolerate the advances of so many men. Nobles, with promises of glamour and comfort back in the motherland. Merchant sailors who weave tales of wealth and adventure that seem just a little too crafted to be true. Naval captains who think their pride and ranking should have her swooning at their feet with nary another word. Every so often, there’d be one or two who would have her attention. Whose silk tongues and vibrant eyes would draw her in, if only momentarily. But she’d find soon enough that her biting wit was never appreciated for long, and the smooth talking would always give way to frustration. It seemed she was simply a prize to be won, a hill to be conquered. Bragging rights. Quite frankly, she was sick of it.

And so, Kimberly finds herself standing by the front window of the dining room, eyes ensnared by the gentle ebb and flow of the waves upon the beach. Her mother used to tell her stories of the ocean - stories far grander, far more fascinating than those of her suitors. Stories of sleepless nights in raging storms. Of brilliant new lands and people and creatures. Of days spent in song and nights spent in stupor. She’d always wondered what it was like out there, beyond the confines of her father’s estate and everything it represented. Would she go? If given the chance? The thought is at the forefront of her mind when she feels the familiar pressure of a set of eyes, trying and failing to be inconspicuous. Turning quickly she seeks them out, finding a woman who seems just out of place. She’s wearing an embroidered suit, woven linen in a yellow far too green. The hair of her grey wig is pulled into a ponytail beneath her feathered tricorne. Her attire is interesting, yes, but Kimberly does not recognise her. She recognises most of her father’s guests. She feels her lips twitch upwards at the woman, holding her gaze from across the room.

Something flashes across her watcher’s face, gone too quickly to identify. The woman strides towards her, light on her feet. There's a vague slant to her hips, an unfamiliar swagger that Kimberly thinks might betray some unknown truth. What secrets were held in her small frame? She presents her hand, palm upturned. “May I have this dance?”.

Kimberly takes her hand, finds it unexpectedly rough and calloused, but gentle. As if their union was a cue, the music picks up, the rest of the band joining the violin as its pace hastens. They begin to dance a casual rigaudon, Kimberly following the stranger’s lead. She waits for her partner to address her, watches her eyes flick about the room. They’ve stepped around each other three times before Kimberly breaks the silence. “The strong silent type then?”

As if only just remembering where she was, the woman’s eyes snap towards her. Her brows knit together. “Pardon?”.

This was unusual. Kimberly’s suitors would usually rush to fill silences, trying desperately to keep her eyes upon them. It seems her current partner barely cares for her existence. “You haven’t spoken a word to me since you asked me to dance”. She’s surprised at the venom that laces her words - it hadn’t been intentional.

“I’m quite sorry madam”. With a turn, they dance in the reverse direction. “I was simply admiring the Governor’s manor. It’s quite beautiful. Have you been here before?”

Kimberly almost stops dancing. She searches the other woman’s face for any sign of jest, finding nothing but honesty and vague inattention. It was absurd to think a guest to this party would not know her name, though she supposes it could be possible. Her irritation fades quickly, replaced by a mounting curiosity. “My family is close to the Governor’s”, she lies.

Her partner’s only response is an idle hum.

With their next step, Kimberly’s eyebrow quirks. She pulls the woman into a twirl under her arm. “And you are?” she inquires.

Seemingly startled by the movement, the other woman stumbles slightly, before regaining her footing and resuming their dance. “Bennett. Oliver Bennett”, she replies firmly. Pulling Kimberly into a twirl of her own, she smirks. “Merchant extraordinaire”.

Kimberly mulls the name over. Oliver Bennett. It sounded vaguely familiar, but any recognition she might have had was fleeting - as out of reach as a feather in the breeze. Though the woman had said it quite confidently, it had a strange sort of inflection. In fact, now that Kimberly thought about it, the woman’s accent was unfamiliar. It sounded vaguely English, but her words were more rounded, had a rich and intriguing depth to them, like they were dripping with such experience that it bled into their very sound. Kimberly’s stomach dips in a way she’s sure could be addicting. She returns her attention to Miss Bennett, only to find that her eyes are once again fixed elsewhere. She follows her gaze, finds it trained on the staircase in the entry hall. With a tilt of her head, Kimberly drapes an arm over her partner’s shoulder, pulling her closer with every step. “Extraordinaire, hmm?”.

The woman drags her eyes back to Kimberly’s and holds them there for a long moment. Her smile turns upwards. “You sound surprised, Miss…”

“Clarke”, Kimberly supplies, flinching internally. It had been the first name to enter her mind. She banishes the thoughts that surround it. Not now. “It's not every day I meet a woman merchant” she admits. “You’ve piqued my interest Miss Bennett”.

Though it seems the other woman’s attention is now firmly upon her, Kimberly makes no move to increase the distance between them again. This close, she can see the depths of colour within the other woman’s eyes, reflecting the light of the setting sun. They glint with unspoken secrets, not unlike the pieces of foreign jewelry often brought by traders upon the tide. Promises of a world much larger than anything Kimberly had experienced.

“Some would say my methods are...unconventional”. The merchant’s words bring her out of her reverie. They serve only to deepen her curiosity.

“However do you mean?” Kimberly presses.

“Trade secrets, Miss Clarke - I can’t simply give them away”, she replies with a wink. “But I have to be smart you see”. Another twirl brings their faces impossibly close together, and she whispers her next words carefully. “There are pirates out there you know”.

Kimberly is about to press further, when the sharp ringing of the town bell cuts through the manor, signalling another day’s end. The music begins to fade, and the woman detaches and spins away from her with a sly smile, disappearing amongst the meandering throng of people moving from the dining room into the entrance hall. She scans the small crowd, but any traces of the woman’s yellow coat and devious grin are gone as swiftly as they had come. It's only once she turns back to the window that Kimberly notices how fast her heart is beating.

#trimberly #trini x kimberly #kimberly hart #trini not kwan #trini kwan #trini gomez #Power Rangers #power rangers 2017 #pirate au #liketheocean #art #my art #sketch #sketchbook #this might not be the most engaging story #its more a diary of my headcanon #which involves a lot of descriptive writing #painting pictures with words eh?#i am more familiar with the picture medium after all

191 notes · View notes

gildedmuse · 4 years ago

Text

So... I have this bad habit where sometimes, when attempting to summarize the idea for a fic, I go into waaay too much detail.

Like, I don't go as far as to actually wrote the damn thing because, you know, effort and laziness, but... Well, it's a close call. It gets to the point where it's less a summary and more what my friends use to call a Quick Fic. All that's .kissing is the actual dialogue and descriptive narration.

Having said that....

Here is a "summary" of an ZoLaw AU where Law works for Doflamingo...

What happened was, basically, Law got caught by Doflamingo after eating the devil's fruit which eventually allowed him to cure his dieses, thus why he's still alive. Or, at least, isn't dead from lead poisoning. Because let's face it, Doflamingo could have just killed the boy then and there. Sure, he'd have to find the fruit all over again, but better that the deal with this little traitor

Except really it was his brother who had been the traitor. Law is still just a child, and children can be so suspectable to any number of ideas so long as an adult gives them a pat on the head and a treat after.

Which is when Doflamingo realizes that he can just manipulate Law into being another loyal follower. Then eventually - when he's no longer useful - Doffy will have him sacrifice his life for his own immortality. By that point Law will be family, and family never lets Doffy down. Not anymore.

So it's under Doffy's personal tutorage that Law grows up, and as much as he might resit the man who imprisoned Corazon, it's hard not to eventually fall to all Doflamingo's sweet praise and promised. And Law gets what he had wanted all along: a way to get back at the world that willingly watched his home wiped off the official world map and would be happy to see the entire town dead to the very last one. This Law truly earns his title Surgeon of Death, acting as the top officer of Hearts in the Doflamingo crime family. And yet despite his cruelty, he isn't even on the government's wanted list; protected under the Shichibukai's jolly roger.

In the meantime, the Strawhats are still doing their thing right on through Punk Hazard (which they somehow manage to not only live through but actually do more damage and cause twice as much chaos. The biggest difference is that Ceaser and Monet escape and Sanji can't perv out over being in Nami's body). So this time when they roll into Dressrosa it's less "backing up the plan of an ally" and much more "on complete and total accident" and "without a damn clue".

Yeah, basically they're the Grand Line's easiest prey.

But, hey, it works out! Well, no, not really. But Sanji does meet Violet, Luffy meet Sabo and help recover Ace's devil's fruit, and Zoro does get lost and require a magic fairy guide. Plus, hey, since they're not really there for any purpose other than that they happened to be passing by, it's not like they can't pull a dine and dash. They may be unprepared, but The Monster Trio can still keep up the fight until everyone is back on the Sunny.

A perfect escape!

Except no.

Because Luffy isn't totally ready to leave, not when he wants to know more about what Sabo is doing and help his new friend Rebecca. Not that they have time to debate the merits of staying or pulling a tactical retreat since at that poing Big Momma is on their ass. And that scary dude in the long black coat is still somehow following them, teleporting himself through the fucking air like wtf why is this happening now!? Nami is forced to make an executive decision: they're can't stay. Also, oh God oh God they're trapped and they're going to be killed and oh God.

It's moments like these you're almost thankful one of your crew members is a total maniac. Because in the middle of all this mess, Zoro just smirks, tells Nami to just concentrate on getting away from that annoying ass ship, he's got their other attacker covered. Which only makes everyone freaks out MORE because what is Zoro thinking: he'll be killed! ("Not immediately, of course. First they'll likely torture him for information, perhaps even kill him as slowly as possible." / "What? Why would you say that? That is not SUPER helpful to hear right then!") The Sunny goes into an all out panic attack. Everyone is yelling or crying or both.

Except Luffy.

Luffy who looks at Zoro, at the singing ship, at the dark power user trying to slash their ship apart, at the shore line of this island and the way it radiates a fake happiness covering Rebecca's very real pain. Luffy who just lowers his hat over his eyes and gives the nod.

Zoro smiles, and is immediately almost clobbered by a giant Chopper. What is Luffy saying? Don't they realize that is the same guy who almost took down Sanji, Zoro AND Luffy only moments ago? Zoro can't fight him alone! Sanji, more calm than the rest, lights a cigarette while explaining that he's not trying to stop Zoro from getting himself killed or anything, but Chopper is right. That guy was incredibly tough, and there's no way Zoro can do it alone ("Shut up dartbrow! You don't know what the hell you're talking about! I could take him down with just the two swords! With one hand behind my back!" / "He already kicked your ass once, Marimo! Or have you forgotten because of all the head trauma!?" / "The only reason he kicked OUR asses is because YOU kept getting in my way you damn weak-ass cook!" / "WHAT DID YOU CALL ME, IDIOT MARIMO!?") Franky tries to regulate the fight but he's busy blocking those deadly aimed slashes from hitting his poor ship while Brook and Kin'emon work on stopping the incoming cannon balls. Either way they're going to have to do something SUPER fast if they want to get out of here. Yeah, Luffy, we need an actual plan. We can't just send Zoro out to-

"Zoro", Luffy says and despite everything going on around them the deck of the Sunny goes really quiet. They all know that tone. "Zoro, I need you to take care of this until we can get back. I still need to kick Mingo's ass for a friend."

At the sound of his captain's no nonsense voice, Zoro is suddenly easily able to stand, shrugging off the pile of people trying to stop him from jumping to his death (and by pile of people I do mean the coward trio and Sanji, who is mostly just trying to get in a few kicks). He draws Wado, clutching the katana in his teeth and yet still somehow manages what you know is a smirk. It's a promise.

And like that, Zoro is launching himself right into the blue sphere of the battle.

A battle against one of Doflamingo's top officers. A devil's fruit user with a twisted heart and home field advantage. Needless to say, it does not end well for our hero.

—🧡—

Although, Law has to give his rival swordsman some credit. He has his share of fun toying with the boy, and despite never standing any real chance of victory Law can admit the strawhat pirate puts up a better fight than most. Far better than Law had been expecting from some one so new to the New World (supposedly he got Mihawk to agree to train him, but Law has met the Hawk Eye and finds the idea utterly absurd). Then there is the way his smile had just an edge of what Law could only call manical delight, even when it became clear he'd long lost. This greenhaired kid really is stupid enough to believe his captain will come back for him. As though he would come charging back into Doflamingo's territory a second time just to retrieve a single crew member. One who was not only crazy enough to sacrifice himself but couldn't even win the fight. At the same time the swordman's loyalty and faith - as misplaced as it is - is kind of... Adorable. Who knew someone could come so far on the Grand Line and still be so innocent?

Law immediately wants to corrupt it.

Thes other family members will whine tell you, Doffy has always had... Let's say... A "soft spot" for Law. He's spoiled that brat for years, is what they mean but don't dare to say. Sure enough, Law barely has to work to talk Doffy around to letting him personally see to the prisoner's arrangements. Doflamingo is a little suspecious at first (he can never truly trust Law, not after the Corazon incident), but he quickly dismisses it. He's had the Heart Officer's loyalty for years now.

Of course, when he sees the spark of interest light in his apprentice as they eye their newest spoils of war, he can't help but tease Law. After all, Zoro is quite an enticing young man and Law isn't the only one there who likes pretty things. They're so fun to destroy which - judging from the way Law shivers when Doffy runs a hand through thick green hair before yanking the boys head back against the wall hard enough to leave the young captive panting and dizzy - is precisely his protege's plan.

(Doflamingo also happens to know Zoro almost definitely had trained under Mihawk, and he would love to see his fellow warlord's eyes flash with barely contained anger when he learns how Doflamingo has broken his favorite toy. It's not his fault - Mihawk is always so uptight and repressed, it makes agonizing him too much fun for Doflamingo to resist.)

In the end, though, he knows when Law's determination is set. And for whatever reason the boy has decided he absolutely has to be the one to keep their guest "comfortable" while his captain makes up his mind on what he'll do. So Doflamingo only teases for a bit - touches a little, plays with the barely conscious boy kneeling at his feet, enjoys the way Zoro still has enough spirit left to try taking bite when Doffy's fingers trail to close to his bloody lips (oh, and, what a joy! Law nearly growls at the prospect of not being the one to ruin the boy!) - but eventually he stops his little game. He gives in, telling Law to have fun with his treasure. He is the one who took him down after all. It is only fair he keeps him.

Just try not to completely break the poor thing, not until Strawhat returns for him.

Law snorts at the very idea. This is hardly the first time they'd done this. He's never seen a single captain try and retrieve their stolen property (he has of course, but he doesn't remember them). He doesn't see why Strawhat-ya would be particularly special.

Before Doflamingo can come up with a clever, vague answer about Law trusting him, Zoro suddenly gives a bark of laughter that would have scared lesser men senseless. It only serves to draw the two men's interest back to their little pet.

Luffy won't come back for him, Zoro confirms, much to Law's surprise (he personally never thought Strawhat-ya would, but then why would the swordsman sacrifice himself so willingly for a man he has so little faith in?) and has Doflamingo raising an eyebrow in.... Interest. Zoro looks at both of them with no fear, like he hadn't taken a humiliating defeat and is even now bloody and chained up, helplessly listening in on these two infamous pirates talk about him like he is a mere object. Actually, if anything, he appears to be wearing a smirk under all that blood. Because he knows something they don't.

Luffy won't come back for him, because his captain knows Zoro doesn't need to be rescued.

To Law, this makes Zoro look like an even sweeter treat. Doflamingo is simply amused, remarking that perhaps their little pup has yet to realize the leash around his neck is shaped like a noose.

Zoro meets his gaze, steady yet daring. He promised Luffy that he'd take care of it, and so that is what he will do. He'll never go back on his word, especially when it comes to his captain. Something Doflamingo with his distrusting and fear-toed crew couldn't understand. So see, their plan to use Zoro as bait will never work, because Zoro swore to Luffy that he'd be take care of it. So he will. Luffy has enough faith in Zoro that he'd never believe anything less and would never turn around out of doing to try and mount a rescue.

No, when Luffy comes back it will be for the sole purpose of kicking Doflamingo's ass.

The mood darkens. In a flash, Doflamingo is in back in front of him, yanking Zoro forward by the chin. He squeezes hard enough to bruise. You can hear the cracking of bone as he explains to Zoro exactly how precarious his current position is only to grow second by second more frustrate by Zoro's completely lack of fear. So he squeezes harder. He slams the boys head back into the wall and starts smiling when he gets a since from the stoic swordsman.

Before he can do any real damage Law steps in, reminding Doffy that he promised him he could have the boy. And just like that, Doflamingo's whole mood appears to shift back to calm. He puts on his fake smile and let's Zoro go, even pets the boy's hair. Of course, he had promised. And he, too, is a man of his word. Something Zoro will surely learn in time now that he is one of them.

Zoro, now with blurred vision and the taste of fresh blood on his tongue, is smart enough not to answer. But not smart enough to lower his head or try and appear humbled. Lucky for him, Doflamingo decides the boy isn't worth it. When he turns around he notes the hungry way Law is eyeing the kneeling prisoner behind him. Which brings a crueller, yet more genuine, smile to Doffy's featurss. The Strawhats vice captain may act invincible now, but he's never faced Doflamingo's own Surgeon Of Death. As disinterested and put off as Law might usually act, the boy can be dangerously twisted. He's sure his top officer will break the young pirate down bit by bit - both literally and figuratively - long before his captain can come running back in to try and find him (and Doflamingo is sure Strawhat will, no matter what Zoro might think).

He leaves with one last reminder to Law not to completely shatter the infamous Pirate Hunter. No, Doffy would hate to see their newest family member treated so poorly, especially seeing as he has much bigger plans in store for the young Mr. Roronoa. Specifically, he wants to see the face of Monkey D Luffy when he watches as the last bit of his first mate's spirit broken.

And because Doffy practically raised the boy and knows exactly the right buttons to push, he decides to give Law a little extra motivation to bring Zoro to that point. Just in case that interest turns into something dangerous like longing or - laughable as it is - actual fondness. It's so simple, too: as he walks by he simply whispers how there is nothing like crushing the heart of unrequited love.

It will be such a treat, tearing Zoro from his captain, and watching Luffy realize he's lost his chance to love the other man, wouldn't it Law? What a truly tragic romance. It almost makes you hope the two of them at least had some time together. Law didn't happen to give them a moment along before forcing Zoro to throw himself into the fight, hmm? Just a small, precious second or so for the two to share a final kiss. After all, not even Doffy is so cruel as to deny the poor boys such a tender moment.

Sure enough, Law's eyes immediately narrow and Doflamingo can feel the jealousy rolling off him. Not because Law gives a damn for their prisoner's feelings - Doflamingo raised him better than that - but he always has had a possessive streak. Having taken an interest in the swordsman, he will hate the thought that the boy might even think of another or that Law won't be the first to possess him in ever possible way.

Doffy leaves with a cruel, deep laugh. He can't wait until dinner, when he may just happen to remember the rumours about his "friend" Mihawk and his taking a young green-haired boy under this wing and in to his bed. By tomorrow he suspects every part of Zoro's body will bare at least some mark that he now firmly belongs to no one but Trafalgar Law.

52 notes · View notes

of-wrens-and-whirlwinds-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Smokey the Bear (Reboot)

Commission for a lovely person who wishes to remain anonymous! I loved working with your ideas and character, thank you for commissioning me!

If you would like to commission me, please head to my About page, link in my blog description!

“But Bellaaa, I want to come too!” Kristopher whined, tailing his sister to her personal flight. “I can be helpful!”

Izabella sighed heavily, taking a cigar out of her box and stuffing it in the corner of her mouth. She wouldn’t light it until she landed, but it was comforting. “You have to stay, Kris,” she said firmly. “There isn’t room in the cannon. And no one is expecting me to bring a little kid.”

Kris, only four years younger than her seventeen years, hit her bicep in annoyance. Izabella smacked the top of his head with the flat of her palm. “I love you, you demon,” she said, and bent to kiss his forehead. “We still have communications, remember? And I’m counting on you to blow some stuff up, alright?” She grinned slyly, and he bounced on his toes, grinning right back. “Make Babushka proud.”

“Yeah!” Kris cheered. “I can help aim the cannon!”

“Excellent!”

Izabella packed her bag while Kris readied the cannon’s coordinates. Everything that could be vacuum-packed, was. Her gadgets either folded or were compact enough to be stacked so no space was wasted. Izabella swung on her bearskin coat, and then attached the bag to her front. After a check with Kris, Izabella slid down inside the barrel of the cannon, wiggled into position, and called, “Aim!”

The cannon turned ponderously to face the right direction. Under the cold winter moon, the landscape was grey as a charcoal sketch. Mountains, trees, brilliant stars…

The cannon adjusted height. Izabella yelled, “Fire!”

(A group of young boys who had made an illicit bonfire looked up in terror as an enormous boom shook the air. There was a small projectile ascending into the sky, twinkling like a star. The boys hastily stomped out their fire and ran home.)

“Tell us what happened,” the grizzled interviewer told the witness, with the perfect stereotypical gruffness.

The witness, the teenage heir to a tech company far too big for him, considered lying. She might come back if he lied. One glance at the interviewer shot that hope down, so he began speaking.

“She was really pretty. Red hair, blue eyes, absolutely gorgeous. She was wearing this enormous, like, fur coat? I mean, I know it’s autumn, but it wasn’t that cold.” The interviewer raised his eyebrow; the witness gulped. “She also had a cigar, a huge one, like a cartoon, y’know? It was legit scary, man. She was Russian, too.”

The interviewer’s eyes narrowed. “What did she do?” he growled.

The witness had a fleeting thought that he didn’t want to be James Bond anymore. “We were at the yacht club, there wasn’t much to do. She was drinking whiskey and smoking that huge cigar and everyone was taking turns talking to her. She was friendly enough, but… when I went to say hello, she said hi back, and while we were talking she said--well, she said I shouldn’t tell anyone…”

“We are the police, sonny.”

The witness nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir, sorry. She told me that the English monarchy was weakening. She said she was warning me, in case my dad was involved in England. Which he is. He’s anti-monarchy. I called my dad after the party--”

“Why?” the interviewer interrupted, looking even more annoyed, if that were possible. The witness rubbed his sweaty palms on his knees.

“Because I wanted him to know. If she was warning me, maybe she wanted to warn him, too. I dunno, okay?! She was nice and gave me this lighter thing--”

“What lighter thing?”

The witness fumbled in his pocket and brought out a thing shaped like an old-fashioned metal cigarette lighter. As he put it on the table, almost slamming it, the lid clicked open.

There was a bark like a small-caliber gun, and out of the lighter came--

--Silly String.

The witness screamed and fell off his chair. The interviewer jumped to his feet and tried to save his notes, but the oily surface of the rapidly-expanding foam had smudged and smeared his ink writing to illegibility.

When two other officers burst in, the witness was curled in a corner, sobbing, and the interviewer was staring into the distance with a grim expression.

“It’s that Izzy girl,” he said, with complete conviction.

(The boy was inconsolable and had to be sent home on a private jet to his mother’s house over the border. When the captain heard the interviewer’s oral report, she shook her head and said, “Red hair? It can’t have been Izzy. She’s blond, remember? With curls.”)

Izabella lit her cigar and puffed on it a few times before entering the meeting room, Kristopher at her side. They were both on their best behavior, and dressed to the nines; Izabella in her sumptuous furs, and Kristopher in a new suit in olive brown. The heels of Izabella’s shoes tapped a brisk rhythm.

“Hello, boys,” she drawled, pausing in the doorway to breathe out a cloud of smoke. She then stuck the cigar back in her mouth and swaggered over to the remaining chair at the foot of the table. Crossing her ankles neatly, her next exhale was in rings. Kris stood at attention beside her, his face emotionless.

“We are not boys for you to command, young lady,” snapped a tall man with a Portuguese accent. The Australian on his left gripped his wrist lightly.

The four other Russian men chuckled softly. “She’s in command, alright,” said Gustav, who was sent to Ukraine when he was small to escape government assassins and still had the faintest accent. “Do not worry. She will make sure we have what we need.”

Izabella smiled brightly, then took off her tall fur hat to reveal a bottle of whiskey balanced perfectly among her curls. All of the men at the table cheered, and drinks were poured for everyone, though Kris’s was watered down quite a bit. When everyone was feeling looser, Izabella said, “I have planted seeds of doubt, and heightened tensions with clever paperwork. Your way to revenge is clearing. Kris, the hologram please.”

Kris took off his watch and placed it neatly in front of her, face down. With a subtle flick of his fingernail, a beam rose and spread, to show an office building slowly rotating. The building was quite normal, except for the eighteen red squares in various strategic points.

“This is my plan,” Izabella explained, leaning forward. “I will compromise this building, after securing the information in its mainframe. And then your men can swoop into the police station while the officers are busy, and take back your mole.”

“Will this work?” asked the Australian.

Izabella smiled and raised her glass. “We shall hope so.”

(After the meeting, the Portuguese man was seen flying off into space, twinkling like a midnight star. No one asked questions.)

The teenager striding down the hall of the office building, talking on her phone loudly in accented English, caused more than one curious worker to stare, baffled.

She was slight and pretty and wore cat-eye sunglasses, her hair perfectly curled, a slinky black dress, and a fur coat that was pulled off her shoulders and bunched up on her biceps. Her brooch was a silk flower, startling in its bright pinkness.

“No, Kris, no!” she was saying as she walked straight into the CEO’s office. “I told you, Mama said to not touch the telephone! If it is the men, they will find you.” She stopped in the middle of the room, and seemed to notice the CEO and his guests for the first time. She smiled, and said, “Hello! I’ll call you back, Kris. Yes, yes, I’ll tell Papa.”

She snapped her phone shut as she pulled it away from her ear, and kept it level with her cheek as she struck a pose and asked sweetly, “Mr. Ama-zone, I presume?”

“Ah. It’s Bezos,” the CEO corrected. “Who are you?”

“Mascha. You talked to my Papa a few days ago. He asked me to come by for your answers.” The girl flipped one heavy lock of hair out of her face, then pulled a paper-wrapped gumball out of her pocket, and let the paper float to the floor when she unwrapped the sweet. Popping it in her mouth, she chewed quickly, then continued, “Papa is rather unhappy, as well. Something about overdue payments.”

The men in suits at the conference table glanced at each other, Bezos, and the girl. Bezos looked rather pale as he smiled and replied, “There must’ve been a mixup. I haven’t talked to anyone from Russia in a long time.”

The girl sighed dramatically and swaggered across the room to lean on the window, so Bezos had to turn to keep an eye on her. This also meant that he didn’t notice the other men watching the exchange with wide eyes. “Mr. Bezoss, do not play games with my Papa,” she retorted. “He will bring his men here, and your company will go poof!” She snapped her fingers for emphasis. “He wants his payment. He wants it now.” She smiled again, innocent as spring. One of the other businessmen was texting furiously; another had laid down his mobile with the mic pointing up.

Bezos cleared his throat, and pressed a button on his own mobile, under the table. The girl’s sweet smile became a smirk. Bezos’s eyebrows twitched, but he spoke strongly. “I don’t owe anyone anything. I don’t know who you are or why you keep dropping hints about a man being angry, so my staff will have to escort you away.”

Silence fell on the office.

The girl took her gum out of her mouth, tossed it into the waste basket, and took a cartoonishly large cigar out of a different pocket. A plain silver lighter was next. She lit the cigar, put the lighter back, and took a deep draw on said cigar, letting the smoke billow out of her nose.

Bezos was sweating. So were his compatriots. More of them were sending emergency texts and alerts.

“Mr. Bezoss,” the girl said kindly, “Perhaps you should check on your staff.”

Every man there jumped to their feet, and pelted for the door. Izabella trotted over and locked it, then gathered all the wallets and personal gadgetry left behind and tucked them into her coat’s inner pockets. Finally, she plugged a tiny USB into Bezos’ computer, and set it to siphon what her employer wanted. It was designed by Kristopher, and made by a Swiss watchmaker they knew. It finished in about three minutes; plenty of time for these foolish Americans to realize the entire building was now blocked from any electric communication.

When the computer binged, Izabella sighed dramatically and sat up. With four key taps in quick succession, she unleashed the virus also hidden on the USB. It began to systematically purge the computer’s data, and spread from there, attaching to every connection it could until the entire building began to shut down, and police started yelling outside the locked door.

Izabella tapped her cigar, and the ashes fell on the specially-formulated gumball, which burst into flame. She smiled at the fire, then turned and drew a glass-cutting blade from her sleeve to quickly slice out a hole in the window that was supposed to be indestructible. Just as she prepared to climb out, she drew her lighter again, and flicked it three times.

Bombs hidden throughout the building began to go off, within seconds of each other, and destroying the structure of the building. Izabella threw herself out the window, landing in the window cleaner’s hoist positioned just so to catch her, and smacked the brake on the rope. It plummeted immediately, and Izabella shrieked with glee as explosions and the rumble of crumbling concrete surrounded her.

(She escaped unharmed, somehow, covered in stone-dust and ash. Gustav and his men had fetched their mole, and when she joined them, they nodded solemnly and followed her to the vans. Later, the interviewer from Alaska (who had been reassigned to California) heard the details and told his captain that he knew it was that Izzy girl. The captain frowned and said, “Izzy? No, no, she smokes cigars constantly. This girl chewed gum.”)

“Babushka!”

Kris and Izabella flung themselves at their grandmother, who laughed warmly and hugged them back, with much kissing of their cheeks.

“Ah, so how are my two little kittens?” she asked, hauling Kris into her lap while Izabella sat on the foot stool beside the rocking chair. “How much have you brought your babushka?”

“So much!” Kris crowed. “Almost a BILLION rubles!”

“No, it’s two hundred and fifty thousand rubles, three million American dollars, half a million Lybian dinars, a few thousand in various other currencies, and five pledges of partnership from various governments,” Izabella corrected, and stuck her cigar in her mouth again.

“Ah,” Babushka sighed mournfully, shaking her head. “Ah, my kittens. When I was your age, I was blackmailing royalty and undermining continents.”

“It’s harder now, Babushka!” Izabella protested. “You were a duchess! Kris isn’t even an adult!”

“Neither are you,” Kris sniped.

Babushka shushed them both and stroked Izabella’s hair. “I was teasing, vnuk,” she said, the corners of her wise, bright eyes crinkling. “Tell me what you did to that Egyptian banker.”

“Oh, Babushka, it was amazing! Kris made these tiny microphones with nuclear batteries that I placed throughout the banker’s home, and we got results in three days! The information has been securely transferred to the Yamaguchi-gumi, who will send the final payment tomorrow.”

“If they don’t, I’ll crack into all the bank accounts the family controls,” Kris piped up.

“I used the shoulder-cannon on the man in London calling for the rejoining of Ireland under the English government,” Izabella said dreamily, blowing smoke rings. “Oh, Babushka, it was splendid. He flew up so high, he didn’t even leave a glimmer. I also dropped that pink poison-flower into the double-agent’s brandy, as instructed. He died in about twelve hours.”

Babushka shook her head. “We’ll have to have a talk with the chemists, kittens; that poison is supposed to be quicker,” she told them. “But in the meantime--let’s have some kholodets to celebrate another successful year!”

The two children cheered, and their babushka chuckled again.

(Babushka’s kholodets was made from a recipe passed down since before the Soviets, and most people who were given the honor of tasting it whispered to friends later that it was poisonous and had given them sores in their guts. All of Russia feared the Babushka and her grandchildren.)

The squadron of soldiers stood their ground, as the heavy, pink-painted tank drove toward them with complete disregard for anything else. Other soldiers had given up trying to break its track; this squad would not.

Carefully, one of them set a small, shallow, rectangular dish on the ground. It had wheels much like the tank, and an electric motor. A demolition expert gently attached a very strong bomb. An enlisted soldier brought out a radio remote.

The dish with its bomb jerked into life and whizzed across the bare field, which was scarred and streaked but mostly whole. The soldier with the remote drove the dish with her tongue poking out of her mouth, eyes flicking over the terrain and to the pink tank.

The dish and bomb swooped neatly under the tank.

“COVER!” the demolition expert roared, and everyone dropped back to the trench. She pressed a small button and dove in too.

The bomb went off, and the power of it literally blasted the tank apart at the seams. As the soldiers took deep breaths to cheer, they saw two people-shaped objects flung into the air. Somehow, their voices carried over the explosions of their tank giving way.

“I told you, Bella, I told you they would have a sneaky bomb--”

“Shut up, you’re the one who wanted to save weight with thinner plates--”

The shouting became too faint, as the figures became nothing more than glints in the sky. The soldiers looked at each other uneasily. One of them, a corporal, who used to be with the police, opened his mouth to speak.

“Wasn’t that Izabella, the spy?” whispered one of the enlisted soldiers.

“Nah,” whispered the other, “Neither of ‘em were wearing fur coats.”

The corporal turned around and started thumping his head against the earthen side of the trench in a consistent rhythm. Why. Why was everyone so stupid. Why.

(Later, the corporal was demoted for leading a ragtag group of soldiers from other squads to do something so dangerous. When he pointed out that they had actually been led by a captain, said captain shrugged and answered, “Wasn’t me.” The corporal went to his quarters and got drunk.)

Earth’s atmosphere was a boring place to be, but Izabella and Kristopher couldn’t really come down themselves; they had to wait for Gustav’s air balloon.

Izabella re-lit her cigar and puffed on it angrily. “This is your fault,” she grumbled, the thinness of the air softening her voice to a whisper.

“How is it my fault?” Kristopher snapped, throwing up his hands and immediately bringing them back down with a wince. Space always made his hands cold. “I told you there would be sneaks!”

“Then why did you make the tank so delicate?” Izabella retorted angrily. “Saving weight, saving gas, blah blah blah--Blyat! You’re worse than Anatoli.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to that labrat!”

The siblings continued bickering for several hours, floating and turning and twisting. Eventually they grabbed each other’s arms to argue at the same level, and the insults got truly vile, until Kristopher started crying. Izabella growled, but pulled him in against her and hugged her baby brother tightly.

“We’ll be fine, Kris,” she said. “Gustav is too afraid of Babushka to leave us up here forever.”

“I’m cold,” Kristopher sobbed, his tears drifting from his pale cheeks and falling into the clouds.

“I know, bubble-butt.” Izabella pressed their foreheads together. “When we get back to the ship, we’ll sit in front of the heater and watch that film you like, what is it? The Swan Princess? And we’ll drink hot cocoa and design a new tank, and you can tell me all the things I missed, and then we can paint each other’s nails. Alright?” Kristopher nodded. “Good. It’s okay.”

Not even ten minutes later, Izabella spotted the grey-blue balloon rising up to them slowly. “Ah!” she exclaimed, shaking Kristopher gently, “He’s here!”

(Returning to their base of operations on the warship, they did indeed watch The Swan Princess in front of the radiator, drinking hot cocoa. Gustav watched from the doorway for a moment, smiling softly, then walked away, leaving his children in peace.)

#crack treated seriously #original fiction #writing #writing commission #commissions open

14 notes · View notes

analog-machine-writes · 4 years ago

Text

SendMeAPrompt - “Pirates?!” [T]

Prompt Transcript

Anonymous Said: You are an aristocrat preparing for a long voyage by steam airship. While inspecting the ship the night before departure, your vessel is invaded by pirates. You hide inside a large trunk when you hear the ruckus above and hope to survive the robbery – when suddenly, to your horror, the airship takes off. [end]

Fic below the cut for space-saving reasons; one of these days, y’all will let me say that without it being a pun 😂

The last thing he’d expected was for the airship itself to begin to lift away from its dock. The robbery did not seem to be the sort of robbery that was intended to steal an entire ship, but now that it had been revealed it was that sort of robbery, what was he to do?

Taking several moments to gather his thoughts, he’d finally convinced himself to gather his strength and leave the trunk in which he’d hidden.

Lifting the lid of the trunk with the same apprehension of a child lifting the lid of the cookie jar, he scanned the room: Empty. Good. This would give him more time to gather his wits and contemplate his next move.

Slipping gingerly from the trunk and taking great care not to let the lid slam once both feet were firmly on the deck again, he went to the porthole window to take a look on what progress the pirates had made. They had already gained quite some distance from the dock, making it nearly impossible for him to return. He had to give them credit, whoever was flying the ship, they certainly weren’t cowards in that aspect. But stealing an airship in the dead of night? Hardly the work of brave men.

Turning back to examine the cargo hold, the young man sighed what was left of a breath he didn’t know he was holding in; there was no sign they’d even been down here, so it was possible that their goal was the ship itself. Glancing around further, he found a prybar that was meant to open the crates when they’d reached their destination and, in silent haste, armed himself with it. Taking a deep breath that chilled him to his core, the dapper young man smoothed out his royal blue coat, buttoned it from belt to chest, and silently made his way up from the cargo hold.

Ascending the decoratively gnarled wooden stairs, he flattened his hat to the top of his head, hoping not to give himself away prematurely as he peaked out from his hiding place in the bowels of the ship. The particular set of stairs he had just ascended lead not through the galleys and dining halls, but through the lesser-traveled areas of the ship: What many would consider to be crewing quarters, he thought. Not a soul was in sight. Presumably, the pirates were busy rummaging other parts of the ship and making a mess of the travelers’ quarters.

Quietly moving through the shadows, he ascended the decks until, finally, he breached the surface deck. Despite the noise, it was empty. It would seem that the pirates that were there had gathered in the captain’s quarters for the moment. At least, that is what he’d hoped for the brief moment before he realized that such was not the case.

In a panic, as he realized that the pirates were coming up from one of the galley stairs, he ducked into the nearest door. This nearest door, of course, happened to be the captain’s quarters, which he was now praying would be empty. Ducking behind one of the ornate support posts of the ceiling, he closed his eyes for a moment to catch his breath; his heart rate was finally beginning to slow, and when he opened his eyes, he began to notice the ornate details that had been carved into every inch of the ship.

The walls and beams had been carved with flowers, inlaid with what shimmered like precious metals but held colors of paint. It was quite a beautiful ship, really.

“Th’ bloody hell’re you doin’?” A voice asked, breaking the trance the ship’s architecture and design had put him under. “Who are you?”

“I,” he replied, straightening the navy velvet coat he’d buttoned up to his neck and fixing his grip on the metal bar he carried, “am Sir Thomas Tarleton. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

“Aye,” The figure sitting on the bed, who was currently covered by a shimmering coat of sky blue and a brown hat similar in style to Thomas’ replied, “I’ve heard of you. Ya’ en’t no sir, that’s f’r certain.”

“Common courtesy dictates that you should at least tell me your name.” Thomas said flatly, his expression growing in frustration and annoyance.

“Captain Keef da Blade.” They replied, leaning back against the headboard of the bed, though still quite obviously staring at Thomas.

“You, I’ve heard of... I am armed.”

“And I’m going to do what about it?”

“You will yield to my demands and take me back to the docks.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” Keef slid from the bed, turning to take something out of the sheets. “You can come with us if you like, but we’ve no time to be turning back now.”

“You will yield!” Thomas barked, lifting the prybar and pointing it at the pirate captain with empty intent.

“I’m sorry?” Keef turned on their heel, now facing Thomas; their face now eerily lit by the lamp on the table managing to shine under the wide brim of their leather hat. The expression they carried was one of solemn animosity; an expression their regal features carried and expressed quite well. “I didn’t catch that. What did you say to me?” The pirate asked, words dripping with venom.

“You. Will. Yield.” Thomas foolishly repeated.

With little warning, the pirate placed one foot squarely in the center of the chair that had been left pulled out and vaulted over the table, landing with against Thomas with one hand gripping the wrist that held the prybar in such a way that would have made it painful to move that arm. “Now you will listen to me: I do not care that you are on the ship, I do not care that you are free on this ship, I do not care that you are here and not a part of my crew. However, I do not take orders from anyone, least of all from a posh little rich priss like you! Understood?”

Thomas nodded, and the pirate, Keef, turned loose of him with a shove, returning to sit on the bed and presumably gather their wits.

“I’m sorry.” Thomas said softly, rubbing at the part of his wrist where Keef had left fingernail indentations.

“Pardon?”

“I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. You’re a person, after all. I’m sorry.”

“Many people say things they come to regret in the heat of the moment. Especially when they are afraid. I forgive you, but I do not retract my warnings.”

“Fair enough... You weren’t afraid of me?”

“No. Should I be?”

“Most people who are a foot shorter than me would be.” Thomas said softly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Keef stood and pulled a pistol out of the front of their pants and laid it on the table, earning a scoff from Thomas, “did I disappoint you?”

#Send Me A Prompt [Finished]#Pirates?!

2 notes · View notes

amisssunbeam · 4 years ago

Text

A Little Response to Rhavewellyarnbag's latest Review of The Terror's "Horrible from Supper" (the italics are me)

Being another look at The Terror, episode 01x07, “Horrible From Supper”. But first, the characters in The Terror to whom I own an apology for the things I said last night when I was drunk, in ascending order of how vile it was: Francis. Yes, what I said was true, but I should not have said it. Goodsir, on general principle, because he is a nice man, and doesn’t deserve to have the likes of me talking about him that way. Author’s note: Only daily do I apologize to Harry Goodsir (fictional) for the things I say about him, and to Harry Goodsir (nonfictional) for the things I say about a fictionalized version of him. I like to think that the former would forgive me, but I think that the latter might not. I painted him from the few photos made of him; he has a delightfully reproachful look. Resting bitch face, even.

In the 1845 photos, his eyebrows come together in a way which could be interpreted as judgmental. But, when we think of the trials of sitting for a daguerreotype at that time (not nearly as jolly and pain-free as depicted in “The Ladder” –forgetting about the subsequent Tuunbaq attack) Goodsir’s reproachful look might merely result from the tedium of having his picture taken (or that fatal tooth was beginning to hurt). Tozer. Though, again, I meant it, and, like, look, I defy you tell me that he doesn’t look absolutely stunning when he’s afraid for his life in “Terror Camp Clear”.

“The Terror” certainly broadens the parameters of handsome-ness. Tozer, while listening to Morfin singing “The Silver Swan”, is more attractive than, than, than the Moon! Or the Pyramids! He’s supernatural.

The ship before it weighs anchor, before it, in some fundamental way, becomes a ship. Not yet having fulfilled its function, it is more like a theatrical set. The notion of limbo is a fitting one: the men descending the ladder, coming from the bright, noisy world above, could be entering the afterlife.

Who’s the cat who does the words about utter existentialism? Rod Serling, was that his name? Did everyone see his episode of “The Twilight Zone” about the toys in the Salvation Army barrel? Yikes.

Nothing is working as it should, logic is suspended, and the topsy-turvy world of the carnival will become real.

The movie “Topsy-Turvy” is a great favorite of la famille Sunbeam. Even so, there are useful parallels between that film and “The Terror”: class clashes, pretense and pageantry, and mainly ripping away the fine lace mask of the Victorian era. The attitude of the servants in both shows is strikingly craven.

“Any tips, sir, for a first-timer?”

In the super-heated world of fandom, “any tips for a first-timer” sounds like the sort of pick-up line EC would use on the true Cornelius.

Poor Morfin.

Morfin is “The Terror’s” equivalent of the Victorian Little Nell. Headaches, bad teeth, song-forgetter, probably a once-in-a-lifetime sodomite but nevertheless flogged for it. When he and Tozer go out on that exploratory mission, he falls flat down and Tozer says something like “Don’t volunteer if you don’t have the bottom for it.” (More heat for the fandom). And he gets to be the first to see the severed heads. (Who thought Tozer and Morfin would make a good team for this task? Did they draw names?) “Gently with that one, please.” It’s a little bit insensitive of Goodsir to express concern for his luggage before he does, Morfin, after Morfin’s just collapsed from pain, only looking like the living dead. That trunk, though, is Jacko’s tomb.

Harvey, your theory about Goodsir’s, ah, class-related selfishness is confirmed here.

“Are these our choices, Cornelius, or are they being made for us?” Gibson seems to falter, which is interesting. His idea to separate from the larger group doesn’t seem to be his own, which suggests that Hickey understood that it couldn’t be seen to have come from him. Gibson looks like death warmed over, but Hickey is just as perky as ever.

Gibson seems to get on-and-off injections of great intelligence, but his death-warmed-over look is consistent through the series.

Hickey is also under-dressed, not even wearing a hat.

This is perhaps a very English-major thing to say, but there is a suggestion of a climate change (or a massive change in consciousness) occurring after Carnivale, as if the trauma of the fire left living dead who can no longer feel the cold, or, having felt so much fire, the survivors have had the idea of cold burnt out of them.

He does sometimes dress more appropriately, as in “A Mercy” when he was helping Hartnell transport supplies for the carnival. Suggesting that, in this scene, Hickey means to maximize his attractions. The obvious beneficiary is Gibson, but I think Hickey sees some value in displaying himself for Tozer, the one Hickey is really after, and has been since at least “Punished As A Boy”.

A sexy thought; how much nudity the men would crave. When Hickey is flogged, he is completely exposed to the men present, and I think the sexuality of his having his pants pulled down really hits the sailors hard. Francis alone looks like he’s going to climb out of his skin with the ferocity of his feelings (I won’t say desire, but that’s what I mean). Was it you, Harvey, or someone else who discussed how strong the thirst for touch must be among the Franklin Expedition? I imagine the thirst to see bodies is just as powerful.

Then, I was immediately resurrected by the peek at Collins’ suspenders. He is... built like a cement outdoor commode. There is a lot of Collins to love.

The suspenders become iconic. Collins is one very alluring sailor, even in his bulky sea-diving outfit with that great furry head sticking out. Yet his sexuality seems neutered, compared to the other significant sailors (Still, if Hollywood decided to make a chubby “Wuthering Heights”, Collins would make the perfect pudgy Heathcliff.) Author’s note: I don’t think Francis thinks very much of Goodsir, and the feeling is mutual. Goodsir has to obey Francis, but it’s duty without devotion, without deference, Goodsir having seen very little that would indicate to him that Francis has reformed himself. Francis may have stopped drinking, but he’s up to his old tricks, dismissive unless he wants something, ingratiating when he does. This is the way that Francis behaved toward Hickey, which gives an interesting contrast between Goodsir and Hickey: once Goodsir understands Francis’ motives, he’s no longer taken in; Hickey must understand that Francis was only drunk and trying to get into Hickey’s pants, but Hickey continues to try to make Francis like him.

Francis might resent Goodsir’s place in society, so settled and unique, while Francis himself has to maneuver around Sir John and James and all the rest. But Hickey he can control. (In a way, it’s a shame that Irving, the stupid old king of coitus interruptus, has to bust in again. It would be in vain, and yet interesting, to consider what might have happened if that seduction had been consummated. Think of the bickering harem Crozier could assemble: Hickey and Jopson and Gibson and then Irving, etc etc. (But this speculation, that a captain would handpick a seraglio of sailors, is ruined by the knowledge that, despite all the porn stories and movies, there is no one a teacher would want less to seduce than her students.)

James has to move his little pick ax from one hand to the other to reach out to Francis, suggesting that, emotion aside, he made a conscious decision (his bones not yet reduced to broken glass) to grab Francis’ jacket, right over his heart, no less, and jostle Francis in a friendly manner.

This moment is comparable, to those who might be interested, to Star Trek: The Original Series’s “Amok Time” when Spock grabs Kirk by the arms. Quite the pensee could be written comparing Kirk-Crozier (the fair-haired captains) and Spock-Fitzjames, the haughty eyebrow-waggling second. The latter’s reserve is melted, melted utterly by his realization of how much he loves his Captain.

Author’s note: I am into Edward, but conditionally: I like him in that coat that makes him look substantial. Matthew McNulty is lovely, but he’s far thinner than I thought he was, which came as a bit of a shock.

His shortness is also quite astonishing. I can’t imagine Levesconte being involved.

Levesconte is too busy lying on his little officer’s cot, reminiscing about the time he said “benjo” and everybody cheered.

“There was a fourth man.”

I know you are referring to the raid on Silna in “Punished as a Boy”, but these words put one in mind of T.S. Eliot’s notes to the “Fire Sermon” in his “Wasteland”: “it was related that the party of [Anarctic] explorers, at the extremity of their strength, had the constant delusion that there was one more member than could actually be counted”. Ah, the hypnotic potency of the top of the world.

Did Edward just grab Irving’s knee? Judging by Irving’s expression, yes, I think he did. I think he leaves his hand there for the rest of the meeting. Actually, no, he does not, but he appears to again bring it down to the general vicinity of Irving’s lower body.

I have run this scene over again and again and again (like the Zapruder film), and I think Edward does make an aggressively intimate gesture: “left and to the back, left and to the back.” Irving does not seem displeased.

Hickey begins to assume what he imagines as Tuunbaq’s character. Having already, it’s implied, eaten part of Heather’s brain . . .

It is more probable that Hickey was just tapping at Heather’s brain, mainly because a brain IS not like a pudding; a pudding can be nibbled on without anyone noticing. But if someone nicks a part of a cathedral, which is a self-contained entity, it would be noticed by, at least, Nurse Tozer. Still Hickey might have tasted the cerebrospinal fluid, just for the Hickey of it.

When first aboard Terror, Hickey appears to be sizing up his new environment, but he also looks relieved, hopeful. It’s implied that he had a lucky escape from England, which had gotten too hot for him, but I think that he really believed that he was making a fresh start. Taking another man’s name was practical, perhaps a necessary evil, but I think that E.C. just didn’t want to be E.C. anymore.

I admire the symmetry of Hickey throwing a Neptune-sized bag down by Hodgson, thus startling him far more than one think a tough lieutenant would be startled.

Author’s note: . . Silna doesn’t fall into Goodsir’s arms, because there’s no reason why she would; she might like him, but he’s merely the least untrustworthy of a group of untrustworthy men who, by the end of the series, have not just made her home almost uninhabitable, but killed her father and her friends. Her discovery of Goodsir's body, the state it’s left in, confirms it: if this is what the British do to each other, she was lucky to get away when she did.

Hear hear!

By the way, if one is in the mood, another pensee could also be written about the real daguerreotypes of the Franklin expedition. I am particularly amused by Gore and Fairholme. Gore hates Lady Jane and this stupid thing she’s making him do. just so Sir John can be further exalted. Fairholme picks up the vibe and poses just like Gore, only he has to borrow the affable Fitzjames’ jacket.

I think we’ve all been there.

17 notes · View notes