#please please I’m begging y’all to learn how to pirate

[dead-lesbians]

I am SO tired of mediocre horror games aimed at kids being made and people defending these things to the edges of the earth on why jumps scare simulator with mr tickle toes where the whole story is that aliens made an evil toy to control the minds of kids is actually a very adult game and why they are justified in buying it and ignore that they are helping fund the shitty creator behind it because the dev team sees very little of that money once the game is released, also ignore the offical Roblox channel aimed at literal toddlers using the characters from said horror game and ignore how all the merch is aimed at kids shhh shh

[msfett]

✨ Chapter 2: Point of Convergence

*-/ When light meets and interacts with matter, it can do one of several things depending on what kind of matter it encounters \-* 

Boba Fett x F!Reader

Timeline: Starts off with younger Boba (like pre-A New Hope)

Rating: 18+ only 

C/W: Explicit Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut

Some Stuff 😊 Major shout out to @ceapa-mica for creating this lovely cover art! Thank y’all for coming along on this journey. I’d be incredibly grateful to know how this reads for you, so if you have a moment, I’d love to hear your thoughts 🥰 Come say hello if you like what’s below! If you prefer AO3 (msfett_ifyourenasty), this series is cross-posted there. If you're enjoying this fic, please feel free to reblog and share 💕

🎶 Musical Motivation/Lyrical Inspiration: Tigerlily by La Roux 

**********************

A duo of Kowakian monkey-lizards frantical skitter to corners of the room at the unexpected intrusion.

“Ahh, Boba! You have impeccable timing. It has been too long since you visited with old Hondo on Florrum. You look fantastic, my friend! New dent? Don’t tell me,” the Weequay holds his chin, pondering. “No, that was definitely there before. Well, since you have already invited yourself in, would you care for a refreshing beverage after your travels?”

“This is not a social call, Ohnaka,” Boba’s voice is flat, expressionless.

The pirate is unfazed. “You remind me so much of your father. All business, that one. You are the spitting image of him! Well, naturally you are the spitting image since you are a clo—"

“Ohnaka." Boba cuts off the Weequay, in no mood for his chatter. “What have you learned?”

Hondo presses a panel closing the office door, unusually serious, his voice hushed. “After this conversation, we will never speak of her again. Do you hear me? I want nothing to do with this.”

The Weequay clears his throat, nervously stalling. “You have discovered a very interesting woman, and I tell you, there are not that many interesting women left in this galaxy. Trust old Hondo on that.”

“Get to the point.” Boba stiffens with annoyance.

“Ok, my impatient young friend. This was no simple task. The only thing I had to go off of was that recording from your heads up display. You are lucky I have buddies in the bacta business on Thyferra,” he remarks, pleased with himself. “So after greasing a few palms, I was able to acquire some footage from the central security network.”

Boba is motionless, an impassive statue in contrast to Hondo’s expressive animation.

“What appears to be your mystery woman, boarded a modified YT-1760 that night. Now, here is where it gets interesting,” Hondo quiets for effect. “The transponder code from the ship lists what I presume is an alias for her, because that person is long dead.”

The pirate is hesitant, but continues on. “Your elusive lady turns up…nothing. No chain code. No docucard, identichip, passpad. Nothing. Which begs the question, what if she is nothing? Hmm? No-one?”

“Speak clearly. I’m paying you for answers, not riddles.” Boba bristles at Hondo’s roundabout prattling.

“This is why critical thinking skills are so important.” Hondo taps his helmet for emphasis. “So after putting one and one and three together, I have come to the conclusion that your mystery lady only looks like she does not exist. And for good reason too. These days it is nearly impossible to go anywhere without some form of identification. But there is one organization that could provide that level of far-reaching anonymity.”

“Go on.”

Already sensing Boba’s skepticism, Hondo exhales a puff of air. “Now, hear me out. The Bothan SpyNet has been around for hundreds of years. They have agents in every corner of the galaxy. It is said that a long time ago they established an elite faction of untraceables, agents that were continuously scrubbed clean of any information. No past, no future. No-one. Blank slates.”

“What are you getting at?” Boba tires of the pirate’s flowery rhetoric.

“My dear Boba, you have stumbled upon a Shadow Geist.” Hondo declares before tenting his fingers in front of his mouth.

Boba scoffs at the pirate’s conclusion. “Impossible. Those are just old spacer stories.”

“Improbable, yes. But impossible? There are many things in this galaxy that we cannot explain.” Hondo’s facial expressions become animated. “Just imagine being invisible, no one knowing who you really are. All the adventures you could get away with!”

“But, as you have demonstrated,” his enthusiasm vanishing, “one cannot go undetected forever. I would suspect most Shadow Geist are eventually discovered, and you know, that kind of ends the whole secretive thing. Very sneaky, those Bothans. My kind of people.”

Boba’s agitation escalates, his brow furrowing into a scowl. “That’s it? You have nothing aside from a theory based on a myth?”

“Another correct set of statements from an intelligent man!” Hondo asserts with a toothy grin that quickly disappears at Boba’s stoicism. “It is more than you would get from most. Ah Boba, do not be so frustrated. You will get frown lines and those are very hard to get rid of,” he assures, patting the less intimidated Kowakian monkey-lizard. “Is that not right?” the Weequay coos to the creature.

Boba’s stare is intense, enough for Hondo to grow uncomfortable in the silence of his own office.

“Listen, old Hondo may not have all the answers, but I do have something that could be profitable for us both.”

“How much?”

“I will send you the total bill,” he replies happily, the monkey-lizard jumping on his shoulder with a shrill cackle. “There are only so many functional Corellian 1760s flying around out there. The maintenance requirements on those things are such a headache. The newer models really are much better.”

“Stop rambling.”

Unruffled by Boba, he continues. “Her ship must have several transponder codes. It is quite challenging to track all of the multiple identities, but I have successfully narrowed down the possibilities of potential landing sites to around 700 different spaceports. Give or take.” The Weequay attempts to hand over the datachip.

Boba remains still, hands curled into fists at his sides. “Figure it out. I want to count the number of possible ports on one hand. You have three rotations. Put it on my tab.”

Hondo shakes his head in disapproval, arms akimbo. “You are relentless, but that does not make you sensible.” He removes one hand and points a finger at Boba in a scolding gesture. “You need to understand, this is a bad idea. Whoever she is, she is not meant to be found. Do you not comprehend her value? They will protect her at all cost. That means you and me are disposable for ever knowing anything. The last thing I need is another death threat.”

“You haven’t mentioned the saber. Or the other strange…interactions,” a hostile bitterness emerging from Boba’s words.

Hondo sighs, pinching the bridge of his leathered nose. “That only complicates matters more.” The pirate’s tone mellows considerably. “Let her be, Boba. Do not go chasing after a ghost. She is worth a lot to the people she serves.”

Provoked, Boba spits the words. “Who does she serve? Is it them?”

Hondo presses his hands together, fingers pointed up, a prayer to appease the angered hunter. “Whatever enduring grudge you hold or retaliatory vengeance you seek, I humbly ask you to let it go. Why are you doing this? What do you hope to accomplish?” he treads lightly. “Just because she had that purple glowy thing does not make her responsible in any way for your father’s death. She may not even be a Jedi. Whatever you do, it will not change past. Do not pretend I do not know what you are thinking, Boba.”

“You’ve gone soft in your old age, Ohnaka,” Boba gravels out.

“That is one point of view. But I am also wiser. You, however, are still as stubborn as ever. And you are getting into things you know nothing about and have no business in. You do not want to mess with these people. Mark my words, I do not foresee a happy ending. She may very well be the death of you.” Hondo worries aloud, “Not to mention me.”

Boba plunks down a canister of spice from his pocket.

Hondo eyes the cylinder. “You know me too well. Trade goods trump hard currency any day. Pure Karrak? That’s 80 credits for a single dose. A steep transaction.”

“There’s more where that came from.” Boba watches as the Weequay considers.

“You know this stuff only works for about 48 hours on those Force people?” Hondo holds the container up to light, tilting it.

“That may be all I need.”

“Fine. I will help you. But this is it. Nothing more. And do not say old Hondo never tried to warn you. Since you are hells bent on finding her, allow me to put my two chits in, free of charge of course. If you actually find her, I would recommend doing one of two things.”

“I’m waiting.”

“Either befriend her, as she could be a powerful ally. Or eliminate her, as she could be an even more powerful adversary.”

“I don’t make friends.”

Boba turns, determination in his step, leaving Hondo in a state of irritated confusion.

The Weequay throws his hands up. “Ohhh can’t you for once take the advice of an old pirate? Having friends is not a bad thing. Friends can help! Like what I am doing right now! Boba?”

Hondo run-walks towards the corridor where Boba is already halfway down and sticks his head around the door jam. “Boba! You never know when a friend might come in handy!”

“Especially one like this,” Hondo mutters.

**********************

At times it feels preferable to be swallowed up by a big city, mixing into an unknown concoction of denizens, allowing for a smooth blending with little effort. It seems no matter what part of the planetary rotation, every passerby is far more concerned with their own agenda under neon-laden lights.

“I apologize for my tardiness,” he rushes, placing a hand on your arm. “I was just informed. Change of plan?”

“You could say that,” you assert. He taps the side of his helmet, the shield lifting up to reveal twinkling green eyes.

His hand drops to yours, clasping it firmly, the appearance of a couple holding hands instead of two agents passing a mem-stik. The corners of his eyes crease into smile lines. “Well done. I look forward to the intriguing tale some time,” he comments with a wink.

“Don’t suppose you’d like a shortened version right now?” you ask lifting an eyebrow, insinuating something else.

His smile lines deepen mischievously. “I would love nothing more than for you to regale me with your story,” he shamelessly flirts, giving your hand a meaningful squeeze, “but this is not the place. Too much recent activity here.” His eyes flick through the throngs of people busy in the streets. “Be careful.”

“Something’s felt off. I can’t place it though.” The caution of a suspicious tapping has nagged you since docking.

“Your intuition likely serves you better than anything I could divulge.” The city is noisy, the multitude of conversations drowning out his stream of thought, and you only catch disconnected snippets. Regardless, he’s a hard read after years of a silent mind as a safety measure.

He gives you one last squeeze before releasing his gloved hand from yours, the new leather briefly sticking to his in protest. “Seems like those need a proper wearing in.”

“Don’t. Just…don’t.” The wound on your palm burns at the recollection.

The lines around his eyes soften. “Take care, darling.” And he means it, not patronizing you with the term of endearment.

Walking off in opposite directions, flashing signs tempt you, striking the desire to hide in plain site. Just one drink.

**********************

Claustrophobic as the crowded club is, you feel a certain freedom in not having to slink around. The young and rich have a tendency to be self-centered, more concerned about their own status and ignoring those deemed unimportant. Grateful for this, you sidle up to the bar unnoticed.

Well, almost. “Hi!” Competing with the speakers, it’s a shout more than a salutation.

He’s cute with a boyish charm, a certain naïveté in the face of excess.

You acknowledge him with a nod, swiveling your attention back to the bartender, attempting to enjoy a shot before making yourself scarce again.

“May I buy you a drink?”

And he’s polite, sweet, almost concerned that he could be pestering you.

“Blue Tonic.”

Just one drink, you remind yourself, clinking your glass with his as you toss back the azure liquor from under the mask.

**********************

Though you kept the promise of a one drink maximum, you find it more challenging to deny another outlet for pent-up frustration.

The hotel room is extravagant, a bit unexpected for the nice young man, but you recognize the initial flexing of inherited wealth; a pile of spice scattered over a mirror on the nightstand, a freshly opened bottle of expensive champagne immersed in melting ice.

You’re ignoring the comlink that has been steadily pinging for attention. Better make this quick.

As you undress, he motions to the gloves and mask, looking disheartened. “You’re, uh, going to keep those on?”

You wink at him, conveying a coy smile with your eyes, hopefully a temporary pacification. You gently push him back onto the ornate duvet, crawling up to straddle your hips over his. Your knees sink into the plush mattress, easing him in…

But the comlink is incessant, now a continuous stream of urgent beeps.

You heave a frustrated sigh. Not this quick though.

“Sorry,” a weak apology as you hinge forward, firmly placing your fingertips against the man’s forehead. Before he can react, his eyelids lower, hands slacken and fall down your outer thighs to the bed, a light snore replacing any gratifying noises.

The insistent device obediently moves to your outstretched hand. “What,” you practically hiss.

“Now, now 401. That’s a rude manner in which to answer. Especially when someone is simply trying to alert you to pertinent information for the benefit of your safety,” he chastises. Then a pause. “What are you doing? You sound quite huffy.”

“Nothing that you would approve of, 315,” you imply.

“Oh dear,” he comprehends, mortified. “Oh my. No I-I, I don’t want to know. Why did you even answer?”

“Why did you keep calling?” You feel just as frustrated as he feels awkward.

“Well. Well,” he’s more than flustered. “Believe it or not, I worry about you, and I have some important intel. Oh, gods, just call me back when you’re…finished. As soon as reasonably possible that is. And, umm, you know what to do to him…or her…after,” he struggles. “You know what I’m trying to say. 315 out.”

You’re already tossing the comm. “Nooo,” you whine, glancing down. “Every time,” you grumble, giving up on any sort of fulfillment. Deflated, you sit back on your heels and swing your legs over the side of the bed.

The process of redressing is tedious, ensuring all your equipment is in the correct place. Everything is still deactivated, a result of your original intention, but you’ll deal with it prior to entering the hyperspace lane. It’ll be fine. You’re only a short walk to the docking bay.

The bottle of Daruvvian champagne catches your eye, and knowing the drink will be flat by morning, you choose not to let it go to waste. Consultation prize. You slide the metalweave away from your mouth and take a swig from the bottle, enjoying how the tiny bubbles effervesce across your palate.

Sauntering back to the bed, you feel the sting of jealousy in seeing the man sleeping, blissfully unaware. Leaning close to his ear, you place a hand on his brow, whispering a phrase that has become innately routine, a lasting lullaby.

“What you have seen, must be forgotten. You cannot remember that which does not exist.”

The first time you’d performed it, you’d been frightened by the inherent darkness of the practice. How easy it had been to take away something so intimate as a memory.

You’d tapped into…power, an immediate surge of undeniable strength.

But the time that followed assured you altering someone’s mind was not without cost. You’d felt spent despite the ease with which you’d summoned the action. An unshakable cold blanketed you, like being trapped under layers of snow that even blazing binary suns could not thaw.

It was not the first dark taste of the sweetness of Seduction, but this time it lingered on your lips, promising more if you would only yield to it. Seduction was a greedy lover, whispering desires you didn’t even know you wanted until you were gasping, pleading for it; wrapping you in the deceitful warmth of its arms, luring you to believe it would melt the icy fingers gripping you.

But Seduction was an excellent liar, and you knew that Truth would not pretend, not make you this supposedly comfortable. Truth would be steadfast, and though it would challenge, it would not waver, not give in to the dishonesty of Seduction.

And you sat with both. Seduction selfishly yanked at you, snagging for scraps to pull you apart, while Truth was content to hold you in place, keep you together as one. That’s all you had ever wanted. Stability, a sense of steadfast security.

Truth prevailed, and though Seduction would sneak back with wicked offers of temptation, twist you to caress your face, Truth promised you a future.

A balance could be made, a brilliant duality, like the moment of dawn between the darkness and the light. Actively wielding a flame to protect balance, undulating but never extinguishing.

The ultimate achievement of balance, bending without breaking.

So again you allow for that bend, submerging the sleeping man’s memory, blotting away the traces of lingering thoughts until he couldn’t even identify you as a passing dream.

Leaving him with a final influence you murmur, “You will get rid of the leftover spice.” You begin to withdraw your hand, but then feel something else tug. “You will also call your mother tomorrow. She misses you.” Such unconditional love, a foreign language you were never fully schooled in.

The neck of the bottle is collecting condensation, another slight slip as you bring it to your lips. You motion towards the control panel, and on command the door opens, lights turning off as you exit the room.

**********************

Rounding into the docking bay, there is an eerie silence compared to the cacophony of the entertainment district. Generalized unease abruptly transforms into an intense, focal spasm, a sharp prick, numbing as it descends.

You hear the glass bottle shatter before you can feel it slipping away, its contents splashing in your face, soaking through the mask as you collapse to your knees. Shards of glass embed through the worn material and once again your gloves become a victim, stabbed by broken fragments. Your eyes passively fix on the floor as crimson blood combines with amber champagne, congealing to form a strangely fascinating convergence of contrasting liquids.

An intensifying dullness saturates your senses, but you’re able to discern the faint sound of a slow, evenly paced jangling increasing in volume. There is a deliberate scuff, as if leisurely strolling, kicking gravel along. And then it stops, halting in front of your compromised position as the thrumming of your pulse replaces the pitched clanging.

Each breath is a fierce struggle, like your respiratory muscles are failing their automatic function. You push against the ground, into the pain, glass piercing farther, righting yourself as you kneel before the silent figure. You willfully conjure the strength to lift your head, fizzing liquid dripping from your face as you raise your chin up, up, up to meet the vacant gaze of a T-shaped visor. Your vision is already tunneling, the periphery fading, recognition devolving. The butt of a blaster rifle materializes, striking your temple. Warm droplets stream, merge, and you are forced to submit, an unwilling coercion into invasive darkness.

[quitethepirategal]

An Analysis in Threes

❥ TAGGED BY: @emcads​ like 30 years ago ❥ TAGGING: @riidcr​ @starsailingcaptain​ @covencrown​ @hookd​ @all-fleshed-out​ @evermxre​ @motherofredemption​ @bup1957​ @conquistadoradelmar​ @seaprofound​ @tcthinecwnself​ @withinycu​ @windguided​ @daevilhorns​ @concordia-cum-sinistro​ and YOU and I spent like 8 hours on this so pLEASE READ IT PLEASE I AM BEGGING I NEED VALIDATION I’M-

     repost don’t reblog. yall dont have to type this much.

MUSE: Captain Red Handed Jessica

Three Strengths:

     Her adaptability and resourcefulness.  Is she brave, yes.  Is she lucky, also yes.   But over all, she can roll with the cards she’s been dealt in a way that many would call inhumanly clever.  Her intelligence, her perception, and her charisma are all different ingredients of this indomitable characteristic of hers.  She can see the value in just about anything and anyone, can pick up on clues and tangents few others can follow, and can remember seemingly endless details, tho unfortunately not on command.  But even then, her patchy memory seems to contribute to this adaptability as well, as it usually allows for detachment.  If she can find resources everywhere, it means she can survive everywhere. There have been countless times where the wheel of fortune has suddenly turned on her and she’d lost near everything and her response was more or less Damn, ok I need food water and shelter lets go.  No food?  Grow food.  No water?  Ask someone if they have water.  No shelter?  Sleep outside.  No money?  Steal money.  Can’t hear anymore?  Cool I can use loud weapons.  Crashed on an island?  My island now.  Shot?  Free bullet.  She knows when to push, she knows when to quit, and sometimes she knows when to gamble based on her ability ( what a man can do and what he can’t do and all that ).  Strong she may be, she knows its foolish to rely on strength.  Survival of the fittest actually rarely means survival of the strongest. ( edit; this is the theme for the entirety of her character. I will say it 50,000 times. I am very sorry ).  And as a student of philosophy and biology, she understands that phrase better than most. Leading to our next point.

     Her understanding.  As I stated, her charisma is something unmatched, and is a key element in all three of her strengths.  This charisma might not exist as prominently were it not for her ability to understand.  She has limited ( I’ll get back to that ) but deep running empathy and while not terribly observant all the time, she is always perceptive.  Not only that, but she’s personally known abuse, hardship, and uncertainty, and understands that hate or anger can be rooted in similar pain.  She was schooled lightly in both Christian and Buddhist values before diving heavily into democratic philosophy, meaning she believes all being experience suffering and therefore kindness is a powerful sign of strength, but also that suffering while free and equal is better than comfort in oppression.  And between her sweet words and beautiful face, she can get most people to open up in ways they themselves my not have expected.  Being very good with people means she can learn from them, gain something from them, lead them, and/or use them.  But Jessica isn’t a manipulator in truth; her intentions are almost always kind or healthy ones.  She absolutely uses people from time to time but not EVER without them consenting to or being made aware of such because again, unlike a manipulative person, she understands that can ruin a relationship and therefore ruin a resource.  What it makes for is an excellent leader, a beloved captain, and a trusted ally at most and an excellent conversationalist at the least.      But her understanding isn’t just social, oh no.  It’s academic as well.  Armed only with his little library and the lessons of his own teachers, Jessica’s foster father tirelessly smithed her into a not just a girl who knew a lot of things, but a truly intelligent, thinking mind. He’d die before learning he’d succeeded tenfold.  Jessica isn’t one to just except things as they are, facts or otherwise.  She usually needs to prove it, experiment, see things from a new angle.  Debates with her are fun!  She has no issue admitting she’s wrong or confessing she’s never thought of it that way, and is actually wrong a lot of the time.  It doesn’t bruise her ego, it excites her.  It means there’s more to learn.  And her ability to constantly understand new concepts paired with her ability to overwhelmingly understand people combine to make for a very powerful core idea of hers:  We are fittest to survive because we all fit together.  Our humanity, our empathy, our community are our strengths because they keep us united, which keeps us the fittest.  No one is independent, no man is an island.  People are power. And thus her final strength is just that.

     Her power.  While she and I still firmly state that strength isn’t everything don’t be disillusioned; its very goddamn important.  And it’s something Jessica has plenty of.  She is durable and clever because of her rocky early childhood, she is quick and versatile from her youth in a pirate port, she is physically strong and mighty from her years training in martial arts, and she’s an absolute crackshot after years of diligent practice with her trusty pistols.  Her true strength may lie in her brains and in her allies yes, but even without them, Red Jessica is a powerhouse of a warrior.  She can end fights extremely quickly or run from them without a prayer of catching her ( no shame in the later, both skills keep you alive ).  And it may be in bad taste to say, but ever since loosing most of her hearing, Jess swears up and down it’s made her vision better, her reaction time faster, and her quick thinking even quicker.  Yes of course she’s slowed down with age, but a bullet shoots at the same speed no matter how old you are.  And you best hope she didn’t bring her firecrackers, because while sudden loud noises will absolutely temporarily discombobulate or debilitate an opponent with healthy hearing, it’ll hardly effect her at all and suddenly, you’re a sitting duck.  You see those thighs?  You see those calves?  She can crush PINEAPPLES with them!  People have seen her do it!  Do you know how many micro-fractures broke and rebuilt those hands?  Thousands!  She can crush a trachea like a fucking beer can!  She can kick you to death!  One ill placed curb stomp and you are DECEASED.  Sometimes she’ll just psyche you out because she KNOWS you know she can kill your stupid ass!       But while her strength, mental and physical, have always been there, her power is relatively new.  As stated before, people are power.  Not knowledge, not money, not strength.  People.  She’s a fearsome warrior but she’d be useless if outnumbered.  Shes a very successful pirate, but she’d never make it out of port without a crew on her ship.  She found a gorgeous island, but it’d still be wild without those who built it’s piers and buildings.  She manages orchards and tends to them and harvests them herself, but she would loose all of her crop without the helping hands of her employed farmers.  And like I mentioned, she deeply understands this.  Freedom is not independence or vice versa.  Did you make the clothes on your back or the fabric that made those clothes?  Did you write the books you read to make you smarter or teach you that skill?  Did you plant the seed years ago that grew that orange you’re eating?  No, of course not.  Jessica didn’t either.  Another human did.  We all need each other to fill the holes in our lives that we can’t fill ourselves.  Humans are puzzle pieces in that way, there is no bigger picture or prayer for survival on our own.  And because of this, we can do anything we as a community, as a SPECIES work together to achieve.  There is no knowledge if there’s no one to learn from, there is no money if a society don’t give it value, your money is worthless if those you’re paying decide to rise against you, your role as leader only exists at the consent of those you lead, and your strength won’t save you from a sinking ship.  People are, and always will be, power.       And as someone who is exceptionally strong and exceedingly smart, Jessica has slotted herself in the humanity puzzle thusly: The strong exist to protect the weak, the smart exist to educate, and the lucky exist so the unlucky may be given aid.  And it is with this fairness and compassion that she has won the trust of so many.  She has a great many friends and allies even outside of those in her crew or on her island.  And she can make many more with ease.  That kind of power is not a power to be trifled with, even if she can kick your ass six ways to Saturday without it. 

Three Weaknesses:

     She suffers ADHD.  Now before ANY OF Y’ALL SAY ANYTHING, I myself also suffer ADHD.  And yes I do say suffer because well that’s what it causes for Jessica and I, suffering.  Yes, it is ableist language to say ‘suffering from’ rather than ‘has’ or ‘is diagnosed with’ and yes it perpetuates a stigma against us but god DAMN IT in both Jessica’s case and mine, it make life much much harder than it needs to be.  At the end of the day, Red Jessica is a fantasy of mine; I pour myself into her whether I mean to or not.  She’s the adult I wish I was, the person I might be if I had no anxiety, or brainfog, or lived in a world were I didn’t need a credit score or a degree. And even then, I can’t say I know anyone else’s problems better than my own.  So if my character has problems, by sheer osmosis they are going to reflect some of mine.  Both of the characters I write have ADHD because I have ADHD and I couldn’t even begin to know how a non-ADHD mind works to write it properly.  And no, I’m not being dramatic when I say it causes me suffering.  I can’t drive, I can’t hold down a job, I nearly flunked out of school, I still cant read very fast or spell very well, I am constantly overwhelmed by mundane things, I’m a slow learner, I forget very important things or recent things, I forget about things that mean the world to me, I forget about people, I stumble through tasks, I procrastinate hobbies and basic hygiene, and everything I do takes all goddamn day and I can only really do one important thing at a time and in order of importance.  If I have a date at 4pm, I’m dressed and ready at 11am because I’ve gotta do the important thing first or else I will forget to do the important thing.  I started typing this at a little before 5pm.  It’s 7;30.  It’ll probably be 10 o’clock at night by the time I fucking finish ( edit: l m a o its 1am bitch you thought ).  I’m 26 and am just medicated enough to barely function.  So yeah.  Suffering is the word.       Though for Jessica, perhaps suffering is a tad strong of a word.  Her ADHD affects her ability to function in far less debilitating ways ( though whether that’s a result of a less severe diagnosis than me or the result of the society, situations, and responsibilities she functions in and around are far different from mine, who’s to say ).  For her, she has very consuming hyperfixations that can last anywhere between weeks to decades, a spotty memory that is detail and memento oriented,  she’s scatterbrained more often then not but can focus with amazing clarity on her interests or in high adrenaline situations, is is ABYSMALLY bad at math and EXCRUCIATINGLY bad with numbers ( as opposed to me, who is good at numbers but shit at spelling or reading ), she can forget anything no matter how important it is to her or to anyone, she’s bad with names and dates, is COMPLETELY time-blind, has trouble prioritizing, and of course, wile not actually that materialistic, she absolutely has the ol’ magpie instinct.       While her poor memory assists in her adaptability and ability to move on, it also means she forgets things she needed to remember, like when the last time she bathed was and who this person is and what happened between her and someone else or what conversation’s shes had.  Unfortunately this means she’s a very good friend and leader... while you’re around and interacting with her on at least a weekly basis.  It’s almost a lack of object permanence in both a social and very real sense.  If something is not right in front of her, odds are she’s not going to think about it.  And while its something she constantly kicks herself for and actively tries to be better about, it applies to people too.  Face to face is the best way to interact with her; she won’t think to write you and in her modern verse she won’t think to ever call and she’ll text you back in perhaps a few days.  She doesn’t value you any less, I promise.  She’s just either distracted or overwhelmed.  Also, for someone as understanding as her, she is surprisingly self-centered.  Not selfish, self-centered.  She’ll talk about herself more than she should, and will assume people understand that she’s doing so as a form of showing empathy rather than bragging when they may not know this at all.  Actually she accidentally assumes all the time.  It was far worse when her hearing was functional; she’d finish your sentence for you or guess what it was you were going to say ( again, not to talk over, you but to show she understands you and the conversation, tho it usually came of as annoying or patronizing ).  Sometimes she mistakenly assumes you believe or know the same things she does without even realizing it.  Maybe she perceives the right idea off of someone but isn’t observant enough to notice anything past that.  And while she is willing to change her mind about things, she might change her mind a tad too quickly.  She’s an over-sharer and is horrible at keeping any kind of secret.  Romantic relationships tend to fizzle out. Her impulse control is improving but has a VERY long way to go. She’s always chasing something new.       All and all, when you’re a pirate, a librarian, or even a captain, all of these things may be irritating and inconvenient, but are overall manageable in chunks.  ...But as a governor to her island, as a leader of an entire population... oof. In the position of leadership that she’s in, she can’t afford to make too many massive mistakes, and she knows this.  ‘There is no power quite like the power of being underestimated’ is a phase you’ll hear her say a lot but for her, there is a shift in connotation.  If people expect less and you do more that’s a great upper hand in any situation but for her, it was a safety net.  Having ADHD sometimes means going months or years being fine and then eventually you fuck up and everyone around you wonders how in the world you managed to do that.  She has only barely avoided disaster more times than she’d like to admit.  Even with the resourcefulness, the understanding, and the power she wields, she’s finally starting to realize that she’s bit off more than she might be able to chew, with the entire well-beings and livelihoods of others on the line.  And she fears that one day she’ll play her cards wrong and everything she’d built, everything she’s done, will all come crashing down in ruin.

     She is Hard of Hearing.  This one is literally as simple as it sounds: she has moderate and degenerative hearing loss and tinnitus after years of canons, explosions, gunshots, and a definitive, scale tipping attack in her early 30s.  Her ears just don’t work at all like they used to.  The whole world sounds like it would if everything was underwater: she can’t pin point the location of sounds, how far off or close sounds are, and barely registers changes in volume. And it only gets worse the older she gets; one day she won’t hear anything at all.  And while yes, again, it might be very harsh and ableist to say, the truth of the matter that being deaf a “ weakness ” more often than its a strength.       That said, it very well can be a strength.  I’ve already mentioned that trick with the firecrackers and let me tell you it is a DAMN EFFECTIVE TRICK.  Shes around explosions and canons and guns all the time and now she can focus while being around them five times better than she could in the past!  But unfortunately it also means she’s very easy to sneak up on, she sometimes isn’t aware of danger until it’s nearly too late,  no one can get her attention or warn her across any distance, it’s very easy to escape from her, and it’s easy for her to be just... left out of things.  She might hear you talking, but she has little to no idea what you’re saying without sign or lipreading.  Some people don’t have the patience or even just the courtesy to speak slower, or clearer, or repeat themselves a lot.  Though, those last too thinks aren’t weaknesses of hers so much as they are the weakness of others, but they still negatively affect her self esteem and her effectiveness as a leader.       All of this has taught her to pick her battles carefully, and plan around the elements of surprise and discombobulation.  And while communication was tricky at first, it only got easier, and now she can talk to you almost like anyone can, so long as she’s looking you in the face. 

     That damn bleeding heart.  We have established a number of things that should easily add up to an overly empathetic, trusting, fight-the-good-fight, martyr-some, idealistic pushover;  she believes humanity and kindness are strengths, she has taken on the role of leader and then a provider, she has known suffering and tasked herself with ending the suffering of others to the best of her ability,  she lacks the clarity of mind to assume people aren’t just as good or capable as her automatically, she can have poor impulse control at times,  she wants to have relationships, and ( while I never stated this outright yet it can be inferred  ), she believes that being able to see yourself in others is the foundation of humanity and ( as i did say outright ) humanity is what keeps us unified and unity is what makes us fit and strong.  Keeping up?  Good. Here’s the curve ball: How can she whole hardheartedly preach and believe all of this, to the point of it being the foundation of her character, WHILE BEING A VIOLENT THIEVING AND BLOODTHIRSTY PIRATE?!  HOW, MANGO? HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?! MAKE IT MAKE SENSE!!  Ok, fine, sure, I will. I’m sure about one half of you are looking up from the screen and going “ Oh yeah, wow I totally forgot that bit. “ and the other half got about two and a half paragraphs in before squinting and silently calling bullshit. So let me explain.      In short, she’s a detached hypocrite and is well aware and unashamed of her hypocrisy while far less aware of her detachment. I’ll cover both:  Western culture as a whole seems to be under the impression that hypocrisy, despite context or importance, is automatically bad.  I don’t know where this comes from personally ( my bet is Christianity but I have exactly 0 evidence ) but its a very... flawed idea.  Take the freedom of speech vs racism problem; say you owned a bar where all could speak their mind freely over cold drinks.  Excellent concept without context, right?  Sure. ....Then a die hard racist covered in slurs and symbols walks in and orders- what are you going to do?  The correct answer is to throw him out instantly.  Not let him sit so long as he doesn’t cause trouble, not just ignore him and hope he doesn’t return, you throw him out.  Is it hypocritical?  Yep!  Sure is!  But it is also 100% necessary to protect your other patrons because if you don’t, the racist starts feeling safe and bringing his racist buddies, literally everyone else starts feeling unsafe and starts to hang out elsewhere, and two months later, ta da!  You now own a n*zi bar and there is literally nothing you can do about it. Jessica is in a somewhat similar situation.  You as a pretend bar owner need to make a decision as who to let into your bar and who to throw out for the good of all of your patrons.  Jessica too is faced daily with that decision.  If she want’s to help as many people as possible, the only realistic way she can do that are by protecting those under her leadership... only.  She is surrounded by hateful, angry, sneaky, traitorous, abusive, or otherwise evil people.  Piracy as a profession and poverty in general can do that to a person.  Of course there is a clear difference between those down on their luck and desperate, and the truly cruel and twisted, but unfortunately both types of people yield the same wrongdoings.  It’s absolutely her nature to extend a hand to anyone and everyone but.... she just can’t anymore.  Too many times has her trust been betrayed, too many times has she gotten in peoples business trying to be helpful, only for her to absolutely bite her in the ass.  Too many time the extended hand is bitten and once or twice, she’s actually made things worse.       Now, she will only help someone she loves, someone under her leadership, or someone who seeks her out.  That’s it.  And even then, sometime it manages to bite er in the ass.  But she had to set that hard limit for herself out of necessity, one she does her absolute best to adhere too and... these days she adheres a little too well. That leads us to our next point; what I was alluding to at the beginning of her Understanding essay when I said she has limited but deep running empathy.  That detachment again, courtesy of a very unattached mother and unchecked ADHD. ( It isn’t a strong enough characteristic to even rank as a strength or a weakness but damn if it isn’t an undercurrent to a lot of her motivations and experiences. ) Strangers are fair game that she tries to ignore, but if she even perceives you as a threat, you could be in danger. Like anyone used to violence or perhaps anyone trapped in an us verses them mindset, she can just... flat... turn her empathy off.  Not on command, she’s not a socio or psychopath persay.  But she has become totally numb to the horror of violence via her warrior upbringing that, in her mind, violence can actually be rather fun. Pair that with the fact that she purposely tailored herself to only be empathetic to her allies and boom.  You get a kindhearted killer.  Cops and soldiers in our world do it literally every day.  Actually anyone can do it really, even you if you tried. You don’t have to be evil or even angry to kill or steal or lie... you just have to believe you’re right.

Three Secrets:

     WHAT SECRETS?!  LMAO this bitch is the oversharing queen!! I’ve been typing and pondering her character for literal hours ( its currently 11:16, fuck you adderall ), and I still can not think of a single goddamn secret.  There is nothing about her that at least five random people don’t fucking know about!! The only secrets she has are secrets she knows about other people and even then she is!! literally the worst!! She spills her guts left and right and yet she wants to be a mysterious bitch SO BAD like BABE I love you, you’re precious, but you are a dumbass attention seeking validation chasing adhd CLOWN girl!! Stop telling random people about your hermaphroditism or your dairy allergy or your dead dad or that time you fell asleep in a barrel like that is literally your uber driver Jessica honey come ooooon. I’m skipping this section mom holy fuck.

Three Fears:

     What if she does wrong by everyone who trusts her?  As stated at the end of the ADHD essay, she’s terrified of failing those she leads.  Where it as simple as personal failure, she’d be fine.  Ever if her entire world came crashing down on top of her she’d either die or start back from square one.  Death is a fact of life and her adaptability means she can just dust herself off and move on, so neither her death nor her failures really scare her... But it isn’t just her life and happiness at stake, is it? Not anymore, right?  What started as a leader of a small gang of rebels became a full crew, then a crew became a slew of allies, then those allies built a town and now... now she’s the governor of the Crimson Isle and there are nearly twenty five HUNDRED lives at her mercy.   HER mercy.  One really, really bad mistake could ruin their livelihoods or spark disorder and disloyalty.  And if she died?  Would whoever it is that will take her place be as good to them as she is?  Is she good enough to begin with in the first place? Every day the paperwork gets a little bit thicker, every year there’s a new baby or two.  And the isle has fertile soil sure but will it last?  Are they prepared for a raid or a hurricane?  And if Jessica trusts the wrong people, where her people right to trust her?  ...can I protect them? Can I protect them?! CAN I PROTECT THEM?!

     Who am I if I’m not interesting?  This is, literally, an entirely subconscious fear.  She’s not at all aware it exists and therefor this entry is short. But between her short time with her very unimpressed mother, her own ADHD, she is constantly hungry for attention without even realizing it.  She must be interesting and intriguing and engaging, and I did mention she wants to also be mysterious.  She wants not so much your input or even your validation - but rather if shes not perceived then.... is she really there? Remember, she is unaware of any of this.  And fortunately she’d never been starved for attention to act out over it in the first place, even when her disinterested mother was alive. Look at her; she’s radiant, she’s beautiful, and she’s 6′4 / 195 cm shredded and covered in cool scars. Without even opening her mouth, without even her colorful clothes, she’s kind of automatically interesting.  So she’s never been so desperate for attention that she acts out because she’s never been without it for very long.  But it’s there. Hungry, aching, silent.  Those years after the M branding were horrible and she could never really explain why.  She still throws parties, organizes festivals, and talks to damn near anyone who will listen.  Look at my art!  Look at my library! Listen to how much I know! Let me tell you how lovely you are! Look at my scares! Look at my hair! Look at me haha, please, please look at me. 

     GHOSTS. NOPE. No. NO. Fuck ALL of that noise. Stay dead, go to hell, eat a dick.  Red Jessica is a scientist and superstitious atheist. As an academic and somewhat bi-cultural woman she simply thinks there are far too many religions with far too much history for any of them to be considered The One True Thing You Must Believe Or ElseTM and she tends to not truly believe anything until she finds some kind of proof.  Shes not afraid of the unknown, shes thrilled by it. She’s not afraid of death or the afterlife, that’s beyond her control. She’s only superstitious because she does believe in and value luck, and also its a bit of a cultural habit. BUT IF SOME SHIT STARTS MOVING ON ITS OWN OR IF SHE SEES SOME BULLSHIT IN THE CORNER OF HER EYE THEN SHE IS OUT OF THERE. OUTIE 5000. She has heard the tales of lost souls from purgatory or the eternally ravenous Pret or dangerous Phi Tai Hong or the tragic and startling Banshees or the creepy Santa Compana and she wouldn’t believe a word of it where it not for one thing.      SHE FUCKING SAW ONE. She’ll never forget it, it was the first and last time she EVER attempted to plunder a tomb all Skyrim style and at first she thought it was one of the crewmean being creepy as shit until she got a good look and he was SEE THROUGH AS SHIT AND SKINNY AS FCUK AND SHE GOT LITERALLY CHASED THE FUCK OUT OF THAT JOINT. She does not CARE that some ghosts are just apparitions she does not CARE that some are friendly and trying to warn her of something if you are MOVING and DEAD at the SAME time get FUCKED. If any of y’all cringe try-hards bring a Ouija board to the party you are getting SENT HOME and BLOCKED. NO CAP.

Three Goals:

   She really only has one left. Listen its... almost 1am and ive been typing since like 5pm i think i covered goals somewhere in here but ive gotta throw in the towel but even then I’m kinda being serious.  Her only remaining goal is to find a suitable heir of some kind.  She wants what she’s built to fall into worthey hands but she could never seem to find a good parter and even when she did she couldn’t sustain a pregnancy ( you’d think that would be a huge deal but it hardly mattered to her oddly ).  So at 50 the option of having kids is out but there’s still plenty of hope for either adoption or a protege.  But then again, she’s so busy these days that she hardly prioritizes it like she wants to.  

                                                                               holy shit i need some water...

[lesbiancolumbo]

continuing the burt talk: top five non-SSOS burt roles??

HELLO! this list might cause controversy in the burt community (???) because guys. i do not like westerns. i do not like burt’s westerns. please stop making me watch them. i’m tired.

5. steve thompson, criss cross

guys it’s CRISS CROSS. i’ve already made so many people mad by preferring this to the killers. allow me to double down.... guys, criss cross is good and burt is fantastic in it. what i like about this film is he gets more to do and he has that brutal fucking ending, which plays out mostly on his pretty face. maybe i’m just a sucker for that face but him realizing he’s been double crossed (once again!) by the woman he loves and he just says, in this tone of voice, well i’ll know better next time... knowing damn well there won’t be a next time.... it just gets to me.

4. doc delaney, come back little sheba

okay now i know this is an even more controversial choice but once again hear me out: this is a good movie. burt got so much shit for doing this movie, that he was way too young and wrong for the part, blah blah blah. maybe! maybe he was, and he took this part because this was around the time in his career when he was really smarting from his romantic rival marlon brando getting streetcar and wanted to do more plays and such, but i actually really like the work he does here. he anchors shirley booth’s performance really well, and for me i always saw his spin on it as not being too young for the part but instead a younger man who got involved with an older woman and is dealing with/mourning the sacrifices and choices that came with that. it still works! i don’t care!

3. john malcolm, separate tables

y’all: sydney shut UP about separate tables

me: no

look, only one half of this movie is good and that half is the burt lancaster and rita hayworth half. i would die for john malcolm and ann shankland. i love their storyline because in my heart of hearts i am obsessed with people who were in love once, a long time ago, and it ended (badly or not) and then they meet years later and realize that maybe they’re not good for each other, but those feelings are still there anyway and they’re enough to give it another go. i just love that. i just think burt is good at playing this man who is obviously suffering and tormented by their past relationship (and what he did) and just endlessly in love with this woman he can’t forget no matter how hard he tries!

2. mike ribble, trapeze

TRAPEZE HIVE

this movie is a masterpiece and low key one of burt’s best roles. why?? because his first love was the circus and he is doing all of those fucking stunts himself! his first wife and her sister used to do the trapeze stunts mike and tino do in this movie. it’s very personal for him. i think i’m just ultimately interested in burt as a broken man because that’s once again what he is here, but this movie is like the best of both worlds bc it’s the dramatic range combined with his amazing physical stunts he became known for when he did the flame and the arrow and crimson pirate. also, this is the film that walked so ssos could run - tony begged burt to cast him in the latter and it was only because they’d did the former together (and became really good friends - look for my story about tony climbing up burt’s balcony every night) that he was able to vouch for him. they’re a good team! this movie is fun and colorful and a treat to watch!

1. ned merrill, the swimmer

guysssss the swimmer. THE swimmer. i think this is burt’s best role period. he thought it was his best film, which makes me cry sometimes. i just... it is so strange and surreal, such a mesmerizing performance. the swimmer is truly like a film about class critique and the suburbs and depression and peppering in some gay subtext and voila, you’ve got a fucking movie baby. burt spends the entire movie in swim trunks. he was in his 60s. he LEARNED TO SWIM to make this movie (he was a natural athlete and could do almost everything but swim, which terrified him).

why did he do this??? because he wanted to do it. i think i know why, though i won’t speak for him. but he wanted to do it so badly and i just think it’s an incredible physical performance from a man KNOWN for his brute physicality.

[tcrmommabear]

TCR Birthday Bash Day #2

Hey y’all, this is fucking 3,308 words long. This thing comes to a hearty fucking  8 pages on my Google document, and I’m not kidding, this is entirely the reason why I’m so behind on every other prompt. I was going to spend the day before each prompt, post it in the morning, work on the next.

Then this just kept growing. And growing. And, holy hell of the high seas, GROWING.

It’s an entire fanfic by itself. Please, enjoy what I’ve suffered through.

***

What We Left Behind on the High Seas

He found her on the deck, staring out after the sea. It wasn’t hard, not many places to hide, but still. When Haru didn’t want to be found, she never would be. An annoying skill, if it hadn’t also saved their hinds a dozen and one times, or taken them to parts of the world he never thought they’d see.

He wishes they could go back to those times, thinks maybe they could, one day. But a daughter and impending doom doesn’t undo 20 years of bad blood. Trust me, he tried.

The bag drops by her feet, clothes and enough gold to keep the loosest lips sealed. She glances down at it, then back at him, a single eyebrow raised.

“Cutting tail and running, huh?” she drawled, no more surprised than a dog finding a flea by it’s paw.

“Well,” he begins, stretching his shoulders before leaning over the rail, “I’ve got a reputation to uphold. Without a reputation, what do any of us really have?”

She laughs, short and dry, but a pleasant and oh, so familiar sound. He wonders if she longs for what they used to have, especially after the truth of what ruined their lives came to light. Not a betrayal from him, not a lie from her. Just the jealousy of a cabin boy neither could remember the name of until today. The same one leading the British Armada, that tried to steal their daughter, and, pretty important, try to kill them multiple times over.

(And manage to, back before they learned who he was, years ago.)

Still, they stand together, each having fought to bring the other back. Maybe because, despite every ugly word and bitter feeling they harbored towards each other, the world felt a little too scary, a little too empty without the other.

He breathed in deep, took in the briney air, salt stinging against his throat and lungs. It felt better than the words he wanted to speak.

“Will you take my only rowboat, or at least wait for us to make port before departing?” she asked, wind ruffling what pieces of hair that escaped the tie. The sight stirred something deep within him, the memory of brighter skies and equal, wonderful views. The thought of land makes his knees buckle, a drink begging for his hand. He didn’t want to wait.

“No, a boat will work just fine for me. I’d hate to slow down your quest to kill yourself,” he responded. His words were sharp, but gave no sting. Flippant concern. Haru hummed, mirroring his pose to watch the sea of pitch pass them by.

He looked at her. Really looked at her.

They’d faced impossible odds, been killed and brought back more times than either cared to admit. He had never seen her so calm. So settled into her skin, like something weighed down her bones and sunk her down to her heels. Crows feet, the beginnings of frown lines. There was a day, a time, a moment when he thought he’d see that form on both their faces. He knew she’d never admit to thinking the same. Neither would, really. Just keep it safe in their thoughts.

The same way they’d never admit that they didn’t hated the other. Just too stubborn and hurt to fix the mistakes of the past.

“Why are you fighting this battle, Haru?” he asked, watched as she glanced his way and returned to the sea.

“Why not?” she deflected, eyebrow raised to provoke.

“Not really an answer.”

“Well, not really a question, Hunter. What difference does it make? We’re pirates. Don’t really do reasonable.”

He snorted, ignoring the way she looked at him expectantly, knowing his past, and his… Flair. He turned away, using the excuse to look over towards the captain’s quarters. Snow blonde and green eyed. Their greatest treasure, fierce and kind and more of a pirate than either of her parents, sleeping peacefully away.

“You can’t drag her into this, Haru,” he almost begged, wondering if his daughter still got the same nightmares she had when the pair of them had first started sailing together. He heard a shuffle, took it as Haru standing up.

“I’m her mother and it’s her choice. We’ll make that bastard pay for everything.”

“I’m her father and it’s our job to keep her safe. We can’t win this fight, we can’t even begin to hope we have a shot. We just need to go.”

“We?” Haru counters, ruefully, their eyes meeting as their heads turned. His tongue freezes, reminded of stolen chocolate, fresh polished wood, and clean sails. Of betrayal and stranded islands. He broke away first. She knew he would.

“So, just you two, then,” she nodded, and he wanted to know what she really thought. What she felt beneath the polished veneer. He didn’t think she’d let him back in.

“Haru-,” she cut him off, pushing off the rail and walking off towards the stairs leading to the underbelly of the Feral Beast.

“The choice is yours, Hunter, I won’t persuade you either way. But,” she turned, wind ruffling her hair free, strands twisting around her face, “you’ll have to convince Yuki. Because you’ll be dead before you can drag her anywhere against her will.”

His heart twisted, the sight of her back fading away too much, too familiar and cruel. He surged forward, fingers brushing her arm, just enough to get her to stop, to look at him. Her face was neutral, but her eyes betrayed the surprise.

“I never stopped loving you,” he told her, stumbling and breathless and so reminiscent of times long past, but with so much more on the line this go around.

“I never stopped. How could I? I was… Furious, hurt, scared, but I never thought it was because of you. Everything I did, who I became, then and now, has your name written all over it. I couldn’t bear the thought of not being in your life. And… And now I find out we have this beautiful, clever, headstrong pirate of a daughter and I just want to keep her safe. To keep both of you safe.”

Tears well, and when she tries to look away, he gently touches her cheek, turning her back to him. She looks at him, equal parts desolate and in love, and he knows he looks the same. Haru sighs, pulls his hand away, but doesn’t let go.

“I… I can’t say things haven’t changed. I can’t guarantee that what I felt is the same, or as strongly, as purely as before. Time changes everything, no matter how much you struggle against it. But I never stopped loving you, either.”

He felt weightless, floating deep in the sea water. Like he’d leapt between two buildings and stuck the landing when he thought he wouldn’t.

“Please, Haru,” he tries, begging, pleading, hoping, “let’s forget this, all of this. Let’s all go, and hide, live our lives. Death is not worth all of this. Let me keep you both safe...”

She’s quiet, considering, tugging her hands free.

“Cowards die a thousand deaths, but a hero only ever knows one. I don’t need to be protected, I need you to support and understand me, my choice. You don’t have to like it, but I don’t need you disrespecting me, or our daughter, and all we suffered through.”

She puts a step between them, inches of space that feels like miles. She lingers in the doorway, half stepped down the stairs. Waiting. She can’t ask him to stay, and he can’t convince her to go. She has to let go.

“Goodnight… Hunter.”

***

Whoever shakes her awake is gentle, but it doesn’t stop the blind fear burning through her system. Her arms flailing, her leg jerking out, weak and tangled in the blankets. A hand stops her, a heartbroken but kind voice croaks out.

“Hey, hey, easy, it’s me spitfire,” Baron Hunter- her father- soothes, rubbing her arms, and then her back when she sits up. She rubs away what little sleep built in her eyes, but it did no wonders to help her father. He looked like hell, probably felt almost close to it, and she’s sure he knows exactly what the bottom of the ocean looks like.

Still, it’s Baron, the man who took her in, helped her hide and face her fears, searching for the truth of who she was. If only she could have realized sooner. Maybe they wouldn’t be off to die.

“Don’t tell me we’ve already reached port because that was hardly a minute of sleep,” she half yawned, half griped. Baron chuckles, shaking his head no.

“Not yet, snowflake, still have a little while.”

She frowned, cocking her head. She took a moment to really look him over, wondering what would bring him to wake her. Her heart sinks down past her lungs, an aching weight in her stomach.

“Did mom and dad get in a fight?” she jokes, fighting to keep the fear out of her voice. She knows things weren’t good between the two, but she couldn’t imagine them going south so fast. Couldn’t imagine one of them already parting ways. Especially Baron.

“Something like that, snowflake,” he mumbled, taking her hands between his own, “your mother has made up her mind, and she’s going after Hawthorne...”

Not a surprise, Yuki figured. If she hadn’t thought there were already on their way, she would have taken off after the… The mongrel herself.

“-But I’m not going, snowflake. And I want you to come with me.”

Her eyes widened, realizing now what their “fight” had been about. She wanted to be angry, but it was hard when a sleep-deprived brain was still struggling with the implication of it all. When the first person you trusted came by and asked you, finally, for a favor. But one too painful, too much.

“I… I tried to convince your mother, but she made her choice. I want to keep you safe, Yuki. I can’t risk losing you, not after I just found you. I can’t do it,” he whimpered, voice wavering to reach her, to tell her the depth of what he needed. She couldn’t help the feeling of her heart breaking. But…

“Baron-Father. You can’t ask that of me. Please. You can’t leave.”

He shook his head, squeezing her hands, locking her in place.

“Please, snowflake. I can’t do this. Why can’t we go?”

She simmered, chewing on her lip until she could taste the metal. Her heart hammered, fury and sorrow and righteous indignation burning through her being.

“Because what’s going to stop Hawthorne? Who is going to stop him? He’s just going to keep destroying peoples’ lives, killing our friends and family until he gets what he wants. And it doesn’t matter what he wants. Because all it is annihilating anyone who stands in his way.”

“Yuki, please, you don’t know what you’re going up against…”

“He’s a monster! Okay, let’s look at this- he betrayed you and mom, turning each other against each other for some petty reason, he tried to force me to marry him all because I happened to be your daughter, and, to top it off, in the grand scheme of things, has been hunting pirates in the off chance that he might meet you and mom and kill you. Which he has done!”

Baron flinched, pressing his forehead against her hands, but she yanked them away, letting him rest his head against her bed.

“Please, Yuki, Yuki, my daughter, my sweet…”

Daughter.

She flinches back, slamming her back against the wall of the ship, bared her fangs she practiced having for the streets and the battles she never knew she’d actually see.

“Right, my father. Tell me, how has the child-rearing gone the past few hours, because I don’t remember it the last 20 years.”

Baron jerked back up, eyes watering, jaw dropped like an anchor and twice as heavy. She tried not to feel guilty.

“Snowflake, Yuki, that’s not-!”

“What?” she hissed, throwing the blanket over his head and storming past as he struggled free, “Not fair?! Not right?! How do you think I feel?! I finally, finally have a family, my life’s one treasure, the one thing I’ve been looking for my entire life, and I almost watched some… Some…”

She struggles with the right words, running through the swears taught to her over their travels.

“Some… Sodding, dickless, bastard with the face of a jack’s ass almost kill you! Kill my mother! Tell me, oh father of the past six hours, how is any of this right!?”

He looks down, fiddling with the blanket between his hands. His shoulders are tight, lip trembling. Her heart aches.

“Don’t ask me to go,” she pleads, “please. I need to do this. I can’t let him get away with this… I can’t say no to you, so please don’t ask me to go. Because the reason I’m here is because of you.”

He didn’t give her a response, stares at the hands that had begun shaking long before and had never stopped. The bag is swept into his arms, and he’s crossed the distance before she can breathe another word. His arms are warm, smelling of salt and what she can only describe as love, and she hugs him back.

She lets him go.

***

The rowboat is gone in the morning. They found it on the docks, a kindly fisherman holding watch. Before they can even ask, he’s walked away, nary a word. Haru and Yuki say nothing to each other, the missing third enough of a wound without the salt of 20 missed years. They may be strangers, but Yuki knew Baron well enough. Too well, if the rowboat was any hint.

They continue to sail, straight to the end of the line.

***

Hawthorne is on the agreed upon island, more a peak of sand than a true land mass. White sails filled the sky, stormless clouds with red flag lightning. He smiles, tips his hat with a flourish Yuki was sure he was trying to copy from… Someone else.

Her mother, still the picture of calm, only nods her head.

“Well, my ladies, I see our time is upon us. I don’t suppose we could settle this easily, per my previous terms?”

Haru scoffed, “What, me in the brig and your hands on my daughter? Not a chance.”

He looked expectantly at Yuki, eyebrow raised. She bared her fangs.

“Eat shit and live through to enjoy it, pig.”

Hawthorne sighed, settled his hat upon his head, “Very well, option B, then.”

His sword was drawn, loud and dramatic and heading to Haru’s throat.

There was a distant rumble, the crash of cannon fire.

All three paused, looked back at the armada of white, curling and collapsing inward as ships descended upon it, sails of Wicked Crows and Cat’s Paws emerged from within.

Panic crept into Hawthorne’s voice, a trembling and furious “What?!” climbing in octaves as the battle raged. Ships were decimated, quickly and efficiently, red British flags replaced with the black skull and bones. There was the boom of another canon firing, close as a ship surroundings the island filled the air with shattered wood.

“Excuse me, you three down there? My clever wife and talented daughter? Are you going to stand there being dramatic all day, or are we going to actually have a war today?!” a voice called out, a fast approaching ship carrying a figure in the crow’s nest, standing on the rail and leaning to the farthest point possible by a rope. The figure waved, highlighted by the flapping flag of a broken crown.

Haru grins, voice filled with false annoyance and genuine glee, “Such a fashionably late entrance, did your cape get caught in the door?!”

“You can nag me about my timing later, my love,” Baron roared back, over the sound of cannons and wind and waves, “but I’d start running!”

The trio paused to look at each other, frozen for a moment as each considering who’ll make the first move.

“Fuck it-!” Yuki screeches, kicking her foot to throw up a flurry of sand, smacking straight in Hawthorne’s face. She grabs her mother’s arm, tugging her towards the ship closing in fast. The old wood groans under the strain, sharply turning almost impossibly fast. Ropes woosh out, just within their grasp. Haru takes the lead, launching forward, grabbing the rope and locking arms with Yuki.

She tugs, pulling Yuki close, and letting her gain a purchase. She slips free, tumbling as she hears Hawthorne call out, “Someone!! Anyone! Stop them!”

“Well, fuck…” Haru mumbles, rushing to stand, readying her sword. Soldiers storm towards her, more than she’s possibly sure she can take. Anything to give her daughter time to climb, and the ship to kickstart and take off.

“Mm, no you don’t, Chicky,” a familiar voice gruffed, a shadow dropping down in the sand in front of her, blocking the vision of the guards surrounding her. An arm wraps around her stomach, giving three hearty spins, before launching her in the air. The feeling is familiar, and through the panic writhing in her stomach, she streamlines, hovering in the air weightless, before landing with a familiar roll.

She drops the sword, races to the edge, and pulls Yuki to the top, Muta hanging onto the end with one arm as the ship pulls away. Faces fill her vision, swimming between the adrenaline and tears, friends and family pulling to embrace her and her daughter.

“Look alive, people, we still have a war to win!” Toto called out, leaning over the rain beside Haru to the remnants of British ships beginning to push through, heading steadily towards their ship from all directions.

“We won the first battle, my friend, who cares how the rest of the war will fare when we’ve already made history?” Baron dropped from the ladder, gently pushing through the crowd to stand before his family.

Her heart pounded, knocking against her ribs and asking to be let free. She crossed her arms, eyed him over as he stood, taking in the familiar cape, the cocked captain’s hat, and the smirk slowly coming back into his smile.

Tried, measured…

“You’re late.”

“By all accounts, I arrived just in the knick of time-.”

“-And who are you calling “your wife”?-”

“We’re practically married-.”

“-If so, I want a divorce-!”

“-Haru, please, not in front of the children-!”

“Mom, dad,” Yuki interjected, giddy and alive and very aware that could change, “save the flirting for later? We’re literally in the middle of a war.”

Baron laughed, tossing his cape in a way Haru would never admit still made her swoon. All of this was so much easier when he wasn’t saying they were married and acting like a father. She’d have to fix the technicality of not being married.

“Never fear, Snowflake. I think we’ve just begun. Everyone? Places! We’re about to meet the middle of it.”

The others rushed off, lingering touches on Haru’s shoulders and Yuki’s hands, before it was the trio still left at the head of the ship. Haru took his hand.

“What took you so long, anyways?” she asked, staring down the hellfire battle.

“Well, you wouldn’t believe how long a good cape takes to find. Worse than finding Sephie and Louise when they don’t-...”

“I meant… You. This you. Where have you been, Baron?”

His eyes softened, wrapping his arms around Haru and Yuki’s shoulders. Around the only things that mattered in his life.

“I needed time to think. You.. Were right. I’d rather die here than live without either of you. Living as a coward when I knew I could be a hero.”

They all smiled, racing down the barrel of the run and straight into the fray. 

[readbythestarlight]

c2e41

I can’t believe it’s time to find out the consequences of Fjord’s accidental mistakes and bad decisions

lol I almost panicked when Travis wasn’t at the table like he HAS to be here for this

I like the “oh nos” coming from the rest about Sam’s ad

SAM NO

LOL MATT’S FACE

Sam doesn’t know what any of his Scottish means he probably just insulted his own mother

He’s gonna give Cad Molly’s necklace IT’S FINE IM NOT EMOTIONAL EXCEPT I AM

Wow okay Cad and Caleb can y’all chill and not give me emotions? Thanks.

B: *hands over Frumpkin*

C: “You have three or four more days you know”

B: “DO I?!” *grabs Frumpkin back and sticks him in her pocket*

I sure hope Sprinkles is alright after almost drowning along with the rest of them, poor thing

FJORD WAS HER FIRST SEMI-KISS

This whole interaction is super cute im dying

Fjord listen no pressure but try not to break her heart

Nott somehow always makes me a little sad

LOL oh this advice Nott. Amazing.

lol the clerics spoiling Matt’s plans for a supply stop

YES GOOD PLEASE ACQUIRE THE SKILLS NEEDED FOR SAILING

Marisha looks so excited

JESTER NO CRUSHING UP YOUR DIAMONDS FOR TATTOOS DO YOU UNDERSTAND

y’all need those

for revivifying or whatever

listen though, they absolutely all need matching sparkle tattoos someday though I want it real bad

OOO are they gonna do pirate shit??? Attack the ship and steal stuff?

This is a test if I ever saw one

Guys don’t do it please it’s such a bad idea

I just feel like Avantica is testing Fjord with basically everything

Guys please just don’t

Cad’s right it’s a bad decision

FJORD

YOU

FUCKING

IDIOT

FJORD IS A FJUCKING FJOOL

this is such a bad idea

Jester giving him the salty shoulder

“I feel like this is somehow connected to your previous bad decisions” yes Cad please keep shaming him

lol Not going crazy with the canon stuff

oh damn fjord

lol buddy Nott doesn’t even need that anymore goofy boy

Sam’s gonna roll really bad and Nott’s gonna hit the ship I can feel it

A NAT 1

okay it didn’t fire okay

Nott darling you’re going to blow up your own ship

“fire boy! go, gogo!”

“Alright, so you owe us a canon.”

Oh lord

20 thank god

SHIIIIIIIPS

They’re gonna end up with wanted posters when they get back to shore

Fjord honey what are you doing this isn’t even like you. Is this about gaining Avantica’s trust? At what cost??

Caduceus the Cool Calm Guy

God this is just… so bad

I’m serious they’re going to end up being wanted criminals

fjord

why the fuck did you give him your real name

Caduceus is the only smart one, hiding his face

stop using you’re real names Fjord for fuck’s sake be smart

Caleb plz stop

oh god guys this isn’t worth the trouble

this is gonna be so bad im so on edge

this is where the fight will break out

Jester what are you going to do oh no

Poor Liab

JESTER YOU CANT TATTOO SOMEONE AGAINST THEIR WILL

here we go I hope you’re ready to live with your bad decisions Fjord

Are they even considering that whatever this magical item is, it’ll probably go straight to Avantica?

“I don’t trust Avantica” Beau says to Caleb through Frumpkin while members of Avantica’s crew are present.

Frumpkin being able to attack is cool as frick I like that

Don’t die Frumpkin

“twelve renegade points, one point paragon!” lol Matt

I like how Beau’s like “we’re trying to be good people” but then threatens to slit his throat. Like FYI Beau, threatening someone over something you don’t have a right to, that you’re STEALING, after ATTACKING THIS GUY, is not how good people act.

Beau leave him alone

Seriously

Somehow this was only a minor disaster. So far. If they don’t end up with wanted posters because they’re pirates I will be shocked.

I don’t like anything that Avantica approves of. I don’t trust her.

She knows. She so knows they’re hiding something.

Caleb so cute talking about cats and books

They need to not look right now. They need to put it in the bag and leave it until they get far away from Avantica.

PAPERRRR

The Not There Fairy, cousin to the Metagaming pigeon

Ohhhh Beau you gonna get a tattoo like Molly’s??

Okay… darling… but maybe not an eye though that just seems like it’s inviting trouble

“But you know he’s dead” WOW

IT’S THE BARBIE RAPUNZEL PAINTBRUSH

Jester. I’m begging you. Save that paint for when y’all actually need a door.

(Also @Taliesin just tell us all what Molly would think of it please Inquiring Minds want to know)

Let Caduceus have the shield

I hope you all feel like guilty fucks tbh that was just not necessary

Oh no mediocre perception check….

Beau please don’t try sneaking into her office my god that’s a terrible idea

lol Laura you little shit xD

“You should seduce her” and Fjord’s over here like lol right uh sure totally that’s a good idea uhhuh

B: “I think if we don’t do anything, it means your eventual demise.”

F: “Well that’s… fucking dark.”

At least they’re finally thinking and really really realizing how bad things are for them right now.

Cad: “If we want to find the ship I think I can help.”

F: “With the seducing?!”

Cad: “What…? no!”

Beau really wants to seduce Avantica.

Caduceus with his naps. He is me.

Fjord and Caleb conference! It’s been a while.

MMMM I LIKE THIS

“Have you ever sacrificed anything to achieve a greater goal?” OHHH FJORD IF YOU ONLY KNEW

Talking about Papa Widogast

“I have tried to live up to the man that he was, and I have… largely failed, but I picked up what I could.” IT’S FINE IM NOT CRYING (yeah i am).

“I think traveling with all of you has emboldened me some. I was alone for a long time. And I… I like this group. I like traveling with you, Fjord.”

Okay Fjord what are you trying to get at now?

FJORD TRUSTING CALEB TO WATCH HIS BACK WITH AVANTICA my heart

oh.

“can i count on you to… right the ship, if need be?”

oh i don’t like the sound of that at all.

I don’t like this conversation

What is Fjord asking? That Caleb take him out if need be? That he makes sure the group gets out if Avantica manages to kill Fjord?

THE TRAVELER

I don’t trust him at all

J: “We’re pirates”

TT: “I know. :)”

TT: “That seed of chaos” DO NOT LIKE

“Well there are many different enchantments—“ RED FLAG RED FLAG BIG RED FLAG

he’s such a creep i hate him someone protect jester from him

he has literally gotten more and more creepy every fucking time

this is absolutely a sinister voice Matt is using too

“Preferably where it will be the least expected… and the creepiest to find” okay that was kinda funny

“the time is coming soon when you will meet the rest of your brethren” DO NOT LIKE

Like I’m not sure he’s EVIL but he creeps me out and I don’t like him

Fjord dream Fjord dream Fjord dream

Fjord dreaming about them bare naked ladies.

From ocean to sky to ocean again.

I don’t think I like this.

Watching, learn, reward.

Nope don’t like.

Smart move grabbing the map

But shit, did Avantica see the same place? If she was in the dream too I bet she did.

Nott, my darling, can you not

LOL

MATT YOU TRICKSTER

a handful of pepper made into a pepper bolt

“The Revelry” oh lord it’s a pirate colony with a court of captains or something isn’t it. Like in PotC3.

Or like Tortuga.

“The Plank King” I KNEW IT

pirate court

Avantica is absolutely gonna challenge the Plank King?

“Welcome to Dark Town” thanks Matt

I’m loving all this history/lore stuff Matt is so good at this kind of thing.

“Takes some notes” I do NOT like that

Poor Orli and the crew.

I thought for sure Avantica was gonna stab Gimati.

Caduceus really wanted to have some Words with Gimati.

B: “Marius the Mariner…. LePua…. LePain….?”

Cad: “That was really good, do me! :D”

B: “Caduceus the… Juices…?”

Listen, Fjord, guys, you owe these people. You hired them and then dragged them into SO MUCH SHIT you didn’t tell them about. And you can’t just leave them here, or refuse to pay them

Like you hired all these people and dragged them into your shit and now you're like "you can keep working for no extra money or you can stay here on pirate island" wow Fjord I’m massively unimpressed. Like I know the whole moral leanings of the whole group have been shifty but come on. This is really not cool.

“By the way, you guys are members of the Revelry.”

So first they joined a crime lord's syndicate and now they joined a pirate gang

*insert faceplam gif here*

Uh-oh…

James Tybalt, assistant to the Plank King

lol Fjord is the worst pirate, forgetting to deal with the money.

As much as I enjoy having a less than perfectly heroic group, I do wish they'd try to be just SLIGHTLY less awful sometimes

Harpy jerky as a gift. I love Nott.

Yasha is very Done with all of this.

Cad: “I serve nature and I’m the maker of fine graves.”

N: “I just love water so much.”

Y: “I like to punch things?”

Hnnn why notes

I’m glad y’all didn’t ALL give them real names

Oh lord, so now if they attack Avantica (and don’t manage to kill her and everyone else) they’ll have the Revelry after them

They’re super doomed

Oh

Oh lord he took the previous king’s hair

Oh man don’t try hitting on Beau

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh SHIT he asked Beau to keep an eye on Avantica and to snitch on her

That’s good. That’s a good. They finally have something going for them (as long as Avantica doesn’t find out)

God this night was a continued disaster. But it was super good. Stressful but fun.

“How did this happen?” The question we all want to have answered, Sam.

“Good shit, Matt.” Agreed!!