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dearratroi · 2 years ago

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Human Mating Rituals

A/N: All right, y’all, there’s like no smutfics for these two (that I could find), so... Thanos voice I’ll do it myself.

Rated: E

Warnings: Smut

Includes: humor, masturbation, fluff, awkward sexual situations, Zarina responding to sex in the most scientific way possible

Summary:

Captain Zarina has created growing and shrinking dust. She's having fun learning what it's like to be human-sized, but what happens when she finds a certain James Hook pleasing himself? There's a lot she still doesn't know.

Zarina needed help moving some heavy crates and other things around the ship before leaving to sail again. The ship was docked for a supply run and all the crewmates were doing some last errands or resting before leaving land again. She stayed behind to clean up and make room for the new inventory that would be coming in, but she could not move this infernal crate even at human size.

If she remembered correctly, James was still on the ship, so the captain went below deck to search for him and ask for his assistance. She checked multiple rooms. Zarina remembered he said he was going to double-check inventory, but he was not in the storage area, the kitchen, nor the armory. She hoped James wasn’t slacking off — but that wasn’t something he was known to do.

Captain Zarina lightly knocked on the wood door of James’ room with the back of her hand. It was still odd to her, being the size of a human and knocking on human-sized doors. Before, they stood as tall as towers and if she wanted to knock on a crewmate’s door, she had to use a tool because her fists weren’t large enough for people to hear. But her new experiment was worth it. She’d invented growing and shrinking dust, and right now she was technically the tallest fairy ever to live. It’d been about a week now since Zarina sprinkled the growing dust on herself. She liked it, especially since her crew seemed to respect her a little more now that she was big, and she was learning a hundred new things every day.

She waited a moment outside James’ door. He barely ever spent time in here, but it was a room she hadn’t checked yet. She went to move on to the next area of the deck when she heard a muffled moan.

Ah, so he was in here, then. She waited for him to answer the door. When that didn’t happen, she tapped on the door again, but just as her knuckles hit the wood a louder moan sounded. It seemed to be loud enough that it drowned out the knock, because she didn’t hear footsteps or a ‘Come in!’ The faintest feeling of worry arose.

“James?” Zarina asked. Still no answer. A few more moans and even heavy pants carried through the air.

Oh gosh, he was in pain. Did he cut himself with a sword? Was it scurvy?

“James!”

Zarina burst through the door. There was a loud yelp from her first mate as he covered himself with his blankets. James was laying on his bed, and apart from his surprise he appeared completely healthy and unharmed.

“CAPTAIN! What — why didn’t you knock?!” James exclaimed. His expression had changed from surprised to angry.

“I did, James. You wouldn’t respond,” the captain replied.

“O — oh. I see,” he said. “Well, um, give me a moment to, ah —“

Zarina watched as he awkwardly struggled with the covers of his bed. He tried to reach for his clothes, which were discarded on the floor.

“Why were you touching your privates?”

James’ face was beet-red. “I, um, Zarina. Sorry, Captain, I mean…”

He continued fumbling with his words. Why was he so embarrassed? Did it hurt and he was massaging it? If that was the case, she understood; sometimes her wings ached after excessive use and they needed a massage or a warm bath. He didn’t have to make it a bigger deal than it was.

“Spit it out, James. No need to be so bashful about a massage.”

“A massage?” James’ eyes widened. “Captain, do you — do you really not know what I was doing?”

Zarina placed her hands on her hips. Now she felt a little bashful. “I guess not.”

James opened his mouth a few times, like a gaping fish, as he tried to figure out how exactly he was going to broach this subject. Was he about to give his captain a talk about the birds and the bees?

“Zarina, do fairies not reproduce?” he finally asked.

“Reproduce?” Zarina furrowed her eyebrows. “Oh! You mean mating? I’ve seen animals do that in the spring. Mostly rabbits. It’s kind of funny looking.”

Okay, so at least he didn’t have to start from square one.

“Anyways, no, we don’t mate.” She went on to explain to James how fairies are born; that a child’s first laugh brings a new fairy into the world.

“Well, that explains that,” James replied when she finished.

“But what does any of that have to do with you?”

“Well, humans are no different from how a rabbit reproduces. There are… feelings involved, certain urges, you could say, that drive us to create more humans.”

James watched the cogs slowly turn in Zarina’s mind. The silence to James, who was still naked and quite frankly still very put-off by this whole encounter, was deafening because the only thing he wanted right now was to run into his closet and never come out. However, he gave his captain her time to process.

She finally spoke. “So… You need to mate?”

James almost choked on his own spit. He rubbed his forehead, thinking of how he even got into this situation, and how he was now stuck explaining the human libido to his captain.

“Well, sort of, I guess?” James shook his head. This was going nowhere fast. He was just going to come out and say it. “Zarina, sometimes when a human is horny — that’s the word for wanting to ‘mate’ as you say, but they aren’t able to, they’ll stimulate their own genitalia to get release.”

“Fascinating,” she remarked. Then her brow furrowed again. “Why? What does it accomplish? You aren’t creating any new humans that way… right?”

“It’s like eating dessert or getting a good back scratch. It feels good.”

Zarina nodded her head in understanding.

“Interesting. Fairies have the same parts as humans, but we don’t experience anything like that at all. But, I suppose we don’t need to.”

Ever since growing to the size of a human there had been many new things she wanted to do and experience. Zarina had no idea humans experienced this; she was quite intrigued.

“I see,” James replied. Normally, he’d be more interested, but at the moment given his predicament, he just wanted his captain to leave. Perhaps they could talk more about the differences between fairies and humans at any other time than now.

But Zarina didn’t seem to be getting the hint. She was in thought, which meant she wasn’t leaving James’ room.

“Um, Zarina… I hate to be rude, but can you leave now?”

“Oh! I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought maybe you were done? I… I don’t know how human mating stuff works. I was actually, well, sorry. Anyway, I’ll leave now.”

She turned her heel toward the door, but James called out, feeling bad for ending the situation this way. “Zarina, wait. What were you going to say?”

She stopped halfway to the door and turned back to face her first mate. “I was going to say…” then Zarina laughed. “That actually I was hoping you could show me how it works. Human mating stuff, but it seems to be an embarrassing topic.”

James’ jaw dropped.

“Show you… show you what, exactly?”

“Oh, whatever you were doing. The not-massaging thing,” she said matter-of-factly.

It blew James’ mind that this was all just a learning experience to her, and not completely mortifying. He was unsure how he even allowed for this conversation to go on as long as he did, any sane person would have yelled at the intruder to leave immediately. But then again, she was his superior, and she also was a special case.

“Zarina — I, I don’t think you’d find it that interesting.”

“James, I’m an alchemist, I’m a scientist! I know animals mate with a penis and a vagina, but I didn’t know humans self-stimulated them.”

James’ face was red as a firetruck now, but it wasn’t like him to deny his captain.

“Well, if you put it that way. Then yes, you can… observe.”

Zarina pulled up a chair and watched him from across the room, like a biologist studying a creature in the wild. It was… extremely bizarre to James. In fact, it took him a few minutes to get hard again because his captain’s presence, just watching him, was so peculiar. Also, he felt a little ashamed, because Zarina had no idea who James was thinking of as he was masturbating before she’d walked in.

But he did get back into the rhythm of it, stroking and touching himself. The initial awkwardness of Zarina watching him turned into a kind of excitement he didn’t anticipate. He wondered if she was enjoying this.

“Wow, it’s so long now,” Zarina said under her breath. Her undivided attention was currently on James and his erection.

James wasn’t looking now — he had his eyes closed — but he imagined Zarina was looking at him the same way she looked at a batch of a new type of pixie dust. He tried not to laugh and continued his task. Currently, he was thinking about how Zarina would sound if he was pleasuring her. What kind of moans would she make? Would she say his name, asking him to go faster?

But even though she was full-sized, he wasn’t sure if she had these sorts of feelings or desires like a human would.

“Does that feel good? You’re doing it faster now.”

James looked over at Zarina, who was staring at him very intently. She almost had a pained look on her face.

“Are you ok, Captain?” he asked.

“I — I don’t know why, but I feel very weird now, specifically between my legs.”

Was she..?

Was she getting horny?

James’ cock twitched in his hand.

His breath quivered as he asked a question he never thought he would.

“Captain, would you like to help me?”

Zarina stood up in excitement. “Oh, sure!”

She brought the chair right beside James’ bed, where he was currently resting against his pillow, with one hand on his erect penis. Zarina was very unsure at first, but with a little help and encouragement from James she got the right rhythm going. It was funny at first and very awkward, but she pressed on, and it wasn’t too long until she got the hang of it. James gasped under her motions.

“I didn’t realize they were noises of pleasure, not pain.” Zarina admitted that that was the cause for her burst-in. “How does it feel?”

“Oh, darling, it feels fantastic,” James said as he looked at her, biting his lip. He looked at her exposed shoulders, wanting so badly to touch them and trail down under her shirt to fondle her breasts.

If fairies weren’t supposed to breed, then why, oh why, did the women have breasts? He believed Zarina’s had to be divine. He imagined rolling her nipples between his fingers and making her gasp the way she was making him gasp. And he wondered… If she was possibly getting turned on — would she approve of him advancing things?

“Captain, I… I have a question, and feel free to say no.”

She raised her eyebrows as a signal for him to keep going.

“May I touch your breasts?” He almost didn’t ask it for fear she would slap him across the face, but then he remembered that if fairies didn’t have sex, this request probably wasn’t too outrageous. And, after all, she was jerking him off.

“Oh, um, that’s a weird question. But, yes. Go ahead.” It was a weird question but when he asked it she felt a brief moment of excitement. She didn’t know why.

James hovered his hand over the strings of her corset.

“May I?”

Zarina nodded. James gently undid her corset, loosening the strings so it could be removed. Zarina held her breath as his fingers weaved between the strings. After the corset was off, James folded her white, sleeveless shirt down over her tummy. Her breasts were exposed and they did not disappoint. James actually had to suppress a gasp. She was always beautiful, but Zarina was a different beauty naked.

Zarina continued to work on his cock while James played with her tits, kneading them underneath his fingers. He watched her expression before doing anything more, making sure that she felt comfortable. It was hard to read her; either this wasn’t doing anything for her, or she was too busy concentrating on helping him. So, he moved his fingers to her nipple, caressing it underneath his fingertips, to see if he could get a reaction.

“Nngh,” she moaned. She stopped what she was doing and looked at James. “What did you do? That felt… very good,” his captain said.

“Did it?”

Zarina nodded. “James, I… I don’t know what’s happening. What did you call it? Horny? I think — I think that’s what I’m feeling. It’s very strange. I like it, but I also feel kind of… irritable? I don’t know what to do.”

“I can help you, Captain, if you’d like,” James offered.

“Please.”

James moved over so Zarina could join him in bed. He was very slow and careful when explaining she would need to remove her shoes and undergarments. He worried she would suddenly regret this or feel frightened. It was a whole new feeling, after all.

When she removed her clothes, James took in the sight of her. Her giant wings were underneath her, cradling her like a glittery and transparent-gold sheet. Her face was flushed, and hair a little messy. James gently tapped her knees and she parted them for him.

“I’m going to touch you now, down here, OK? Let me know if you want me to stop.”

Zarina nodded shyly. She trusted him more than anybody else.

James moved closer in and traced his hand up her thighs and to her mound. When he found her clit, which he knew he did when she gasped, he went to work. With his dexterous fingers, James swirled Zarina’s clit, adjusting as she told him faster, or slower, or more to the right. She was exploring her own body for the first time and figuring out what felt good. James remained patient; her wish was his command.

James wet his fingers with the slickness from her core. He looked at her.

“May I slip them inside of you?”

“Yes,” Zarina said, and it was almost a whine.

His middle and pointer fingers slid inside Zarina effortlessly. She arched her back slightly upon first contact.

“Oh my…”

James slid his fingers in and out of her, eventually adding a third to stretch her even more. She cried underneath him and her legs were beginning to shake. James leaned over her as he delved his fingers inside, using his other hand to hold her hips, and securing his tongue and teeth onto one of her nipples. Zarina had never felt anything like this in her life. James equated it to dessert, or a back scratch, but he was clearly underplaying what it really felt like. There was nothing quite like this, and she would allow him to do anything to her if it meant she could keep feeling this way.

She watched James as he pleasured her, once in a while locking eyes with him and every time they did so, she felt a burning within her. He was her first mate, her best friend. Zarina cared for him deeply, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t feel some form of affection for him. But this – this was completely different, completely new.

Zarina wanted him.

“James…”

James looked up from her breast to her beautiful hazel eyes. Her face was even more flushed now, and her chest moved up and down.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Oh, please, enough with ‘Captain.’ Call me Zarina right now.”

“Yes, Zarina?”

James was very good at being professional; doing his duties, following orders, and calling her Captain. Only once in a while did he slip up and call her by her name, so she usually let it slide. And truth be told, it was nice hearing him say her name the times when he did slip up. But she would never admit it, she was his captain, after all. But when he said it right now, with fluttering eyelashes and hands making her feel on fire, she thought she might melt.

“James, I want to mate, or, um, what did you say, reproduce? I want to reproduce with you.”

There was a moment of silence as she stared vulnerably at her first mate. She was worried she’d somehow offended him, but then James’ shoulders moved up and down as he let out a huge laugh, deep from his chest. He had to separate from Zarina so as to not accidentally hit his head. Then he keeled over next to her on the bed, guffawing. Zarina’s face was red, but from embarrassment now instead of excitement; almost the same shade of red James’ face was earlier.

“What did I say?” she asked.

James needed a few more seconds to get the laughs out, and then a few more to catch his breath. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Oh, Zarina, you didn’t say anything wrong. It just wasn’t very sexy.” A few more laughs bubbled up and out of his chest.

She leaned up. “What was I supposed to say?”

“Well, usually people say: ‘I want you to fuck me,’ or ‘Make love to me,’ because reproduce sounds much too scientific. It kind of ruins the mood.”

She gave an embarrassed laugh. “Okay, I guess you need to teach me the right words to use, too.”

“All in good time,” James said. “I’m sorry for laughing, but I would love to make love to you, if you’ll still have me.”

Zarina nodded. “I guess that does sound more romantic. I didn’t realize mating…” She looked at James for clarification.

“Having sex, or making love, or fucking,” he corrected her.

“I didn’t realize having sex could be more than just the biological part.”

“That makes sense,” he nodded. “But yes, it is an incredible experience for humans.”

“I see that now,” she replied. Zarina crawled forward and kissed James on the lips. She pulled back and staring into his eyes, asked:

“Will you make love to me?”

James’ heart skipped a beat. Her question was phrased so innocently, and her naked body so smooth, curvy, enticing. Of course he couldn’t deny her. He hooked his finger under her chin and kissed her back with fervent passion.

“Yes, my dear.”

They settled back down, with Zarina’s head resting on James’ pillow, and James over her. She parted her legs for him, and suddenly became nervous when she saw his cock, wondering if this would hurt. His fingers fit down there, but would that?

James soothed her worries, explaining to her that as long as she was wet, everything would be fine. She nodded and braced herself for him, and slowly, he lined the tip of his shaft to her entrance. He rubbed it against her a few times, causing her to shudder. Then, still slowly, he entered her, and Zarina cried out.

“Are you ok?” He asked.

“Yes, I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting it to feel so… intense. Keep going, please.”

James took his time going in and out, making sure Zarina felt comfortable and allowing her body to adjust to him. She cooed underneath him, and shifted her legs so he could enter even deeper. That was his cue to pick up the pace Zarina’s moans grew more frequent. To his surprise, Zarina even began to thrust back into him.

It just felt right to her. She needed his contact, she needed to feel him, so she moved her body in rhythm with his. She had no idea that sex felt so good for humans. And, truth be told, she felt almost cheated that fairies didn’t have these urges.

The bed and floorboards creaked underneath them as they continued their lovemaking. Zarina loved feeling the weight of James’ body on her. She loved feeling wanted and ravished. Her toes curled as he penetrated her, giving her all of him.

She felt a new, odd feeling earlier when James was touching her. And it came back again. She felt tense, like something in her was going to ignite. Was this normal? She felt her walls tighten, and as they did so, James moaned breathily into her ear.

“Oh, Zarina. You feel so good.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he pounded into her. “You feel good too, James. I love how you feel inside me.”

They kissed, and James thrusted into her faster. She felt amazing, soft, and tight, and her gasps and cries spurred him on. He wanted to make her come. He wanted to hear Zarina, his captain, come undone under him, pussy clenching onto him, needing more. He always thought her beautiful, but never dwelled on it more when she was fairy-sized. But ever since she used her new dust to grow to the size of a human, James couldn’t help but feel utterly entranced by her. His increasingly sinful thoughts about his captain had become very, very inconvenient to his routines as of late.

Zarina tensed even more underneath him, lightly clawing James’ back with her fingernails. She moaned without abandon as her first crewmate drove into her, and James didn’t care if the crew came back right now and heard them.

The captain held onto James for dear life by locking her ankles around his waist. Her thighs shook under the immense pleasure coursing through her body, and finally, she gasped underneath James as she found her climax. She shuddered underneath him, grasping onto him as he delivered her to her finish. It wasn’t long after that James climaxed as well, spilling his seed into her, his face buried in her beautiful auburn hair.

They panted as they caught their breath, and James rolled off of his captain so he could lay next to her. He pulled her into his arms.

“That was amazing, James, really. Thank you.”

He rubbed his thumb against her shoulder. “Did you get all the data you needed?” James asked playfully.

Zarina laughed, pushing his shoulder. She made a fake thinking face. “Hmmm. I’d say I did.” The captain kissed her first mate on the cheek, then she asked him:

“So, James, is there anything else about humans I should know about?”

He smiled. “Oh, I’m sure I can think of something.”

#hookdust #the pirate fairy #zarina #James hook #captain hook #human mating rituals #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #jazarina #hook/zarina #james hook/zarina #zarina/james hook #zarina/hook #mine #and i OOP

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fallenasleepyetagain · 2 years ago

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Stowaway - Dream x Blue

Dreamswap Fanfic

Media: UTMV/UTAU - Dreamswap

Genres: Pirate AU, romance, slow burn? technically?, flirting, ambiguous ending/up for interpretation

Characters: Dream von Licht, Blue Lebeau, Ink (she/her), Finch, Champion, other characters who are vaguely mentioned, & extras

Pairing(s): Blue/Dream

CW/TW: Near death experience, intense storm, mentions of combat, drunkenness, sickness, and other piracy related things.

Other Notes: This fanfic was inspired by a drawing by @foxxism back in (checks watch) April! It took me a bit to complete it but better late then never right lol?

This is THE longest fic I have written and hoo boy did it take forever to finish. Reblogs are welcomed, even if you don’t read it all.

Word Count: 9050

Dream walked across the length of his ship, The Radiance. The Radiance was a large, intimidating ship that he had liberated from a pirate captain. It was a dark, rich brown wood, accented with golden metal and two cherubs at the bow and the stern of the boat. It was huge, he could probably fit at least five more people onto it without feeling cramped. It was difficult to find sailors who were willing to go against both piracy and the navy, but those he did find were absolutely incredible. Dream was an ambitious man, and his eyes were set on a large battalion of ships, all under his order. Fighting for what was right.

All the way from the bow to the stern, he walked, making sure everyone was in order. Finch was at the helm with Dream’s dog, Champion, keeping the crew on course. Ink was up in the crows nest, most likely doing not what she was supposed to be, but Dream couldn’t be too mad at her. He wouldn’t cast her out either, he was not a pirate. He would never abandon a crew member, despite how irascible they could be. Ink didn’t directly work under Dream, however. She was a bounty hunter that simply decided that she wanted to tag along with Dream and his group. Dream didn’t mind, she was incredible at tracking down and stopping those who went against the law. She was nice to have around, even with her apathetic and sarcastic personality.

Today was an odd day. Although, not as unusual when on the sea. Normally, he’d be the one driving the ship and Finch would be down in the berth, doing his best to read the many maps that Dream had collected over the years. Dream had yet to find a cartographer, or someone of the sort, to be on his ship and his map reading skills were…minimal. At best. But he and Finch worked with what they had and it hadn’t steered them wrong yet.

The mental list he had for all the things he had to do before nighttime was long, and it was a miracle that he remembered to do it all. He had already completed a few of the things he had to do, which helped ease his anxiety a tad, since it lessened the load he had on his shoulders. For now, at least. He’d have to do it all again tomorrow, but that was the life of a captain and he accepted full responsibilities for it. He had made sure everything was in working order, sails were catching air, Champion was fed (he usually got the scraps of last night’s dinner for his morning meal), and everyone was where they were supposed to be. He also made sure to take a good look at every member of his crew for signs of sickness. Two people had already been sent to the infirmary on the ship for scurvy and were currently being treated. Dream mentally cursed himself, how could he let that happen?! Scurvy was treatable, and there was a likely chance that the members that got sick would survive, but Dream couldn’t believe he missed it.

Never again. Dream would make sure of it.

He would never allow another member of his crew to get this sick again. Which is why he went around, taking a good look at everyone. He was looking for flushed cheeks, excessive sweating, signs of fatigue, anything that alluded to his crew being under the weather. Much to his relief, no one seemed sick, he couldn’t lose any more sailors. That allowed him to mentally check that box off. The next step was to check the cargo, to make sure he had enough food to make it to the next port without needing to make an emergency pitstop or catch fish. He had the means to do those things, but that took a lot more work, and sometimes they would have to go off course to do so. And without a good navigator, it was counterproductive to Dream’s mission and his goals.

He walked down into the hull of the ship, where everything was stored. It was dark down there, so he stopped at his quarters and grabbed a lamp before walking down. The hull of the ship was dark and cold, it was slightly moist and smelt of salt water. He walked down into the hull, holding the lantern in front of his face, his other hand resting on his sword, in case any animals decided to go on a joyride in the middle of the ocean.

Every crate was carefully examined by him. He made sure that all of the crates holding the gunpowder, cannonballs, and other tools used in weaponry were secure and tightly shut. Bad things would happen if they weren’t. He then checked the spare clothes and miscellaneous fabrics crates, making sure no rats or large infestations of bugs got in them. No point in keeping spare clothes if you had to beat bugs out of them. They were used in case of torn clothes from either working or combat, as well as a last resort to keep wounds closed. It had been opened, but he made sure to tightly shut it. He was certain that Ink was the one who snuck down here in the middle of the night to grab something. The guy was erratic like that. He then went over to where all of the medical supplies were. There wasn’t a lot of it, and that made Dream’s stomach drop.

Dream hoped that there were no pirates or navy on their path, as he wasn’t sure if he could patch everyone up if they lost. Dream shut it tight, making a mental note to buy more at the next stop. They wouldn’t have to make an emergency stop, not at the moment, so they could keep on their current course. He exhaled, feeling his eyelids droop. He shook his head and made another mental note to make himself some coffee. Assuming there was some left, he didn’t want to drink-

As the ship moved, the rum bottles shook in their crates, a reminder of what was drunk most on this ship. Dream exhaled as he walked over to it, swaying with the waves. There were about five crates, full of various sizes of containers with rum inside them. Rum was used for just about everything out here. Drinking, cleaning out wounds, you name it. Dream would never touch the stuff, unless necessary. His crew needed a leader, someone to follow. Not some drunkard captain.

He checked it, made sure it was secure, just as he did with the others. He was hesitant, a small voice in his head telling him to leave it loose. If it got loose then the glasses would break, and there wouldn’t be rum to drink. But he couldn’t do that, he wouldn’t impose his values on his crew. If they wanted to drink rum, then they could do that. The last thing he needed was a mutiny.

One last set of crates then he was done. He did this biweekly, sometimes weekly if there had been more action than usual. Once he finished, he would be able to go back up top and keep the crew on track. Maybe even make himself and Finch a cup of coffee if everything seemed in order. He walked over to their food supply, taking extra care to check the crates containing their food. There was a variety of meat, fresh fruits, a couple of vegetables still left over, some herbs, it was fit for a lord. If a lord were on the sea, that is.

He rummaged through it, he knew Ink sometimes snuck midnight, sometimes midday, snacks. That was against what Dream had said before, but he knew Ink’s situation and, well, Dream couldn’t blame her for snacking. But…someone else must have been down here too. Too much was missing, entire meals worth. Ink would never have eaten that much, not on her own. Dream was certain that Ink wouldn’t share either. His lips pulled back into a snarl, something was on his ship that he did not allow. He made sure to thoroughly check and secure whatever he had left before going to find the thing that was staying on his ship.

Dream drew his sword, his fingers gripped onto the leather. He was quiet, keeping his breathing to a minimum to hear for any sort of sign. The hatch that led here was kept shut if no one was in it, so whatever was eating his food couldn’t have left. He stepped carefully, making sure the boards wouldn’t creak under his weight. His eyes flashed about the hull, desperately looking for movements in the dark. He cursed under his breath, watching his step as he moved around the edges of the hull. His eyes and ears were open, waiting, watching.

There was a sharp inhale that wasn’t his, clearly whatever was on board was holding its breath. What a clever animal. Dream lunged and the thing scrambled away from Dream and his sword. Dream chased it throughout the hull. He left his lamp on a crate, not needing it at the moment. He drew his cutlass from the other side of his belt, keeping his sword drawn as well. Right as the thing he was chasing went to make a sharp turn to his left, and he tossed his cutlass in that direction. The thing squealed, scrambling to get away. The cutlass had landed square into a crate, going through and smashing into a rum bottle that was on the inside.

Then the boat rocked, sending him and the thing he was chasing starboard. What was going on up there?! He glanced at where the thing possibly was before making the decision to leave it be, for now, at least. Dream lepted to his feet and made his way over to his lanturn. He grabbed it and got back to the ladder with the hatch and climbed up. The moment he got atop the ladder his head was doused with sea water. He scrambled to his feet, slamming the hatch behind him and spitting up salt water. It dripped down his face, the salt forcing tears out of his eyes. He slicked his golden hair back, wiping the salt water out of his eyes.

The bright flash in the sky and the booming of thunder told Dream exactly what he needed to do.

“Furl the sails!” He shouted, his voice echoing and just going above the storm. Members of his crew who were previously stuck in their own fear were brought back and immediately got to work. Other members were already in action, tying down barrels, canons, and other things on the deck.

“Finch!” He shouted and despite him being unable to see Finch, he knew that he had been heard, “Get Champion and yourself into my office!”

Dream knew that he needed as many people alive as he could, and even though he knew Finch wanted and could help him, he needed everyone safe and accounted for. He could handle this himself. He didn’t need anyone else to factor in right now. Besides, he didn’t want to account for the scary possibility that someone could go overboard. If someone went overboard in a storm this bad, then they would be taken by the sea.

On a nearby tied down barrel there was some access rope slipped under the rope keeping it down. Dream grabbed it and ran across the ship, his free hand up and keeping rain and salt water out of his face. The wind was howling and he knew his voice wouldn’t be heard. There wasn’t any time to get everyone down below deck or to his quarters, the storm was getting worse and even he was having a hard time staying on two feet. There was a small group of people still on the deck, holding on to the ship for dear life. Dream planted his feet and leaned against the staircase leading to the helm. He worked quickly and efficiently, slicing the rope into five pieces. He couldn’t be heard, but one of the people knew what was being asked of them and took a piece of the rope and tied themselves down. Dream nodded, and the others followed.

The rope wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but as long as they were tied down to something that wouldn’t go flying off of the ship, then they would live. At least Dream hoped they would. Before he could even think about himself, a large wave hit the ship sending him barreling to the other side of the ship. He slammed against the thick, wooden railing that was on the sides of his ship, knocking the wind out of him. He struggled to stand, his body gasping for air. There was another strike of thunder and he saw the wave coming at him. There was no time to move, no time to react.

The ship lurched and he was plunged into the wave. It was dark and all he could feel was the water surrounding him and the lack of stability under his feet. He landed square on his back on the other end of the ship. His eyes flashed open and he gasped for air. His ears were full of water and his clothes were sticking to him. He flipped himself around, and attempted to stumble to his feet when the ship rocked again. This wave was bigger, stronger. There was no way he would stay on the ship. He was shoved under water again, his lungs flaring and desperate for air. He tried to cling to anything, but everything was wet and he couldn’t grab onto anything. His nails refused to stay gripped onto the floorboards and he went tumbling across the ship again.

This would be the end. There were worse ways to go, he supposed. But dying was not something he wanted, not yet. He had so many goals, ambitions that he had yet to complete. He wasn’t going to be taken so early into his life!

Dream tumbled down the ladder that led to the hull. His head was pounding and his ears were ringing. He had throbbing pains all over his body, he would certainly be bruised by tomorrow. He choked up water, almost throwing up what he had eaten earlier in the day.

The slamming of the hatch door got his attention, a quiet, panicked muttering was heard.

“Oh my god, what am I going to do, this is bad, oh my god-!” It continued as Dream staggered to his feet, holding his head as it continued to pound. It was a voice he didn’t recognize. Was…was this person the thing he was chasing not even an hour earlier? He turned around, his eyes trying to adjust to the pitch blackness that surrounded him. The person had a small lantern attached to their belt. The candle was small, and Dream was a little impressed that they had managed to light it at all. The flame was flickering and doing its best to stay alive. It wasn’t much but it was enough.

Dream drew his sword as the person was off the ladder, and they raised their arms up in defense, squeaking slightly, as they had done earlier.

“Oh goodness- Please! You don’t have to draw your sword! I assure you, I am no threat to you, or anyone on this ship really.”

“Why are you on my ship?” Dream hissed out, keeping his sword out and at the person’s neck. Or at least what Dream assumed to be their neck. That large scarf made it difficult to tell. Dream assumed it was navy blue, but in this darkness he couldn’t really tell.

“My name is Blue Lebeau, and I mean you and your crew no harm, truly! I happened to be at Mirstone when those nasty pirates arrived. As you know, they nearly burned down the whole place, until you and your crew arrived and stopped them! Which, might I add, was incredibly impressive, considering the size of your crew versus the pirates, that you managed to arrest and defeat all of them! Not to mention your own fighting prowess, Captain, I didn’t see much of it, unfortunately but you appeared to be unbothered and unscathed after the whole…altercation, it was absolutely breathtaking! You must’ve been fighting multiple people at once! Now I will admit I am not one for violence, despise it, actually, but even I can admit that is not something to gawk at and-”

“Will you get to the point?” Dream said sharply, taking a step towards Blue, sword at his neck.

“AH! Of course! My apologies Captain, I tend to ramble when I am nervous,” His laughter was shrill, his eyes not moving from the sword, “When the fires started,and I feel guilty to admit this, but I retreated to your ship for safety. I am not much of a fighter, so after I assisted the family I was working for out of the building, I simply ran to the first place that seemed safe. And that place happened to be your ship.”

Dream was suspicious, but he lowered his sword. He wasn’t putting it away just yet. He eyed Blue, the man seemed truthful enough. He took a deep breath, regaining his composure and posture. He kept his sword unsheathed but at his side. He opened his mouth to speak but the boat lurched again, Dream had almost forgotten about the storm. He and Blue were thrown to the side, and his side was slammed into the corner of a crate and he bit back a cry of pain.

Blue struggled to his feet, “How much longer do you think the storm will last?”

“I highly doubt this level of storming will last longer. It will most likely rain sporadically for the next couple of days, depending on how fast we are able to navigate out of it.”

“Oh! I believe I can assist with-”

Dream cut him off sharply, “I do not need assistance from a stowaway. You may not be a threat to me or my crew, but you are still on my boat, using up supplies that are not meant for you, and you are one extra liability that I now have to worry about. Even if I were to allow you to assist with navigating, I’m not even sure if I could trust you with that, considering you snuck onto my ship.”

Blue staggered back, holding his hands up. Dream took in a deep breath, “We will be dropping you off at the next port. You may stay on my ship until then.”

“I…appreciate you not throwing me overboard.”

“I would never harm an innocent person. I am not a pirate.”

“Of course you’re not! But if I may know, what exactly is it that you do, Captain?” He queried, sitting up on one of the crates. “I mean, you aren’t a navy officer, and your crew isn’t military, but you aren’t a pirate.”

“I wish to do good in this world. Pirates are menaces who need to be stopped, but I believe that the navy is doing it wrong. They aren’t assisting the people who have been harmed by piracy, and I believe that is the most important part when helping people. How can you say that you’ve assisted to stop piracy when there are people still suffering from the consequences from it? I am going against the navy because I feel they aren’t doing enough, and what they are doing is ineffective and wrong. And I believe that I am correct. When my crew and I encounter pirates on ports and stop them from doing harm, I have been told by locals that us aiding to mitigate the effects of piracy has been more helpful than whatever the navy is doing right now. I respect and understand the navy’s orders, but I dislike how they are doing about it all. I hope to expand my fleet, into dozens and dozens of ships, and have influence across the sea.”

Blue nodded, listening intently as Dream spoke. Dream leaned against a crate, sword slipped back into its sheath. Despite the aggressive rocking of the boat, Dream didn’t stop talking. He spoke more about his ambitions, long-term and short-term goals, and everything in between. He couldn’t remember the last time he was able to speak in detail about his aspirations. Blue seemed to be taking it all in.

“That sounds absolutely wondrous! I’m not the biggest fan of the navy either, and what you’ve described sounds like the perfect solution to the pirate problem! Why do this though? It seems like a large task to tackle for only one man.”

“An old…companion of mine became a pirate. A long while ago, probably a few years. We were both drafted into the navy and he deserted. Turned to piracy. I never knew his motivations, I doubt I’ll ever know, but I swore to myself that even though I disliked the navy as much as he did, I would never allow myself to go down that path.”

Blue gasped, holding his hands in front of his mouth, he lowered them slowly, face darkening, “I had a friend who deserted to piracy as well.” He twiddled his thumbs, “Not sure what became of her to be honest…I think of her sometimes.”

“I understand the feeling.”

Blue opened his mouth to speak but the shouting above deck interrupted him. The ship had stopped lurching from side to side, and the soft sound that was rain pounding on the outside of the ship had ceased. He didn’t know how long ago, but it was clear that someone, Finch most likely, deemed it safe to come out. They were probably looking for him.

“You should head up there!” Blue told him, going to his side. Blue was very close to him. “I bet they’re worried about you. You did almost get thrown overboard.”

“I- yes. They are probably worried.” Dream walked over to the ladder and climbed up it. He slammed open the hatch and crawled his way up, getting hit with the smell of the sea.

“Captain!” Finch shouted, helping him up and out of the hull. Dream thanked him before glancing back down into the hull. His crew were standing around, watching him intently. They were all in different mental and physical shapes. Some were soaking wet, clothes pressed against their bodies. Others were more dry, but definitely freaked out. Dream would have to up morale soon, and quickly. They all watched as he nodded to Blue to come up. Blue pointed at himself, completely taken aback at the fact that Dream wanted him up there with the rest of the crew.

“Come on.” Dream urged gently and Blue made his way up the ladder, shutting the hatch door shut as he arrived. The sun wasn’t exactly out, but despite the clouds, he could see Blue quite clearly. His guess had been right, the large scarf he wore was a navy blue, and it sat comfortable around his neck and shoulders. Blue was pale, and had rosy cheeks. He had light brown hair that wasn’t styled but still looked good anyway. He was a tad shorter than Dream, and was significantly skinnier. He had a black cloth wrapped around his left eye, and Dream assumed it was because he was missing it.

Dream had dealt with missing eyes before, and had even made Finch a false eye out of metal to replace his heavily damaged one. Perhaps Dream could do the same for Blue before dropping him off at the next port.

“This is Blue Lebeau.” Dream stated flatly, “He will be on board with us until we reach the next port.”

The crew murmured amongst themselves as Blue waved, smiling. “I will be in my quarters. Those who are soaked, please change into dry clothing. We will be having a warm dinner tonight. Finch, I trust you to make the preparations for that.”

The wind howled, but the storm clouds were far away, and the boat rocked gently. Dream glanced around, his heart racing slightly. Everyone was accounted for, he had counted about three times. But where was…

“Has anyone seen Ink?”

The glancing around and shrugging was not comforting. Dream felt his heart begin to pound. His mind whirling, but he kept his face straight. He couldn’t let his crew know he was worried, it would only elevate the situation. Before he could order his crew to stay where they are so he could look for Ink, Champion began barking at the crows nest. Dream walked over to him, petting in between his ears.

“Ink?” He called up. Champion barked again.

After a moment, a groan echoed from the top of the crows nest. A blonde head of hair got into Dream’s view, and relief rushed over him. He called Ink down, and within a few moments, Ink was down on the mast in moments, landing less than gracefully on the balls of her feet. Ink looked, tired? Dream guessed?

“What.”

“Are you alright, Ink?”

“Sure? Why wouldn’t I be?” Ink made sure to accent the statement with an eye roll.

“The storm?” Finch asked, coming over to the two of them, “The massive thunder storm that nearly killed all of us?!”

Ink stared at him and shrugged. Dream sighed but smiled at her anyway. “I am just glad that you are alive and safe, Ink.”

She just rolled her eyes and walked off, most likely to get away from the group of people and to get a bite to eat. She made her way over to the hull and did a brief double take a Blue, her lip curling up into a slight sneer. She opened the trapdoor to the hull and disappeared inside, dropping the trapdoor behind her.

Dream felt his body begin to grow tired. He was sore and cold and now he was starting to feel it. He waited for his crew to start moving before making his way over to his own quarters. He was followed by Champion who licked at his hands. He entered his quarters and collapsed on the ground. He could barely move, the storm and lack of sleep had started to catch up to him. Champion whined and attempted to lift his head from the pillow, licking his face. He chuckled and petted between his dog’s ears. He staggered to his feet and quickly changed out of his soaking clothes and hung them up in the corner of his room, making sure that water wouldn’t drip onto anything. He quickly got into his civvies and collapsed on his bed. It was around evening time, the storm must’ve lasted a few hours. He hadn’t fully slept in a week, and even though he still had duties to do, the adrenaline had worn off and his body hurt. He was so sore and even though he intended just to rest for a moment, the moment his head hit his pillow he passed out.

The sun shined down on his face and there was a pungent smell of coffee. Dream turned over and his face was bombarded with dog slobber. He was jolted awake and in his attempt to back away, Champion jumped onto him. Dream gently shoved Champion off of him, laughing quietly. He wiped the drool off of his face and stood up. He hurried into his clothes, he had wasted enough time as it did. He couldn’t believe that he had fallen asleep. In between clothing pieces, he took small sips of the coffee that was made for him. It was hot, freshly made, and burned his mouth. He had no time to waste.

The gears in his mind started turning, he needed to make sure that everything was running smoothly and that everyone was doing alright. He was sure that Finch was working on navigation. He opened the door and stepped outside. The water was flat and the sails seemed in decent condition. No one was at the wheel, but that was okay. Neither him nor Finch knew where they were. People seemed to be in decent condition, none of them seemed like they caught colds. He would have to double check with the small group that were cut out for the brunt of the storm, to make sure none of them had fevers.

Although that was not his biggest concern at the moment. While the health and safety of his crew was one of the most important things, knowing where they were was taking more of his concern. He wouldn’t call himself anxious about it, but he needed to figure out where they were and get them into a port as soon as possible. He made his way across the deck of the boat, finishing off his coffee. Champion’s attention had drifted and he was now rolling around in the sun. Ink was sitting on a barrel off to the side, staring off into space. She didn’t look hot or feverish, which was good. He would have to make sure later, but he suspected that she didn’t want to be bothered right now. He walked to the opposite side of the boat from his quarters and made his way into the navigation room, where he knew that Finch would be. As he approached the room, there was more than one voice coming from it.

The door was stuck for a brief moment, due to the humidity, but he got it open within a moment. When he entered the room, Finch was hunched over the desk, which had a variety of maps, a compass or two, and some other cartography equipment that Dream was not completely confident in using. He was also shocked to see Blue hunched over the table as well.

“What are you doing in here?” Dream asked, crossing his arms. He wasn’t going to get angry, not yet. He hadn’t told Finch that he didn’t want Blue assisting with navigation. Blue had been amical towards everyone, he would admit, but Dream couldn’t tell his motives. Was he simply playing nice to not be locked in the brig or tossed overboard? Although he seemed interested enough in Dream’s goals; Dream wasn’t sure that was enough to trust him just yet.

“He’s-”

“I’m assisting with navigation!” Blue said happily, wrapping one arm around Finch’s neck and pulling him into a half hug.

“He’s uh, surprisingly good at it. We’ve managed to find out where we are, since Blue…read the stars? Last night?”

“The stars are one of the best ways to tell you where you are! Especially at sea.”

“You’ve been at sea before?” Dream asked skeptically, arms crossed.

“Mhm! I’ve been all over the place. I’ve attempted to settle down a couple of times, but ah..y'know, I can’t really get away!” Blue laughed and then got back to analyzing the map.

“Yeah, right, okay. And you know where we are?”

“Of course! Currently we are about a two days trip away from Lellin’s port! Finch told me that is where you are headed.”

“It is.”

The gears in his mind were turning at an incredible speed. Dream couldn’t help but be suspicious. Before he could properly gather his thoughts into a proper sentence, Blue started speaking again.

“I know you said not to assist with anything, and I know that you do not trust me, which is completely understandable! Might I add! But since you didn’t toss me into the open ocean, or into this ship's brig, have a little faith! I wouldn’t lead you astray. That would be stupid, and I try my best to not be.”

Dream watched his movements, and paid close attention to any inflection in Blue’s voice. There weren't any signs that he was lying. Dream thought for a moment longer. Blue seemed interested in what his goals were, he was very attentive in the hull when Dream was talking to him. Caution was important, especially on sea, but perhaps Dream was tiptoeing around an issue that didn’t exist.

Normally, Dream wouldn’t be so keen on inviting someone onto his ship, especially not having what is basically a stranger assist with something as important as navigating. However, he had been from port to port for almost a year now, and he hadn’t found someone with decent map reading and navigation experience. The only reason Dream lacked that sort of ability is because that was Nightmare’s area of expertise, but the bastard deserted to piracy and Dream started his own ambitions before he had the opportunity to learn. But the guy couldn’t lead a crew to save his life, and that was probably why he had a solid three people, including himself, on that ship of his.

If Blue took Dream and his crew to Lellin’s port, then maybe he would reconsider his original plan of leaving Blue at Lellin.

“Alright listen.” Blue looked at him attentively, much like he did when Dream was explaining his goals down in the hull, “I understand that you, since you snuck upon on my ship, most likely do not have anywhere else to go. I think it would be wrong to leave you in Lellin, especially without knowing anyone or without any currency.”

Blue tucked his hands underneath his chin, turning his head to the side ever so slightly. “If you are able to take us to Lellin, I am willing to allow you a spot on my ship. Assuming you want it, of course.”

“I would normally be all over that sort of thing, being with you and the rest of the crew would be fantastic! But, I am afraid I can’t accept your offer. It isn’t that I don’t believe in your goals or ambitions! It is that you work against pirates and I’m particularly…adverse to violence? Meaning that, I’m not very good with weapons nor do I have much battle knowledge! I am afraid that I would be very unhelpful. Although! I can take you to Lellin, and teach you some of the stuff I know!”

“Well, I suppose I can’t convince you otherwise.”

“Oh! Finch!” Blue turned from Dream to look at Finch who had just been standing there, “To get to Lellin, we need to start heading Northeast! It should be straight in that direction! I’m assuming you know how to use a compass?”

Finch glanced at Dream who gave him the go ahead to go captain the ship. Finch grabbed one of many compasses and exited the room, struggling to shut the door for a moment. The humidity was one of the worst things about being at sea. Normally that would be his job, but Blue had already pulled him aside to the table with maps sprawled all over it. Blue had nearly redecorated the room, with maps and books and other tools Dream had forgotten about. One of the biggest changes was the globe that was once catching dust in the door had been brought out.

“Okay! I’m assuming you have at least some knowledge on map reading, yes? I’d be very impressed that you’re still alive if you didn’t!”

Dream nodded. He was standing straight up with his arms folded across his chest. He wasn’t being aggressive towards Blue through his posture. Blue was hovering over the table, his body nearly at a ninety degree angle, elbows pressed down into the wood and his head resting in his palms.

“I know about the basics, my…old companion was much more prolific in navigation than I ever was, and I’ve never had the chance to learn. Piracy doesn’t stop and neither have I. The thing Finch and I both struggle with is keeping track of where we are when at sea. We usually end up getting to our destinations fine, but we’re usually a few miles short of port, or even just one port away. That isn’t usually an issue, but when you’re chasing pirates, accuracy is important.”

“I bet you don’t like ending up at the wrong place either. I know I wouldn’t!” “I- Yes. I do not particularly enjoy being at the wrong place. No one does. Now, if you could share the information about map reading that would be great.”

“Okay okay! Goodness. I’ll teach you what I can now, and then tonight I can show you some of the stars!”

“The stars.”

“Yes! After a storm or battle, where you aren’t one hundred percent sure where you are, they are one of the best ways to guarantee where you are! They are always in the sky, unless it’s cloudy, and stay consistent!”

“I suppose. Shall we get started now?”

Blue clasped his hands together, “Right! Of course! Let us begin!”

The day felt like it flew by. Dream and Blue spent most of their time within the room, studying and reading maps, the globe, and all the things that Blue felt like he needed to teach Dream. Champion came in a few times to say hi, which Dream enjoyed. He worried for his poor dog sometimes, life on the sea wasn’t always kind to animals. But Champion seemed to be content, his body loose, tail swinging happily, belly full of food and treats. Even when Blue was in the room. Champion didn’t seem to take a liking to him. They had to take a pause or two for Dream to make sure everything was in order, he trusted Finch but he couldn’t help but double check. Perhaps it was paranoia, or anxiety, but he just had to do it. Blue trailed him as he did so, observing how he went about his day.

They spoke on occasion, when Dream was able to respond. Blue asked questions, mainly why he did certain things on his ship. It was slightly invasive, if Dream had to be honest, but he didn’t really mind. Nor did he have the energy to mind. It was nice to have someone to talk about his ideas after so long. The last time he had someone to talk to in length was… “Before we get started, and if I am allowed to know, where did you get that pendent from? I haven’t seen anything like it.”

Dream’s face twisted into a mixture of anger, sadness, and surprise. Blue regretted asking the question the moment he asked. It took Dream just a second to compose himself, once again retaining his poker face. Despite this, his right hand clung to the pendant.

“It was,” He took a breath, “It was given to me by an old friend of mine.”

A knot twisted itself in Blue’s stomach. Dream was being vague, painfully so. The urge to open Dream like a clam and see what darkened secrets hid beneath the surface was strong. But he couldn’t do that. That would probably either end up with him being thrown overboard or with never seeing Dream again. He wanted to understand people, and he wasn’t very good at doing that ‘normally’. He decided that it would be for the best if he kept his mouth shut this time. He had to wonder though, what had happened to this old friend of Dream’s? Death? Illness? Some other terrible fate? It wasn’t Dream’s old companion, that was for sure. The pirate was still around and kicking, and by the way Dream grew salty just by talking about him, told Blue all he needed to know. Dream’s past was almost like the sea itself, dark, mysterious. How many people did Dream know before going deserting the military? How many times had he seen people turn to piracy? Thoughts swarmed his head, and he wasn’t sure where to start.

“It’s beautiful.” He said, placing a hand on Dream’s shoulder. Dream didn’t shove him off, instead making circles around the red gem in the center of it, staring off into the sunset.

“Yes. They made it themself. They had quite the eye for this sort of thing. Always creating, always doing something for other people…”

“They sound incredible.” Dream smiled softly for a moment, “I suppose they do.”

There was a pause before Dream waved him off. Blue placed his hands back down on the barrel he was sitting on and looked out into the water, which reflected the bright colors beautifully. The shimmering of yellows and oranges was a marvelous sight to see.

“It’s a beautiful sunset tonight.” Dream commented, now leaning against the ship's railing. Blue hopped off of what he was sitting on and joined Dream at the railing. “I see something even more beautiful standing next to me.”

There was a faint blush, it didn't last very long but it was there! Dream scoffed, “Do not.”

“Sorry.” He wasn’t.

“When will we be doing the other half of your navigation teachings? With the…stars?” Dream sounded skeptical, but his face didn’t show any signs of him being uninterested or like he didn’t want to learn.

Blue clasped his hands together, “Yes! I don’t get to talk about this often, which is a shame because I do think it’s fascinating, I mean, not many people use the stars for navigation which I think is odd because besides the sun rising and setting everyday, they are one of the most consistent things on our planet! And while, yes, they do shift from season to season, and place to place, but when you know what you’re looking for then it’s easy!”

“I see.”

“Here, come closer to me. I don’t bite.” Blue teased, a playful inflection to his voice. Dream rolled his eyes but complied anyway. When Dream stepped closer, so did Blue, their shoulders touching. Dream didn’t recoil, but he did raise his eyebrows at the action. They had to be close, Dream assumed, since Blue was to show him the stars. He had to accurately point out the stars, and they had to be close for that to work accurately.

Dream attempted to ignore how it felt to be so close to another person, to be touching another person and failed spectacularly. How long has it been? Too long, perhaps. He watched Blue’s face as he spoke. Blue spoke with his hands and was very expressive, a large change in pace from Ink and Finch. Both of whom spoke very still, only using their hands or arms for small gestures, if at all.

Full attention was on Blue and his finger pointing up at the sky. Dream had to admit it didn’t make much sense, but he could make out the shapes that Blue was showing off to him. He had a vague understanding of how to correlate the placement of the constellations with direction but it was somewhat unclear. Blue’s voice held so much emotion in it as well. It wasn’t difficult to tell what he was feeling at any given time. What Blue was thinking, however, was a whole other debacle. The man was a bit of a mystery, but then again so was Dream.

“And this will help you as well, I can tell this is a little foreign you hehe!” Blue said before gently unfolding something from his pockets. Dream took the paper, which was a map, he could tell by the texture alone, and observed it.

“A star map?”

“Mhm! Once you find out where you are via the stars, you can use this and a compass to figure out what direction you need to go in!”

“Fascinating.”

“Isn’t it? I quite enjoy stargazing. It’s really relaxing.”

Dream hummed in agreement, following Blue’s eyes with his own. The stars were so bright that night. Not a single cloud in the sky. Dream wondered how far out into the galaxy he could see.

“It makes me feel small.” Dream said, the words slipping out of his mouth.

“I suppose that’s true. But so does the ocean. It’s kinda crazy; how we’re surrounded by large bodies of unexplored territory. A little scary too hah…” Blue was leaning against the railing of the boat, his back facing the sea. Dream was facing towards it, standing up straight, arms loosely folded over his chest.

“It really makes you think about what is important in life, you know?” Blue said, looking up at the sky, his hand reaching over and touching Dream’s arm. “What really matters. We may be small but the impact whe have on others is big, and it’s important to know what to really focus on.”

Dream eyed the hand on his forearm but didn’t shake Blue off. “You seem to know what you want to do with your life, Dream.”

“You don’t?”

“Not really. I’m pretty good with navigating, and map making too but…I dunno. I like having everything planned in advance but I feel like doing the same thing over and over again would drive me bonkers! I’d like to teach people, I think. Might be fun. But I quite like how my life is now. I can plan things but there’s also a spontaneous aspect to it! I go where the world takes me, like a fish being taken by the current, hehe.”

“That’s not a bad way to live.” Dream commented, “Life on the sea has that spontaneous nature. You need to adapt, change as it does. I…would prefer operating on land, to be honest with you. There’s structure there, no chances of storms ripping your ship apart or anything like that. But I am to stop pirates, so the sealife will be my life. No changing that. I wouldn’t ever send people off to fight without being there with them. I need to help people, not just command from a castle on the land. The navy does that.”

The venom was seeping from Dream’s mouth as he spoke about the navy. Once again Blue found himself wondering how deep that rabbit hole went (or, how deep that underwater trench went). Blue found himself wondering a lot about Dream. He had to admit, the captain was awfully handsome. And he couldn’t be the only one to see it right?! He would be very surprised if that was the case. He had only been with Dream for around twenty-four hours, so he didn’t know everything about Dream, but what he did see was something, someone, he really liked. The two of them were close, only a few centimeters of space between their arms.

“Dream?

“Hm?”

“How would you react if I told you that I think the next place that the current is taking me is with you?” Blue asked, moving his hands to gently caress Dream’s jacket. He was surprised to learn that it was leather. He wondered how Dream even got leather to be that color of yellow. Dream watched Blue’s hand move across the seams of his jacket. Was Blue flirting with him? He wasn’t sure how against that he was. He took in a deep breath and focused back onto the ocean.

“My offer still stands. I won’t turn away anyone who wants to join my cause.”

“I’ll think about it.” Blue said with a sing-song voice. He turned toward Dream, getting even closer.

“It,” Dream took a moment to regain his senses, he and Blue were so close. He could feel Blue’s breath on his face as he breathed through his nose. Blue was looking up at him, expectantly. He wondered if Blue knew how he was going to respond. What kind of response was he looking for in the first place? Blue wasn’t malicious, Dream knew that. He craved information and knowledge. When he would ask Dream questions, they were about himself, his motivations, and eventually the questions were aimed at the other members of the crew. What about them made them join Dream? Did Dream choose them or did they come aboard on their own? He couldn’t tell what Blue wanted.

“It would be good to have you aboard, especially with your abilities in navigation.” Blue could cook too, Dream had learned. They didn’t need more cooks on board, there were already enough but if Blue wanted to help out then Dream wouldn’t forbid him not too.

“Can I ask you another question?” Blue asked, a coy smile on his face. He turned his head away, looking at Dream from the side.

“You’ve been asking me questions all day but yes, go ahead.”

“Do you want me here?”

“Pardon-?” Dream turned his head and nearly smacked Blue in the face with his own. It was so dark, he could barely see Blue’s face. The reflection of the moon was in Blue’s eye, and the ship was rocking slightly as they sailed.

“Would you miss me if I left at Lellin? Would you yearn for me once I left?”

“I-What-?”

“Haha! I’m just teasing you,” Blue booped his nose, sticking out his tongue playfully. “I do mean it though. Would you?

“Would I what?” Dream asked incredulously, still somewhat flustered at Blue being so close.

“Let me reword my question.” Blue scooted back slightly, giving Dream a bit more breathing room. Dream was silently relieved. Blue being so close was making him nervous. “Do you, personally, want me here? I understand my abilities would be handy for your cause, but I’m curious about what you think of me.”

“We’ve only known each other for a day, how could I form an opinion on you in just twenty-four hours?”

“First impressions are pretty important! I mean, I haven’t known Ink very long but something tells me that she doesn’t like me very much…”

“She doesn’t really like anyone.”

“Even you?”

Dream shrugged. He wasn’t sure. Ink was elusive in just about everything she did.

“What! How could anyone not like you?! I think that you’re pretty incredible.”

“Ah well. I’m just doing what I think is right. Doing what is best for the world. Thank you.” “You’re pretty handsome too.”

“What?”

“Hm?” Blue cocked his head to the side. Blue showed no signs of saying anything at all, but under the cover of night it was hard to tell. He could be blushing his face off and Dream would have no idea. He supposed it was a good thing, since Blue couldn’t tell what he was emoting either. Although he didn’t really do that in the first place. The poker face Dream wore was just his default expression. As the captain of a ship, keeping up appearances and making sure that he was someone his crew could be someone to depend on at a crisis.

“I think that you’ve definitely left an impression on me, Blue.” He glanced back down at the water, thinking over his words, “I wouldn’t miss you, when you leave, per se. But I will remember you for a long time. You’re very interesting.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment!” Blue grinned at him. Proud, almost.

The water splashed against the boat, it was quiet and the smell of the sea was comforting. The two sat in silence, it wasn’t awkward, just a peaceful quiet.

“So?”

“So what, Captain?”

“You don’t have to call me that.”

Blue placed a finger to his chin, “How about lord?”

“I- lord?” Dream was slightly taken aback.

“Well sure. You’re not a pirate captain, nor are you a navy officer. You’re commanding a crew though. And a lord is someone who has authority and influence.”

“I…appreciate the thought but I highly doubt anyone would actually call me a lord. Dream works just fine.”

“We’ll see then I suppose! What were you going to ask me?”

“If you were planning on staying. Are you?”

“Hmmm…” Blue glanced away for a moment, gears moving together in his mind. “I’m definitely thinking about it. I do have a great dislike for violence, but I’ve learned that not everyone on your ship goes out and fights.”

“Yes, that is the case.”

“But I’ll think about it. We have a few more days before we reach Lellin.” “I always forget how far away it is…” Dream murmured to himself, “What happens if we get there and you haven’t decided yet?”

“I think I would get off at Lellin. I’m sure our paths will cross again if I do end up staying.” Blue pushed himself off of the fence and stood straight with his hand on the railing. Dream paralleled him, his arms folded loosely across his chest.

“And you're certain of that?”

“Cross paths with you again?” Blue took a step toward Dream and used the back of his hand to gently caressed Dream’s jaw. Dream was stunned, people had been forward before but not like that. “I sure hope so. I’d love to see you again. You intrigue me, Lord Dream.”

“It’s getting late, we ought to be getting to bed now. It’s quite late, I’d hate to decrease your productivity during the day.” Blue turned away and took a step away from Dream and towards the crew’s quarters. In the cover of darkness, Dream touched his cheek, the phantom feeling of Blue’s hand still remaining.

“I’ve stayed up later than this. Do not worry about my productivity.” Flustered wasn’t what he was feeling. He didn’t get flustered, not really, anyway. But he felt a little…ruffled. He hadn’t met anyone quite like Blue before, Blue had made a crack into his carefully crafted defenses. Intentionally or not, Blue made his presence known. Would Dream miss him if he left?

“Well if you say so! Good night.”

And with that, Blue walked across the Radiance and down into the crew's quarters. Dream slowly removed his hand from his cheek, drawing out the touch. He was left alone on the ship, the boat rocking gently. It was dark, and he could only see the vague outlines of things. His crew were all sleeping underneath him in their quarters, apart from Ink, who was probably snacking away right now, and Finch, who was up at the wheel, steering them to their destination. He had a small lantern that Dream could see from across the boat. His heart was pounding, and he leaned against the fence.

“Good night.” Dream murmured to no one in the darkness.

Blue was intriguing. And alluring.

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stoportotouch · 3 years ago

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if you’ll humour me, here are some Young Vlad Headcanons(tm) or whatever the kids are calling them these days, because i can’t sleep and i’ve been Thinking About Him of late

i. what does their bedroom look like?

there’s... there’s a well in it. that’s very much the most noticeable feature of it because there is basically no other furniture in there. (his bed is a couch with a cushion on it, and he doesn’t sleep much.)

also he chain smokes and drinks heavily so there are a lot of empty bottles and cigarette boxes, etc., and matchbooks, or empty matchbooks because it’s underground and therefore not too well protected from rain and damp. in any case capella has his entire collection of cigarette cards, and he has a lot of cigarette cards because he sends away for cigarettes.

he uh. does smoke some stuff that is local to the town-on-gorkhon, however, but that ain’t tobacco. he gets it from andrey and doesn’t question where andrey gets it from because he would stop getting it if he asked anything.

he still has a bedroom back in the lump like... technically but his dad has put a bunch of Stuff (mostly just boxes of papers that he can’t get rid of yet but that he doesn’t actively need) in there. this isn’t a personal thing unlike most other things between The Vlads, he just never moved back in with his dad after he went away to university and that was about a decade ago.

ii. do they have any daily rituals?

he doesn’t much like people but he does like twyrine and Hanging Out With Andrey. since he lives on the opposite side of town to the broken heart he usually goes there at weird times since it’s open all the time.

andrey and goose get him drunk/whatever state twyrine produces. andrey draws charts. goose makes more twyrine. vlad does not talk to either of them. all of this takes place in perfect silence. this is actually great for all three of them. (andrey is a Fake Extrovert; he and vlad are similarly sociable but andrey is louder.)

iii. eating habits and sample daily menu

eats when he remembers that he needs to, basically, and drinks far more often than he eats anything. capella worries about him because who couldn’t and sometimes Conveniently Leaves, like, crackers or something lying around his shack because she assumes he’ll see them and eat them without thinking while he’s doing something else. this is generally fairly successful.

in any case because of Work he often ends up with a bunch of dried/cured meat that didn’t sell because it was prepared improperly that he lives on for a while. either that or whatever sold poorly at the broken heart that day. it’s a wonder he doesn’t have scurvy and a vitamin d deficiency. (saburov also occasionally lets him and the town hall employees go in on confiscated goods, especially food.)

iv. neuroses? do they recognise them as such?

the man is a walking copy of the telltale heart. there is so much wrong with him whatever the art-book says. in any case he is kind of a mess and he doesn’t so much not recognise it as not want to recognise it. and he isn’t going to do anything about it, of course.

in any case he’s distinctly twitchy and unwilling to talk about seemingly completely random things and is constantly concerned about having left doors or boxes or crates or whatever unlocked. this is pretty at odds with the culture of the town, which is just to leave doors unlocked and it tends to get him odd looks.

v. intellectual pursuits?

he isn’t so much Not Intelligent as his father decided that he was going to study business at university and he was not good specifically at that, but that put him off intellectual stuff for life in any case. still, rubin occasionally gets hold of archaeological journals for him, when the trains are running, because they get on pretty well, and he is genuinely interested in that.

in a more just world he would have been a research historian. as it is he’s... well. you know. he does have a natural level of like... intellectual curiosity even if most people hear that and think “oh, sure, now the guy digging a well in his bedroom is going to lecture us about history” and he never really got the opportunity to do that.

i kind of like the idea that the whole... well thing is as much push-back against his father repressing what he actually wanted to do and was good at as it is general Rebellion, ngl.

vi. sexual orientation? and, regardless of own sexual orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation generally?

gay, definitely. doesn’t care about the relationships of other people and doesn’t really date, but he’s only interested in men. he was initially interested in both daniil and artemy and he had a thing with andrey which lasted for quite a while before they just kind of naturally drifted away from each other after a couple of years. (and after the first outbreak.)

he eventually ends up with rubin, which i cannot explain. most people do not even realise that they’re dating because they’re both so private, but it suits them both. lara knows because she has a sort of Quiet Respect for vlad and she’s one of the few people that rubin tells about things that are happening in his life. artemy knows because artemy likes to have his nose in rubin’s business. clara knows because clara Knows what her bound are up to. (and finally grief knows because they’re friends with both of them insomuch as vlad has friends.)

they’re a rare example of a couple where one is autistic and the other isn’t where it actually Works because the combination of vlad’s analytic way of thinking and attitude towards other people averages out to a similar way of socialising and view of other people. this doesn’t mean that their relationship is normal or unsurprising to anybody, of course, but looking at it objectively it does kind of make sense.

he doesn’t like pda at all and would avoid it entirely if that was possible and finds being affectionate in private a bit of a struggle for... various of his own reasons but he and andrey were still pretty well suited even though andrey is... you know. he doesn’t mind communicating about this but he has a bit of a blunt affect that means he comes across poorly. (this also works completely fine for rubin, who doesn’t go in for Physical Contact.)

vii. physical abnormalities? (both visible and not.)

before the plague he has an occasional very mild lisp but otherwise he’s healthy. he then catches the sand pest three times and takes two shmowders, each of which nearly kill him, and ended up with like. general Post Plague Disease. which is probably like... fatigue and aches and pains and a general feeling of malaise and Impending Doom. not great fun but he probably deserves it.

i figure if he actually went to the termitary he didn’t escape completely physically or mentally unscathed but i don’t know exactly in what way. it probably doesn’t affect him too much though because it just adds to the background Something Ain’t Right Disease. probably a broken or dislocated knee that, For Some Reason, neither of the local doctors (who were awake at the time) would do anything about.

viii. preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress?

he doesn’t wear ties. the shirts with collars that don’t allow him to wear a tie are a conscious choice. (the key is to do with something that belonged to his mother.) otherwise, he would like to be comfortable.

ix. childhood illnesses? any interesting stories behind them?

he was healthy as a child and so was capella, but their mother wasn’t. she was chronically ill, which was what she eventually died of, and also very much frightened of passing it on to her kids -- she didn’t -- so she put the fear of it into especially him.

he didn’t really have any physical childhood illnesses apart from the expected ones but he did have really bad anxieties as a child that sort of carried through into adulthood even though he has more of a handle on it now, or at least he appears to.

x. thoughts on privacy? are they a private person or are they prone to ‘tmi’?

he has something of an odd relationship with the idea, i think. he’ll overshare about some things, especially family problems, but not other seemingly completely mundane things. he and andrey had one running argument and that was over whether other people got to know that they were A Thing. (the only people who knew were peter and goose.)

this wasn’t because of internalised homophobia on his part he just genuinely didn’t care for people knowing his business while andrey is pretty uninhibited and probably not necessarily above public sex. (he is canoncially not above public sex, in fact, based on his Hole Monologue. is it really any wonder that they had a thing?)

as it is he could probably spend all day with whoever it is he’s seeing but ignore them in public because he thinks that’s His Business and not anybody else’s. this works for rubin as well because he also doesn’t go in for public affection. the only real indicator that rubin has forgiven artemy is that he just doesn’t look at him, rather than the Constant Glaring.

xi. how misanthropic are they?

he’s an interesting case because he doesn’t much like people but that isn’t necessarily a negative trait and he doesn’t really view it as such -- nor do most other people. that’s mostly just because he manages to be polite about the fact that he doesn’t much like other people and to discuss it in such a way that it doesn’t come across as a personal insult.

but he seriously does not like people, even though he understands them. that doesn’t mean necessarily that he wishes ill upon anybody unless they particularly rile him up but he has... very little patience for Bullshit and a very short social battery. he still treats his employees well but he doesn’t really socialise with them.

xii. concept of home and family?

hoo boy.

much to unpack generally with the olgimskys but he’s the worst of the bunch.

starting with his godparents because they’re comparatively the Least Worst and then moving in from there: saburov and nnina kaina are his godfather and godmother. (or nina was -- he was born before katerina moved to the town-on-gorkhon.) he and nina didn’t have any sort of relationship really and it was a political move but he gets on fairly well with saburov.

his relationship with his father... is bad! (or was bad, because he’s dead. i cannot imagine artemy every letting that fucker survive.) he does not like his father and his father does not like him, and his father is also dead. this also leads to some bad things because he now has nobody he can take his frustrations out on, because capella is a fifteen year old girl.

regardless he and his father argued a lot throughout their lives, and it only got more and more violent; vlad moving to The Shack was saburov’s suggestion because he didn’t particularly want to have to deal with the fallout of what he saw as the inevitable result in a professional sense. vlad could see right through the “oh i suddenly love my son” bullshit right to the politics his was playing. this is because he was planning to do something very similar and it fucking destroys him that he could have anything in common with his father.

speaking of hating having something in common with one’s parents, he takes after victoria far more than he ever did his father. (capella is like their father he’s like their mother.) victoria was... calculating and knew how to create a public image but she was also always very cold. i’ve explained my theory about this -- she wanted a daughter because of the whole Mistress Thing -- but she also didn’t really know what to do with a baby when she had him. she figured it out more with capella though.

with capella... well, he calls her victoria, for one thing, and not capella. he has literally never once called her capella, nor will or would he. but he does genuinely care for and love his sister -- he ends up with custody of her after the plague because both their parents are dead and it works pretty well -- but their relationship is a little difficult. neither of them is great at showing affection and she has the whole mistress Thing to attend to, which she knows riles him up.

xiii. who do they see as their best friend? their worst enemy?

i figure he gets on well with andrey (he has no opinion on peter because they are on such vastly different wavelengths), goose, and rubin. (rubin primarily because he seems to be very concerned about him in the first game.) (their friendship is primarily them ignoring each other in the same place but that’s how rubin does socialising just generally.)

but i also have a fringe theory, because of the whole Mistress Thing and the fact that i think she could use a hug, that he and katerina saburova have a fairly good relationship. he is a bit scared of clara but, well, who isn’t? if saburov dies during the plague and she becomes like... dowager mistress i guess? vlad kind of replaces him for Official Events that she might need to attend and she glares at him until he puts on a suit.

worst enemy is his father, obviously. artemy is... possibly an excessively forgiving person and has occasional moments of being a good judge of character, and so he and vlad get on professionally but fine otherwise, and i think some part of artemy has like. a grudging respect for him actually doing what he said he was going to do with the bull enterprise after his father died. vlad likes that artemy is one of like... three people at most who actually stops talking about Subjects/leaves him alone entirely when requested to do so.

#ollie considers #text

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eddieeatsass · 4 years ago

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Can you please describe the first time Bill tried to teach Eddie how to ride a bike? - kaspbooty

The first time Bill tries to teach Eddie to ride a bike is a little rocky. They’re nine years old and Eddie, of course, hasn’t ever been allowed to ride a bike. Sonia says they’re “death traps” and that anyone who rides one is asking to meet God early.

But Sonia isn’t there, and Eddie is staying at Bill’s house all weekend, so the two of them conspire to teach Eddie how to bike. Bill is confident he can teach Eddie in two days; two days is plenty of time!

Bill forgot the sheer extent of Eddie’s anxieties.

They started easy with Georgie’s tricycle. Eddie contorted his body to fit the small vehicle and began peddling easily, doing loop-de-loops in the backyard with his knees up so high they touched his chest. Clearly, they started too easy.

Bill went back to his garage, pushing two bikes out from the dark shed and handing one off to Eddie.

Bill, of course, brandished his own brand new bike; Silver, he’d named it. Eddie got his old one, a sturdy piece that was still in fairly good condition barring the chipping paint and missing spokes, but it would do its job.

Eddie followed as Bill led him out to the front of his house where the stretch of sidewalk would act as their training ground.

Bill mounted his bike and began explaining the technicalities to Eddie, using his own bike as demonstration and having Eddie mimic the same on his own. Once he knew how to use the break lever and what the shifter was for, all Eddie had left to learn was how to actually move.

That’s when he froze.

All of the confidence and rebellion that Eddie had built up inside him began seeping out like air from a tire, slowly deflating him until he was left with the whirlwind thoughts he usually dons. What if he falls and scrapes his knee, he could get an infection and need to get his leg amputated! Or if he rides into a tree and knocks out his teeth, he’ll have to adapt to a diet of porridge and soup for the rest of his life, which will probably lead him to get scurvy! Or worse yet, if he swerves into the road and gets hit by a car and dies!

It’s Bill’s warm touch that brings him back, reminds him that he’s safe and secure. Big Bill would never let him get hurt. He might be a bit reckless at times, but Bill is nothing if not protective of his friends.

Bill’s bike is abandoned on his lawn and he’s planted himself to Eddie’s right, one hand in the middle of the handlebars and his other on Eddie’s back. Even though both of Eddie’s feet are still planted on the ground, he feels sturdier with Bill’s presence.

They take it slow, first with Bill simply leading him down the sidewalk and Eddie walking with the bike between his legs. It’s a little awkward, but at least it’s safe.

After about ten minutes they’re able to progress to the next stage, where Eddie’s feet are off the ground but Bill is still steering him. Eddie watched as the pedals move automatically with the wheels.

Finally, after half an hour of that, Eddie is ready to try peddling himself. Bill doesn’t leave his side, doesn’t show any impatience or annoyance with Eddie’s slow pace, he simply acts as an extra safety measure so Eddie doesn’t have to overwhelm himself too fast.

When the sun starts to go down, Bill suggests that they stop for the day. They have all of Sunday to practice and Eddie has already made so much progress in merely a few hours. But Eddie is determined now, so he tells Bill to go inside and that he’ll join him in a few minutes.

It takes Eddie another hour before he’s bursting through the Denbrough’s front door with his arms up in triumph, announcing that he finally did it. Bill runs out from the living room with a little Georgie toddling behind him and together they knock Eddie over, toppling onto the grey welcome mat and giggling frantically.

They end up spending all of Sunday riding around town, and Bill can’t help but note that Eddie already looks like a pro.

(Thanks for the prompt @kaspbooty this was so fun to write!!! <3)

#kaspbrough #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #kaspbrough fic #kaspbrough fanfic #kaspbrough fanfiction #kaspbrough fluff #it 2017 #it stephen king #my writing #Anonymous

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ohveda · 4 years ago

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The Terror - season 1 review

I have paused in my frantic gif reblogging to finally write out my thoughts on the Terror and why I enjoyed it so much.

The first season of The Terror tells the story of the tragic Franklin expedition. This was a British arctic expedition in the late 1840s, led by Sir John Franklin, which had the aim of finding the North West Passage. The expedition was comprised of two ships, Erebus and Terror, hence the name of the show. It was tragic because everyone died (this is not a spoiler). The circumstances as to how everyone died are still mysterious to this day and there is lots of speculation (although a cursory glance at wikipedia suggests that people are building up some theories).

So, this is a TV show where you know from the outset that it is going to end tragically: everyone you get to know is going to die, and the only question is exactly how. And this is why, despite how much I enjoyed it, I wouldn't recommend the show to everyone. It is not so much scary as it is harrowing: there is gore, there is a monster, and there are disturbing scenes. I finished watching it a day and a half ago and I do not yet feel like I have recovered mentally from what I have seen (give me a few more days and I will be fine). You guys out there will know your tv-watching habits; if you don't like stories that are scary, depressing or dark, this show is not for you. However, if you don't mind watching those themes then I absolutely recommend this show whole-heartedly. It is incredibly incredibly good.

Here is the trailer: https://youtu.be/3WLz6wxEabc

The rest of my review might contain mild spoilers, so I'm going to put it under a cut.

There are several things I love about the show. From the first glance it looks fantastic; you can tell that there was money behind the production. The sets and the setting are lush with atmosphere and historic detail; it really feels like care has been taken (not that I know enough about naval history to assess accuracy, but the little bits I do know felt very right). And those coats! If you know me you will know that I go crazy for well-fitted double-breasted coats with bright buttons. I WAS IN MY ELEMENT HERE.

The acting! You can't fault it. Everyone does a superb job and I think one of the reasons the story works so well is just how compelling everyone is.

But my absolute absolute favourite thing about the show is the writing. I am in ecstasies over how well it was written. It's the best period drama I have seen since 2014. The show is based on a book of the same name, so doubtless many good things from the show come from the book, but I have heard some not-entirely-great things about the book too, so I get the feeling that while the good characters and interesting plot may come from the book, the technical skill that makes the show truly rewarding and compelling comes from the show's writers.

The main thing that they get so right is exposition. It's tricky to do well in any piece of fiction, but it is particularly hard in historical fiction when there is always so much to explain. It seems that often the urge with historical fiction is to explain too much and too frequently, to the point where every line loses its poignancy because it's immediately followed by an explanation of why that line is poignant (Poldark, I am looking at you). The Terror does not fall into that trap at all. Things are not explained; the audience's hand is not held; and the viewer is treated like an intelligent person who can come to their own conclusions. This does, admittedly, lead to some parts where I didn't actually know exactly what happened until I read up about them after I finished the show, but this haziness in certain areas does not detract from the watching experience in any way. The writing is good enough that the viewer always knows the key points of what is happening and what that means for the plot (there is never a feeling of being lost and confused), and the fact that you can get an extra level of detail and interest the more you look into it is an additional joy.

When it comes to how good the exposition is, let us take scurvy as an example. Scurvy is mentioned a lot in the first episode, but not anywhere in that episode is it described. In a lesser show, as soon as scurvy is mentioned the first time, someone would say "oh, you mean the disease where your gums bleed and your old wounds open up?" In The Terror this information is not given in the first episode because it's not needed in the first episode. The information is not actually given until after the first symptoms start to show, and even then it's given in an offhand and believable comment that doesn't feel intrusive at all. This means that for viewers who already knew the symptoms of scurvy, it's not jarring in any way, while viewers who don't know the symptoms of scurvy get a wonderful reveal of what has been happening and are now prepared for what is yet to come.

Augh! It's just done so well! I absolutely can't stand it when TV shows talk down to me, whereas I love it when they treat me as a capable adult who is able to put the clues together by myself.

And then we come to the plot. Going from the trailer, and seeing how high the production values were, I had assumed that the plot would have a level of, what to call it, sensationalism? Hollywood-ness? I was expecting it to be more spectacle and less substance. I was ready for jump-scares and plot-twists and set-pieces, and they didn't come, not really, not in the way I was expecting. There was only one part in the final episode where things veered towards melodrama that was too ridiculous to believe. The rest of the plot is not ridiculous nor is it fluffy nor empty; it feels solid: the pacing works and each plot point follows on from one to another. This is not a show where an unsubstantiated plot twist is thrown into the mix for surprise value (looking at you, BBC 2020 Dracula); this is a show where the hard graft of writing is done, to make sure that the plot is built from the ground up so that the audience can follow it and believe in its progression, regardless of how unbelievable the actual events may seem to be.

One of the main reasons for why this plot progression works so well is that it is almost entirely character-driven. Oh yes, there are events from outside that affect the characters and what happens to them, but the bulk of the plot is driven by the characters and their choices. What is it about character-driven fiction that makes it so satisfying? Certainly stories can and do work without being character-driven, but there's something so good about having a character you can get your teeth into: a character who is a person, with likes and dislikes, and good parts and foibles; a character you get to know and care about. The characters in this story are not mere window-dressing; they drive the plot, and you both love them and hate them for it.

Now, take that well-written, rounded, satisfying character, and multiply them by thirty. This is an ensemble cast and boy does it feel like it! I'm frankly astounded by how many fully-thought-out characters there were. It's not like there are five main characters and the rest are all cannon-fodder. Each character we meet has their own story to tell. There are characters in the first episode who feel like extras, but who come to have important and complex parts as the story moves on. Even as we come to the final episodes there are characters whose significance only then begins to show.

This multitude of characters is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it makes for a story that is rich, rewarding and realistic. But a curse because it is impossible to learn all those names and tell all those people apart. They all look the same! Is that character A in the navy blue coat with the big mutton chops? Or is that character B? I've watched the entire series and for a lot of the characters I still don't know! But this confusion doesn't detract from the enjoyment of the show. Just like the exposition, learning more about certain characters (which is where I think a rewatch would help) will add another layer of interest, but without that it is still easy to follow the main parts of the plot. There are certain main characters who you do come to recognise and to know, and this is enough; the other characters, each with their own richness, even if you don't know it yet, are an extra treat for those viewers who want to watch again and dig into the story a little more.

I won't say that the story is without its faults. I would like to ask the show-makers why apparently all British sailors in Victorian times were white??? And why did the cgi monster have to look like that??? But there aren't enough faults to truly detract from how enjoyable the show is.

Look at me here, trying to be all serious, making points with words, instead of just howling like I want to. What I haven't mentioned yet is how this show consumed me. I ate it up! I watched an episode per day (the short length of the show, being only ten episodes, is another reason why the plot is so tight and satisfying) and I couldn't stop thinking about it! My days were filled with thoughts of boats and mutton chops and my dreams were filled with them too. Even now that I have finished the show, and I have felt just how harrowing it is to watch a show where they all die, horribly, I long for it. I have withdrawal symptoms from it. I'm not yet mentally strong enough to watch it again, but my God I yearn for the time when I will be. It's that good! Whenever, over the past week, someone has asked me how I am, my answer has been "I'm watching The Terror!" as if I felt that from that response alone they could glean exactly how excited and happy I was to be watching it; as if it was my everything at that moment! My God!

And I'm not even mentioning just how much I came to enjoy the character of Goodsir. I was told "there's a character in this who's a bit like Segundus from 'Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell'; you'll like him." I did not know how accurate that was going to be. I want to slam my fist on the table! Do you know what it is like, in a show like this, to develop a favourite character and to know, to know, from the outset that every single character is going to die? It is heart-wrenching and it hurts, and I am still not over it (not by a long shot) but at the same time the pathos is so satisfying you want to eat it all up. This is 2021. We're not here for good times. Make it hurt. Make it cathartic. Take my mind off of the world of today with a pain that I can control with my TV.

So. Wow. tl;dr The Terror is an excellent show that I highly recommend for people who like this kind of stuff. (And I'm still sparkly-eyed over Goodsir and can't do anything about it.) The End.

#The Terror #cross-posted to my blog

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m00nlitknight · 5 years ago

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some misc bowers gang hcs

henry.

absolutely fucking loves country music. in modern day terms, he knows ( and sings! ) every word to big green tractor whenever possible

yeehaw accent.

almost every cd and cassette he has are gifts from vic and belch

there are two reasons he doesn’t have a lisence:

1. butch never took him to get his permit, so belch took him like once

2. his eyesight prevented him from being able to see the street signs and he got frustrated and left

he hasn’t gone back because he’s embarrassed and patrick is fucking relentless

doesn’t watch much tv? butch throws fits when he turns it on and it isn’t on something he wants, so sometimes the house is out of a tv entirely

likes gunsmoke, hogan’s heroes, the flinstones, and M*A*S*H, though

drinks so much beer. So Much. thinks he’s manly ( ew )

other then that he prefers water, actually

very easy to rile up, obviously

bare minimum at school! his grades show it. trust me when i say it; you do not want to be his partner.

wants to get out of derry but doesn’t know how.

belch.

more of a bluegrass guy tbh

listents to rock and metal / guitar-heavy music more primarily. metallica, black sabbath, led zeppelin, etc.

helps henry learn to drive, albeit illegally

amy isn’t his only form of transportation. he has two other cars, and changes the insurance around for when he needs them

the other two are a truck and an economy-friendly car

his mother leaves a very big imprint on his life which he translates to his friendships / aka. he’s a mother hen

can and will cook food and be a place for henry to stay for the night

honestly, has taught the other three a lot from things like driving to basic table manners. they didnt retain much.

one of the kinder of the four, but still has a very prickly outside to anyone else outside of the gang

watches the news sometimes

really likes apple and orange juice

watches the news more often then anything else, when he’s by himself. otherwise, henry typically gets control of the tv

wears his heart on his sleeve around his friends. quite possibly the most sensitive, if it weren’t for henry’s outbursts.

does okay at school, but he puts in work as the years go on. torn on wanting to get out of derry and not get out of derry. probably the type to look back at hs as his ‘best years’

way, way too loyal.

patrick.

doesn’t give a shit about much of anything

but he likes music ( sometimes )

listens to anything and everything ( surprisingly, when he’s in the mood for it ), especially if someone else with him doesn’t like it

made himself a fake i.d., so he usually gets the liquor

got his permit revoked because he was caught buzzed and pulled over. also drive soley by himself.

got his mom’s car impounded because of that.

technically grounded for his entire life but just Does Not Listen

smokes any kind of cigarette thrown his way; he’s not picky

but he’s very picky with his food and television.

prefers cartoons ( look at me and tell me he wouldn’t love rick and morty. ) and non-nutritious foods like mac n cheese, frozen pizza, chicken nuggets, etc

what the Fuck is a vegetable?

surprising he doesn’t have scurvy yet

sometimes he tries his hand at poetry. and lyric writing.

never sees the light of day bc he uses it as kindling.

same with his homework!

school is a complete waste of time to him

very little to no aspirations. probably voted ‘most likely to become a crytpid’ at school. doesn’t give a shit about getting out of derry

vic.

this boy feels nothing or entirely too much, but keeps it bottled up

once belch played country music while all four were cramped into the cab of his truck.

vic nearly launched himself out the window to throw himself into a lake.

basically; fucking hates country music

he’s the one patrick likes to fuck with most so naturally, patrick plays most songs he does’t enjoy

as for what he enjoys; he likes anything with a quick beat and catchy tune

has a lisence, but doesn’t have a car. once belch let him drive amy and henry threw a fit because he didn’t want to sit in the back. ( he did )

eats the cleanest, prefers drinking water. but, drinks alcohol socially

listens to the radio more then watches tv, honestly

when he sees something he thinks his friends would like he either steals it, or depending on the price and place, buys it

the most sociable to people outside of the gang. not very hard to do, though

puts in little work at school, naturally does pretty well. quite possibly on an honor roll?

has aspirations to do something like be a lawyer. really wants to get out of derry.

#bowers gang fanfiction #writing.txt #patrick hockstetter x reader #henry bowers x reader #belch huggins x reader #vic criss x reader #bowers gang imagine #bowers gang headcanons #long post

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theterrorzine · 4 years ago

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About the Project

Love in the Time of Scurvy is a full-colour physical anthology of fanworks inspired by AMC’s The Terror (2018), to be released in the fall of 2021. The main theme of the project focuses on relationships between the characters, platonic or romantic, during the show’s canon era. The works will encompass illustrations, short comics, prose, and more. The goal of the project is to create a physical fanbook of at least 100 pages that will be publicly available for purchase and distribution. If the zine does not generate enough interest during the pre-order stage, it will be distributed digitally as a PDF.

Our main zine will be a physical book with a maximum T-rating. We will also have a bonus PDF featuring NSFW content (title TBD) which will be available as an add-on to different tiers.

Pre-orders for the zine are expected to go live in July 2021. Any profit we make (minus production, shipping costs, and contributor compensation) will go to charity. At this stage we are researching potential choices within environmental and climate change focused institutions working within the Arctic regions. If you have any suggestions as to what charity we could donate to, please do let us know.

General FAQ:

What is a zine? A zine is a printed & bound magazine or fanbook created by fans for fans. It’s full of art, prose, and other fanworks. Physical zines can come with assorted merchandise items available for purchase, such as charms or stickers.

Who is behind this zine? The list of our mods can be found here.

What is the schedule for this project? Our detailed schedule can be found here.

What types of content are you looking for? We are looking for illustrations, short comics (1-4 pages), prose (between 1,500 and 2,500 words), and other fanworks. The latter can include, but are not limited to, knitting patterns, poetry, recipes, etc.

What do you mean, “relationships” ? With the title of the zine as guiding inspiration, we’re looking for any and all works that center on love between Terror characters. Friendship, romance, family, crushes, OT3s+ are all fair game.

Is this a canon-compliant zine? Will modern AUs be allowed? We are looking for works that take place during the Terror’s canon historical era, HOWEVER we are absolutely open to (and in fact encourage) canon-divergent AUs/rescue AUs/fix-its.

Will there be any sort of extras/additional merchandise? We are aiming to have a selection of different types of merchandise available alongside the zine, including (but hopefully not limited to) stickers, postcards, and keychains.

Can I contribute if I am under 18?

We will only be accepting submissions from creators who are 18 or older.

Can international creators participate, and will books be shipped internationally? Yes to both! We will have two distribution centres for the zine, one in the US and one in the UK, to cover most of the world for shipping at as low a cost as possible.

Can I contribute to Love in the Time of Scurvy anonymously or under a pseudonym? Yes! We are happy to accommodate people who would like to remain anonymous with the works they submit to the project.

Are traditional works okay? Yes! As long as you can scan them or take a photograph that will fit the technical specifications of the zine, you are welcome to submit traditional works.

How many contributor spots are you looking to fill? We don’t have a number set in stone yet, but we are looking at somewhere around 40-50 in total.

What is the selection criteria for contributors?

We will base our selection on the following factors:

Quality of provided sample works

Uniqueness of the proposed ideas for zine pieces

Proportion of each relationship within the zine

Balance between types of work (illustration/writing/other)

What does this mean? It means that first we will look at the skill level of the applicant, then at the scene/scenario(s) they are proposing, followed by how many similar ideas are being pitched, and whether they are for art or fic or other types of work. We expect that in many cases the decision will be based on the quality of provided samples and balancing relationships represented within the zine. If you have any questions regarding this, please let us know!

Will zine contributors be compensated? Yes, the goal is to provide all contributors with free copies of the zine, as well as merch. If our profits end up significantly lower than expected, contributors will be allowed to purchase at a discount instead of receiving the goods for free.

How will you be sending communications to creators? The primary point of contact will be via email, although we will be cross-posting all announcements to a contributor-specific Discord server.

What will be the final size/file specs for the physical zine? We are aiming for a B5 or A5 sized book. All art files must be delivered at 300dpi in CMYK, and submitted in either .jpeg or .psd file format. All artists will be provided with a template to work from. All prose works must be delivered in .txt, .docx, or .pdf file format. All text formatting for the zine will be handled by the zine mods to achieve uniform appearance throughout the book.

All of this sounds great, I want to contribute! Where can I sign up?

You can sign up here! :)

For other questions people have sent us, check out our #FAQ tag, or feel free to send any questions via ask or email us at [email protected]!

#The Terror #The Terror AMC #The Terror Zine #about #FAQ

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politicotalk · 3 years ago

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Cultural Identity in Canadian Politics

When I talk to foreign people about Canadian politics, they always come to me and ask me what the hell the issues in Canada can be. That place looks like paradise land. Is the biggest issue how to avoid having your car buried in a pile of snow, or how to teach mooses how to play hockey. All countries have their internal issues, including countries such as Canada, Norway or Sweden which seem to be perfect on the outside. I’m going to try to explain what the major issues Canadian Federal politics face, issues specific to Canada.

Indigenous people Indigenous people of Canada, also refered to as the aboriginal people, have been in the shadows, cast aside, for a very long time in Canadian everyday politics. Actually, since the arrival of European colonisers in the 16th century, they have been sort of cast aside. The first Europeans to come and stay were the French, and they had a lot of issues when they came. First off, they had scurvy; the indigenous helped them with that. Secondly, they didn’t know how to survive harsh Canadian winters, the indigenous people helped them with that. French and First Nations traded with each other and created alliances and systems of relations where both parties benefited from each other’s presence. French population grew in the mean time. The British came and settled, and the tables really started to turn after the American Revolution; a lot of people living in the 13 colonies were faithful to the British Crown and fled North to modern day Canada. This brought a complete shift in demography; all of a sudden, the indigenous (and French) populations were outnumbered by the British. First Nations were pushed out of towns slowly but surely. Come the 19th century, bad boy United States was a major threat. They had something called “manifest destiny”, where they saw the West as a baren wasteland in need of colonisation by white people. The Canadian government freaked out, because this meant they could encapsulate Canada and absorb it into the United States. Well, the Canadian government also looked at the west and thought “well fuck, bud, we gotta claim this land”, so they started building a railroad from modern-day Ontario to British Columbia, all the way on the Pacific Coast. There was a big problem though, you see, this area wasn’t a wasteland; there were a lot of First Nations living there, including aboriginal and Métis people. What did the government do? Adopt the Indian Act in 1876. Yeah, no joke, it’s literally called the “Indian Act”. This land these people lived on was full of natural resources, but these people would not cede to the federal government because fuck you. So the government came up with this stupid law. Indigenous people were forbidden from creating their own governments, hold religious ceremonies, hire lawyers or go against the government over land claims. From the 20th century, when education became an important thing for children, with the help of local religious groups, the government started opening what is called “residential schools” and this is brought on a clusterfuck of problems we are faced with today.

The government gave itself the right to take Indigenous children from their families and force them to go to these schools, where they resided. The parents had no say in whether these children were allowed to go or not. These kids had their heads shaved, were forced to keep short hair, banned from wearing any traditional clothing, speak in their native languages – instead they had to speak English or French –, practice their religion – instead, they were brought into the Catholic Church or any Protestant Churches – and they were banned from contacting their families. I mention hair, some people might thing “so what?”; well, long hair is really important in Native Americans’ cultures. It’s as if you were to tell someone from Bavaria that they were no longer allowed to wear lederhosen. The point of this was to strip these kids of their identities, make them white, and so they would cede their lands more easily to the government, so it could profit off of it.

I can’t tell you how badly that backfired. From the 90’s, these poor kids who were, for the majority, adults started to take the government to court for wrongful abuse made towards them, in claims of abuse done towards them. You probably know that the Catholic Church does not have the best record, especially when it comes to violence done towards children, and Ireland was on the forefront of the international stage years ago for allegations of sexual abuse done by members of the clergy towards children. Well, this wasn’t an exception for Canada. To further prove this, the bodies of thousands of dead children were found buried all around these ex-residential schools in 2020. This was orchestrated by the Canadian government AND the Churches.

Thankfully, the Indian Act, though it still technically exists, is kinda stripped. Aboriginal people have the right to assembly, have the right to practice their religion, speak their languages, practice their cultures, etc. All good right? Right?

Well, not quite, this comes to a second point that was brought up again in the recent elections. What would the candidates do in regards to clean drinking water for the aboriginal? To examine this question, we need to rewind, again (sorry). The aboriginal live, for the majority, on what is called “reserves”. They are lands that are under their local governments’ control, where they all live. If you went to Montreal, Toronto, or even Moose Jaw, you could turn on the tap in the kitchen and drink the water there, no problem. Well, the residences on these reserves, not only are in deplorable states, but they also do not have clean, running water. Canada is not the Sahara. We are not lacking water. Canada has actually the world’s highest amount of natural drinking water. Fly over the country and it’s rivers and lakes everywhere. Yet, these people don’t have running water? So this topic has come back several times in the elections over the last 20 years and no one has done anything.

This is barely scratching the surface of issues surrounding aboriginal people in Canada. These two issues were the ones that came up in the last federal leaders’ debate.

French people Canada is a multicultural country. As mentioned before, the French-speaking population has been in Canada for over four centuries now. They have also been marginalised in some ways, and several attempts to assimilate have been made, but to no avail. Today, the French-speaking population is spread over all of Canada’s provinces, but the majority resides in the province of Quebec, where the official language is only French. Several French speakers live in Acadia (in the East of Canada) in Ontario and in Manitoba. Only New Brunswick is officially bilingual. French people – especially the people of Quebec – have seen themselves as different from the English speakers. They see themselves as an entirely different nation (I should point out that I use the term “nation” in the sense of the term synonymous with “population”). Issues flared up in the late 60’s and lead to a lot of tension in the 70’s, where the culture really started to solidify, and lead to a referendum in 1981 and 1995 in regards to whether Quebec wanted to become an independent country. In short, both times, the answer was no. In 1995, the answer was very slim, with the results being 49% to 51%. The situation in Quebec is very similar as the one in Catalonia and Scotland. 1995 might seem like yesterday to some, but I will remind you that this was 26 years ago. Things change in 26 years. New people are made, old people die. The thought of independence is a far away memory in most people’s imagination, and the young people are pretty cool with not wanting an independent country. This doesn’t mean that all of a sudden, Quebeckers are cool with the federal government and kissing the flag; they still see themselves as different, but have come to accept their place in the country, as the government has accommodated more and more for the French language, and given Quebec flexibility over their governance. But you see, Quebec’s aggressive stance over its language gives the other French speakers the ability to continue existing; media, culture and academic content come largely from Quebec. Without Quebec, these other French speaking cultures fear ceasing to exist.

So what about today? Well, firstly, the health sector is governed by the provinces. This means that Quebec was mostly in control of handling Covid, and they want to deal with all issues surrounding this.

Another thing to mention, is that, most likely because of its catholic culture, Quebec is very left leaning. Most votes for the NDP and a portion for the Liberals come from Quebec, and barely any go to the Conservative. They are in favour of public health services, public education with low fees for higher education, help to families and issues talking the environment. Canada currently heavily relies on industries in the primary sector, especially the West. So if Quebec is so in favour of not allowing pipelines to be built, or not excavating for oil, this wouldn’t affect them so much.

In conclusion, this is what Canada has to deal with, long tensions amongst its three main cultural groups. Let me know what your thoughts are and what your country is tackling in terms of internal conflicts.

#canadian politics

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years ago

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Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 125

125

A nice big bed. Plenty of soft blankets. A few bags of A+ blood. Lance held plenty of fake hope as he was marched along, well aware that’d he’d gone and got himself kidnapped. There’s been stairs, now things smelt damp, this was definitely a secret lair of some sort and he already hated it. People these days had no respect at all for pregnant people. You accidentally vomit on someone and suddenly your missing half your teeth. He was so stupid as to be intentionally uncooperative. He wasn’t that stupid... well, maybe he was. He’d gotten his arse kidnapped thanks to what was now obviously not a message from Shiro.

Marched along, he kept his mouth shut, playing docile. The fabulous hospitality he’d been shown ending with him literally kicked into some kind of dirty cell, before the grating of clearly metal bars. Fucking idiots. He was a vampire. You know. Stronger than the average human. What were bars supposed to do?! Hissing as his knees scraped on the stone floor, they could have at least taken the stupid bag off his head and untied his hands

“I’m leaving you the worst YELP! review ever! 1 star and a stern warning about your manners!”

The stupid bag was dosed with orange scented... surface spray if he had to hazard a guess. All scents wiped out thanks to “dumb” and “dumber”. Hearing someone moving, he automatically tensed, preparing to lose his head, yet instead, all he lost was the obnoxious bag. Matt, Sam, and Curtis sat together in the corner of the dark room, craning his head up, he tried not to smile at Shiro

“Hey, guys. If you were going to throw a party, you could have invited me the normal way”

Shiro chuckled humourlessly. Lance felt that to his soul. He was going to be in sooooooooo much shit when they got out of here

“We didn’t think we’d be seeing you here. Let me get those restraints off your hands”

“Thanks. They’re really not comfortable, and probably not my colour either”

Crouching down behind him, Shiro started working at the biting restraints. Lance trying not to hiss as the pins and needles sensation in his hands burned

“Does Keith know you’re here?”

“Nope. He went with Coran to pick Rieva up”

“She’s okay?!”

Lance nodded slowly. Matt’s eyes were glowing yellow and he really didn’t want to be turned into Lance paste. He really didn’t appreciate the lingering scent of orange at all. He might just risk scurvy because it’d be along time before he went near an orange again

“Yeah. Everyone’s pretty much like joined up. Pidge is safe, so’s Colleen, and Hunk and Allura”

“Thank fuck for that...”

There was a burning need to question how this had happened, instead that hiss finally escaped as Shiro pulled the restraints of his hands

“Sorry. Matt chewed through ours...”

“Yeah. I feel like Sendak is scraping the barrel with his new hires. No brain cells there at all”

Moving around him, Shiro offered his hand, Lance letting himself be pulled to his feet before half collapsing again Shiro from dizziness and relief. Shiro wrapping his arms around him as if he thought this was an intentional hug

“Did they hurt you?”

“Knocked a few teeth out. Zero respect for the pregnant”

“And they didn’t...”

His face was their punching bag, which he’d be more grateful for if he didn’t have to feel his teeth growing back

“Nope. I’m sorry, but I’m pretty much sure you guys were used to distract everyone so they could kidnap my dumb arse”

Shiro asking

“How did they even get to you?”

“Used your phone. I stupidly went out the front. Douche canoes got me with a tranquilliser or something...”

One moment he’d been up, the next the ground was rushing to say hello

“You should sit, here, take my jacket too...”

Even in a situation like this Shiro was a worrier

“You need it more than I do”

“You’re still in Keith’s sweats. You might not be cold now, but we need to keep your warmth up”

Right. That. This wasn’t exactly a tropical beach... and why were they still in the cell?

“Why haven’t you guys busted out?”

Matt bitterly spat

“Lead and mercy on the bars. Plus they shock you when you touch them”

“Did you try covering your hands?”

“Nah, I thought what’s a little more fucking burn”

Okay. Matt’s ego was dented and his mate hurt. It wasn’t time for Lance’s ego to keep cracking wise arse remarks to hide the fact he was secretly panicking. He could feel he’d let go of it too much. Feel his fear and annoyance feeding its cockiness

“Sorry. Sorry, I’ll just... yeah...”

Shut up is what he needed to do. So he would. He was dumb for thinking they hadn’t already tried to break out.

Shiro sat him a little farther away from the others than he would have liked. Matt’s anger stank so bad that he could taste it instead of smell it. Covering his shoulders with Shiro’s jacket, he pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his face between them. This sucked. This sucked so hard. He’d felt like something was wrong with Shiro’s message but he’d run off instead of calling Keith who hadn’t called him even though he said he would. Lance already knew they wanted him. They’d talked about how he was a valuable sample now the pregnancy was confirmed. Curtis wouldn’t have wanted to talk, but his friend couldn’t help if and it wasn’t fair at all. He wanted to feel angry over it, but they’d definitely said Curtis confirmed he was pregnant. Not told them outright like it was fresh information. He was a goddamn vampire. A sleepy, cranky, ready to blow his lid, vampire... Who didn’t love dark and scary spaces unless he was exploring with his friends.

“Are you okay?”

No. He wasn’t. He was tired and hungry and couldn’t imagine what Keith was going through. Softly he mumbled, trying to deny Shiro sitting next to him made him feel a tiny bit better seeing the man surely had years of experience under his belt and would come up with some amazing plan

“I’m fine... you should go sit with Curtis. I’ll be okay”

“Lance... Keith would...”

Keith would want him to rely on Shiro. To rest and gather as much information on his surrounds, but hearing his boyfriend’s name was too much. He really fucking missed and it’d only been a short time

“Keith was a wreck. He left me at VOLTRON so I’d be safe. Instead I fucked up...”

“Oh, boo hoo. It’s not like he was shot right in front of you”

“Matthew! That’s enough”

Lance whined softly. He deserved that. He only knew what it felt like to be scared shitless in front of someone holding a gun on Keith. Not to see it happen... Sam scolded his son, another whine slipping out as Shiro settled next to him, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him up against him

“We’re obviously going to be here for a while. You should rest”

AKA he should shut up and stop with the pity party. No one wanted to hear it. Not when Matt was worried about Rieva and his father. Mutely he nodded, wondering if the smell of orange was blocking out traces of Keith’s scent on Shiro. Sendak had to have some fucking master plan... Lance kind of wanted to skip punching him in the dick for ripping off his testicles. He was old and he was tired. The bastard ruining his plans... but he also never wanted to set eyes on Sendak again. He’d rather be locked down here with Lotor for the next decade of his life than stand before Sendak and be made to feel all those messaged up things again.

Dozing off without meaning to, Lance kept his eyes closed as he listened to the others. Shiro had moved from beside him. Sam and Matt talking technical stuff while Curtis and Shiro fretted about having Lance in the cold and how it couldn’t be good for his mental health... that and how Lance was going to need blood. He could have kept up the charade if he hadn’t been suddenly made aware of why he was awake, throwing up violently beside himself. Fuck. Pregnant. Right. His twins didn’t care they were making his father throw his guts up at random times.

Hacking and coughing, Shiro came over to him

“Lance, you okay?”

“Morning sickness... sucks”

“It’s alright, buddy. Let’s get you away from the mess”

“Not much point when I’m...”

Yep. There he went, gasping like a fish out of water before throwing up again. The cold had crept in. Holding his ego down was hard. Those bars looking pretty tempting despite their construction.

Shiro sat patiently by him until he was done. Letting himself be moved by Shiro did nothing for his ego. His nails extending as the hunter sat him down closer to the group

“You just had to throw up, didn’t you?”

“Fuck off, Fido”

Growling at him, Matt pushed the wrong buttons. Lance snarling back in his friends face with his fangs extended, Shiro looping his arms around Lance’s waist as if he was trying to hold Lance back

“Enough! Matt. Your ego is out of control. Rieva is with Coran. He’s the best person to help her. Lance... can you try to bring your ego back under control. You’re making your scary face”

“He can’t fucking help it. He won’t settle until he sees his mate. And I can’t stop my fucking morning sickness. Fuck this”

Unexpectedly Sam chuckled

“I never thought I’d ever hear you swear quite as many times as you have. Somehow it’s quite relieving”

Ugh. He had been swearing a lot. And thanks to Keith “Fuck” had slipped more and more into his vocabulary. No one really used it swear any more as it was. It was just a convenient word for summing up all sorts of feelings in different situations

“That’s because my Mami taught me to have manners. I’m not usually this angry”

“Usually he’s pathetic”

Lance nearly snarled at Matt again. He would have if Shiro hadn’t sighed, changing topics

“Okay. Lance, we started discussing exit strategies on the way out. Naturally we assume everything we’re saying can be heard”

Lance nodded because it did make sense

“Sendak would hear it. If not him, he’ll have someone listening out”

Technically he didn’t know if it was Sendak. He was simply the assumption seeing Lotor was at VOLTRON and they were here. Lotor also knew he was pregnant and probably that he hadn’t been well. Maybe if he could have turned into a bat, he could have gotten them all out by now. Half talking to himself he said his inner thoughts out loud

“If we can overload the bars then we should be able to bend them”

Either he had to grab them or Matt did. He obviously couldn’t because of the twins. Matt had been through enough as it was. Maybe...

“If we put something against them will the current shock it? Like... maybe we could start an electrical fire and trigger a fault?”

“Or we could start a fire and die in it”

That was too close to Keith’s nightmare for comfort and way too close to how he’d lost his father. He wouldn’t do that to Keith. Sam pretended it was a good idea

“We’ll keep that in mind. Matt, can you check if you can see any kind of cabling or switches?”

“Why? We’re on the wrong side of the bars to do anything”

Ugh. Even Lance got that they needed as much information about the environment they were being kept in, and he was falling back to sleep

“Your eyesight is better than ours. It’s so dark in here I can barely see a thing”

Matt got up, walking over to the bars, he stood there for a good moment and a half

“I don’t see anything. I’d say we’re in a basement, but other than a few scraps against the wall, there’s no switches”

“Nothing on the roof?”

“No”

“How thick is the outer wall?”

Oops he was asking questions again... Matt sighing at him. Matt really wasn’t great at this “captivity thing”. He expected more “Let me out!” And “I’m going to piss on your leg!” from him

“How is that supposed to help us?”

“I don’t know, we’ve got a vampire, a slightly cursed human and a werewolf. If we can’t go through the wall we can always go through the roof”

“And what do you know about construction?”

“I know enough. I renovated my house inside out, plus dust and mould don’t really affect vampires like it does with humans”

“Dude, you’re so weak I doubt you’d make any impact if you tried. Why don’t you just go back to sleep?”

Lance had had enough of Matt’s attitude. He was trying... even if he was failing, he was still trying... Matt might be able keep his hunger under control, but a few days and Lance would either go completely crazy or collapse unconscious and be no help at all

“Matt’s right. You need your rest”

Now Shiro was agreeing with Matt?! Maybe he wasn’t the best “prisoner” but it hurt to be dismissed. Whatever. He was going to keep his temper and hopefully his mouth in check.

Lance had hit cranky. By his estimate it’d been something around 12 hours since he’d been rudely stolen. They were resting in shifts. Shiro urging Sam and Curtis to rest. Lance trying not to feel any kind of jealous over the pair of them at least being kidnapped together. He missed his boyfriend and hunger was setting in. He was cold. Cold. Tired. Hungry. Lonely... and mostly cranky. There should be kind of clause to this morning sickness where you only threw up when there was something there to actually throw up. Rubbing his stomach in soft yet agitated circles, he couldn’t bed himself down like the others, instead getting up to pace.

“Lance?”

Shiro sounded sleepy. He’d known the hunter was still awake, but had wondered if maybe Shiro was really simply sleeping with his eyes open

“I’m fine”

“I didn’t say you weren’t... but I would understand if you’re lying to me right now”

“I’m fine, Shiro. You should sleep”

“Nah... I’m good”

Well this was awkward. Why was Shiro trying to talk to him if he didn’t have anything to say? Walking over to the door into the cell, Lance stared down the lock. It was keeping him from his Keith and he didn’t like it

“Don’t touch it”

“I wasn’t going to”

“I know it’s hard but the best thing we can do at the moment is wait it out”

“There’s lots of other things we could be doing”

Whoops. He was letting his crankiness show. Seriously though. He didn’t get how a little bit of electricity was keeping everyone so obedient. Covering your hands would protect you from the lead and mercury. A hard blow against the gate would probably work to knock the damn thing unlocked. His hunger was definitely affecting his thought process.

Climbing up from where he’d been sitting, Shiro walked over to him

“Matt got shocked when he tried touching the bars”

“I figured that much out already”

“I know you’re anxious and you want to see Keith...”

“Sorry, Shiro, but don’t even go there right now. I know he’s your brother, but to me... He’s the love of my life and the father of my twins. Like Matt can’t keep his temper worried about Rieva, I can’t keep my temper right now”

“Then what do you need?”

“Other than out of this ridiculous cage? Oh, I don’t know. My boyfriend. My bed. Blood. A good nights sleep. Honestly, pick one”

“If you need blood...”

“Don’t. I’m a ticking time bomb and you all know it. Starve me and I’ll lose control. Don’t tempt me with your blood”

Shiro sighed at him as he pinched the bridge of his nose

“Lance... You can’t help what you are”

“I’m not about to fucking feed on you. I have some self respect left under everything”

“It’s not about self respect. Look. We don’t know how long we’ll be in here”

“Well maybe if we fucking thought of an actual plan, we could break out”

“And what’s on the other side of the door? How many vampires are between us and getting out?”

“And how long until Matt wolfs out? How long before I lose control. I’ve fucking had it! You’re all here because I’m pregnant. Keith’s going to be fucking blaming himself. We have no clue what’s going to happen. I swear I’ll take my own fucking life before I let them hurt Keith’s children”

“We need to wait. Patience yields focus”

“I’m fucking focused enough. We don’t even have to start a big fire to short the bars out. We could collapse the fucking ceiling between me and Matt. Yet we’re sitting here like good little children. They hurt Keith and I’m not going to hold back when I see them”

“Keith’s fine. He was with Coran”

Physically fine meant nothing when Keith would overthinking absolutely everything

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. You didn’t see the look on his face at the news you guys were missing. I did. He’s going to be tearing himself apart. Blaming himself for everything. He’s been through more than enough”

“And if you get hurt? Then what? He wouldn’t want you hurt”

“At least he’d know I tried my hardest to get back to him”

Shiro wrapped his arms around him

“We’ll get back to him. You’ll see. He’ll be fussing over you and the twins in no time”

“I... just want to see him again”

“I know. We will. For now all we can do is wait”

Lance sniffled, returning Shiro’s hug

“I hate what this is doing to him”

“I know. I also know whatever he’s doing, he’ll have Krolia, and Coran, and Allura. He’s not going to be alone”

“Not until he snaps and pushes them away, or takes off on his own thinking he knows best”

Shiro chuckled

“They’re not going to let that happen. He’ll be cranky, and probably won’t let you out of his sight, but he’s not going to care about anything once he sees you again”

“You too... it was like the worst feeling hearing Rieva was shot and you guys were missing... I felt so useless”

“At least you’ve got hilarious friends to keep you preoccupied”

“I don’t see anyone hilarious in here”

Shiro chuckled again Lance’s weak humour

“Alright, come sit back down, kiddo. When the moments right, we’ll all get out of this together”

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

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rohad93 · 4 years ago

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Sea Glass - Ch 2

This series is 18+ only so I don’t wanna hear about it.

~ ~ ~

"Up an at 'em!"

The curtains were whipped aside and the window thrown open with a bang, letting bright sunlight fill the cabin along with the smells and sounds of the sea. The shouting and cursing of the men on deck along with the crashing of waves and screaming of the gulls.

Blue groaned from her place laying splayed out on her bed in her quarters. The sunlight was shining on her face, she rolled over to bury her face in the pillows, preferring the stale smell to the blinding light on her face.

“This ship ain’t gonna captain itself…” Rose stood at her bedside, hands on her hips as she watched her sister try to smother herself in the goose-down pillows, and rolled her eyes.

While this was the usual act after Blue had spent a hard night drinking, she also knew the captain was definitely avoiding her, especially after what she was fairly certain she had seen outside the tavern last night.

The fearsome Blue Diamond practically melted up against her most renowned rival in a lip lock that made Rose flush a little, and she had seen more than a thing or two after all their years on the high seas. The crew was not made up of the most modest men and women who ever sailed the ocean.

The thought was so ridiculous she wasn’t entirely sure that was what she had seen… even as she watched it happen, followed by Blue decking the captain of The Cluster in the nose.

It had been a very confusing evening all in all.

The crew had limped back to the ship not long after they had, and Rose had watched her sister boost their bruised morale with a yarn of how she’d left Yellow Diamond battered and bruised behind the tavern.

She supposed that technically, that was true, even if she had left out some important parts.

She had only watched silently.

Blue just grumbled, not moving from her place laying face down in the bed.

“If you don’t get up were going to miss out on that merchant ship headed for Caracas… and Yellow Diamond is going to make off with all the valuables,” she tacked on when Blue still made no motion to get up.

That did cause a reaction.

Suddenly, Blue pushed herself up, eyes still squinted against the sunlight as she threw herself out of the bed and moved to the vanity pushed against one wall and started to brush out her hair, grumbling under her breath the entire time.

“What’s our bearing?” She asked, not looking at Rose but staring into the mirror.

“At our current clip we should intercept it by midday, but The Cluster left much earlier, even if we’re faster we’ll be there about the same time…” She said, and could hear Blue curse under her breath, her hand pausing midway through her hair before continuing on,

They sat there in quiet for a long moment before Rose decided to bite the bullet.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about last night?” She finally asked and this time Blue did stop.

“That’s hardly the first time I’ve gotten besotted and started a row in a tavern…,” she huffed.

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it…” Rose crossed her arms, the sleeves of her blouse were pushed up to her elbows and her boots thumped quietly on the floor as she walked up behind Blue to look at her sister’s eyes in the mirror’s reflection. She suddenly stopped, unfolding her arms as a thought struck her, a hand wrapped tightly around the polished, ivory handle of the dagger at her waist.

“Did that... scurvy lout force herself on you?’ Rose suddenly asked, cerulean eyes popped open wide and Blue spun around to face her.

“What? No!” She assured her sister, who relaxed somewhat. Honestly, that would have been even more unbelievable to Rose.

Yellow Diamond was a terror on the sea but she had a reputation for honor that few could deny. She didn’t allow her crew to do as they pleased with hostages, women, and children on a boat they boarded were left at peace while they robbed it blind, unless they decided to fight back and she only killed enough to get her point across, which never took much. Very rarely did tales of Yellow Diamond massacring a ship down to it’s last ever float around the port taverns; royal navy ships being the exception.

That being said, she was quite well known for pulling her pistol on anything that displeased her. Rose had seen the towering blonde shoot a man for making a lewd gesture at her.

Shoot first ask questions never was the general policy aboard The Cluster.

The rumor was that there was a boatswain on her crew that regularly took the brunt of Yellow’s displeasure by being thrown overboard whenever the captain felt the inclination, only to be fished back out and carry on about his day.

She often wondered if it was true.

Knowing Yellow, it probably was.

“Yellow would never do that.” Blue huffed, turning back to the mirror, unwavering certainty in her words.

“So you were just letting the one person you hate most in all the seven seas stick her tongue down your throat?” Rose crossed her arms, watching Blue’s face turn blood red.

“I never said I hated Yellow Diamond.” Blue sniffed, obviously avoiding the rest of that accusation.

“I think you had all of the Caribbean fooled…,” Rose deadpanned and Blue rolled her eyes.

“She’s the one person I’ve never been able to crack…” She said and it was Roses turn to roll her eyes.

Blue had a reputation of her own.

For being a flirt.

No one could deny that the captain of The Menagerie was beautiful, a veritable siren of the sea, but Blue knew it too and had always taken a keen delight in being able to fluster her friends and enemies alike; especially her enemies. It was the icing on the cake of stealing from or defeating them in battle; to throw them a wink or a flirty smile and watch them fall further all over themselves.

She never had to lay a single finger on them, nor had she, to elicit a reaction.

She had an unbroken record of leaving men and women alike a floundering mess... until she had crossed paths with Yellow for the first time, years ago when they had both attempted to finish off a royal galleon carrying a small fortune in silver that a sudden storm had left limping along.

The blue-eyed captain hadn’t known how to react when Yellow brushed of her flirtatious words, her face, hard as stone and pistol leveled at her.

Ever since the two had been in a constant push and pull with the other. Blue making it her mission in life to break the stony facade of the infamous golden pirate. To date, it had yet to happen; she kept trying.

“You certainly got a reaction out of her last night.” Rose sighed. “I think that’s the first time she’s ever pulled her gun on you since the first time you met.”

“Frothing rage is hardly new from ol’ Yello’,” Blue laughed. “I might have pushed a little too hard last night…,” she admitted sheepishly. “Besides, we both knew that’s not the reaction I’m looking for.”

“I don’t understand your need to get under her skin…” Rose admitted, making a face. Blue smiled to herself in the mirror.

“She’s challenging…,” she said simply, standing from her vanity and flipping a lock of silver hair over her shoulder. “I like that.” She turned to face Rose.

Rose doubted that was the entirety of it, but Blue didn’t look like she was going to say anything else about the matter.

“And outside the tavern, last night?” An eyebrow popped up questioningly.

Blue paused, thinking about what to say.

All she could think about was the unshakable grip of Yellow’s hands on her wrists as she held her, pressed flush against the rough wood of the tavern wall.

Amber eyes set in a sharp glare as she loomed over her, hot breath fanning out on her face and every nerve in her body was ablaze.

Even more so when the blonde had wrapped her arms around her waist and pulled her in flush against her.

The poet shirt and loose coat belied how rock solid the blonde was beneath; arms of corded muscle.

She still tingled with the memory

"Blue!"

Blue snapped out of her thoughts as her sister called her name, snapping her fingers in front of her face.

"Ahh, I was lost in thought…," she mumbled.

"I could tell… your red as a whore's lips." She grinned as Blue spun around to look at her face in the mirror.

"Whatever could you have been thinking about I wonder…" she couldn't help but smirk. “So what, did you kiss her just to try and fluster her? Your calling card was always that you didn’t have to touch them to do that.” Rose set her fist on her hip, the hanging beads dangling from the sheer magenta fabric wrapped around her waist over her breeches jingled with the movement. “

“I… don’t know.” Blue finally admitted, glancing at Rose over her shoulder. “I… couldn’t help myself.” She shrugged.

“Well…” Rose started after a long uncomfortable pause. “She didn’t seem to mind if your neck is any clue.”

“My neck?” Blue leaned in closer to the mirror and immediately spotted the large purple and blue bruise on the side of her throat and her face was again a dark maroon color.

“I don’t know how you missed that…” Rose snorted at the scandalized look on the captain’s face.

After looking at the bruise for a long moment was when Blue had a sudden epiphany.

Her sister was right.

Rather than taking the opportunity to shoot her, or toss her off the pier, Yellow had been kissing her back.

Snarling, glaring, shoot first ask questions never, Yellow Diamond.

She wasn’t sure what to do with this information.

“As many quarrels as the two of you have had, I’m surprised that’s only the second time she’s ever pulled a pistol on you and never shot you… I’ve seen her shoot at members of her own crew...,” Rose grumbled as she turned and walked out of Blue’s quarters.

Blue rubbed at the bruise, staring silently back at herself in the mirror.

~ ~ ~

“Well, it’s not broken.” The ship surgeon gruffed after she’d finished looking at Yellow’s nose.

Yellow only grunted at the assessment.

At least there was that.

“The bruises should clear up on their own soon enough. Otherwise, you’re in good health” The grizzled, old woman said, turning away from the captain, her silent way of dismissing her. Yellow grunted as she walked out of the surgeon’s quarters.

She was probably the only person on the ship that could get away with talking to Yellow that way, and it was because she knew that without her, the rest of the crew, Yellow included would be adrift without a paddle, as many scuffles as they got into.

Yellow glared at everything and everyone she passed as she headed up to the deck.

She was angry… and confused.

She had gone over the previous evening at least a hundred times in her head and still couldn’t understand how one minute she was being punched in the face and the next being kissed breathless…

Then punched again!

Her pride and nose throbbed with the thought.

She growled to herself.

In all her years sailing she had never met anyone as vexing as Blue Diamond. The woman was a constant thorn in her side, ever since they had met. She was just as brazen even then.

She’d never forget when they had almost finished sinking that galleon when The Menagerie had appeared out of nowhere and boarded the vessel they were already holding.

She pulled her pistol on the silver-haired captain who had only smiled coquettishly and cocked a hip.

“Ah, the infamous Yellow Diamond. It’s a pleasure.” she winked

It had taken everything Yellow had not too drop her pistol at the salacious tone and look leveled on her. She’d only snarled in response, wiping the look right off Blue’s face.

She’d seemed almost confused at the time.

It was later when she began hearing the tales of Blue that she finally understood how Blue liked to toy with her enemies by using her beauty and charm to goad, or further humiliate them.

Yellow wasn’t about to give the other pirate the satisfaction of letting her see how she got under her skin. She was always careful to maintain a cool facade when the other woman was around, no matter how bawdy her comments could be.

That of course didn’t mean that occasionally Blue wouldn’t say or do something that would leave Yellow burning up on the inside.

Yellow would be a fool not to admit that Blue was a sore sight on the seas. She could give any siren a run for their money. She moved like a cat, light, quiet, and sure of every step she took; never bothered by the chaos around her and her quick wit and charm was unparalleled.

Not even under duress would Yellow admit to any of that, nor her begrudging respect for a woman as ruthless and exacting as she was beautiful; when she needed to be.

Blue was always in the thick of things with her crew, pistol, and saber flailing, she was well known for going toe to toe with any man and beating him to a bloody mess, as well as her treatment of her crew; their unwavering loyalty a silent testament to that.

When Yellow stepped out into the harsh light above she squinted, her head still throbbed from all the drink the night before.

Not too mention the multiple blows to the face she had taken.

“Captain on deck!” Someone shouted and she grunted, waving a hand in dismissal at the calls from her crew as she headed up the steps to the helm.

“Heading?” She demanded without preamble as she walked up to the wheel. Jasper rattled off some numbers and Yellow hummed. They should be catching up to the merchant ship within the hour if they kept up this clip.

After the last few days, they could use an easy score, it would do wonders for the morale on board, and help her take her mind off her suddenly confusing and muddied relationship with Blue.

She could feel the crewmates milling about around her looking at her bruised face and barely closed split lip and growled, making them scatter quickly.

“Captain?” She turned to look at a large grimy man with a faded jolly roger inked atop his shiny head and holding a spyglass. He’d been on Yellow’s crew since she’d gained The Cluster years ago.

“What Joe?” she sighed.

“Theirs uh… a ship coming up on the starboard stern…” He shared a nervous glance with Jasper at the helm.

Yellow stomped over and took the offered spyglass, holding it up and looking out at the horizon behind them. A ship was ever so slowly gaining on them.

A large, familiar, sloop, flying a bright blue flag with three white diamonds at its center.

Yellow scowled behind the spyglass, teeth grit together as she exhaled deeply

“It’s Blue Diamond, Cap’n…” Joe said and amber eyes immediately whipped to the boatswain.

In a flash, she had grabbed the man by the front of the shirt and flipped him over the railing into the water below with a loud snarl.

Yellow closed her eyes and took a deep breath before turning and walking back toward the stairs.

“Fish him out.” She growled to Jasper as she walked by, handing her first mate the spyglass.

“The usual overboard!” Jasper called out to the crew below, who quickly set about pulling the senior crewman out of the sea.

Yellow growled to herself as she stomped across the deck.

She had hoped to have at least a few weeks before she had to face Blue again, but apparently that wish was not to be with The Menagerie trailing behind them, no doubt Blue had also heard about the shipment heading for Caracas and was trying to beat her to it.

“Not today, Blue,” she sneered. After last night the captain was not in the mood to play nice.

She had spent all night sleeplessly thinking about why, why had Blue kissed her, and more importantly, why had she pulled her close and wanted more?

She straightened, shaking off the exhaustion she felt and frowned.

Anger, confusion, and exhaustion all mixed together in a storm of frustration in her gut.

If Blue got in her way today she wouldn’t hesitate to sink The Menagerie right along with the merchant ship.

~ ~ ~

Blue stared at the stern of The Cluster on the horizon through her spyglass and frowned.

For the first time in all the years, she had been going round with Yellow over bounty and the like she felt a certain case of nerves after what had happened last night.

She still didn't have an explanation in words for why she had foisted herself upon the blonde the way she had, nor for why Yellow had reacted in kind.

After all this time she felt like she had a pretty good understanding of the surly captain.

Yellow did things for a reason.

She just couldn't understand the reason this time.

Not that she had any room to talk considering that she couldn't even explain to herself why she had the sudden desire to kiss the rogue.

Blue could admit, Yellow was attractive. Tall, fair, with cheekbones and a tongue as sharp as her saber.

One could always count on a cutting and witty remark from the captain of The Cluster and she was one of the very few out there that could stood toe to toe with her in every way and never flinch.

Blue frowned to herself. She needed to be getting in the headspace for battle, not thinking about Yellow.

She shook herself, closed the spyglass with a snap, turning to the portly woman on the helm, her hair tied up in two rolls upon her head.

"Keep the course, Holly. Stay right behind The Cluster."

"Of course, captain." The older woman nodded.

Rose stood nearby, leaning against the railing and watching her sister carefully.

She put up a good act for the crew, but the young master thief could tell that Blue was lost in thought.

She glanced at the small black speck on the horizon that she knew was The Cluster and frowned.

Something about all this was troubling her. There was an ill-feeling on the wind, she just knew it.

#bellow diamond #Blue diamond #Yellow diamond #pink diamond #AU #pirates #fanfic

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inquistior-a · 4 years ago

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@bornpariah asked : 𝙺𝙸𝚂𝚂 —— 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙸𝚂 𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵 𝙴𝚇𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙾𝚁𝚈, 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈

‘ Sit up. ’

A gentle but impatient command as Halwn slips back into the bed and braces his back against the headboard, legs stretched across the coverlet. Dorian is half across him again almost immediately, and half back to sleep as well. It’s likely only interest in the promised present that’s kept an eye cracked open---Halwn chuckles at his expression, and smooths a thumb across one of the mage’s sleep-disheveled brows, smiling a little wider at the impatient huff it earns him because, of course, he will not be able to preform the attempted procedure to Dorian’s particular standard.

He has a small wooden crate in his hands, fetched from where he had concealed them the night before in the alcove behind his desk. It is a small crate, smaller than he’d like, no bigger than an egg crate. He pulls the lid free with an easy jerk, revealing inside a cluster of two dozen oranges carefully packed with straw. The fruits are small and ripe and vibrant as spessartite stones, smelling strongly of sunlight and a warmth that their current climate sorely lacks. Not that Halwn minds the cold overmuch---but they are not meant for him.

‘ Do you remember the morning at Haven, the first you ate with Varric and I at the tavern? They served you stone-meal and boiled potatoes under really dreadful hard-fried eggs. You started in immediately on the failings of Southron cuisine and, when Varric insisted that it couldn’t be so much better in Tevinter, you described to him the breakfasts you ate as a boy. Sweet yeasted breads dredged in citrus blossom honey, rose petal preserves mixed with chopped cashews and almonds and spread on slices of pear---coffee and sweet milk and coconut. You described bowls of oranges, peeled perfectly bare by use of magick, piled so high that you could not see across them. You carried on for nigh a half an hour, through the whole meal, and Varric vowed he’d never eat with you again, since the cooks would surely spit in your food, and the food of anyone fool enough to be seen sitting with you, after a tirade like that. ’

All the time he speaks, Halwn has been peeling one of the little fruits in his surprisingly nimble hands. Nimble for their size, at least, and delicate with the orange---used to handling such tender things, and many more tender even than this. Seedlings and new-cut blossoms. A foal’s confused head, eyes barely open. Hurt hands, frightened faces. All of that is far from his mind, now.

‘ They all thought you were ridiculous---and you were, a little, ’ something sharp sinks into his left thigh, and Halwn is reasonably sure it’s a short nip of teeth. He chooses to ignore it for the moment. ‘ But I had never longed so acutely to taste something as I did the things that you described. I knew then that your excess wasn’t pretension or pride, as the rest suspected. It was passion, and love, for the place you’d come---pouring out of you like light. ’

‘ That was when I knew I’d have you, ’ it’s sly, and goading, and far more tease than truth. Halwn had known he was lost, then---whether or not anything would come of it, he hadn’t yet allowed himself to consider. His inclination towards the newly-arrived and universally mistrusted Evil Magister had begun in a world that technically did not exist. Returning to the reality of a relevant timeline had done nothing to shatter the stunning clarity of the feeling. ‘Your inclination’ was how Josephine had nervously described it, too polite to call it what it plainly was: an infatuation past a simple interest. ‘ I was fairly certain that I’d been born for you, regardless of whatever claim it was supposed that Andraste had made upon me. ’

The severity of the statement is blunted somewhat by humour, by their shared flirtatious lightness---but only somewhat and still, Halwn knows he can’t linger on it long, or the truth of it will sit like a rock between them. Not yet, perhaps. It’s true, and he isn’t ashamed to share it---but it’s not to be dwelt on when it might make his lover feel unsafe. That’s utterly opposed to Halwn’s purpose, now, which is nothing more than delight, and tenderness, and an easy smile.

It’s not easy to forget that, now---now, with oranges piled in his lap, and Dorian’s chin resting on top of his thigh, lovely grey eyes inherently sharp and yet somehow softened, almost unfocused with affection as they watch him work. Bright with amusement, with pleasure. Halwn carries on peeling the oranges, and doesn’t indulge in too long a direct stare. If he does, he’ll have to kiss him, and then the trail of his thoughts will certainly be lost.

‘ I saw these in a market stand in Montclair six days ago, when we rode past on our return from the capital. They’re very rare in this part of the world, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. They will not grow well south of Tevinter. Not even so near to it as Ostwick. I thought you should have one, to please you---but then I thought you should have more, so many that you could not see over the pile of them, as you had when you were a boy. Josephine thought I’d gone mad---or else she suspects I’m paranoid over the fear of developing scurvy. ’

By now, Halwn has divested three small fruits of their rinds. He begins to separate their segments out, tenth by tenth, and offers the first of a ridiculous many to Dorian. The Inquisitior isn’t surprised when his lover takes the section of fruit with his teeth rather than hand to hand---not surprised, but still obviously pleased. As if it were a reward for that blatant indulgence, Halwn sweeps his thumb, sweet with the perfume of the oranges’ juice, across the mage’s lower lip, and bends over low enough to kiss him. Dorian’s mouth is sweet with the oranges, too, sweet and sharp with citrus. It’s crushingly appropriate, blisteringly beautiful, and one kiss turns into a second, a lingering third. As it always seems to be when he is in good health, Dorian’s skin is warm to the touch, and the flare of the Anchor, as well as the little sing of nerve tension that accompanies it, indicates their shared thrill, something like the surge of hearts. Dorian’s pleasure, so attenuated to magickal manifestation, pulls---and the Anchor is a well.

Where it’s rooted, Halwn cannot say---though, in moments such as this one, it feels as though it’s drawing out of the center of him, pulling from a bottomless place that had opened up only after the first time that Dorian had stepped insistently into his arms.

‘ I’m sure a mage could peel them more completely, though I challenge him to claim he gets half so much pleasure in doing it for you as I do---and, though I bought all the merchant had, it may not be enough to match the excess you were once accustomed to... unless the bowl is very small. Will you forgive me? ’

The rest is all laughter and equally teasing placation, kisses and hands and more. Eventually, the oranges tumble to the floor half forgotten---which is a shame, since they’d ended up as a donation once the merchant realized who she was selling them to. Wasting the fruit of the faithful is the least of the charges against him, certainly, but Halwn would take much worse for a moment or two more of this particular kind of peace: the surreal, almost ghost-like sensation of home.

#bornpariah #answered.#this is honestly peak tenderness #you said 'give him #gifts'#and hal trevelyan responded with 'i remember everything you've ever said #to me and once you mentioned oranges so let me peel two dozen oranges for you'#just really the pinnacle of gay nonsense that's what this is #just #it's love folks

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freebooter4ever · 5 years ago

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Sledgefu Pirate Au pt 5?

In which Eugene saves Snafu (again) and they lead the Governor’s troops on a chase, get tossed in jail, and end up at the OMM ball. This got RIDICULOUSLY long, and a bit goofy, I’m so sorry. @persipneiwrites I hope this still fits within your awesome AU and I didn’t go too totally off the rails ^_^ at some point we need to put this on ao3 as like a collab, my friend.

(Eugene has just visited Snafu in jail the night before he’s sentenced to hang as a pirate. He gave Snafu his ring to prove he will come save him, which I turned into a family ring rather than a USMC ring since I don’t know if the marines existed in the 1700′s? Also, Snafu wears a costume inspired by the Order Of Osiris which was Mobile’s first united Mystic Society for all LGBQT. Technically it wasn’t formed till the 1980s but I couldn’t resist. And that’s pretty much the extent of the research I did for this crack fic. Also I completely got their ages mixed up/the timeline of when Merriell joined the service, it’s hard to find info on the real background of Merriell and Eugene, but this way these characters are totally divided from the living heroes. Just fiction here! I gave Merriell a bit of my grandpa’s backstory cause the real history of his parents and sister is just too heartbreaking, I don’t know how to write that)

As Snafu stands on the raised platform, waiting to die, he reflects on his life. There isn't much enthusiasm in the act. None of his lofty dreams came to fruition. And he honestly never expected them to. This short drop and sudden stop, a brutal end to a mostly exhausting life, is exactly what he had anticipated.

One thing is unusual however. In the past, whenever he imagined the day of his death, of all the possible scenarios, a marching band never featured into any of them.

He always assumed he'd go out fighting in a blaze of guts and glory, not with instruments ringing in his ears.

The steady beat of drums does lend a sort of importance to the day. It gives Snafu something to focus on, other than the fact that his hands are tied, his stomach is empty, and his brain wants to be anywhere but here.

Eugene Sledge clearly doesn't want to be here either.

The man is conspicuously absent. Snafu twists his ring around his finger, spiraling it tighter and tighter in towards his palm. The sharp sting takes away the ache in his chest. He feels Sledge's absence like a physical blow.

Snafu knows he shouldn't have Gene's ring on. One mistaken flap of his hand and the Governor might recognize his own signet on a condemned man's finger. Not that the hell Snafu is currently in could get any worse, but if the ring is recognized then Sledge might be in for hell too.

Yet he can't bring himself to take the ring off.

He did turn the damn thing around so the large jeweled seal is pressing into the palm of Snafu's clenched fist. To any casual observer the ring looks like a plain gold band. No one will know. Snafu will see to that.

Still protecting the damn idiot boy who throws himself into danger just because it's the right thing to do.

Snafu, on the other hand, usually picks the wrong thing to do. As the executioner so calmly points out while he reads aloud Snafu's list of crimes for the crowd to judge.

Snafu never imagined being important in death. He lived his life with little fanfare, and thought he'd go out the same - as some unknown seaman with scurvy or battle wounds or water in his lungs.

But the list of his deeds makes it sound like he's had an impact on this world. The loud boom of the drums corroborate this weighty importance. The crowd gathering beneath his feet is there not to see a pirate, but to see him specifically. To witness the final end of Captain Snafu, who got caught up in circumstances bigger than his own life and paid the final price for it.

As his final moment draws closer, Eugene's empty place on the dias next to his father remains blindingly stark. At the beginning of the executioner's long speech, Snafu still had hope. Now, he can't even glance over at the governor and his cronies. He knows Sledge isn't there. And he doesn't want to see it.

Instead he looks to the sky. The hour is a little before dawn, so a few pinpricks of stars are still visible. There's a line of them, marching upwards, away from the stage, that he'd like to follow.

If he had to be famous, he'd rather it be for having a constellation named after him, than for his bones and hat, and a sign with his name on it, hanging rotting from a gibbet.

Snafu rolls his eyes closed and the floor beneath him drops.

He falls.

Surprisingly, he hits the ground. It shoots pain up his legs and he collapses on his side, but that makes it easier for him to look up and see what the fuck happened.

The last thing he expects is Sledge balanced precariously on the platform above him, desperately trying to dislodge his sword from the wooden gallows where he sliced the rope in two.

It almost doesn't look like Sledge. The man's face is half covered by Snafu's lucky hat. Sledge's large nose is the dead giveaway, sticking out by half a mile. Snafu'd recognize that nose anywhere.

Snafu smirks, thinking about the old wive's tale regarding feet and size, and that a more accurate version for Sledge would be the measure of that nose of his.

"Shit, shit, shit," Eugene curses with every tug, glaring at the sword as if it's the sword's fault for getting stuck. He glares with that little purse of wrinkled concentration between his brows. Which Snafu enjoys so very much.

With one final violent jerk, Eugene manages to free his sword from it's prison. But the movement knocks him off balance and he tumbles through the same hole Snafu fell down.

Luckily Snafu is already there to soften his fall. Eugene lands on his back, spread eagle atop the pirate.

"Get your pointy elbow out of my gut," Snafu grumbles, trying to wriggle away.

Eugene hastily rolls off, and crouches beside him. Their eyes meet for a moment, and magically all of Snafu's troubles evaporate. Every thought flies out of his brain, like maybe nothing sensical ever existed there in the first place. Nothing else exists except the slight shock of coming face to face with someone who desperately wants to look at him as much as he wants to look at them.

Someone who has risked his entire life to save Snafu's ass.

Again.

Reality crashes back down on them pretty quick when the executioner's ax falls between their bodies.

Both their heads swivel to the ax in surprise, and then to each other. As if accusing the other for being distracted.

"Nice of you to finally drop in," Snafu drawls, "Lucky I did so much shit in my life that the long list gave you the extra time." He leans back on his elbow and tries to look as seductive as possible even with both hands tied behind his body.

Eugene scowls, "Nice of you to be so grateful."

Snafu's smile widens gleefully, "Nice of you to wear your best hat."

Eugene's eyes roll upwards towards Snafu's lucky hat's brim. Eugene's scowl deepens as if he only just remembered that he is wearing the monstrosity. He drags it off his head unceremoniously.

Snafu gets one glorious glimpse of the worst case of ginger hat hair he's ever seen before his vision goes dark.

Not because he's blacked out but because Eugene drags the hat forcefully down over Snafu's head and the brim covers his face. Which wouldn't be a problem except that Snafu's hands are literally tied behind his back and he can't push the hat out of his eyesight.

"Gene, not to complain or anything…" Snafu starts.

Eugene says nothing, he focuses entirely on cutting the ropes binding Snafu's wrists as quickly as possible.

Snafu feels the tension of the rope give when Eugene finally breaks through.

The first thing he does is adjust his hat's position and secure the tie under his chin so he can get a better look at Eugene's wonderfully wild hair. The second thing he does with his newfound freedom is grab Eugene's hand and hold on tight like it's the only thing that matters in the world.

They run.

Snafu is faster, and navigates crowds and small spaces easier, so it's mostly him dragging Eugene along. He thinks they're making it, that they'll successfully get away, until a bullet wizzes past his shoulder too close to his head. He yanks Eugene into the nearest alley and they duck behind a giant cart.

"They're shooting at us?" Eugene exclaims incredulously.

Snafu eyes him, "What'd you expect?"

"I… my father wouldn't…" Eugene sputters.

A voice in the distance yells "Ceasefire! For God's sake…!"

Another volley of shots and then the voice yells again "...do not fire on my son!"

The alley goes quiet.

"Eugene, son, please surrender. You can come out peacefully. Captain Haldane is prepared to take you both into custody, there will be a trial."

Eugene and Snafu look at each other.

They're trapped in the alley. It leads to a dead end with a giant wooden fence and absolutely no toeholds.

Snafu presses himself against the wall to try and peer through the crack between the cart and the brick, and he almost stumbles over an iron cellar door.

"Sledgehammer..." he whispers.

Together they wordlessly lift the door open and slip inside. The cellar is dark. It takes a minute for their eyes to adjust from the harsh sun. Snafu makes sure to lock the door behind them. And then he turns.

And finds Eugene standing in the middle of the room rifling through a giant crate. He holds a pink lace parasol in one hand and lifts a brand new muzzle-loaded rifle with the other.

"Looks like smugglers were either trying to sneak weapons into the city in boxes of petticoats, or sneak the ugliest dresses known to man into the city under the guise of weaponry. Hard to tell which is worse," Eugene says, deadpan.

"Eugene, no…" Snafu admonishes, approaching and taking the parasol from his hand, "Pink is not your color, ginger." He swaps the pink parasol for a muted sea grey one.

"No, you keep that one," Eugene shakes his head and hands the grey parasol back to Snafu, barely suppressing his smile, "It matches your eyes."

Snafu grins, snapping open the parasol and twirling it on his shoulder. Eugene leans in closer to him, a hand at Snafu's waist, like he can't resist.

A muffled yell from outside interrupts them, and they both hastily crouch low to the ground.

Snafu carefully climbs to the tiny window grate at street level and listens.

"I think your father is still trying to negotiate with you," he whispers to Eugene, "No one realizes we've moved. Idiots."

He turns to Eugene to discover the man dressed in the most god awful brown frock Snafu has ever seen. The dress has orange and yellow trimmings and clashes with Eugene's hair, like a sunset gone horribly wrong smeared over day old shit.

"Orange ain't your color either, boo," Snafu says mournfully. Eugene might've looked really nice in the powder blue dress Snafu can see peeking out of a bottom crate.

"Here, I found one for you," Eugene says matter-of-fact-ly, tossing a red bundle at him.

"Well at least one of us will match your hair," Snafu comments as he catches it and grimaces with distaste.

They spend the next minute strapping themselves into uncomfortable garments and a single petticoat layer to hang low and cover their boots. Snafu slows them down somewhat when he insists on strapping as many rifles as he can to his legs beneath the skirts.

"Waste not," he says with a wink when Eugene raises an eyebrow at him.

Snafu fills the dress's puffed sleeves with bags of bullets.

Ultimately their getup makes it awful hard to move, but Snafu figures ladies are always having trouble doing anything more complicated than walking in their outfits anyway, so them mincing their steps will hardly stand out as unusual.

They sneak to the ground floor of the building and pause to listen at the front door.

"Okay, plan. We open the parasols as we open the door, and hurry in the opposite direction, like we're afraid," Snafu whispers.

Eugene nods, daintily twisting his pink parasol in his grip.

Snafu nods back. And then pulls Eugene in for a passionate kiss against the door.

Can't give up his last chance to feel Gene sigh softly against him and all that. If this is his last.

"I love you…" Gene mumbles against Snafu's lips.

Snafu's eyes widen. He gropes for the door handle behind his back and throws it wide open, causing them both to stumble out onto the street.

Good a time as any to get this game started.

Their parasols pop open and they duck underneath the frilly lace.

Eugene titters in a grating fake falsetto voice that makes Snafu want to stamp on his toes. But the disguise works. The Governor's soldiers ceasefire and Snafu and Sledge run, skip, and hobble down the street towards the docks.

When they hit the wood of the decks and can dare to lift the parasols above their faces, the very first thing Snafu sees is the bright splendor of the Santa Alma's sails. The most beautiful sight in the world, floating only fifty feet away.

Next Snafu sees the second most beautiful sight in the world. A beauty that makes him stop short in his tracks: Eugene Sledge shedding his ugly brown orange shell and clambering into a skiff wearing nothing but his green velvet trousers. Rich and soft, the kind of fabric a man could run his hands over for hours.

And Snafu decides then and there that green is definitely Eugene's color.

"Snaf, jump!" Eugene reaches out towards him.

Except Snafu doesn't have time to jump because right at that moment a bullet rips between his legs, shoots a hole through his petticoat, and nearly hits one of the rifles pressed against his bare skin. Snafu immediately stops - frozen like his balls in the Antarctic during that one memorable sailing expedition.

"Hands where I can see them," Captain Haldane tells Shelton, "And Eugene, if you could please step out of that boat real slowly."

Alarmingly Haldane is using the same tone of voice on both of them. Almost friendly...kind...and mildly amused.

Snafu is surprised the man didn't just shoot Snafu on sight and deal with the emotional fallout from Eugene later.

Eugene calmly climbs out of the skiff and shuffles over beside Snafu. He stands tall and stiff as a board, as if he has something to prove.

"Hands out," Haldane orders Snafu mildly.

Snafu sticks out his wrists and lolls his head in a petulant stare.

Haldane gently clasps him in irons.

"Ack Ack, you can't arrest this man," Eugene protests.

"He has to follow orders or he'll be court-marshalled," Snafu reminds Eugene.

"Your friend's right, Sledge," Haldane says, "But I can also see to it that he receives a fair trial."

"Snafu's not my friend," Eugene snaps and then falters, "He's my...Captain."

"That what we're calling it these days?" Snafu grins and knocks his hips against Gene who blushes furiously.

Eugene continues speaking as if he didn't hear Snafu, "Ack Ack, the things I've seen...the way the law treats sailors...I don't know if I trust the courts…"

"Eugene, what were you thinking?" a woman snaps behind them. The sound of smartly heeled boots clips closer and closer down the dock.

Eugene visibly winces at his mother's voice.

Both her and the Governor arrive, surrounded by crisply uniformed soldiers.

"You can't run off like a boy anymore, Gene," his mother says.

"You're mother's right," Governor Sledge agrees, "What you did today must have consequences. Captain Haldane, have you secured the pirate?"

"Not quite," Haldane responds with amusement, "He is still armed, sir."

"Armed? In that dress?"

"Underneath it, I believe, sir."

"Well then," Governor Sledge sighs, "Divest this young man of his...armory."

Captain Haldane nods and starts untying the laces on the back of Snafu's gown. He strips off the overskirt, and petticoats, leaving Snafu standing bare legged in the most raggedy underwear he owns. Eugene standing next to him swallows with great difficulty.

Haldane then begins to slowly cut away the ties holding the rifles to Snafu's body. It's only when the last gun falls away that Snafu feels truly naked.

"Better check the sleeves too, Skipper," Snafu grins maliciously.

Haldane cuts off the bodice. As soon as the man's knife slices through a sleeve, bullets rain down onto the deck like it's hurricane season.

In the end all Snafu's got left is his underwear and the same ratty shirt he thought he was going to die in.

"Shame you had to ruin the dress," Snafu drawls, "Fit me so well."

"Take him away," Governor Sledge orders.

"No!" Eugene demands and puts himself between Haldane and Snafu.

"Eugene…!" his mother is shocked.

Eugene draws himself up and takes a deep breath, "I killed the Royal Navy commander of the Dauntless while acting as a pirate. If you are going to hang Snafu, you better hang me too."

Snafu is too shocked to breathe.

Eugene's father looks grim. "Arrest them both," he says.

The mother faints.

Captain Haldane quietly gestures for Eugene to extend his arms.

That shakes Snafu into action, "No!" he shoves Eugene out of the way, "That's not how it happened. Gene is innocent."

The mother, who had been starting to come round, promptly faints into her servant's arms again at Snafu's familiar use of Eugene's nickname.

Everyone else, including Haldane, ignores him.

"Snaf…" Eugene says warningly.

"No…." Snafu is shaking his head at him in exasperation.

They're both marched up the docks towards the fort.

"No!" Snafu repeats as he stumbles along behind Haldane, "no…"

Eugene goes silently. Willingly.

And it makes Snafu mad as hell.

They're brought to the same cell Snafu thought he'd never see again on account of being dead by morning.

In front of the cell door they're delayed.

"What's the hold up, Mac?" Haldane asks the warden.

"The master key's run off, no one can find it," Mac shrugs.

"Then find the individual key," Haldane patiently states the obvious.

"I have my best men on it," the warden smiles.

"They seem to be taking a long time, you best go help them Mackenzie," Haldane says.

The man rolls his eyes, but he disappears further into the fort.

"Ack Ack, please, let us go," Eugene requests as soon as the three of them are alone, "We'll leave port. Snafu's ship is set to sail. You can make it look like an escape. No one will know."

"I'm sorry, Sledge," Haldane says, and he sounds genuinely upset. He casually unlocks the irons on both Eugene and Snafu's wrists. It's a gesture of trust Snafu would never have considered had their places been switched.

Snafu stands, fidgeting awkwardly with his underwear and feeling like a third wheel.

Eugene calmly reaches down, grabs Snafu's fidgety hand, and twines their fingers together. He leans into Snafu's shoulder and murmurs, "Pull on that rag anymore and soon you'll be giving everyone a show."

"Like you'd complain," Snafu retorts.

Snafu tries his best to stand still. Though he's grateful Eugene doesn't release his hand.

Haldane observes them with a knowing expression. "Be careful boys," he warns.

They wait in silence the rest of the time it takes Mackenzie to find a key.

"Hey boys," the warden returns and waggles a key in Snafu's face, "you're in luck, I found the small key."

Snafu casts his eyes to the ceiling.

With a compassionate goodbye, Captain Haldane leaves them to their fate.

The cell door is unlocked and Mackenzie shoves them both in.

A small mercy - keeping them together - or an act of necessity in a relatively small fort, Snafu doesn't know. When the door closes and locks behind them the only thing he focuses on is Eugene's hand in his.

"Looks like it's all over for you two," Mackenzie says, leaning against the cell door. He says it casually, as if trying to start a conversation with an old buddy.

Eugene cuts his eyes to the man outside the cell.

"Sort of a… what do you do now, huh?" Mackenzie's smile is slimy, yet almost genuine. The type of man who can't imagine a life or mind more complicated than his own.

It draws a stark comparison between the supercilious warden versus naive pretty boy Sledge, who's world started out equally as narrow, but who was determined to learn. And to change.

"Here," Mackenzie passes a bottle of rum through the bars, "Everybody deserves a last meal."

"Thank you, sir," Eugene grits out, ever the polite gentleman.

"What an idiot," Snafu says under his breath as he watches the warden leave.

If it weren't for Eugene clinging to his hand in a death grip Snafu might wonder if being alive was worth being back under this asshole's thumb.

Of course, technically it's Eugene's fault for landing Snafu in jail a second time. Otherwise he could be peacefully decomposing right now.

As soon as they are alone Snafu slips out of Eugene's grasp and crosses the cell to the outermost wall. There's a window, high above, nearly level with the ceiling, and Snafu worked out the climbing path on the stone the last time he was trapped in this godforsaken place.

Eugene watches silently as Snafu expertly scales the rock.

Snafu knows Eugene could easily follow. He's seen the boy monkey up rigging enough times to realize that when it comes to heights, Eugene shares the same lack of self preservation sense as Snafu.

But this time Eugene lets him go it alone.

Snafu eases his ass onto the three foot deep window ledge cut into the wall and presses his face against the bars. If he squints he can almost make out the sails of the ships down at the dock. They blur together, though, becoming one massive fluttering speck, like a caught moth.

He sighs, and leans his head back against the wall. There is no way he could recognize the Santa Alma from here even if she did escape in time. When he glances down, he sees Eugene still standing in the same place, staring up at him.

"Take a seat, we'll be here awhile," Snafu drawls, closing his eyes, getting comfortable.

Eugene huffs. But Snafu also hears him drop into the pile of straw in the corner.

"I am aware we will be here awhile, Snaf," Eugene snaps, "I may have never been in a jail cell before, but I do understand the general operating principle."

"Could'a fooled me," Snafu drawls, "The way you were tripping all over yourself to get in here."

"I…" Sledge hesitates yet somehow his voice is still firm, "I told the truth."

"Truth'll get you killed," Snafu says, "And it ain't reality, anyway."

"I did kill the commander, Snaf," Eugene argues.

"You didn't have a choice…"

"I did! I made my choices and I won't take them back."

"You were following my lead...I put you in that situation...your choice was a matter of survival…"

"Snaf, I killed to defend your life. That was my choice. I'd do it again, and I will accept the punishment befitting the crime. I won't let you shoulder all the sins of the world yourself. Especially not mine."

Snafu knocks his head against the wall again out of frustration, and falls into silence. He fiddles with a loose pebble, and then tosses it out the window, watches it splash in the water below.

"Next time my life is in danger and you feel like playing the hero, don't," Snafu spits out.

"You don't get to make that choice," Eugene says, sounding arrogantly pleased with himself at having won this particular conversation.

The next pebble Snafu tosses hits Eugene on the head instead. It bounces off harmlessly.

"Hey!" Eugene exclaims, tilting his head back to glare at Snafu.

Snafu grins.

Eugene folds his arms and shrinks further into the straw.

They sit in silence for what feels like an age. Emotions keep itching under Snafu's skin, and he knows what he wants, but he doesn't know how to get it, or if he even deserves it if he does get it. Snafu watches the sails outside the window come and go freely in the open air to distract himself.

At some point Eugene falls asleep. He sleeps fitfully, with a lot of twitching, but deep enough that Eugene fails to hear the soft clatter of paws on the tile floor.

Snafu silently slides down from his perch and greets Deacon at the cell door. The first thing Snaf does is pocket the offered gift hanging from Deacon's mouth. He sticks both hands through the bars and thanks the puppy by giving him extra scritches.

"Good boy," Snafu whispers as quiet as he can.

His voice wakes Eugene up anyway.

"Shelton?" he asks, groggy, "Deacon?" Eugene pushes himself to his feet and crouches near Snafu, but when he reaches through the bars Deacon ignores Eugene in favor of the pirate.

"I'm his favorite now," Snafu taunts with glee, "We bonded last night. He came and slept right outside my door."

"Only cause I sent him to stand guard," Eugene protests, looking a little jealous. "Isn't that right, Deacon?" he asks the dog as Deacon finally moves from Snaf's hands to Eugene's, "You're a loyal dog."

Snafu leans against the cell door, hand on a hip, and watches Deacon try to lick Eugene's face.

"I'm sorry, Sledgehammer," Snafu says.

"What for?" Eugene asks, looking perplexed.

Snafu shrugs and climbs back up to his window perch. He curls his legs up to his chest and rests his head on his knees.

Eugene heaves a sigh. "Snaf, please stop pouting and stay down here. With me."

"I ain't the one with those thin pursed lips," Snafu taunts, "You look more like the pouting type to me."

Eugene turns bright red - a blush almost as endearing as his little annoyed expression.

"Fine," Eugene says shortly, "Stay up there."

If Snafu climbs down, he'll kiss Gene, and if he kisses him, he might hold him, and if he holds him, Snafu might fall asleep in his arms, and if Snafu falls asleep it's going to be a lot harder to do what needs to be done.

He stays seated at the window and maintains his watch.

Eugene sits against the cell door with one hand stuck through the bars, resting on Deacon's fur.

"I ain't from New Orleans," Snafu confesses, just to fill the silence.

"What?" Eugene looks up, startled, "What do you mean?"

"I'm from northern Louisiana. Born in a one room shack, youngest of nine, took baths in the metal laundry basin, I was always the last with the water so always smelled the worst. Ma died having me, Pa died twelve years later in an accident with a farm gate, I hopped a river boat south, starved on the streets of New Orleans till I stowed away on a navy ship," Snafu says quietly, "Nearly starved there too."

He isn't paying attention to Eugene's movements, so he doesn't notice till it's too late and suddenly Gene is heaving himself up onto the window ledge next to Snafu. Eugene settles in his seat and stares hard as if daring him to protest.

"You deserve better," Eugene says with conviction.

"Oh yeah?" Snafu smiles, "You gonna give me better? Going to pull me out of the dirt and let my siblings rot? Some of them are already rotting. Literally. Six feet under. Can't do nothin for them."

"I know I can't but…"

"They're all just as much poor cannon fodder as I am," Snafu continues, "Not much use except as bodies in a count."

"I don't know any of your siblings…"

"Lucky me then, to be someone you know…"

"Snafu, give it a rest. You're being difficult."

"I'm being honest," Snafu throws Eugene's own words back in his face, harsh.

Eugene grabs his hand, and presses his fingertips against the ring on Snafu's finger.

"Maybe I can't save the world, but I can save you," Gene says softly.

"I'm going to free the world," Snafu counters confidently, with a smile that stretches his face but doesn't reach his eyes, so burdened with the impossibility of his life goals, "That's what freebootin' is all about. The first sign you're ready for piracy: you have a desperate need for freedom."

"I don't understand…"

"You already have it," Snafu says, "That freedom. Bought, paid for, and born into it. Don't need to go looking for it. Waste of your time."

Eugene narrows his eyes. He leans back, takes Snafu's hand with him. He holds Snafu's clenched fist gingerly in his lap. Eugene's thumb trails circles around the base of Snafu's palm. Snafu's skin is particularly sensitive there and every pass of Eugene's calloused thumb sends distracting pulses straight down Snafu's spine.

"Why do you think I was on that shipwreck you pulled me out of in the first place?" Eugene asks.

"Gene…"

"I signed on to Mobile's navy to help people. To keep the port secure. I wasn't going to just sit around and watch while everyone I cared about made sacrifices that I'd never need to face. While everyone else became...cannon fodder," he spits the last word out with shame.

"Gene...'"

"So, yeah. I'd help you free the world. If you'd let me," Eugene concludes.

"Sledgehammer, I'm always gonna end up here," Snafu argues, "One way or the other, I'll get caught. One day it'll stick."

"Not today, it won't."

"Tomorrow, then."

"Not tomorrow either if I…"

"Look into my eyes, and tell me…" Snafu interrupts. He leans forward, pushing into Eugene's space, "...someday if they condemn me and pardon you, are you gonna be able to sit by and watch? Cause no matter what happens between here and there, that's how I'll end."

The hand circling his wrist goes still, limp.

"I'm dying, Sledge," Snafu concludes.

Eugene stares into Snafu's eyes for half a heartbeat, and then closes the short distance between them. Gene drags a hand through Snafu's curls and kisses him like their life depends on it.

And Snafu would be hard pressed to say this isn't what he wanted.

"Promise me," Eugene whispers in between kisses, "Promise me you will accept my choice to die beside you."

Snafu nods mutely and cups his hands around Gene's face.

Eugene pulls Snafu bodily into his lap, which is a little dangerous with them being ten feet off the ground. But Snafu supposes he's set to die anyway, and cracking his head open by falling off a ledge mid pleasure seems like a better way to go than his other option. Besides, up here, they're hidden from view.

When they're finished, a little messy, a little sticky, and having a hell of a time shuffling back into their clothes on such a narrow ledge, they climb back down. Sledge goes first. He jumps down, almost eight feet, and hops a little at the bottom. Eugene turns around and stares up at Snaf, his eyes expectant, waiting to help but not offering it.

Snafu skidaddles down, not taking his eyes off Sledge for an instant. Not checking his momentum, he collides bodily with Eugene, who catches Snafu in his arms and kisses him. Again. If Snafu's going to make a fool out of himself, might as well see it through to the end.

They fall into the straw together, and Sledge holds him close. He finds his ring on Snafu's hand and carefully twists it on Snafu's finger so the black jeweled front is on display for the world. Snafu twines their fingers together and rests his forehead against Gene's, who closes his eyes.

Snafu almost laughs. For the first time since he met Eugene, the boy's breath stinks. Guess no one, not even the Governor's son, gets to meticulously clean their teeth in a jail cell. Snafu gingerly kisses the tip of Gene's nose.

The nose twitches, and this time Snafu actually does laugh. Eugene cracks an eye open, sees Snaf smiling at him, and then pulls him in for exaggerated sloppy kisses until Snafu finally settles down calmly, with his head on Gene's shoulder.

Sledge falls asleep wrapped around Snafu as tight as his damn ring.

Some time later a whistle through the window grate wakes Snafu up from foolish daydreams. He's never in his life been more grateful or frustrated to hear Burgie's voice. Snafu carefully lifts Eugene's arm off his waist and slides out of the other man's grasp. He stands up, and watches Eugene's chest rise and fall with every gentle breath. Sledge is so quiet, he could almost be dead.

If Snafu doesn't leave, Sledge will be dead. If Snafu disappears, however, none of the charges against Sledge can stick. Without any evidence or testimony against Eugene, the boy will be safe. Eugene's crazy, misplaced adventure will be forgotten.

Snafu breaks his promise. He drags Eugene's ring off his finger as he leaves. Eugene sleeps on peacefully, unaware, with the ring resting beside his head.

Snafu silently pulls the jail's master key from his inner pocket and slides it through the bars. He deftly unlocks the heavy cell door. The door creaks as it opens and he pauses, his shoulders hunched and eyes on the floor, waiting, listening. When nothing happens he quickly slips through the crack in the door and swings it shut again. He twists the key in the lock once more, and pockets it.

Maybe if they can't open it, Sledge will stay locked away, secure.

When he looks up from the key, he sees Sledge sprawled out across the floor, his head pillowed on a pile of straw.

It takes every bit of self loathing Snafu has to turn around and walk away. He's always been selfish. Never had no one to care for and no one to care for him.

Eugene Sledge is better off without him.

Snafu slips past the guards, steps outside the fort, breathes fresh air again, and there waiting beside a cart is his faithful quartermaster.

For a while, after he escapes jail, the thrill of reuniting with Burgie, his crew, and his ship provides Snafu with enough adrenaline to forget about the ache in his chest. But starting from the first night aboard ship, Snafu's bed is much too large. He takes a tiny corner of it for himself and piles all the pillows around the other half. He doesn't recall it feeling so big before. He never did take up much space himself.

Eugene, though. Eugene would sprawl out like a starfish. Not in the beginning, but once he started trusting Snafu, once he relaxed. And more often than not, Eugene would end up lying half on top of Snafu. His face so close Snafu could count his freckles, and smell his hair.

He tries to imagine Eugene sleeping in the fancy Governor's mansion. He can't picture it somehow. The only image Snafu's brain conjures is of Eugene sleeping in a jail cell, his expression happy knowing Snafu is nearby.

If he dwells on that too much the guilt sets in, so he mostly tries not to think at all.

He succeeds in not thinking about it until he opens one of his older ship logs and finds doodles scribbled on the margins. The drawings are mostly flowers, and ship instruments; tiny and not particularly detailed. Except for one full page sketch, at the very back of his largest logbook.

It's him. In pristine, exacting detail, down to the last curl on his forehead. Soft, and delicately shaded. The lines of the drawing are fine enough to be almost invisible, like he is looking in a black and white mirror.

The Snafu in the drawing is sleeping, which explains how Eugene got away with it without him knowing.

Snafu slams the book closed and drops it under the table. He vows to not look at it again.

Except he does. Often. Whenever he has an extra minute, he takes the book out, and cracks it open, and runs his finger down the page. As if he can touch the artist's hand through the drawing.

He looks at it so often the graphite starts to smudge.

Eventually the ship makes it to Cape Horn, and Snafu finds the tiny canal Eugene wrote about in his journal. They almost make it through the canal, around the tip, and into open water on track for the Pacific. Except the weather turns dangerous and waves lash the side of the boat, sending a cold shock down Snafu's front. Wet, shivering, and remembering a promise Eugene once made, Snafu makes his own decision.

"Turn her around," he tells Burgie.

Burgie sighs, "Snaf...the men will hate this."

"We'll never make it otherwise," Snafu's eyes are luminous and grave, "Not alone. We need more bodies for this."

"We or you can't make it alone?" Burgie asks.

Snafu sucks on his bottom lip and turns his spyglass to the sliver of clear blue sky in the east. Burgie waits patiently for a minute and when nothing but silence is forthcoming, he strides across the deck to give out new orders.

The crew immediately shares their opinion.

"We're going back for our navigator ain't we?"

"Thank goodness."

"Cap'n would get us lost on a river if we let him."

"Always did think the code 'bout leaving crew behind was a bad one."

Burgie smiles.

As luck would have it, the Santa Alma also encounters a spanish merchant ship on it's way home after pillaging the colonies. The pirate schooner swiftly overtakes the slow merchant and the pirates commandeer the entirety of the ship's stolen native gold.

The Santa Alma also acquires a new passenger. A strong minded girl who goes by the name of Florence and nothing else. No family, no friends, and certainly not a part of the merchant's fleet. She claims her destination is some pacific island called Australia but that she's not picky about the journey to get there. Snafu takes her aboard solely to find out more information on this mystery island if nothing else.

Burgie hastily gives up his private cabin for the girl and starts bunking with the crew himself. Until Snafu gets lonely enough to offer room in his bed for Burgie, which is the worst idea ever because suddenly Snafu finds himself being kept up all night having conversations about girls and courting. A subject which Snafu has zero experience in.

"Just kiss her and be done with it," is the only advice Snafu can offer Burgie.

Luckily Burgie quiets down after that suggestion, although it makes Snafu start to worry he might be down one quartermaster soon.

However, nothing appears to change in the next couple of months and by the time the ship reaches Mobile, Burgie and Florence remain as cordial and distantly polite to each other as ever. Snafu gives it up as a lost cause and goes shopping.

"You look ridiculous," Burgie says after spending an hour assisting Snafu with his costume.

The costume is incomplete by Snafu's standards. He couldn't find a proper crown. And he had to add decorative elements to his crook and flail himself. But luckily these fancy french balls always seem to require people to wear wigs nowadays anyway. He repurposes a portion of his treasure into jewelry and gold plating. And to top it all off, with the help of an especially hairy crew member, Snafu procures a beard long enough to be strung underneath his costume mask.

"I look proper," Snafu jokes to Burgie, using his crook as a dandy cane.

"You look like a royal court jester," Burgie counters, "All that purple and gold."

"Exactly," Snafu says confidently.

"He looks like a gold crusted emu," is Florence's opinion, which puzzles both Snafu and Burgie greatly. "From Australia," she adds. As if that explains anything.

"The breeches might be a little wide, Shit-N-Ass," Leyden comments.

"No one asked you," Snafu retorts.

All that matters is that he will be unrecognizable at Mobile's OMM ball.

His coach is almost unrecognizable too. The leather covering the tiny, odd shaped thing is stained and bleached from the sun. If Snafu holds a candle up to it the shade is nearly a perfect match for Eugene's hair. Except brighter.

"Does it turn into a pumpkin at midnight?" Snafu asks, sneering at the orange color.

"It's either this or the dung cart, Snaf," Burgie says, "You spent the entirety of your treasure allotment on your outfit."

Orange coaches notwithstanding, it's thanks to his expensive drapery that no one blinks twice when Snafu sails past the guards, up the fort steps, and through the entrance. Everyone assumes he is a visiting wealthy gentleman from some distant city, here to experience Mobile's Mardis Gras celebrations. His costume works flawlessly. No one remembers him as the pirate they tried to hang a year ago.

The only downside to everyone being in disguise is that he can't find Eugene.

He doesn't spend long looking inside the fort. It's dusty and suffocating, and Eugene was more the outdoors type anyway. Instead he takes his search to the gardens.

As he walks, Snafu sticks to the shadows. Despite looking the part, he still feels out of place, so he skulks from tree to tree. He avoids the stark yellow light cast by the candle lanterns strung overhead. And only surfaces to peer cautiously around every mile high brushed and powdered wig to see if the person's face matches the one he is looking for.

Of course the person he is looking for is the only person not wearing a wig or mask.

Eugene Sledge's brilliant copper hair sparkles

under the lantern light. Snafu is momentarily blinded by it the minute he finally recognizes the back of the head he is staring at. Trust Gene to buck convention and attend a ball with a bare head. He is dressed plainly too in comparison to the other party goers. His jacket is unadorned and his trousers are simple cotton. There's a single flower stuck in the lapel of Eugene's coat and Snafu sneaks closer to see if he can recognize it from Eugene's logbook drawings.

Snafu never meant to be creeping around in the dark. And he certainly never meant to eavesdrop on a private conversation.

It starts when a familiar looking, excessively handsome blond man brings Eugene a drink. The man can't be much older than either of them, but he wears his military rank with ease. He lacks a wig as well, but Snafu can hardly blame the man for it, considering how shiny his natural hair is. He and Eugene almost match, somehow. As if they've known each other long enough to become the same person in habit and gesture.

Their open familiarity with each other sends a rush of jealousy down Snafu's throat. He might vomit, if he isn't careful.

When he hears the other man try to cajole Eugene onto the dance floor, Snafu's first reaction is to slink off petulantly into the night. To disappear and never return. His whole body burns, and he finds himself grinning murderously.

But then Sledge says "No".

Sledge says 'no' very stoutly, and his face is mournful. Almost as if he is missing someone.

And the handsome man returns to the dance floor alone.

Something has soured Eugene's enjoyment of the gala's frivolity and splendor.

Snafu wonders if maybe it was him.

The world of these galas was always a farce, Snafu wants to tell Sledge. The crowd all gentlemen by government decree; the appearance of nobility rather than the act.

This elegance is unsustainable, this generational wealth built on the backs of stolen labor. To exist within it is to be complicit. As far as Snafu can see the only way to escape the monster society created is to run away and not look back.

Run with me, Snafu wants to say, Run with me and we can be free.

He doesn't say any of that, though. He merely holds his chin high, straightens his back, and steps closer till he is directly behind Eugene's shoulder. Snafu removes his mask for this moment. It is crucial Gene recognize him.

He takes a deep breath.

He hesitates because he almost doesn't want to see how Eugene's mood will change. Whether it turns to anger, or frustration, or worse - nothing.

Then he clears his throat. Takes careful note of the way the back of Eugene's neck tenses.

"I only dance when Eugene Sledge wants to dance," Snafu quotes. He mimics Eugene's accent flawlessly, throwing a bit of his own swagger in for good measure.

Eugene slowly turns around. His eyes are wide with shock as they sweep over Snafu's body, from head to toe. He says nothing, but his mouth gapes a little, like a fish.

"Referring to yourself in third person now?" Snafu asks, "Better be careful...that's the second sign of becoming a pirate." He can't bring himself to meet Eugene's eyes, so Snafu watches the other guests strolling through the garden behind Eugene's head.

Sledge's mouth snaps shut. His shock turns into a glare. He steps forward and invades Snafu's space. It's the kind of close proximity a gentleman might instigate in order to challenge him to a duel. Snafu expects to be slapped with a glove.

Instead Sledge snatches Snafu's carefully powdered wig off his head. He throws the poor thing to the ground, stomps on it, and grinds it into the dirt. The embittered frown on Sledge's face never wavers.

"That was very expensive," Snafu drawls conversationally as he stares at the sad deflated mess of grey hair on the ground between them.

"It looked awful on you," Eugene says bluntly.

"Least it's not my head being flattened," Snafu shrugs, nudging the destroyed wig with a toe. He feigns nonchalance. Inwardly his heart soars, higher than a bird. Sledge still cares. Sledge is angry, but his anger means he still cares.

"Don't tempt me," Eugene snaps.

Snafu finally raises his eyes to meet Eugene's. "Thought I already did that," Snafu says with a challenging grin.

Eugene is taking measured breaths, and his hands are shaking just a tiny bit, like he is holding himself back. "You were not a temptation…" he says, softer and without anger, "You were just...you."

Snafu doesn't know how to respond to that.

"Who are you supposed to be, anyway?" Eugene asks, drawing his eyes up and down Snafu's form, taking in both him and his costume.

Snafu struts a little and holds his mask over his face for Eugene to see, "You can't guess?"

Eugene rolls his eyes, "Some kind of King?"

"Osiris" Snafu says proudly.

"Who?"

"An Egyptian god," Snafu explains, "One who casts judgement on the dead."

"It suits you," Eugene says.

Snafu grins, stands a little taller.

"Especially considering the lack of shirt," Eugene adds snidely.

"The cape and mantle sort of make up for that," Snafu says.

"Yes, that is an impressively vibrant color of dye," Eugene comments. He pulls at the top of the cape and draws it outward, away from Snafu's body to see the sheen of the fabric as it cascades around his hand.

"And this?" Eugene knocks his hand against the wooden staff tucked in Snafu's belt.

"A flail," Snafu says, "To go with my golden crook." He holds out the cane he's been leaning his weight against.

Eugene steps closer, takes the crook, taps it expertly, "Real gold? Business must be going well."

"Booming," Snafu says sarcastically through his teeth.

Eugene chuckles, "Any more Navy ships?"

"Not yet," Snafu replies, "We'll see how tomorrow goes."

Eugene gives Snafu back his crook and tweaks the beard on Snafu's mask instead. Snafu moves the mask away from his face and slips it into his belt alongside the flail.

They're so close, Snafu can smell the tobacco on Eugene's breath.

'Touch me,' Snafu wants to beg, 'Stop touching my clothing, touch me instead.'

They stand in silence for a time.

Eugene's hands return to his pipe.

Snafu studies the flower attached to Eugene's coat.

"Never seen you draw that flower before," Snafu notes.

"Never had a reason before," Eugene replies.

"What's your reason now?" Snafu eyes him warily.

"Sentimental," Eugene says, "Traveled all the way to the Louisiana swamp looking for someone...didn't find them. But I brought a cutting of these home so I'd have at least something to show for the trip." He pockets his pipe, slips the blue iris off it's clip and holds the flower out to Snafu, "They grow beautifully in my garden at home."

It's identical to the kind of irises that grow in wild bunches around the shack where Snafu was born.

"You saw where I came from?" Snafu asks, nervous.

"I did," Eugene actually smiles. Softly. Fondly, like it was a good thing.

It baffles Snafu to no end, but he tries to take it in stride.

"The shack used to be a chicken coop," Snafu grins back, "Was probably better as a chicken coop."

"There's an alligator living in it now," Eugene holds the flower out for Snafu, "I had to fight it for this."

"How brave." Snafu doesn't take the offered flower. "What were you looking for? In the swamps?" he asks.

Sledge's hand drops to his side. "Damn it, Snaf. Do I need to spell it out for you?"

"Might help, my spelling is atrocious, you should know better than anyone," Snafu taunts.

"F," Sledge says haughtily, "U...C...K…" he takes another step closer, trodding on Snafu's wig. "Y...O...U…" Sledge doesn't even have to reach to grab the collar of Snafu's jacket, they're so close. "S...H...E...L…" Sledge closes his lips around the stem of the iris to hold it while he unpins the flower clip from his own coat and pokes it in Snafu's collar instead. The tension around Sledge's mouth forms Snafu's favorite tiny crease between his eyebrows. "T..." Sledge slips the Iris into the clip and smooths the front of Snafu's jacket, "O...N."

"Captain," Snafu corrects, blatantly watching Eugene's lips form each letter.

Gene's eyes flash. He grabs Snafu's collar - forcefully this time - and yanks him into a kiss. Snafu nearly jumps out of his skin in shock.

The kiss lasts less than a second. Snafu shoves Eugene away. His eyes anxiously dart towards the small crowd in the garden. Eugene follows his fearful gaze, and then wraps his long fingers around Snafu's wrist. He drags Snafu through the trees until they come to a hedge maze.

The maze is overgrown. At one point it might have been one of those carefully manicured french monstricities, no bigger than knee height, meant for casual amusement of the European aristocracy, and replicated poorly in the colonies. Now the hedges are well over six feet tall, and thick with tangled branches. Eugene and Snafu barely manage to fit through the entrance.

But the hedges promise privacy.

The air inside the maze is still, and silent, and damp, and slightly cooler than the humid evening around them.

After turning a few corners, Eugene shoves Snafu against a hedge. The bush is prickly, and not at all comfortable, but Snafu finds it hard to care when he is distracted by the press of Eugene's lips, and Eugene's body, and the pleasant intensity of Gene taking all his frustration out on Snafu in ways better than wig destruction.

Without words it feels as if no time passed between tonight and the last they saw each other. Snafu is as familiar with Eugene's body now as he was months ago. Eugene briefly lets go of Snafu's waist to undo his own belt and the buttons of his trousers. Snafu hastily shoves his hand down Eugene's pants himself before the other man can get to it. He breaks off their kiss, chest heaving, to lean back against the bush and curl his fingers around Gene's dick. Eugene braces a hand on either side of Snafu's head and hovers there. He makes a small, strangled noise when Snafu's hand starts to move, but he doesn't look away. Snafu's mouth goes dry and he hardly dares to breathe for fear of breaking whatever the fuck this moment is.

Slowly, he jerks him off, staring into Eugene's dark eyes the whole while.

Eugene makes a complete mess of his pants. He buttons his doublet closed, and smoothes it neat, before hungrily reaching for the red sash wrapped around Snafu's waist.

After a fumbling attempt to get Snafu's clothes off (during which Snafu immediately regrets making his costume so complicated - "Don't. It's fine," Snaf mutters with his hand on Eugene's), Eugene gives up and simply grabs Snafu's hips, and collapses towards him in an embrace. Surprised by the sudden switch to calm, Snafu reacts by limply draping his arms over Gene's shoulders, and waiting.

Eugene turns his face into the crook of Snafu's neck and fully encircles his arms around his body. "God, Snaf," he groans.

"Eugene?" Snafu asks.

Eugene doesn't respond. Snafu can feel Gene's eyelashes blinking against his neck where he is hiding his face.

"Gene?" Snafu tries again.

Eugene sighs. He kisses Snafu's bare skin.

"We should talk," Snafu prompts.

Eugene actually laughs. "Now you want to talk," he says without lifting his head.

"S'what I came here for," Snafu says.

"What is it you wanted to say, then?" Eugene asks, leaning back just enough to look Snaf in the eye.

I love you.

"Nothing," Snafu says, "Thought maybe you might. Maybe a few words to get off your chest?"

Eugene smiles sadly, and leans back in to press their lips together briefly. One small kiss and then he rests his forehead against Snafu's.

"Hope. And faith." Eugene murmurs.

"Hm?" Snafu grunts.

"The flower I found. Irises. They symbolize faith," he fumbles that same heavy ring off his finger that Snafu threw back at him, and then slides it onto Snafu's hand for a second time, "I told you to keep it. I meant what I said."

Snafu stares into his eyes, "Gene…I'm sorry."

"I never doubted you," Gene brushes aside his apology.

Something crazy is on the tip of Snafu's tongue and threatening to spill out, so he keeps his jaw clenched tight and his forehead pressed to Gene's. It's enough. This is enough.

"Stay?" Eugene asks.

Snafu fidgets nervously.

"Here. For a few days," Eugene elaborates, "I've taken care of everything. I want you to meet my family, properly. You can even invite the crew."

"Third sign of piracy: extending dinner invitations to pirates," Snafu drawls. He's imagining Burgie's reaction to getting a cream colored, floral embossed card in the mail.

"Privateers. You are an official United States privateer, Captain Shelton," Eugene corrects. He laughs at Snafu's startled expression, "I have the paperwork all drawn up. It's in my room. Waiting for your signature."

"In the mansion…"

"Yes, to do this you'll have to go to the governor's mansion. You might even have to sleep in an actual bed that doesn't rock up and down with the waves."

"That takes all the fun out of sex…" Snafu murmurs.

"I'm sure I can improvise," Eugene kisses his neck with a smile.

"Will you be doing the rocking then?" Snafu quips.

"For as long as you want…" Eugene promises.

Snafu nods and kisses him, tries to quell that ache that's bubbling up inside him again.

Eugene breaks away, grinning ear to ear. He looks at Snafu as if all his prayers have been answered. And who is Snafu to deny him any of it.

So when Eugene takes his hand and leads him out of the maze, Snafu follows.

He is so dazed by an emotion he never thought himself capable of feeling again he almost doesn't notice where Eugene is leading him. Until he recognizes the same inner courtyard where Snafu was condemned to die.

Snafu stops short. His abrupt halt yanks Eugene back by his arm. Gene turns around and stares at Snafu in confusion. Snafu is preparing to run. His palms are sweaty, and the skin there feels melted to Eugene's, and he's about to twist away and disappear when Eugene's hold on him tightens.

Eugene is looking Snaf straight in the eye, and he slowly lifts their clasped hands to his lips, "It's all right, Merriell. I promise."

And in full view of the Governor's entire court, Eugene Sledge bends to kiss Snafu's hand. The same hand Snafu recently stuck down Gene's pants.

No one says anything.

All eyes are on them, though.

Correction, all eyes are on Snafu. His planned ostentatiousness backfires. Eugene notices him, for sure. But so does everyone else.

His costume glows golden in the candlelight. If the glint half blinds him when he moves in the wrong way, he can't imagine how difficult it must be for someone standing across from him.

Snafu grins petulantly when Eugene guides him forward to stand in front of the Governor himself. He can tell Eugene's father recognizes him immediately. The man frowns. He shakes Snafu's hand politely, but he doesn't speak a word.

Surprisingly, it's the Governor's lady who breaks the tension. She eyes her husband calculatingly, sucks in a deep breath, and reaches out to take both of Snafu's hands in hers.

"I want to apologize for the previous case of mistaken identity," She says, regally and with great intent, "As I understand it, Commodore Haldane confused you with the dreadful pirate Snafu. I assure you, Captain Shelton, we will rectify this mistake and will remain forever grateful to you for bringing our Eugene back home alive."

Snafu's eyes slide sharp towards Eugene, realizing for the first time how the boy must have brought about this miracle of clearing his name.

Eugene returns Snafu's stare with a confident grin. He rejoins their hands and pulls Snafu off to the buffet table. A very smart decision as he is going to need a full belly to stomach all this nonsense.

Contrary to popular opinion, food on a ship is not half bad. Burgin keeps their cook happy with the third highest salary on board and frequent stops in port for fresh supplies. Snafu's diet as a child on land, however, was regularly lacking. His father was a failed farmer, and boiled cabbage soup was their evening meal more often than not. So Snafu supposes his standards for good food are not as high as most people's.

But this buffet laid out before him at the Governor's ball? This is a masterpiece.

Snafu immediately heads straight for the pork chops. He loads up a plate and even concedes to taking utensils and a napkin when Gene offers them.

"Just so you know, we're going back for seconds," he informs Eugene. Eugene chuckles, and holds Snaf's plate for him while he pours them both drinks.

They find a table under a tree to sit and eat. If Snafu must use a fork and knife instead of his fingers, he's gonna need two hands to do it. And that shit's not possible while standing.

Eugene scoots his chair conspicuously close to Snafu's. But the low hanging branches of the willow tree partially conceal them from view, so Snafu allows it. After he finishes his first plate, he does indeed go back for seconds, and thirds. And then Eugene lights his pipe and they pass it back and forth. Their shoulders and legs are pressed together, and Eugene's arm reaches behind Snafu's neck to rest along the back of his chair. Sometimes when Eugene leans in to gently lift the pipe from Snafu's hand, he whispers in his ear and his nose brushes his cheek.

At one point Snafu makes a particularly cutting remark about the state of one unfortunate gentleman's coat, and Eugene starts laughing. He laughs so hard at the joke he leans his hand against Snafu's back and hides his face in his shoulder. Snafu has never seen Gene laugh like that. Ever. A wave of relief washes over Snafu and for a minute he forgets himself and tucks a stray lock of hair behind Eugene's ear.

His gesture is altogether too much like a caress, and he remembers with cold fear, that they are out in the open.

The minute Snafu's fingers leave Eugene's skin, his nerves are back. He darts a glance towards the Governor's dias and he freezes in place. The harsh sensation of a particular pair of eyes boring into the back of Snafu's head takes him out of whatever spell he'd been under making him feel like he and Eugene were the only two people in the room.

Snafu may have the weight of a ring on his finger, but the thousand yard stare of Governor Sledge holds the weight of the world. And every bit of it exudes disapproval.

It chills Snafu to his bones.

At the end of the party, after they've returned to the Governor's mansion, Snafu is shown to an opulent room by an opulently dressed butler. Eugene disappears somewhere down the hall. And Snafu finds himself standing alone, wearing his gold plated costume, inside a masterpiece of a room, feeling an utter fool.

He removes all his jewelry and unwraps his sash. He drags the covers off the bed and makes his own nest in front of the roaring fireplace. He curls up and he tries to sleep.

He is interrupted when Eugene mysteriously appears in Snafu's room through a hidden door behind a bookshelf.

Gene laughs at Snafu's floor nest, and helps Snafu pull the blankets back onto the bed.

Eugene then helps Snafu out of his costume, and this time he succeeds.

They fuck tenderly atop silk sheets and plush pillows. And the way Eugene whispers "Merriell" in his ear is almost enough to make Snafu forget he is here on borrowed time. Almost.

Right as Snafu is about to finally fall asleep there is scratching and a thud against the bedroom door, and for a second Snafu's heart stops at the fear they've been caught. But Eugene simply chuckles and wraps an arm around Snafu's bare waist in a quick hug.

"Go answer it," he says with a kiss to the nape of Snafu's neck.

Eugene lets go of Snafu and reclines back against the pillows, his eyes twinkling.

Snafu grunts about spoiled Governor's sons and casts his eyes overhead to the four poster bed's velvet canopy, but he drags Eugene's breeches on and does as he is told.

On the other side of the door waits a very patient dog. Deacon wags his tail excitedly and the dog's entire body wiggles. Snafu immediately crouches down to greet him and gets a few licks to his face in return. Snafu nearly falls over, but he moves to the side enough to get the dog in the room and the door closed.

"You were missing your master, huh?" Snafu asks Deacon, scratching under the dog's ear.

"He was missing you," Eugene speaks up from the bed, "This entire week, he has done nothing but stare out the window at the ocean and whine. If I didn't understand exactly how he felt, I might have been jealous."

"That's the real reason I've come back," Snafu says as he wriggles back out of Gene's pants and crawls into bed, "To steal your dog and turn him pirate."

"Guess if you've already got one of us, you might as well have the whole set," Eugene replies, drawing Snafu close and insisting on a kiss before letting Snafu settle his head against Eugene's shoulder. Deacon happily curls up at the foot of the bed.

The next morning he wakes to find that somehow during the night Snafu ended up flat on his back with Eugene sprawled across his body and Deacon stretched out across his feet. He is completely unable to move.

Snafu snakes his arm out from underneath the covers and tickles Eugene's ear. Eugene twitches in his sleep. Snafu stays persistent with the tickling until Eugene rolls over, almost accidentally knees Snafu in the groin, and is woken by Snafu's panicked yelp.

With Eugene awake the tickling quickly turns into a wrestling match, which Snafu almost wins. He straddles Eugene and pins Gene's hands above his head. Snafu presses teasing, featherly light kisses across Eugene's collarbone until Deacon barks and a sharp knock on the door interrupts them. Eugene bucks Snafu off him, dives underneath the blankets and slides down the bed in a lump like a coward, leaving Snafu on his own.

"Yeah?" Snafu calls out with as much authority as he can muster. He holds the bedcovers tight over his waist, but his hands won't stop shaking.

It doesn't help that Eugene chooses to put his mouth somewhere very distracting on Snafu's body right as the door unlocks and opens.

"Deacon's food is waiting for him downstairs," the butler says kindly, "Would you like your breakfast brought to your room?"

"Ah, no," Snafu improvises, "I will...uh...be out. Shortly."

Deacon jumps off the bed and trots out the door, tail wagging.

The butler nods and backs out of the room.

"Thank you!" Snafu adds belatedly to the closing door.

Once they're alone again, Snafu yanks back the blankets covering Eugene and finds his lover shaking with silent laughter and the worst case of bedhead he's ever seen.

"Asshole," Snafu accuses him, refusing to give in to the urge to run his hands through Gene's hair - a vibrant red in the morning light.

Instead Eugene pulls him down, silences him with a kiss, and they're both rather late for breakfast.

Snafu stays in the mansion for three days. He doesn't send Burgie any dinner invitations, knowing how well they'd be received, but he does mail a monogrammed card letting the crew know he's safe. He includes a handful of stolen silver artifacts in the parcel to appease any pirate tempers.

Every afternoon Eugene closes them both in the study and forces them to go over page after page after page of legal documents. Snafu attempts to read a few lines here or there, but mostly he only serves as a distraction. His hands wander of their own free will, and they both continually risk getting caught with Snafu's hands up Eugene's shirt or on his thigh, or tracing the line of Eugene's mouth.

"Pay attention," Eugene huffs with as much frustration as Snafu felt when Eugene kept trying to pry Snafu's attention from his maps.

"I am," Snafu insists, trailing his finger down Eugene's neck and studying the way the scruff of his hair stands on end.

"To something other than me," Eugene admonishes.

"Impossible," Snafu leans back on the cushy window seat and admires Eugene's profile against the sunlight. He grins devilishly, crosses his arms behind his head, and adjusts the seat of his hips in a languid manner. Snafu has never had this much free time to indulge in all his urges and he is determined to enjoy it thoroughly.

Eugene stops pretending to read the paper he is holding and glares at Snafu out of the corner of his eye.

It only makes Snafu smile wider.

"Fuck it," Gene says. He drops the page to the ground, plants a hand firmly on the windowsill, and leans over to kiss Snafu with wild passion. Snafu laughs between kisses and Eugene wraps an arm around his waist and tightens his hold, lifting Snafu off the seat until there is no air left between their bodies.

Then the locked door to the study opens.

Snafu drops his arms from around Gene's shoulders and goes still and silent. Eugene sits up, immediately alert. But bizarrely his hand falls atop Snafu's thigh and prevents Snafu from moving his leg off Eugene's lap. Snafu is left lying awkwardly on his back like a turtle, one leg still around Eugene's waist, the other shoved up against the cold glass windowpane, bent as far away from Gene as he can get it. The tent in Snafu's loose breeches is painfully obvious, and his mind is racing, calculating every possible exit from the room. There is only one thing keeping him in place and it's Eugene.

Unfortunately Eugene's strong grip on Snafu's upper thigh only worsens his state of arousal.

The Governor himself calmly looks at them, walks into the room, and closes the door behind him.

"Did you get all the necessary documents signed?" the Governor asks in a tired voice.

"Yes," Sledge replies defiantly, his shoulders straight, his chin high.

Snafu can barely breathe, let alone talk.

"Good," the Governor remarks politely, "I trust Captain Shelton will be setting out on his first officially sanctioned voyage soon."

Snafu's eyes dart between Eugene and the Governor in a panic, trying to guess what his answer should be.

"Actually," Eugene says, "He's staying here. Indefinitely." His tone is light but his accent is sharp.

Snafu, for his part, is still blinking like a fox caught outside its hole.

"Very well," the Governor says solemnly. He stands in the middle of the carpet, and makes no move to leave, even though they are all sitting in silence.

After a minute the Governor lifts his head and gazes out the window beyond where they're sitting. "It's a beautiful day today," he says casually, "I think I might organize a hunt." And with that he takes his leave. The door closes behind him gently. They hear the lock click back into place.

"Shit fuck, he's gonna kill me," Snafu claws at his face with his hands, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

"No," Eugene says calmly. He releases Snafu's leg and Snafu curls in on himself like the turtle he feels. "He won't," Gene promises.

Snafu groans.

"Snafu," Eugene says, trying to grab Snafu's hands behind the protective barrier of his legs. "Merriell…" Eugene eventually succeeds in wrapping his fingers around both of Snafu's wrists and uncovering his face.

Snafu lets his knees fall open in defeat. He stares at Gene between his legs balefully.

"I love you," Eugene tells him. Certainty is written all over his face.

Snafu doesn't know how Eugene manages to look at him with such intense affection when they're surrounded by so much fear.

"Father is the only one who has the keys to this study," Eugene says, "I trust him. Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Snafu's response is immediate and uncompromising.

Eugene lets go of Snafu's wrists and twines their fingers together instead. Snafu uses the grip to pull himself into a sitting position. He takes a moment to run his eyes over Eugene's serious face. His chest presses into the side of Eugene's shoulder.

"I trust you with my life, Gene," Snafu confesses.

"Then stay," Eugene says, and closes the deal with a chaste kiss.

That night the two of them fall asleep in Eugene's own bed instead of the guest room. Snafu luxuriates in the comfort of being utterly surrounded by reminders of Gene.

But this time Snafu wakes up alone.

He hears a knock. Not on Eugene's door, but on the door of the guest room down the hall. Snafu falls off the bed in his haste to both yank his pants up over his ass and trigger the bookcase to open the secret passageway. He manages to get back in his room, slip on his shoes, and open his door by the time the impatient person looking for him knocks a third time.

"The Governor wishes to see you," the butler says.

"Right," Snafu nods, scratching the back of his neck and makes as if to step into the hall when the butler places a gloved hand on his shoulder.

"Perhaps Sir should put on a shirt?" the butler smiles in a fatherly manner.

"Ah…" Snafu glances down at his bare torso and retreats inside his room to fish out something respectable.

"Perhaps a coat as well?" the butler once again poses the suggestion as a question.

Snafu gets the distinct feeling he is receiving advice. He hunts through the wardrobe and holds out a deep purple velvet ensemble for review.

The butler smiles and shakes his head discreetly.

Snafu presents two more outfits before they decide on a smart grey number made of flawlessly tailored rich fabric but without a lot of frills.

"Good luck," the butler whispers to Snafu before leaving him outside the door to the Governor's private library.

Snafu has already spent many hours in the family library. It's the only room in the mansion he actually likes. The Sledges own a copy of every single overseas expedition logbook Snafu could possibly want. Sailing is clearly a pastime both Eugene and his father enjoy.

This is the first time, however, that Snafu is given the privilege of seeing the Governor's personal book collection.

As soon as he walks through the door, the first thing to catch Snafu's eye is a large, exquisitely detailed globe resting in its own golden stand on the floor to the right. He itches to lay his hands on it, and he barely manages to restrain himself before the high backed chair turns and the Governor sets his eyes on him.

For a split second Snafu's breath leaves him. But then, he relaxes. He tilts his head with a small smile, and crosses the room to the globe. He ignores Eugene's father in favor of running his finger down the eastern coast of the Americas. Keeping his finger on the surface of the globe, he rotates it until he is touching China, and then the East Indies. He lifts his hand, spins the globe, and stops it with a touch.

He shifts his finger aside and reads the name of the country he landed on.

Japan.

"How much?" the Governor asks plainly.

"What?" Snafu's head jerks up.

"How much money can I offer to make you disappear from my son's life?" the Governor folds his hands on his desk and looks at Snafu pleasantly.

Snafu stares in shock, processing this new information.

"If you are killed, Eugene will mourn you forever as if you were a martyr. But if you leave, he will forget you," Governor Sledge explains.

"If I leave he'll miss me forever," Snafu taunts, smiling.

"You want to leave," Governor Sledge points out, "I can see it. Eugene certainly sees it. You are restless here. You have nothing here, except him. Let go of him. And I will give you any amount you ask for."

Snafu honestly considers it. Considers that - if Sledge's family truly hate Snafu that much - leaving Eugene alone might be the best decision for both of them. Considers how much Eugene loves his family, enough to risk his life to get back to them, to lie to a pirate. Considers the fact that the kind of money Governor Sledge is talking about could probably get Snafu across the pacific and back five times over. Considers how often Snafu has seen Sledge genuinely smile back home with his familiar comforts compared to his scowls aboard ship.

"I'd break his heart," Snafu says before his throat chokes closed. He coughs. His eyes sting.

"Exactly," Governor Sledge agrees amicably.

Snafu laughs. He hates how it sounds wild and a little despairing, even to his own ears. He can feel a grin on his face, mouth stretched so wide his muscles already ache.

"Well," Snafu bites his lip. He spins the globe again, faster. And this time he lets his finger drag against the curved surface, intentionally stopping it right over the port of Mobile. He looks up, and saunters to the desk, pulling Eugene's ring off and holding it high for the Governor to see.

"You want me gone that badly, I'll do it for free," Snafu offers, "But I'm keeping this." He closes his fist around the ring.

Taking a leather cord strung with keys from the corner of Governor Sledge's desk, Snafu unhooks the clasp and carelessly dumps the keys to the floor. He slides the ring onto the cord, knots it in the middle to keep the ring secure, and hooks the clasp around his neck.

"He'll know," Snafu says as he stuffs the necklace down his shirt front, "No matter what lies you tell him, he'll know. And he'll come after me."

The Governor doesn't respond, and Snafu turns his back on him to walk out the door. He'd take the globe with him, too, if he could think of a way to lift it on his own.

Snafu leaves the estate without another word to anyone. The relief he feels when he walks past the final gatehouse is palpable. He can breathe easier again out here, in the fresh air. And when he reaches the docks his confidence in life soars the minute he sees the Santa Alma waiting patiently in the bay. For the next few weeks he remains confident every time the crew sets sail, charting a course that wins them easy prizes while staying within a couple days reach of Mobile. They make berth regularly in the port, the crew eagerly enjoying the extra shore leave and spending money.

But after the first month passes and there is no sign of Eugene, Snafu's confidence dwindles. By the sixth month the heavy weight of the ring around his neck is no longer a security but an anchor. More time passes, and after the second full year spent alone, Snafu gives up hope.

He begins to plan another voyage around Cape Horn. This time enroute to Japan.

(My sketch of Pirate Snafu)

(the END for now, i swear they get back together, i promise, eugene didnt forget he’s just busy and he thinks snaf is an asshole who left without saying goodbye. if you want to see more PLEASE TELL ME cause i might do it)

#sledgefu #sledgefu pirate au #bad germs

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