#rumrunner

[keiraonfilm]

Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Swann in The Pirates of The Caribbean trilogy. (2003-2007)

[prohibitionpirates]

USCGC-8031, a converted former rum-running boat, one of many taken into Coast Guard service.

[dying-suffering-french-stalkers]

[xkcd experts meme]

“it's easy to forget that the average potc viewer probably only knows the original screenplays and one or two jack davenport interviews”

“and swann song, of course.”

“of course.”

[ladybugkisses]

do you think Ari would ever want or try to go rumrunning with Ivy and Rocky or does she just enjoy visiting lackadaisy. It would be cool though to see Ari rumrunning

honestly, it's not something she'd want to do and i can't think of any good enough reasons for her to get roped into it, even if she was in need of a second job she still wouldn't take up rumrunning

most she's willing to do is help in carrying the crates full of illicit beverages and bartend while Viktor's out of commission

[lokidanger]

he's my husband 💍I got @charon-cries permission!!!!!

[tortoisesshells]

taking advantage of your suggestion for three characters so I don't have to make a decision on which duo to pick: gov swann, elizabeth, and james in #96?

“A little in the way of water will not harm me, Commodore,” Elizabeth had insisted, obstinate, her arms crossed before her. The noise of the rain and wind nearly drowned her words, and Norrington leaned close to hear her complain of the reeking humid airlessness of the Dauntless’s cabin, shut up to hold the weather out. Even after their betrothal, some part of him felt it an unwarranted imposition. “A little may not, but this is a great deal more than that. What will I –” he stopped himself, and corrected, “What will your father say if you are swept away?”

send me a number and two (or more) characters, and get a five sentence drabble!

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"BOAT ALLEGED TO HAVE TAKEN WINE IS SEIZED," Hamilton Spectator. December 4, 1933. Page 7. --- Said to Have Carried Liquor From Hamilton ---- And Deposited It Near Rochester City --- Impounded By R.C.M.P. at Port Hope ---- A new development in the wine transaction between the H. Robinson corporation and an American bootleg ring came to light over the week-end when Sergeant Frank Samson took two men to Port Hope and seized the Harry H., a 125-foot craft that is alleged by the police to have carried the shipment of wine from Hamilton to a point near Rochester in the latter part of October.

Mounted Police officers stated that they had information in their possession that the craft in question had made the trip from Hamilton to a point near Rochester, where the purchasers of the wine had received it. Late Saturday Constables Crawford and McDuff, from the Toronto R.C.M.P. barracks, were placed on the boat after it was officially impounded by the government.

The boat has been lying in the west harbour at Port Hope for several months, ever since the law was passed prohibiting the export of liquor, but longshoremen at Port Hope said the ship was absent from its berth for three days at the time the police claim it made the trip. At this time the waterfront men said it sailed light and came back. -light and they believe the boat made the trip first to Hamilton and then to the American shore before returning.

Former Sub-Chaser The ship is of sturdy build and was used as a sub-chaser in the Black Sea during the war and is capable of doing about 40 miles an hour. It could make the trip from - its home berth to Rochester in about an hour, the lake sailors stated. It was registered at Toronto and the crew never stayed in Port Hope, residents of that town said. Whenever the ship made a trip the crew was brought down from Toronto.

At present Milton B. Staud is being held at Rochester charged by United States authorities with being in possession of merchandise that entered the country without the taxes being paid, but he will be turned over to the Mounted Police officers after they apply for extradition.

[lindwur-fr]

Subclans that I have in my head but just haven't made yet because I need like three lair expansions first:

-A subclan of Beastclan and Dragons that do horse races. The Beastclans are the Jockeys and the Dragons are the mounts. The dragons don't mind this because they're paid really handsomely. There's a whole bunch of different types of races (Based on size, flight ability, average speed, fighting allowed/disallowed, etc). They race all around Sornieth and the dragons have really hilarious racing names that are agreed upon with their Beastclan partner. (Taking from the PEI racer's names I witnessed recently, things like "Somewhere Fancy", "Proven Lover", "The Rev", "My Man Charley", and "Roll Withitharry"). Horse Girl drama, but it's with dragons and Beastclan! Saucy!

-The Subclan lead by a personal dragon called Ram-O-Tan. He's named after the family ship! (We had a family ship back in the day when my family was bringing bread back and forth to PEI from the mainland). A bunch of mysterious sea-going dragons that take from various ocean-related mythos and a lil mix of family history. I have two right now- Navigator and Ram-O-Tan himself! But I have many stories from my family ranging from rumrunning during prohibition to more benign things like shipping food to an otherwise-isolated PEI in the winter before the bridge was finished

[theultimatepotcescapade]

Elizabeth Swann and Jack Sparrow after burning the rum supply on Rumrunner's Isle.

[rainsreverie]

i'm thinking rocky rickaby thoughts... my love he is an artist... a musician, a poet and more... a scientist, a researcher, someone who adores learning and knowledge and more... i cannot get over the fact so much of him and what he does now is something of a desperate, drowning "i want to be useful" above all else.

i love him so much... i want to romance him and cuddle him and i want him to look at me and think "not once has she made me think i wasn't exactly who she wants." or something of that sort...

"not once have i doubted my place by her side," not because i somehow rid him of that anxious quality of him but because i am so fervent in reassuring him without him needing to ask. it is how i am.

[the-marigold-reception]

HIIII!!! I love your stufff!!!! I just wanted to see if you're in the mood for a request for Mordecai and/or Rocky with a reader who has like NO interest in being involved with crime, but has ALL the skills to become a great bootlegger. Like, they have an amazing eye, they're great at driving, they're incredible at thinking under pressure.

It's been in my mind forever and I thought that you'd LOVE to write something for this! Sorry if it's too much! I love your writing!!!

Whilst he understands why you’re not a rumrunner

He also believes it’s your calling!

You’re gonna need infinite patience with him because he’s going to come up with so many reasons as to why you should join him

He won’t pressure you- just strongly incline that you shouldn’t miss this opportunity

He watches you use your talents for other things too though!

And sometimes he’ll ask you teach him how to think better under pressure

Please take pity on him he just wants to impress you and miss Mitzi

He admires you

To put it simply!

Finds that whilst you would make an amazing rum runner- you’ve made a living for yourself using your talents in the more legal aspect

Will challenge you to chess matches- but watch out he’s a sore loser and mean winner

Asks for your perspective on things and will actually take what you say into consideration

Consider yourself lucky that he will come to you instead of making you come to him

(He’s almost slightly jealous)

[anonymousewrites]

Pearl of the Sea Chapter Seven

Found Family! PoTC Cast x Teen! Reader

Platonic! Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann, Jack Sparrow, Tia Dalma x Reader

Chapter Seven: Stranded on an Island

Summary: Abandoned on a deserted island, Jack, Elizabeth, and (Y/N) console themselves, and Elizabeth plots.

            (Y/N) waded out of the water and sat down on the sandy shores of the island. They took deep breaths. Behind them, Elizabeth—burgundy dress gone—and Jack struggled to land after an exhausting swim. (Y/N) wasn’t tired, but they were nervous—scared—about being stuck on an abandoned island without fresh water or food. This could and probably would be their doom.

            Jack stared back at the Black Pearl as it sailed away. “That’s the second time I’ve watched that man sail away with my ship,” he said, frustrated. He turned and stalked into the grove of trees.

            “You were marooned on this island before!” said Elizabeth, following him. “We can escape the same way!”

            (Y/N) nearly followed, but, feeling more secure where they sat, they remained by the sea. Behind them, the argument continued, and (Y/N) sighed. They just wanted to think.

            “To what point and purpose, young missy?” said Jack. “The Black Pearl is gone! Unless you and the laddie have a lot of sails hidden in your clothes, young Mr. Turner will be dead long before you can reach him.”

            “But you’re Captain Jack Sparrow!” said Elizabeth. “You vanished from under the eyes of seven agents of the East India Company! You sacked Nassau Port without a shot. Are the pirate I’ve read about or not?”

            (Y/N) sighed and ran their hands through the sand, trying to calm themself as the threat of death hung over their head.

            “How did you escape the last time?” demanded Elizabeth.

            That had (Y/N) glancing back. They were curious about that since sea turtles felt pretty much impossible, even if magic and curses existed. Jack frowned and turned away from Elizabeth. (Y/N)’s intense gaze bore into him, and he hesitated before speaking again.

            “Last time I was here a grand total of three days, alright?” he said. “Last time…” he opened up a hidden cellar door. “The rumrunners used this island as a cache.” Jack avoided their gazes and went into the cellar. “They came by, and I was able to barter passage off.” He grimaced as he lifted a bottle of rum out. “From the looks of things, they’ve long been out of business.” Jack huffed. “Probably have your bloody friend Norrington to thank for that.”

            (Y/N) sighed. It was more than a little disappointing that Jack didn’t have a way off the island, but at least they had a better explanation than “sea turtles.”

            “So that’s it, then?!” said Elizabeth. “That’s the secret, grand adventure of the infamous Jack Sparrow!” She narrowed her eyes furiously. “You spent three days on the beach drinking rum.”

            “Welcome to the Caribbean, love!” said Jack cheerfully. “Now, who wants a drink before we die? Laddie?!”

            “I like to keep my wits,” said (Y/N).

            “What a depressing idea,” said Jack, swaggering off towards the sea to get wasted.

            Behind them, Elizabeth looked at the bottle of rum, and an idea came to her. She looked back at (Y/N) and Jack and decided to keep her plan to herself. For one, she didn’t trust Jack. For two, she didn’t want to give false hope to (Y/N) in case her plan didn’t work out and they got stranded.

            “(Y/N),” said Elizabeth.

            “Yes?” said (Y/N), looking at Elizabeth.

            “Thank you for coming,” said Elizabeth. “It was extraordinarily brave of you.” She hugged (Y/N). “I’m so sorry you got stuck here.” She held them tightly. “I’m going to get you out of here. I promise.”

            “Of course I came for you, Lizzie. You’re my sister,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            Elizabeth held them tighter. She really loved this kid. “Come on, (Y/N). Let’s go celebrate that we’re alive right now.”

l

            “We’re devils, we’re black sheep, we’re really bad eggs!” Elizabeth, (Y/N), and Jack danced around a bonfire on the beach. They sang as they went, and Jack was completely wasted. (Y/N) had drank a bit to keep from being thirsty, and Elizabeth was slightly tipsy. However, despite the varying states of inebriation, they were having a great time. “Drink up, me hearties, yo-ho! Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate’s life for me!”

            “I love this song!” said Jack.

            Elizabeth laughed, and (Y/N) whooped and spun. Jack copied them and swayed on his feet. He fell to the sand, and (Y/N) sprawled back with him.

            “When I get the Pearl back…I’m gonna teach it to the whole crew!” declared Jack, his words slurring. “And we’ll sing it all the time.”

            “You’ll be a singing pirate,” laughed (Y/N), letting free for once on the seashore. “Feared in all the Caribbean!”

            “Not just the Caribbean—the entire ocean! The world!” said Jack earnestly. “I’ll go wherever I want to go, I go!” He grinned at (Y/N). “That’s what a ship is, you know. It’s not just a keel and hull and deck and sails. That’s what a ship needs. But what a ship is…What the Black Pearl really is—”

            “Freedom,” said (Y/N). They gazed at Jack, eyes bright. “It’s freedom.”

            Jack grinned at them. “You’re a bright one, laddie.” He tilted his head and waved his bottle of rum. “You want that freedom, don’t you? The sea air, the waves, the lack of rules…” His face twisted in disgust at the idea of being confined by “polite” society.

            (Y/N) groaned. “I hate the rules. They make no sense.” They sat up and looked out at the sea. “I like it much more out here. With the sea.” They took a deep breath of the salty breeze. “I like freedom.”

            Jack looked at (Y/N), the words cutting through his tipsiness. That was a spirited speech awfully reminiscent of his own thoughts, of his own self when he was their age. Yes, his father had been a pirate so he had always been one, but he, too, had looked at the world and decided that the rules and limitations weren’t for him. Jack wanted freedom; the sea gave it.

            And now a kid was looking at him with that very same look in their eyes—the glint of freedom. (Y/N) had a taste for it, and now nothing would ever be enough if they didn’t have it.

            Jack smiled at (Y/N) and raised his bottle. “To freedom!” A small part of himself, beneath all the drunkenness and braggadocio, hoped that spark wouldn’t be smothered.

            (Y/N) grinned back. “Aye!”

l

            (Y/N) awoke to a terrible heat on their face. They groaned and sat up from where they had found the shade of a tree to rest. Their eyes widened, and they jumped to their feet. Elizabeth was throwing barrels of rum into a bonfire, and a dark smoke was flying into the air.

            “What the—Lizzie, what are you doing?!” said (Y/N), alarmed at the sudden actions of their usually rational sister. That was the only liquid they had to drink.

            “Saving us,” said Elizabeth firmly.

            “No! Not good! Stop!” Jack ran up from the beach at the sight of the flames, also awakened by the smell of burning alcohol and trees. “What are you doing?! You’ve burned all the food, the shade, the rum!”

            “Yes, the rum is gone,” said Elizabeth.

            “Can you actually explain your thinking?” said (Y/N).

            “Why is the rum gone?” bemoaned Jack.

            “One, because it is a vile drink that turns even the most respectable men into scoundrels,” snapped Elizabeth to Jack. She looked a lot kindlier at (Y/N). “Two, that signal is over a thousand feet high. The entire royal navy is out looking for us. They’ll see it, there’s no chance they won’t.

            “But why is the rum gone?!” said Jack.

            (Y/N) sighed, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes. She sat down on the beach and looked out over the water.

            “Just wait, Jack Sparrow. Give it out hour, maybe two, keep a weather eye open, and you will see white sails on that horizon,” said Elizabeth.

            Jack looked ready to draw his pistol and shoot, but a glare from (Y/N) made him freeze. He hadn’t been on the Interceptor when the pirates attacked, so he hadn’t seen the fury their eyes were capable of. Now, that exact storminess was turned on him, and he knew if he tried to harm Elizabeth, (Y/N) would fight to the end. Jack wasn’t interested in that. So, instead, he turned and stalked off in a huff.

            “Do you really think it will work?” said (Y/N), sitting down next to Elizabeth.

            “There’s a very good chance it will,” said Elizabeth, smiling at (Y/N). “And then Norrington and my father will find us, we can save Will, and then we can all go home.”

             (Y/N) smiled up until the final statement. They faltered and looked back at the sea. “Right.”

            Elizabeth furrowed her brow. “Are you alright, (Y/N)?”

            “Yes. I don’t want to be stranded here. It’s just that…” They trailed off and shifted uncomfortably. “I liked sailing. I liked being away from Port Royal.” I liked the sea. The freedom.

            Elizabeth’s gaze softened. “You enjoyed not having my father’s expectations on your shoulders.”

            (Y/N) let out a dry laugh. “I can’t quite live up to them, can I? I can try, but I’m not what ‘civilized’ society wants.”

            Elizabeth smiled at them. “I know.” She nudged them and looked at their clothes. “You left behind the dresses the moment you could, the first bit of polite society you were pushed into.”

            (Y/N) smiled. “Yes…” Their smile fell. “But I must return. I know that. I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t stay on the sea.”

            “I’d prefer you to be somewhere safer, yes,” said Elizabeth. “But don’t worry. I’ll be with you. I promise.”

            “…Even if your father wants you to marry Norrington? You won’t leave me?” said (Y/N), looking at Elizabeth.

            “Never,” said Elizabeth, hugging (Y/N) tightly. “You’re my family. I’m not leaving you behind.”

            (Y/N) hugged Elizabeth back. “Thank you.”

            “Even if you are the stubbornest, most reckless child I’ve ever met,” teased Elizabeth. “Running off with pirates for me.”

            (Y/N) laughed sheepishly.

            Elizabeth smiled as their good spirits returned and looked out at the sea. She froze and stood. A grin split her features. “There!”

            (Y/N) scrambled to their feet and peered over the slight hill of the island. There, beyond the curve of the tiny isle, white sails of the British navy flew against the bright blue sky.

            They had been found.

l

            “We’ve got to save Will!”

            Elizabeth wasted no time in declaring her intentions to help Will against Barbossa. She, (Y/N), and Jack had been brought aboard the Dauntless where Governor Swann and Norrington awaited them, and she was instantly on the offensive and trying to get them to help her.

            “No,” said Swann. “You and (Y/N) are safe now. We will return to Port Royal immediately.” He looked at (Y/N) harshly. “And we will be having a long discussion about your actions, young lady.” (Y/N) winced at the word and held their shirt tighter. “Helping a pirate escape jail, stealing a ship?! What were you thinking?!” Swann groaned. “You even stole the clothes of a pirate.”

            “Will and I paid for these,” said (Y/N) quietly. Already, they felt the press of polite society and social rules closing in around them, strangling the freedom they’d had.

            “And that makes it alright to go gallivanting after pirates with other pirates?!” snapped Swann.

            (Y/N) flinched. Jack narrowed his eyes. Elizabeth pulled (Y/N) to her side protectively.

            “(Y/N) and Will saved me!” said Elizabeth. “I would have been lost if not for their actions. We cannot leave Will behind now. If we do, we condemn him to death.”

            “The boy’s fate is regrettable, but so is his decision to engage in piracy,” said Swann.

            “To rescue me! To prevent anything from happening to me,” said Elizabeth.

            “If I was in Will’s place, would I be left behind, too, for going to save Lizzie?” said (Y/N), eyes raising to face Swann and Norrington.

            “I—Of course not,” said Swann. “You’re my ward. You are a misguided child.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed as they slid to Norrington. He hadn’t reacted. For a moment, their eyes were stormy with barely contained fury, and they spoke coldly. “But Will isn’t important enough for you?” Norrington and Swann didn’t respond, and (Y/N) knew what the response was. No. Will wasn’t important enough to save. “You’re willing to throw away a life just because he isn’t of high-enough status for you.” (Y/N)’s hands clenched into fists, and Elizabeth saw the same storm stirring within them as it had against the Black Pearl. “Disgusting.”

            “I would watch your tone, young lady,” said Norrington. “It is the grace of your father that excuses you from the harshest consequences of your actions.” He looked at Swann. “Clearly, they have been quite misguided by the pirates. I’d suggest a boarding school to teach them proper manners, but it is your choice, Governor.”

            “Manners? I’ll teach you—”

            “If I may be so bold as to interject my personal opinion,” said Jack, moving between Elizabeth and (Y/N) and the two men.

            After (Y/N)’s speech about throwing away lives due to status, Jack was reminded of the one time he tried to live a “proper” sailor’s life. He remembered what people had deemed cargo fit to buy and sell—other people. Jack had refused to allow that, refused to believe in such a disgusting view of human beings. And now here was the kid, the same one who chased freedom, being pushed around and wanting to help those being thrown away like Jack had. Something in his cold black heart thumped, and he decided to finally speak up.

            (Obviously, it wasn’t so that Norrington and Swann would stop speaking so cruelly to (Y/N). No, it was just so Jack had a chance to escape and get the Pearl. Or maybe it was both. He decided not to consider that).

            “The Pearl was listing after the battle,” said Jack, continuing before anyone could stop him. “It’s unlikely she’ll be able to make good time. Think about it—the Black Pearl. The last real pirate threat in the Caribbean, mate. How can you pass that up, eh?”

            Norrington narrowed his eyes. “By remembering that I serve others, not only myself.”

            (Y/N)’s heart sunk, and they looked at Jack. They hoped he could see they were thanking him for trying to get them to go after the pirates and Will—even if it was just for his own gain since he was undoubtedly going to try to get the Pearl for himself.

            “Commodore, I beg you,” said Elizabeth, moving forward before Norrington left. “Please do this. For me.” She swallowed. “As a wedding gift.”

            Norrington whirled. (Y/N) sucked in a breath. Swann stared at her in shock.

            “Elizabeth?” he said. He was pleased. “Are you accepting the Commodore’s proposal?”

            “I am,” said Elizabeth. To save Will, she’d do anything.

            “A wedding!” said Jack. “I love weddings. Drinks all around!” The air was too tense for him. Norrington glared at him, and Jack cleared his throat. “I know.” He held out his wrists. “ ‘Clap him in irons,’ right?”

            Norrington’s jaw tensed. “Mr. Sparrow, you will accompany these fine men to the helm and provide us with a bearing to Isla de Muerta. You will then spend the rest of the voyage contemplating all meanings of the phrase ‘silent as the grave.’ Do I make myself clear?”

            “Inescapably clear,” said Jack.

            (Y/N) frowned as Jack was pulled to the helm by two guards and Norrington went with him. They knew he’d try to bargain for the Pearl, and that would lead them into danger. However, they had a feeling Norrington was aware of that. That being said…they also knew Norrington had no idea just how dangerous the crew of the Pearl were. (Y/N) did.

            They exchanged a look with Elizabeth, and they found her gaze was as determined as their heart felt. They knew that they’d have to be the ones to ensure Will escaped. They couldn’t leave his fate in anyone else’s hands.

            One more adventure until they lost their freedom—Elizabeth to marriage and (Y/N) to society. They’d have to make it count.

Taglist:

@slytherinroyalty16

@aew-kun-age-regression

@grippleback-galaxy

@andsoigotabutterfly

@insomniacneedssleep

@painstakingly-juno

@kitkatlover015

@chronicallybubbly

@froggyisfriend

@elliottheidiot2007

@paastaboi

@urlocalsabito

@speckle-meow-meow

@dmitrytherat

@vanessa-boo

@ohimjustagirlidrathetnotbe

[nunalastor]

Serial Roomates

That ask where the police assume that Alastor was just a rumrunner in order to get alcohol for his dying friend as a painkiller and so cover up anything sketchy about his death makes me hurt, cause you know that GUY is gonna think the same thing - and first he thinks Alastor died because of getting him alcohol, and then he gets to heaven and discovers Alastor is in hell - obviously its because of trying to get that alcohol for Guy! His best friend is in Hell and it's his fault!

👀

[rosiesfandomblog]

Not gonna lie, I’m worried about going back to work after two months of sick leave…

“What did you do in your time off, Rosie?”

WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY? “I started a fanfiction novel that already has 400 views”? “I drew fanart of a prostitute spider and rumrunner cat”? “I’ve been foaming at the mouth over a spider and a cat holding hands”????

I am NOT in a position to be let into the real world LMFAO

[ladybugkisses]

How is Ari and Rocky's relationship after he got the head damage/scar?

on one hand, she sees the horrors he's subjected to and a lot finally adds up, so they become closer in that regard

on the other hand, he doubles down on distancing himself from her once he's out the door

so... ..kinda strained?? ?

[bookishcatcafe]

A Short Hellerby Fanfiction

Mordecai leaped over the wooden crate as a string of bullets followed him. He panted as he reloaded his revolver. As he did, bullets shot against the crate, some of them going through it, and barely grazing the cat.

His eyes fully dilated at the rush of rounds soaring around him. This wasn’t his first rodeo with violence and he’d be damned if it was his last. Then, a sudden silence.

Such a quiet felt like forever. It was shrouded by the swiftness of his heartbeat, the idle wind passing around them, and the shuffling of feet and anxious hands trying to reload. A soft curse under the tongue. The enemy was impatient, ruthless, and he was not docile to their demands.

After a click of the hammer, he shot up over the crate, standing while glaring back at his assailants, before firing the shots. One by one they kneeled over into a bloody mess. Suits drenched with moist redness, stained as the brush from the colour of pomegranates.

As the last one fell, crawling towards some semblance of safety, Mordecai walked over, aiming again.

“Do not double cross us again.” He pushed a heel onto the tannish cat’s leg, the exit wound spurting from his abdomen. The cat groaned and cried out in pain. Mordecai was prepared for just the occasion. He wore his black leather gloves and leaned over the dying man, opening his waistcoat, and pulled out a letter which now was stained in a darkish hue of reddish brown.

“I’ll take this. Property of Marigold. A thief knows the number one rule is to never be spotted out as such. You failed in just this mere task. Such an inkling would make one surmise you to be a beginner. A novice pickpocket. A dandy who knows not a lick of what it means…” he steps off the man and dusts his own waistcoat,

“To be an honest worker.” He pulls the trigger.

A silence once more. The slow creaking of the ceiling fan. Or is that the mattress? Sweat drenched Mordecai, the blanket was askew—another dream. Another nightmare, more specifically, why was it that one? What depravity was this, which haunted him, dream he’d been having every other night—no precursors—just happenstance.

Then it hit him: the smell. Flapjacks. A usual. Tradition! And coffee? More tradition!

His blurred vision became apparent, especially after rubbing one’s eyes, a yawn, the stuttered breath: the morning routine as it were.

A scratch of the chest, more specifically the white tank top, which now was drenched.

His glasses lay on the side table. He put them on.

In clarity, he saw him: his dear, adorned in a flour covered apron.

Roarke.

Rocky, the living personification of poetics. The vagrant Grecian urn turned prohibitionite—a rumrunner. The magnitude of his chaotic personality was tenfold during every mission he dealt out from Miss M. It diminished on the daily, he hid it well, yet it would slip within the cracks of this aged vase.

Mordecai was no older, then again, that’s just something he’d say to himself to disregard the obvious physical evidence of time passing on. The grey hairs started to pop a few months ago. The lines on his face became more apparent from years of stress and need for perfect symmetry, be it order in Marigold, his constant studying, the years of hiding, the possible acts of vagrancy through moments of rumrunning and murder. This in particular came with the toll of two options of response, of trauma in aftershocks or of bleak stoicism with hints of nihilistic performance.

Yet, when he saw Rocky in his dainty outfits, in such a gaily almost dandy ways of self-performance—it brought a warmth to his shivering heart.

He got out of bed, yawning once more, and stumbled toward the bathroom to freshen up.

This. This is what made Mordecai. What is Mordecai? Mordecai is an intellectual witty man, aged by moments in time, experienced, and one who does not follow by ego. He follows by heart and for the need for order—and in some moments—a desire for sustaining himself.

After washing up, he walked to the kitchen. Rocky wiggled his hips slowly, singing ‘Blue Skies’ as he sauntered over to Mordecai.

“My blue skyyy…smilin at meee…” Rocky held a hand out. Mordecai chuckled and held his hand while making sure not to get covered in flour, swirling Rocky who was laughing before he continued singing. He slowly stopped as Mordecai gave him a peck on the lips. “Thank you for not waking me…and for making breakfast.”

“You were rather tired last night. Too much celebration!”

“Yes—no? Well we did have a big score—oh god did I drink?”

“Yes. You get really rambunctious when you’re drunk.”

Rocky laughed. Mordecai went over to his drawers and started pulling out clothes for today. Rocky tried to pull him into a barrage of kisses, but Mordecai gave in, a small smirk on his face as his need to truly get properly ready being delayed by affection. Not that he didn’t mind it.

“I must get ready. You knowww—haha—you know I how I am, you silly romantic affectionate boy!”

Rocky continued for a moment before stopping. He truly loved the man. They might’ve seemed like opposites, especially at first, but attraction knows no boundaries especially regarding one’s differences. Sometimes those things bring people closer—in the right circumstance.

He soon was dressed in a white undershirt, dark grey pleats, leather brown suspenders hooked to the buttons of his pants, black oxfords, and for when he would actually leave his home a black overcoat with a red tie.

Mordecai sat down and began eating.

Rocky ate with some speed, though Mordecai would give him a look, as if to tell him to slow down.

Rocky started to speak. “Well besides work…maybe we could go out for some fun?”

Mordecai sipped his coffee. “Like what?”

“A movie?”

“How about a play?”

“Play could work.”

“Hamlet?”

“Faust?”

“We can just see what’s performed today. Our guesses will do no good.”

Both of them, starting with Rocky, began snickering. The morning was just beginning, the day ahead was free for the taking, and their plans would have to come with due time. Time, which the both of them have to share in earnest collaboration, not that either would mind otherwise.