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deaf-solitude · 2 months

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Bloodsucker Pt. 2 (Vampire!Frenchie x GN!Reader)

Takes place post-season 1, pre-season 2 once again!

Pairing: Vampire!Frenchie x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Blood, death, detailed violence, vampire feeding, fluff???, they’re goofy your honour

((Oh my god I’m SO sorry for how long I’ve been gone, writer's block hit me like a mf but I’M FINALLY BACK!! Back with pt 2 of the vampire!Frenchie fic B). I took some liberties on the mechanics/weaknesses of vampires in this part (i.e. they can go out in the sun (but are prone to sunburns), how they act when they haven’t been able to feed in a while, etc), which I hope doesn’t screw up anything too much. If anyone would like an explanation of how vampires work in this AU, lmk and I’ll make a more detailed post about it. Also this came out a lot more platonic than i intended I’m so sorry lol. ALSO ALSO i probably wont write a part 3 unless it’s explicitly asked for, and if you guys do want a pt 3, let me know what you’d like to see in it and maybe i'll get around to it :D anyway, enjoy!))

To say you were now incredibly worried was an understatement.

Over the few days since the whole vampire accusation, things had only looked worse and worse for Frenchie. The opportunities to feed on bodies after raids were practically nonexistent because of the newly implemented rules and the crew had gotten annoyingly creative in their attempts to “ward off” the suspected vampire among them. You were afraid you were never going to be able to get the smell of garlic out of your nose after this all blew over since they had been hanging up bulbs and cloves everywhere you could imagine; you had even found a bulb stashed away in the storage closet you usually napped in, which you were quick to throw out of the nearest porthole.

Despite the crew’s valiant efforts, Frenchie had informed you that garlic didn’t actually repel vampires, but it did cause what you chalked up to be a minor allergic reaction in them. This was good news since Jim had forced every person on the ship to eat a raw clove shortly after the initial incident. You were never fond of garlic, so the experience was less than pleasant, but having to deal with a bleary-eyed and runny-nosed Frenchie afterward might’ve been worse.

But what really had you worried was the raids. Blackbeard’s strict schedule of at least one raid per day didn’t let up in the slightest with the discovery of a vampire on board, and as time went on, you noticed Frenchie acting… weirder than normal.

The exhaustion came first, which was one of the symptoms you expected from him not being able to feed. It started with him getting more tired than usual as the day went on, and then taking longer to wake up in the mornings. Next thing you knew, he started joining you on your cat naps in the closet, where you’d have to practically drag him out while he was still half asleep to avoid getting caught. Now, even in the middle of the day, he fought to keep his eyes open, and you had often caught him falling asleep standing up while leaning against a post.

Then there was the weakness. You had never been a particularly strong person before being forced into Blackbeard’s crew, but you knew Frenchie was at least a bit stronger than you due to his height. He had always been able to handle larger crates of treasure easily with the help of Jim, but now he could hardly keep himself on two feet, let alone transport cargo. There were several times when you’d send Frenchie down with a crate, you’d hear a loud clunk shortly after, and when you rushed down to check on him, the crate would be tipped over on the floor with Frenchie standing out of breath next to it and complaining that his arms hurt. It was even easier to tackle and drag him around now since he had little strength to pull away.

This didn’t prove useful in raids, both for his well-being and your mental health.

You had practically adopted the role of his bodyguard, having to save his ass from combatants on multiple occasions. In one particular instance, the raid had started fine. Sure, Frenchie was a bit drowsy, but it was nothing too concerning to you at the time. A few minutes later you were desperately trying to yank an enraged man off of Frenchie, who was pinned underneath him and screaming for you to do something. Jim eventually stomped over and repeatedly stabbed the attacker in the back, causing him to crumple over right on top of Frenchie. After Jim quickly returned to their combat, you then spent another minute trying to haul the now dead man off of Frenchie, who could barely lift the body an inch off of his chest.

Today, you decided to keep a keener eye on your companion as you boarded a new ship. While Blackbeard did his usual drawn-out and dramatic entrance, you were already watching Frenchie out of the corner of your eye, who was standing beside you. Well, standing the best he could. He was swaying slightly in place, his eyes repeatedly fluttering shut and jolting open again once he realized they had closed. You bit your cheek and turned your attention back to Blackbeard. He was fucked.

It wasn’t long before Blackbeard finished his spiel and the crew leapt into action, eager to slaughter any adversary they could get their hands on. You took a breath to try and calm your nerves before lightly slapping Frenchie on the back in an attempt to wake him up a bit more, rushing forward to join your crewmates soon after. He jumped at the contact and swivelled his head to see who had hit him, when he very suddenly realized that they were, in fact, in the middle of raiding a ship. He cursed under his breath before sluggishly following after you, clumsily setting up his “claws” in his hands.

As blood started to spill, you saw Frenchie perk up, whirling around to stare at a man who had just recently been felled by Fang. What he failed to notice was another man coming up behind him, sword drawn and ready to strike. You were quick to cross the deck towards the two, slicing a gash into the man’s chest without hesitation before turning to Frenchie. He was about to lunge for the body when you caught the scruff of his jacket, yanking him back. “Are you fuckin’ mental?” You hissed, struggling to keep Frenchie in place.

“Wh-huh? No, no, I’m good,” he slurred, his eyes locked onto the body as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. You groaned, slapping his face lightly. That caught his attention and his head snapped back to look at you with a glare. You paid the nasty look no mind, pulling Frenchie slightly closer to you as your face darkened with annoyance.

“Behave,” you growled before letting go of his jacket to twirl around and deflect an oncoming sword with your own. Frenchie rolled his eyes, mumbling something about how he wasn’t a dog and that he could control himself, gracelessly lunging at another poor sailor soon after.

You had just knocked the sword out of your opponent's hand when you heard the tear of flesh and the choked scream that could only be accredited to Frenchie’s handy work. When you turned around to check on him, he was salivating above the bleeding man with wide, unfocused eyes. He almost got a bite in had you not immediately abandoned your own scuffle to drag him away from the dying man once again.

The raid turned into one big game of keep away between you and Frenchie, much to your dismay. You’d turn your back on him for a second to focus on not being killed, and when you looked back at him a moment later, he’d be hovering over another dead or dying body that you inevitably had to yank him back from, and the process would repeat. You were starting to worry that it looked far too suspicious to be normal, but not much was normal about the crew anyway with the way they ripped apart seamen and pirates alike.

Speaking of, the crew had torn this ship’s crew to shreds in record time, and soon everyone was standing in piles of blood, guts, and gore of their own making. Not a single soul was left alive aboard that ship.

You stopped your fretting over Frenchie for a second as you took in the sight of both the countless bodies that littered the bloodied deck, and the numb faces of your crewmates. Your heart sunk in your chest for a brief moment; the crew couldn’t keep doing this for much longer. The heavy footsteps of Blackbeard spurred you from your grief, instinctively yanking Frenchie back to your side after he had tried (and failed) to sneak over to another body.

Blackbeard’s cold gaze studied the crew, tilting his head slightly before speaking: “Alright, collect the plunder and let’s move on, lads.” His nonchalant voice cut through the melancholy mood of the crew like a hot knife, everyone flinching slightly before being quickly propelled into action. You huffed as you watched Blackbeard retreat to the confines of the Revenge, slowly turning to look at Frenchie with an agitated glare. He faltered under your gaze, taking on the expression and posture of a kicked puppy.

“You owe me big time,” you grumbled, poking an accusing finger into Frenchie’s chest. Before he could get a single apology or excuse in, you practically dragged Frenchie–who had started frequently stumbling as he walked–off of the raided ship and onto the Revenge. Despite your annoyance, you were quick to offer your support to him, letting him lean on you as the two of you trudged off that damned ship. He had protested, saying that you two had to haul treasure, but you knew he’d drop it anyway and kept walking.

It was hard to stay mad at Frenchie, it really was. The longer you walked in silence, the more guilty you felt about the whole situation.

You brought him down to his room and sat him on the bed, eying him warily as he flopped over onto the mattress and groggily blinked up at the ceiling. “So what exactly happens if you don’t drink blood for a long time?” You started, nervously wringing your hands out as you sat on the other end of the bed.

“Umm, I d-don’t know for sure,” he muttered, his head lolling from side to side as he struggled to keep himself awake, “I th-think I dry up and die or something.” You weren’t sure about the dying part, but you had noticed his cheeks becoming increasingly hollow over the past couple of days.

Again, you couldn’t help but feel like this was your fault. If you had just ignored that stupid gap in the wall, the crew never would have found out. You sighed, bouncing your knee nervously as you thought of what to do.

…Well, you did have an idea in mind, but you weren’t sure about going through with it.

Your mouth started moving on its own before you could really think the idea through: “What if I…” you paused, biting your lip with uncertainty. When Frenchie looked up at you with big eyes and that stupid pout, you knew you’d lost.

“What if I let you… feed on me?” You mumbled, your words hardly above a whisper, but Frenchie heard them loud and clear. He nearly jumped you, actually, taking hold of your shoulders and leaning forward with dizzying speed.

“Really? Like right now?” He exclaimed suddenly, sounding more energetic than he had in days. You grimaced, averting your gaze before sighing in defeat.

“I suppose. Can’t have my napping buddy shrivelling up on me now, can I?” You joked nervously, but it went right over Frenchie’s head as he grinned brightly.

“Oh my God, you’re the best!” He praised, engulfing you in a tight embrace. You wheezed, patting his back with a strained smile on your face.

“Yep. No problem,” you huffed, struggling to breathe, “just, uh, give me a sec to gather myself, yeah?” Frenchie nodded, willing to go along with anything to let him feed on you at this point. You sighed heavily, scooting backwards on the bed and leaning up against the wall, unbuttoning a few of your shirt’s top buttons to expose more of your shoulder.

“N-nothing too obvious, okay? Below the neck, preferably,” you stammered, watching warily as Frenchie practically foamed at the mouth. You straightened your back slightly, your fingers digging nervously into the tattered sheets of Frenchie’s bed as he slowly crawled on after you. It was… extremely creepy, with the way his eyes were blown wide and his lethargic movements mimicking that of a cat stalking its prey.

“Yeah, yep, ‘course,” he replied mindlessly, drawing closer and closer to you. He positioned himself dangerously close to the junction between your neck and shoulder, his warm breath fanning against your skin sending a shiver up your spine.

“How much do you think this is gonna hurt?” You questioned to give yourself a distraction, unable to stop yourself from shaking as Frenchie grabbed your shoulders to keep you still. You figured the answer was obvious, but maybe you were overestimating how painful it would be in your mind.

“A lot,” Frenchie stated bluntly before suddenly sinking his fangs into the flesh between your neck and shoulder.

You were not overestimating it.

If anything, you were severely underestimating how much it would hurt, and Frenchie’s blunt statement did nothing to describe the pain you felt.

You had to stop yourself from screaming, quickly slapping your hand over your mouth after a sharp inhale. It felt like two giant needles had just been stabbed into your shoulder, stinging like hell and almost making you queasy enough to pass out. Despite that, you clung to your consciousness, fighting to keep yourself quiet as Frenchie started to drink your blood properly. A cold creeping feeling crawled its way down your spine from your shoulder: it was excruciatingly painful and uncomfortable as you got colder and colder, but you held out for Frenchie’s sake.

Speaking of Frenchie, you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly… intimate this seemed on his part. Forget the location of the bite, Frenchie was making some questionable noises and hums as he continued to feed on you, pushing his body against yours and feverishly grasping at the other side of your neck. You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes roll back, but it was difficult to tell from this angle.

Before you could ponder that thought any longer, you started to get woozy, feeling unnaturally cold. “Frenchie,” you whined weakly, attempting to gently nudge him away. He didn’t budge, pressing himself against you further. You sighed, and with the little strength you had left, pushed against him with all your might. “Frenchie, get off!” You hissed, finally spurring him out of his daze as his fangs withdrew from your flesh. He stumbled backwards from the force, but managed to land on his feet as he was shoved off of the bed.

His breathing was heavy as he stared at you for a few seconds, his mouth parted slightly and his pupils still blown wide. It took a moment for him to process your sorry state before his skittish demeanor returned, gulping in what seemed like awe as he dragged his hands down the back of his neck to try and ground himself. He wasn’t really sure what to do now; usually his “meals” were already dead or dying. Not sure if he should move closer to you again, he could only quietly apologize: “S-sorry, sorry. God, that was…”

“Good?” You heaved, bracing yourself with your hands against your knees while your head was bowed in exhaustion. You stared up at Frenchie through bleary eyes, who had your blood smeared all over his face, looking very pleased with himself because of it.

“Oh, better than good. I haven’t had fresh blood in ages, and yours tasted heavenly.” Frenchie marveled, freezing after his unintentional hushed statement as he stared at you with wide eyes. You did unfortunately hear him, raising a brow at his mortified expression while your lips quirked into a small, teasing smile. His face flushed but he didn’t comment any further on the notion, looking away as his tongue darted out to nervously lick away some of the blood still left on his lips.

Before you could unpack all of that, a splitting migraine invaded your skull, causing your vision to go blurry as you made a strained sound of pain. You tried to hold yourself upright, but you could feel yourself quickly tipping forward from the sudden wave of dizziness that hit you.

Before you could fall far, Frenchie had swiftly caught you in his arms with a concerned cry of your name. “Oh Jesus fucking Christ, I haven’t killed you, have I?” You could faintly hear as you clung to your consciousness, trying your best to right yourself to no avail. You could feel yourself being gently picked up and moved slightly, and then placed back down on a soft surface.

“Fuck, fuck, I’ve killed them. What am I gonna tell the crew? Where am I gonna hide the body?” You could hear Frenchie fretting, the guilt finally kicking in for him. You groaned hearing his outlandish thoughts spoken aloud, weakly reaching your hand in his direction.

“I’m not dead, you fucker,” you croaked, trying to blink your heavy eyelids open.

You could hear Frenchie gasp, and a sound that vaguely sounded like something falling to the floor beside you. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know what came over me! I-I got carried away,” he apologized profusely, taking one of your hands in both of his own like you were on your deathbed. You snorted softly, a wobbly smile spreading across your face at the action.

“Relax. I don’t think you could kill me if you tried,” you teased in a weak voice, finally managing to get your eyes open to give him a look. You had expected him to be standing above you, but after a second of your eyes searching the room, you found that he had kneeled down on the floor next to the bed. You had to stop yourself from bursting into laughter at the sight.

Frenchie’s face scrunched up in confusion at your comment before a look of confusion and slight offence overtook it. “What the fuck’s that s’posed to mean? And why are you… giggling?” You managed to laugh weakly at his reaction as you turned your head away, bringing a small smile to Frenchie’s face in the process.

“N-nothing, it’s-” you cut yourself off with more hushed laughter as you looked at him again, bringing your free hand up to cover your mouth in an attempt to stifle your outburst.

“Is it because I’m kneeling? Because I’m worried that I killed my closest friend?” Frenchie taunted, though it was obvious that his words were all playful by the huge grin that spread across his face. You couldn’t stop laughing as he continued to speak, turning away from him to try and hide your face. You had no coherent answer for him, and that only encouraged Frenchie’s teasing.

“Wow. I just… this is unbelievable. I never thought you’d stoop so low, laughing at my… my concern for you,” he snarked, putting a hand on his chest in mock offence.

“Stop, stop! God, it hurts,” you exclaimed through strained giggles, clutching your stomach in pain with a wide grin on your face as your constant laughter started to give you a cramp.

Frenchie hadn’t taken your exclamation the right way initially, thinking that he actually did something to hurt you. His expression dropped almost immediately, trying to figure out what he had done as he started to withdraw his hand from yours. “O-oh, I-”

You were just as quick to snatch his hand back up when you noticed that he had started to pull away, nearly gasping as you did so. “N-no, no! You’re fine, Frenchie. It just hurts to laugh so much,” you explained hastily with a warm smile, easing his concerns.

It had been so long since you’d laughed that hard.

Frenchie’s face lit up with relief, and then quickly turned red with embarrassment. He smiled sheepishly, quite thankful that you had kept his hand in yours as he gave yours a soft squeeze. “Ah, right…”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you laid on his bed, your eyes drifting down to where your hands interlocked. You had taken to idly running your thumb over Frenchie’s knuckles, a soothing gesture that you were focused on.

“B-but seriously; thank you. I, uhm… I needed that.” He mumbled, watching you run your thumbs over his knuckles with a soft expression.

“Yeah, clearly. I mean, fuck, do I even need to mention what just took place during the raid?” You ragged, playfully rolling your eyes as the lightheadedness slowly dissipated from your body. You sat up slowly with Frenchie’s help, hissing quietly as the puncture wounds on between your neck and shoulder were jostled.

Frenchie scoffed exasperatedly, slapping your arm lightly as a light blush spread across his face again. “Will you shut up? It wasn’t that bad.”

You gave Frenchie an unimpressed look, raising your eyebrows. You opened your mouth to rebuke him, but he was quick to shush you before a single sound could come from you.

“I don’t need you to recount it, thank you.”

You laughed again, hesitantly cupping one side of Frenchie’s face with your hand, who was still kneeling on the floor. “You're welcome,” you smiled, pressing a quick kiss to Frenchie’s forehead. He blinked in surprise, inhaling sharply at the soft gesture of affection. A conflicted expression crossed his face as he looked up at you with wide eyes.

”Why… why are you doing this for me, anyways?” He questioned quietly, pouting slightly. You pursed your lips, not exactly sure why you were going to such lengths for him in the first place; you had barely known him for more than a few months, and yet here you were, risking your life for him.

”…Because you’re my friend, and that’s what friends do,” you answered hesitantly, still not totally confident in your reasoning.

Frenchie seemed to catch onto this, looking amused as he raised a brow at you: “Yeah, because normal people are always letting their vampire friends feed on them.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Shut up. I just care about you, okay? Is that illegal now? Am I going to be arrested?” You argued playfully, rolling your eyes.

Frenchie chuckled, still not quite content with your answer. “You care about a vampire? A monster?”

”I do. Shoot me,” you snapped sarcastically, choosing not to comment on his monster classification just yet. That seemed like a completely different problem to unpack, and you were too exhausted—both physically and mentally—to properly address it just yet.

Frenchie barked out another laugh, finally dragging himself off of the floor to sit next to you on the bed. “Okay, whatever you say, you weirdo,” he finally caved, dropping the subject for now. You snorted at his name calling, shaking your head with a smile.

Frenchie’s eyes drifted back to the puncture wounds at the base of your neck, wincing at how deep they were. They weren’t bleeding, but there was blood smeared around the area from how hurriedly he was feeding. Heat rose to his face again at the thought, but he quickly tried to distract himself from it by getting up to get a rag and some bandages.

”Let’s get you patched up, yeah?” He smiled bashfully at you, nervously wiping at his mouth again in case there was any blood left behind. You chuckled at the gesture, bringing your legs up onto the bed to sit criss crossed.

”That’d be appreciated, yes.”

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ourflagmeansgayrights · 8 months

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ofmd s2e4 rewatch where i pause to jot down my thoughts and other random shit

it's been a busy week since last thursday and shit's only gonna get busier for me after tomorrow so hopefully i can get through these two episodes out before i go to bed lol!!! anyway once again these posts are just me rambling so i can process the insane amount of information in these episodes and if u want to read them too that's fine.

s2e1, s2e2, s2e3, s2e4, s2e5, s2e6, s2e7, s2e8

rip everyone who wanted homoerotic sword fighting in the gentebeard reunion. have a headbutt as a consolation prize.

obsessed with stede holding raw room-temperature meat against his bruised face bc that's not even a little bit how that works. i love this show.

ok so jim saying "he'll probably get around to killing you after he's rested" in response to stede saying ed needs to regain his strength actually gives some pretty good context to why they want ed of the ship so bad. bc they DID fully try to kill ed and now he's here and alive and like. if i were jim i would be pretty worried abt ed holding a grudge abt that.

wont lie stede being like "we dont just banish people, that's not us!" makes me thinkg abt how they fully banished izzy from the ship in e6. i mean technically izzy banished himself on accident but. lol.

also izzy's absence in this scene indicating he is not yet considered part of the entire crew

roach: i need that steak back, it's dinner stede: (pulling the steak away) oh, right fang: maybe let's put the banishment to a vote? stede: (steak back on his face, apparently having forgotten he was literally just about to give the meat to roach) aw do we have to :(

ed chained to the ship is doing. a lot for me. i wont lie.

buttons saying he's been to the gravy basket a few times... how many times has this man almost died??????

it is deeply funny to me that they edit the split second flashback of the drowning and mermaid hallucination to look all creepy as if that whole scene wasn't set to an incredibly sappy 80's love song (said with immense affection)

OBSESSED with stede trying to be like. encouraging to izzy. and being like "he cant hear you he's got no head" about izzy yelling at the ruined figurehead. this fucking dork.

so ive seen ppl talking abt how the crew's in a deadlock abt banishing ed and which ppl they think were pro-banishment and which were against, but the scenes with the crew make it look like everyone's voting for ed to get kicked out. so tbh i think like either of the following interpretations are pretty valid: the crew is split 50/50 on if they should banish ed OR the crew 100% wants to banish ed and stede was gonna try and leverage izzy's vote to try and get more ppl to change their mind. doesnt rlly matter either way tho

also the fact that izzy was the one to keep ed's body is. interesting. the others must've known abt it and helped izzy hide the body in the secret room. but izzy being the one to be like "no we're not throwing him overboard" is. something. no conclusions abt this atm im just rotating this fact in my brain.

i also just have a lot of thoughts abt the mutiny and the fact that like, jim's a trained assassin and the others are also pretty experienced killers and they probably knew they hadn't completely finished the job. and there was plenty of opportunity for them to do something about that. but instead they hid his body and waited for ed to succumb to his injuries. it feels kinda like ed's "technically i outsource the big job" rule. idk. thoughtssss.

frenchie in this scene is so funny bc he seems both actually apologetic abt kicking ed off the ship but also very relieved/vindicated to see him go.

didnt realize olu almost said smthng to ed lol i thought ed was just saying "fuck you" to him for no reason ghfjkghjkfh

"first time i've ever been on this side of a walk of shame" wee john i have so many questions. how many times have you been banished from a ship.

obsessed with archie just being like "way to make this awkward brah." her shitty boss put her life at risk in an attempt to make her and her coworkers kill him in a weird roundabout suicide attempt and her summary of the situation is "well, this is awkward :/"

"shitty sailing with you" sick burn, jim

"you're making it really hard to look up to you, man" LOVE how black pete is still a blackbeard stan. despite everything.

just ONCE i want someone to appreciate roach's sandwiches :(

"dont you want your sammy" STEDE I WOULD DIE FOR YOU

also i disagree with the subtitles here im like 99% sure says "you're no fuckin mermaid" not "you're not a fuckin mermaid" but that's just me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

stede looks SO sad abt not being a mermaid

love how everyone in this episode just sort of nods and is like "yeah okay" every time buttons tells them he's turning into a bird

altho with stede in this scene specifically im convinced that he's just jumping at the chance to follow ed to the island. he was absolutely gonna come up with some shitty excuse to go ashore anyway but it's nice of buttons to give him plausible deniability

i love how much ed hates nature

why do the subtitles say "gyp-" this has been bothering me all week. the line is "like a drifter"

i also love ed's line delivery of "a wolf?"

anyway dumb posts abt the spider tattoo backstory: 1, 2, 3

i love to see ed getting hugs... wish i could give him a hug :(

ok also buttons talking abt the gravy basket made me think ed needed like some sort of spell or smthng to snap out of it but instead it just kinda wore off by the end of the episode (maybe, depends on how you read the whole buttons turning into a bird scene). this is very funny to me for some reason

anne rubbing the cup she's holding against her tit. queen.

stede bonnet idiot dumbfuck moments

i LOVE anne's line delivery of "eddie motherfuckin teeeeach" like yeah that's cj's girl alright. or was cj's girl. who knows.

SECRET HANDSHAKE im cryinggggg. i love them.

stede's voice sounds so weird when he says "i wasn't looking for you" and that's because he's fucking lying through his teeth

LOVE how anne and mary look at each other after the "shipmates" "former" interaction like they are immediately on the same wavelength. and that wavelength is fucking with ed and his ex. they sniffed out a messy relationship dynamic and were like "oh hell yeah we need more of this in our lives"

ed is SO bitchy this whole scene i fucking love it. ed's face when he says "him?" fdhjksgfjhdgkj

ed: whatever 🙄 anne: whatever? 👀 mary: whatever! 😈

wee john getting more goth is so good

drunk izzy rambling at the ship's figurehead is so funny to me tho i miss drunk izzy

ed's crew lady macbeth "out damned spot" moments

i like how there's a goat in the background of this scene in anne and mary's house and it is unexplained and also never seen again.

ed's face after stede says "that's romance" is soooo good this bitch is so pissed. like oh would you have met me at the docs if i peeled the guard's face off instead of just paying him off? is that what fuckin does it for you???? not that it matters bc i dont care. but. cunt.

yeah im just focusing in on all of ed's faces in this scene. "quite the shift going from wearing people's faces to antique collectors" gets ed to freeze in the middle of bringing his drink up to his lips and just kinda stare off into the distance.

"how did you meet" has ed kind of frowning for a split second before stede starts answering and then he rolls his eyes very dramatically and sighs deeply

ed immediately being like "actually i was gonna kill him myself!" trying to undermine stede's meet-cute story. also anne and mary nodding along in complete unison bc this is just normal pirate conversation to them.

~~~

also as someone who has been team "no ed was dead serious abt the plan to steal stede's identity" this was very vindicating for me. it's a bad plan and it doesn't make any sense but logistics literally dont matter in this show. what matters is giving this story the "falling for the mark" trope makes ed's character arc in season 1 that much tastier!!!!

ed and stede going back and forth telling their story i cant fucking wait until theyre happily together telling this story and instead of ed trying to downplay it and ruin the meet-cute-iness of it they're just building on each other and being sappy and adorable

"more like i relented" one of the biggest lies i've ever heard this man say fjhkgjkfdhk

"until he completely boned it" SAY IT. FUCKING SAY IT. SOOOOO TRUE ED.

auauhghgh the beard bit......... crying

THE!!!!! QUIETEST LITTLE "thank you" OF ALL TIME. TIED MAYBE WITH ED SAYING "thank you" AFTER "i think you're very sophisticated" IN 1.05

i dont blame stede for trying to get ed to open up right after that bc that was the first bone ed's thrown stede's way since he woke up. unfortunately ed is not in the mood to talk abt his near-death experience and mermaid hallucination sequence.

LOVE anne's little gesture when she says "rabbit" and the little hip cocking

stede being like "uhhhh we could leave" during the knifeplay exhibitionism moment

i giggle every time at the way the crew is instantly like "fuck closing our eyes we're doing any fucking surprises"

ngl idgw the crew yelled abt the piñata reveal. but ok

loooove stede's half of the crew just blowing past all the screaming and tension from ed's half. jim screams "STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!" abt the blindfold and roach is like "you won't want to stay the fuck away from this caaaake!" like roach fdhsjfgdhfjkghkj read the room?????

i love how much stede just. completely misses all of annie's flirting

ed coughing during the blunt session i love himmmmm

ok but ed's trying to be like "im totally over stede i dont even like him" and then ed reminiscing fondly with a distant smile abt the 1.06 stabbing scene

"and that was the... second time you left your wife?" underrated line

love how annie's been all quiet and seductive and then when she goes to make her move she's just like "WOUND THIS" and aggressively sits in stede's lap

also ok. "they're gonna be so jealous" is that annie talking abt ed and mary or is that annie using they/them pronouns for mary.

BUTTONS JUMPSCARE

also i love how they have that one medusa painting just. in their kitchen. im obsessed with the interior decor of this lesbian antique store that annie and mary live in

the way she's so touched by the poisoning attempt hjfgfjksghskjhgjkh

buttons being like "aahhhhhh do i give her... this bowl......????" fhjkghkfsjhk

"yeah, babe" TEALORANGES WIN

im honestly sad izzy's pathetic wet beast moment only really went for like three tiny scenes in one episode bc this shit was so funny to me. crawling away saying "you're born alone you die alone" over and over again. sir what are you even doing.

god buttons in this episode is so fucking funny bc i keep forgetting he's there. also why is he even there. like was he even invited to dinner or did he just sit down and annie and mary were like "oh ok i uh. guess we'll go make another plate??"

ed's face after buttons says the bit abt "i can tell this rabbit was intelligent" is soooo funny why is he so fucking pissed fdhsjkgyjdfkghjk

NO WAIT HE'S PISSED BC THAT WAS HIS FRIEND. THAT WAS HIS FRIEND THE WOLF HE WAS TELLING HIS SECRETS. NOW IM KINDA SAD :(:(:(

stede talking abt the sea when what he's actually talking abt is ed part 2 electric boogaloo

ed very calmly. standing up. and smashing the chair. im obsessed with him.

stede bonnet stupid dumbass moments

IMPROMPTU BLANKET FORT TIME

ed's voice is so quiet at the start of this scene he's not even yelling at stede until stede says "it's not fair" ohhhhhh my babygirl is so fucking sad........

"you ditching me without a note or anything" ed's literacy confirmed

"expecting me to just melt back into your arms" eddie my man. stede has not given literally any indication that he expected this at all. you are telling on yourself fhdjskghfkjshd

this scene is so fucking good i barely have anything to say abt it. just. u can rlly tell david jenkins wrote this ep himself lolll

"i was all in, mate. i was all in." IM SOBBING

oh nooooo i forgot that ed's line delivery of "im sorry my horrible naked chin disgusts you so much" isnt actually as sarcastic as the words itself make it seem. like it feels like ed wanted to say that all angrily and bitter but instead he just sounds sadddddd

ok ok but the way stede says "i love your chin naked or otherwise" and then after a pause (during which ed is keeping INCREDIBLY still bc u know otherwise he's just gonna burst into tearssss) stede whispers "ed" and ed is immediately like "don't" and then. stede going in for the "i love you" but like the way he's so slow with it?? he's literally like "i. love." and idk if it's bc he's trying to make this as clear as possible or if he's giving ed enough time to cut him off if he doesn't want to hear it

and ed DOES he DOES cut him off with "you don't get to say that to me" and he like. keeps glancing at stede out of the corner of his eye but not quite looking at him directly bc he knowwwwws it's like staring into the sun baby and ed knows if he looks at stede's face it's literally all over.

but also ed's face after stede pivots to "i love everything about you" he's SO pissed. he quietly groans and rolls his eyes bc this bitch. finding stupid loopholes to not being allowed to say "i love you." fuck this guy ed hates him so fucking much (lying)

oooooh when stede says "you don't have to say it back to me" ed's mouth opens and closes a bit before "not about to" bc this man is trying. SO hard not to cry (so am i but it's not working sorry there are tears on my face right now)

idk idk idk smthng abt "it's nice. feels good." makes me hurt so fucking bad bc the entire time since ed's woken up stede's been getting headbutted and snarked at passive-aggressively but stede's still like "i love being near you it makes me happy :)" brb i need. a fucking moment.

honestly tho how did annie and mary even overhear that bit bc they were on the other side of the room and stede was whispering SO quietly. opposite of when ppl in this show dont hear things despite the things being said like two feet away from them (1.03 geraldo and jackie talking abt how blackbeard was looking for stede, 2.01 zheng saying the indigo was worth way more than she spent on it)

LOVE how anne being like "stede likes the ladies" is how ed figures out "ohhhh wait ok theyre just fucking with us, got it" bc this guy??? liking women????? lmao

this also HAS to be why he gets over mary like his brain mustve gone "wait hang on why the fuck would he go back to her he doesn't even like women. guess maybe he really did panic huh" hdjksghfckghkjsh

obsessed with these TINY tiny details abt the ed/jack/annie/mary polycule dynamics we're given. ed would've expected as much from annie bc she's a fucking psycho. mary apparently used to not be like this. im putting the pieces together im connecting the dots.

ed and stede's knowing smug looks at each other. im obsessed.

annie being rlly sensitive to the word "bitch" im considering that more hints abt the polycule backstory

yayy fanny newspaper

"really? i mean she stabbed you, you poisoned her, and then she jumped on my face" stede this is all part of their very elaborate and deeply toxic sex life ok stop kinkshaming them

~~~

curious if ed and stede are too distracted by mary spelling out their worst fears to comment on all the smoke coming into the room

"everything must go" like a fucking clearance sale. this is such a silly line. this is a silly show. i love it here.

WHY DONT THEY MAKE OUT SLOPPY STYLE HERE THO

wait are they crying while they hug??? bro these girls are so fucking messy i love them

ed saying "see you guys" before he leaves them in their burning house. i would die for him

ok team arts and craft time while making a prosthetic for izzy. obsessed with how the b plot of this episode is literally "the crew struggles to get along but they eventually set aside their differences and work together when they realize there's someone even more cringe and pathetic than any of them"

"YOU ARE!!! HARASSING A CRIPPLE!!!!!!" is suchhhh a funny line im sorry im gonna miss izzy at his lowest fhsjkhjksf. literally they just knocked on the door my dude calm downnnn

obsessed with izzy being genuinelly touched and expressing it by saying "fucking cocksuckers." this man is allergic to having feelings.

stede and ed painfully talking over each other bc everything is awkward and difficult. i love them.

ed's face when stede offers to let ed stay. his very quiet "yis." the way he says "might be nice" and then VERY QUICKLY looks away

stede yelling GREAT at the top of his lungs fhdsjkguydfgfjkhl

i love when these guys try to play it cool bc theyre so fucking bad at it hgdfgvjfxdkgjjdkkgjhfdkh

stede bonnet dumb idiot moron moments

ed staring off lovinglyyyyyy

buttons jumpscare

also is that fucking sage. are we doing cultural appropriation here

buttons saying "Earth Wind and Fire i wanna go higher" hfjkhgfdjkhgjkh

i love how ed. does not question this "fuck yeah, brother. fly."

ed teach lovesick fool moments

i love how happy ed sounds telling stede abt buttons he sounds like his old goofy self for the first time all season.... im gonna cry

also i like how the crew adopts izzy as their new creature. 10/10

post credits scene is annie and mary at dinner with buttons. i guess it's after stede goes to comfort ed but before they go eavesdrop on that convo.

buttons enjoying his last meal as a human. and also he's like "there's too much fucking on that ship i need to get away from it all." and his way of doing this is becoming a bird. love that.

#ofmd s2 spoilers #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #edward teach #stede bonnet #crew of the revenge #anne bonny #mary read #izzy hands #gentlebeard #s2e04 #txt #mine #og #ofmds2rwwiptjdmtaors

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uglypastels · 11 months

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Ok ok but the hellfire crew?? Do they only plunder and attack other ships or do they also treasure hunt?? Would you write something of them looking for a buried treasure or something please and thank you

absolutely!! This blurb is a part of the Not Wholly Evil pirate universe, but not necessarily a part of that specific story. It can be read as a standalone or prequel. please enjoy.

warnings: swords? mention of bugs. it's just a quick lil blurb so not very detailed and a bit messy, but i hope it still adds something :)

Not Wholly Evil masterlist - Taglist - Inbox - Reviewbox

‘Aha!’ Eddie erupted into a cheer as he put his spyglass down to put it back up to his eye again. The black tunnel had a clear vision at its end, the destination they had searched for all these weeks. The sea level was finally broken up by the white peaks of the mountains. Just like the tales had told it, there were four of them, one towering after the other.

‘Whatcha got there, cap?’

‘Oh, Dusty,’ Eddie untangled himself from the nets and returned to the deck. ‘We finally found it.’

‘You mean,’ Dusty, his faithful boatswain, looked out into the horizon, despite the island only being a mere dot on the vision. ‘Crescent—’

‘Crescent Island, my friend.’ Eddie patted him on the shoulder, ‘We found Crescent Island!’ He shouted out into the open air, grabbing everyone’s attention. In an instant, the energy shifted. Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at what they had been chasing for what felt like a true eternity.

It was close now. So close. Only half a day sailing at best, ever faster, maybe if the wind picked up. They’d get there by sundown.

‘Alright,’ though Eddie could not stop looking at the sight before him, he managed to turn away from the piece of land long enough to speak to his crew. ‘No need for all of us to go out there and get lost, so we need to do this smart. I need a deck crew to stay on board and care for our sweetheart.

‘Next, I need people to set up camp on the beach. If all goes well, we can pick up and leave before tomorrow is over, but we need a base, which leaves me with the party that will go out and explore.’

‘Aye,’ a chorus of response erupted from everyone around. As always, the rest was chaos. Nothing could be easily decided regarding this crew, but all tasks were clear after a few lost and won bets.

Eddie called his party together in his quarters. For simplicity's sake, it was to be a small group. Harrington, Robin and Dusty gathered around him at the desk as Eddie spread out a roll of parchment, pushing all the others to the side.

‘So, this is it?’ Harrington looked at it, not sure what to think of the map. Until now, he had only heard of it, as the captain had not been very open in sharing information about their destination. It is easy to say that if the crew had any less trust in him, Eddie Munson would have been a dead man, but along with all the trouble he has caused, he had not failed them yet.

‘Yup,’ Eddie smiled proudly. ‘Isn’t she a beauty?’ The island’s name was self-explanatory, most likely derived from its actual shape. The half circle created a pool at its centre, into which the Hellfire was sailing directly. Eddie pointed with his knuckle at the southern tip of the land, ‘And here, we shall find the beast.’

‘I still don’t like the sound of that,’ Robin said, ‘I mean, should we be really heading into any place that is called that?’

‘It’s only been named that because it’s the guard spot of Old Man Jim’s gold.’ Dusty explained. ‘The beast that hoards the treasure will keep it safe.’

‘Yes, but I doubt dear Jim would want you to still be calling him that,’ Eddie chuckled.

Old Man Jim. He sure was a piece of work. Must have stolen gold from every ship known to man and hid it all here. It was a miracle Eddie had found out about it, let alone found the map that Jim had drawn up or even the island itself. He knew people had tried. They had given up their lives to retrieve what was hidden in those jungles, and now, he would do it.

A few hours later, the Hellfire hit shallow water. The sun was setting over the mountains already, forming fang-like shadows over their heads. The Mouth of the Beast.

The pinnace was released, and the crew sailed the last few yards to shore. Eddie opted against falling to his knees at the sight of the beach, keeping the moment until they found the gold and brought it back. But he still took the time to let the sand slide through his fingers. It was soft. Softer than any sand he had touched. The trees were greener, even in the dimming lights of the evening. The flowers ahead of them already invited them in with their sweet scent—something to be aware of.

‘Do not eat any of the fruit here. You don’t know if it could be poisonous,’ he called out as preparations for the camp were made. ‘Unless you will bet your life on it, keep to what we took with us!’

Aye!

‘Should we… wait until the sun is back up?’ Harrington stood by his side, and they both looked out at the wall of flora that made up their first hindrance.

‘Probably,’ Eddie sighed, ‘but we don’t have time to waste.’

‘What—’ Harrington wanted to ask what the captain had meant by that but was abruptly deafened by his shouting for the rest of his crew. Robin and Dusty walked up, steps heaving with sand.

‘C’mon, we don’t have time to lose; get everything you need for the night and meet me here.’

‘What, we’re leaving now?’ Robin asked, her lantern dangling in her hand. ‘Right now?’ She glanced up at Harrington, who just raised his shoulders in relinquish.

Since there was no fighting, the captain and the small party were ready to depart in mere minutes and soon on their way through the jungle. Harrington moved first, with a lantern in one hand and in the other, a contraption of his own design meant to cut down any root or plant in his way. It moved smoothly, but the deeper inland they moved, the thicker the branches got and the harder it was to cut them down. That is when the rest chimed in. Eddie, in the meantime, kept his eyes on the compass. He would have held the map, but it felt futile, considering he had memorised the image to its every detail.

They were probably heading north for an hour when Eddie suddenly took a drastic turn to the left.

‘So this is what you meant with “the way he gets” on land.’ Robin said, wiping the sweat off her forehead.

‘This is nothing.’ Dusty said.

‘You should have seen him looking for the Sea’s Heart,’ Harrington sighed as he followed the captain.

‘Or on the Everard Isles.’ Dusty chimed in with another example. ‘Cannot forget the time he had nearly walked of the Dark Cliffs—’

‘In my defence, it was dark,’ Eddie said, ignoring the rest of the examples that were given or would be given after this… because there were many. He had spent the last five years sailing the seas, from one corner of the world to the other, scavenging all the places the lost scriptures had written about or strange diaries had talked of.

Whatever reason he had was unknown by his crewmates. That was strictly between the captain and the sea.

They could not be entirely sure how long they searched the island for. The only thing they could tell for sure was that by the time they had reached the foot of the mountain—where a black tree trunk stood in all its hollow glory— their bodies were burning from exhaustion, and the sun was coming out to greet them.

‘This is it.’ Eddie looked up. Compared to the green vibrance around them, this tree looked like it had been dipped in ink; derived from all its colour and life, it stood tall and ominous.

‘And here I was, thinking it could not be worse than the Beast.’ Robin laughed to herself. Even if the rest had heard her, they would not laugh. ‘So… what next?’ She swatted at a bug that kept buzzing at her ear. In the early hours of the day and late, and all those in between, the island swarmed with them.

‘We go down.’ Eddie closed his compass and put it deep in his jacket pocket.

‘What?’ Harrington blinked slowly, despite the fact that his brain was firing with thoughts at the insanity of the plan. ‘Down… down where, exactly?’

‘There,’ Eddie pointed down at the tree. When the party stepped closer, they saw that the tree had been, in fact, entirely hollowed out, and so had the ground underneath it, creating a tunnel. Before anyone could say anything else, Eddie took a deep breath and took his first step into the cave, as that is what it quickly turned out to be. The tree was simply an entrance into the mountain, deceptive in size. He had to lean down, not hit his head, but after a few steps, the ceiling rose above them.

Their gasps echoed. So did their steps as they walked through the chamber and the paths. The corridors were cold and wet and dark, only intensifying with each step deeper they took until…

Eddie halted in his step, pushing the rest of the party into a collision of bodies behind him. The rest gruntled as they regained stability and strained their necks to look over their captain’s shoulders.

There was no cliff that he had led them to this time. No ravine or snake pit. No cobwebs or fallen trees blocking the road. No whirlwinds or storms. The four of them had walked into the largest cave they had ever witnessed, filled from wall to wall with gold, silver, and jewels.

Carefully, they stepped inside and with each step, coins rattled beneath them as they shifted around, falling from one heap to another.

‘Oh, I like you,’ Eddie picked up a golden snake buckle, then turned to his crew, ‘right, let's take a crate. It is probably all we’ll manage, and more than we’ll ever need.’ It was never his intention to clean the slate. He knew how much dear Old Man Jim had worked on it and how many more men like himself could seek help in it… or return if the need for it emerged. He’d certainly like to come back here one day.

thank you for reading. if you've enjoyed this story, and would like some more of these pirates, check out Not Wholly Evil (linked above) if you haven't yet <3 and requests for more one-offs are open

and please remember that you would make my day by reblogging and leaving a comment. thank you.

#Eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson au #pirate au #pirate!au #pirate!eddie #pirate!eddie munson #fanfiction #imagine #blurb #fanfic #fic

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pennywaltzy · 4 months

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What Stork Brings (5/?)

So I finally updated after threatening to do it since December! Unfortunately, this update comes with some sad news: while My and Pi were based on real cats, the introduction of them was written to mourn Pi's passing. It is with a heavy heart that I announce that My has passed today, so this chapter is dedicated to @greenskyoverme and My's memory. But I do hope you enjoy some more domestic fluff between Spock and Jim.

What Stork Brings - After Spock and Kirk begin a relationship that gets to the cohabitation stage, they decide to adopt, which is an adventure all on its own. But with the help of their very own Stork, they find the perfect children for their family.

Part 1 | Part 5

As soon as Stork had left, they had contacted the crew and told them the news. Everyone seemed excited as well as happy for the fortunate turn of events, and that pleased Spock. He had not realized how much he wanted his friends to approve of his choice, and while he knew they would accept any child he and Jim chose to adopt, the fact there were twins and they were older had been something he thought maybe Chekov or even Sulu would balk at. But they all seemed to think if it worked out, T’Pol and Sorick would be a good match with them.

The other had come over for dinner and conversation, and they had talked late into the night, to the point Jim was yawning as he was trying to carry on a conversation. Eventually, the others had taken that as their cue to leave, and Spock and Jim got ready for bed, the cats running underneath their feet. My seemed to particularly want attention, and while Jim got settled into bed Spock fed her some treats out of her hand, a special treat for her. She stood on her hind legs and ate the treats with just her mouth; she never put her paws on Spock’s hand or arm, but she seemed to prefer getting her treats this way.

“You know, we’re going to have to childproof the apartment,” Jim said as Spock finished feeding My her treats and got settled into bed next to him. “Did your parents childproof the place when you were a toddler?”

“I don’t remember,” Spock said, frowning. I would ask, but my father is busy and…”

“And your mom is gone,” Jim said quietly. He reached over for Spock’s clean hand and brushed his fingers against his palm. “I like to think she’s here with us. She led Stork to us, and Stork knew about the twins.”

“Illogical.”

“You can just let me feel this way,” Jim said with a slight pout. Spock softened Indeed, the human side of him liked to think his mother would be pleased with the serendipity of it all: a Vulcan named Stork at an adoption agency, half-human/half-Vulcan twins, a happy son. She had loved Uhura and he sometimes wished she’d grown to love Jim as much as he did.

“I suppose.” Spock clasped their hands together, threading his fingers in between Jim. “Toddlers are an ingenious lot if Sulu’s stories of Demora are any indication.”

“Well, we already My and Pi proofed the apartment. I swear, I’ve never seen a cat jump as high as My does before. It shouldn’t be that much harder to toddler-proof it. We can ask Sulu for help and do it before the zoo visit.”

“We don’t need to rush, but I suppose asking for advice would not be remiss.”

“I just want to show we’re ready and that we really want them. I just hope they like us. They don’t have the quirks that most Vulcans have, but…”

“But what, Jim?”

Jim moved his thumb and parted their hands slightly, rubbing his thumb on Spock’s palm. “Will they be okay with a human father? I mean, you’re going to outlive me, even if I get into my 100s. They’re going to outlive me.”

“If we adopt them I am sure they will love you as much as I do, t'hy'la.” Spock shut his eyes, letting the slow, steady movements of Jim’s thumb calm him in the way all Jim’s little touches did. “We will miss you when you pass, but there will be fond memories That will be enough.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Spock leaned over and pressed a kiss to Jim’s temple. Jim grinned, shutting his eyes and yawning at the same time. “Go to sleep, Jim. Tomorrow we can work on making this place appropriate for a pair of toddlers.”

“Alright,” Jim said, not opening his eyes as he settled more against Spock. “Night.”

“Good night,” Spock said, softly, letting go of Jim’s hand as the thumb movements stopped completely and reaching over to turn off the light. He settled in next to the man he loved and shut his eyes. Yes, this was a good move, but if Jim had doubts about their differing life spans, he needed to rectify those fears as best he could. And he would, again and again, for as long as Jim drew breath. He would assure Jim that he was the love of his life and every moment was special and that when he passed there would be no one else. He would live with his lifetime of memories and be content.

#star trek aos #spock #jim kirk #spirk #kirk x spock #fanfic #fanfiction #my stuff #what stork brings

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dollarbin · 7 months

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Dollar Bin #24: The Doors

Like every other wishing-he-were-cool Southern California white boy born in the mid-to-late 70's, I had a big Doors phase in 1990. In the year leading up to Oliver Stone's ridiculously silly, TV flinging, film I spent 10 rich months in the following fashion:

First, I copied a friend's father's double CD Door's Greatest Hits collection (the one with Jim Morrison's fabulous pecks on the cover). I was discovering music after comic books and I memorized every glorious moment.

Next, I tracked down the band's four easily accessible full albums via another friend's Costco (or was it still called Price Club at that point?) Nice Price 4 Pack and memorized all of that too, even though I found parts of Waiting For The Sun dull and much of LA Woman sorta gross.

Then, I decided that Not To Touch The Earth was actually their best song and that anyone who only knew the band's greatest hits was a poser.

Next, I enjoyed listening to my father's tall tales about how The Doors had once lived on the strand in Manhattan Beach (my hometown) and were often practicing in their garage when my dad passed by. He also claimed that Morrison had worked for him for one single day as a house painter (my father's trade) but that Jim had been too nuts to keep on the payroll. At other points in my dad's joyful imagination Charles Manson and Ginger Baker had also been on past crews; his lies, which were specifically designed to entertain us, led us to mock and roll our eyes at him when he sincerely claimed that one of his past painters, Robbie Rodgers, actually had gone on to be a relatively successful musician. But then dad scored us tickets and we went to see the dude's Reggae/slasher band, War Called Peace, open for Yellowman; it was totally nuts, and Robbie told us that my dad had changed his life.

After that, I learned of the existence of The Soft Parade and swore to myself that I'd never listen to it. My heroes, horrifyingly, had once SOLD OUT!

Next, I watched Apocalypse Now over and over, daydreaming of the day I'd get my own hands on The End's master tapes and undercover even more of Morrison's Oedipal ranting.

(All the while I had no idea what Oedipal actually meant.)

Throughout it all, I feverishly followed Robert Hilburn's updates in the LA Times on the back and forth on set about whether or not Val Kilmore would sing or lip sync in the upcoming film.

Shortly thereafter, I shook my fist in fury when Billy Idol dared to cover LA Woman. The poser!

That drove me to the library, where I got Riders on the Storm, Jim Densmore's Morrison bio. I read it feverishly, taking mental notes on how I too would one day successfully avoid the draft by demonstrating Morrison-level savvy madness.

Midway through Densmore's self-aggrandizing tome, I bought a copy of Wilderness, Morrison's slim and posthumous published poetry collection, and carried it around with me together with my copy of the Tao Te Ching, convinced that they were the two true holy books. Anyone who thought otherwise I recognized as a poser.

All the while, I spent a lot of time thinking about how Ray Manzarek doubled as the band's bass player and pianist all at the same time on one keyboard. I viewed him as Einstein with a chainsaw.

Somewhere along the way, I sought out an ancient tape copy of a disco sounding album the band made after Jim's death and noted that no one in the band had made meaningful music ever since. And so I grew slightly concerned that maybe my heroes were secretly lame.

But I still stood in line for opening night of the film and smugly mocked everyone else in line with me as a poser. Clearly, none of them knew the secret lyric, edited out, after She Gets! on Break on Through...

And I thought the movie was pretty cool!

Then I proceeded to grow sick of the whole thing - the band and everything about them was suddenly far too mainstream for my superior tastes - and I decided anyone who liked The Doors on any level was a poser. Lou Reed and Bob Dylan were all that mattered.

Then a cool older kid played me Peace Frog and I realized I'd missed a whole album (damn Costco!). So I decided The Doors were cool again for about 15 minutes.

Then, 10 months after the whole thing had started, I moved on for good.

But that's not entirely true. Years and year later, I sang my kids to sleep with The Spy and The Crystal Ship; and I can still can almost recite Morrison's poem about some dude burning leaves. Now that I summon it from the internet and read it again I still think it's pretty great:

A man rakes leaves into

a heap in his yard, a pile,

& leans on his rake &

burns them utterly.

The fragrance fills the forest

children pause & heed the

smell, which will become

nostalgia in several years

But now, I have to ask, how does one even go about listening to The Doors with any objectivity 33 years after they became the world's biggest band for a moment and 50 years after Morrison's death? I mean there's a 15 year old hipster in the high school where I teach who still wears a t-shirt with Morrison on it. I don't know if objectivity can be achieved.

But I'm giving it a shot right now as I write this.

My copy of their debut, self-titled, album is an original print supposedly, and the vinyl sure sounds like it's creeping up on its 60th birthday. Crackling thunder, seemingly borrowed from Riders on the Storm, buzzels and pops throughout. But the whole record sounds great that way, like it too was taken from the Ancient Gallery and WALKED ON DOWN THE HALL!

Fair reader, here's what I think: if I try hard and strip back all the nonsense I know about poor Jim and the band, then I'm left with what is elemental music.

Sure there's some silly stuff to be found: Morrison's lyric "specialize in having fun" from Take It As It Comes is, and always has been, embarrassing, along with basically all the lyrics to Light My Fire. And I don't really know that the organ's drunk circus vibe in Alabama Song holds up.

But listen to Manzarek spill every coin in the band's copious wallet on Take It As It Comes; remember just how cool the wandering guitar intro still is on The End, not to mention the slapping, rippling, pick me up 3/4 of the way through that wandering track; appreciate just how unhinged Morrison's screaming holler is on Back Door Man; ride on the perfect Crystal Ship. And for god's sake, just sit back and listen to Light My Fire.

youtube

What if we simply thought of The Doors alongside their actual peers from 66-71: Love, Buffalo Springfield, Jefferson Airplane, The Grateful Dead? What if we slowed down and remembered that the band did everything they did in under 5 years? What if we remembered, at the same time, just how much Stephen Stills still sucks? And what if we set aside for good just how damn magnetic poor Jim was? What if we just listened to The Doors?

I encourage you to give it a shot. Drop the needle on The Doors debut once a season; ride the King's Highway west; catch all the weird scenes in the goldmine. You too will wish The Doors practiced in a garage down your street.

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

Update! After posting this, my famous brother sent me this photo of Morrison. He's actually in Manhattan Beach!

I think my father, who, come to think of it, looked a hell of a lot like Morrison at that point, is just outside the frame, striding away after firing his ass. Rest in peace Jim.

#the doors #jim morrison #stephen stills sucks #Youtube

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adzeisval · 11 months

Text

Overlooked, part one

Izzy managed to pull himself back on the Revenge and felt a wave of relief wash over him. They’d made it. After five days of imprisonment and torture Izzy, Pete, Jim and Fang had made it back to the Revenge. Hurting, but alive.

There was a chorus of voices and cries and the crew of the Revenge rushed forward. Olu and Jim embraced and fell to their knees. Lucius somehow managed to wrap and arm around both Pete and Fang. The crew was happy and cheering around them.

Roach was already trying to pry the tortured crew away to treat them and ask if they were alright.

No one came to check in on Izzy. No one was cheering now that he was back. He tried to ignore the feeling of hurt.

“Izzy!” Edward called and Izzy brightened a little. There, at least someone was happy to see him. But as Izzy came forward he could tell the look on Edward’s face was no joy at seeing Izzy alright, it was anger that any of his crew had been hurt. He had a look of determination that meant he was going to go after the men who had tortured them.

“Tell me as much as you can,” Edward said, taking Izzy into the Captain’s Cabin. Izzy spent the next half hour going into detail about who had been hurting him and the crew for the past few days.

“We’ll be able to take them,” Edward said.

“Easily I would think, they’re not going to expect us,” Stede said.

Izzy shifted in his chair and winced. His back had been flayed open on the first night and it was still healing. His throat was sore from being nearly hung on the second day. His ribs were bruised from the third day. He had a horrible sunburn on his back and was still thirsty from the fourth day. He’d nearly drowned just that morning before they escaped. It was a lot.

“Are you going to be alright for a fight Izzy?” Edward asked.

“Of course,” Izzy said, but he kept the rest of his thoughts to himself.. He’d been fucking tortured for days and was exhausted and in pain. He needed water, he needed to sleep for a couple days, and he really needed a hug. He’d spend days fearing he and members of the crew he cared for would die. Days spent hoping and longing for home. Days spent trying to get their tormentors to go after him and not the others.

Edward looked at him closely then sighed, “Why don’t you go take a nap I’ll wake you when we’re there.”

“Yes Captain,” Izzy said. Izzy got up to leave and tried not to wince in pain as he did.

“Oh and Izzy?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get them,” Edward said. Izzy nodded. He believed they would. Edward could still be quite terrifying when he wanted to be. He had no doubt the men that tortured him would pay with their lives.

Izzy saw Roach on deck tending to Pete’s wounds while Fang waited. Izzy knew his wounds weren’t going to be fatal and probably had gone too long to be stitched. He would recover without help. Izzy heard Jim and Olu talking in their room as he passed. Izzy shut the door to his room and eased himself carefully into bed.

Izzy tried not to cry and failed. He hurt both physically and mentally and no one had even reacted like they were glad he was back. Oh Edward was glad for the information and he would be glad of the help but glad that Izzy was back? Maybe not. No one was. The whole new thing of taking it through and showing affection. Apparently it wasn’t for Izzy.

Part of it was Izzy’s fault; he had no idea how to ask for affection, he had no idea how to approach the subject of the fact that he would like a hug or some comfort now and then. He’d spent far too long pushing that down and ignoring the need. But shouldn’t they know? Shouldn’t they realize that Izzy was human and needed care now and then? Or was it that they just didn’t have it in them to care for him.

Izzy cried until the exhaustion overcame him and he fell asleep.

(Part Two coming out tomorrow!)

#ofmd #izzy hands #sigh #sorry izzy #i just like making him cry #whump

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manesalex · 7 months

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I have my own set of thoughts about ofmd "no longer being a kind show" and, rather than hijack someone else's post, I figured I'd add to the conversation.

As others have pointed out, the outside world has always been cruel in this universe. Stede and Ed both had awful childhoods. Jim's entire family was murdered. And, as Oluwande said in the pilot, they're all (other than Stede) pirates because they don't have another choice.

But, on the Revenge, they choose kindness. We start with Stede paying his crew, having arts and crafts time, and telling them bedtime stories. We see this kindness win over the other characters. We see it transform them. In a lot of ways, we see it free them from the pressures to perpetuate the cruelty and violence of the outside world.

And we see this with Izzy too. In season one, he was bringing that cruelty from the outside world onto the Revenge. He was, essentially, trying to force his sense of normality onto the crew (also his toxic masculinity, but that's another topic for another post). But, in season two, the kindness finally reached him. The crew made him the unicorn leg. They embraced him. Even after everything he did to them, at what he'd likely see as his lowest point, they chose to treat him with kindness. And so he started to change, started to embrace the kindness on the Revenge.

And then he was shot. Again with the cruelty of the outside world on this show. And, rather than revert to the Izzy we knew on season one, rather than bringing the outside world with him (as he did in season one) he held on to that kindness that he learned on the Revenge. He apologized to Ed. He told Ed to just be himself.

Idk, I think that's beautiful. OFMD showed us the transformative power of kindness. How we can still choose to be kind to each other, no matter how we suffer. How, as queer people, we can continue to embrace each other, continue to celebrate each other, no matter how the outside world treats us. How maybe that gives us strength to face the outside world and to continue to be ourselves, rather than hiding who we are.

All that said, I understand the Izzy fans who are hurting. I wish they wouldn't take it out on other fans or on the writers, but I understand their pain. We've all lost characters we love, characters who feel like a part of us. We've all come into a story expecting one thing and being surprised and hurt when we didn't get what we expected, when we felt like that changed or twisted the message of the show for us. Whether or not we feel that way about this show, I'd be willing to guess we've all been there.

So, to those Izzy fans who are hurting, I'm so sorry. And I'm offering virtual hugs to all of you. I hope you find the joy that you used to find in this show somewhere else. And I hope you write a shitton of fanfiction to give yourselves the story you wanted here.

#our flag means death #discourse #long post

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wolf-in-a-trenchcoat · 2 months

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I'm bored, so have a (possibly) triggering first chapter look-see of my Ouizzy fic "A Dance With The Devil" that I'm gonna post. I plan to rewrite it to be more canon-accurate but also throw in a little personal spice since I love writing angst.

Also! For those of you who happen to read it anyways, I'd absolutely LOVE some feedback. (That includes the negative feedback. I don't get better unless it's given, and I strive to better my writing). Alright, let me put the trigger warning so we can be prepared!

TW/CW: implied/explicitly expressed abuse, canon typical violence, panic attack, mild aggression, and mentioned amputation and consumption of a toe.

⚠️Reader's discretion is advised.⚠️

Chap 1: Izzy's Torment.

Edward was in a horrid mood again.

Well, Blackbeard.

As typical, Izzy tried keeping things running as smoothly as possible, only speaking when spoken to and snapping orders at the crew if any were caught slacking. He spent the majority of his day limping around the deck, weight leaned on his cane. His foot fucking hurt, and the bandages around it chafed and caused the somewhat healing wound to open and bleed.

Izzy bites back a curse. Literally just a week ago when Blackbeard returned from being willingly captured by the English, Izzy had been force-fed his toe. He remembered that night with very little fondness despite the relieving excitement that coursed through him seeing that dark, malicious glare from Blackbeard. He swallowed thickly, once again reliving having to consume a piece of himself. How fucking poetic.

Leaning against the railing of the Revenge, Izzy stared out into the expanse of water surrounding the ship. The sun was hanging high in the sky, beating down on the deck in exhausting heat. He pulls away, sighing roughly and turned heel towards the lower decks to check in on the crew, to make sure they weren't slacking. They had a tight schedule, and Izzy made sure of it so they would stay busy.

As he descended, he could hear soft murmurs and hurried conversations before they went completely silent. Izzy's stony glare cast over the crew as they stand awkwardly in a circle, eyes directed at the ground as if in submission. Maybe it was genuine submission- that's all Izzy had disciplined into them in his fourteen hour power-trip when Edward was gone.

"What's with all of this... nonsense? Having a little chat with each other? Talking feelings?" Izzy rasps in lilting sarcasm, leaning on his cane with a scowl. No one responds, all except Jim. Their eyes remained trained on the ground, something unusual and out of character to their normally intense glare.

"We need an intervention." Their voice was slow but sure, and then the intense stare strays to Izzy. There was a small shock that ran through him, so subtle he wasn't sure it even happened. He nods his head upwards, chin slightly higher in curiosity.

“An intervention, ay? Ed wouldn't be too fond of that.” Izzy points out, tapping his cane against the floorboards to emphasize it. He sauntered forward, his scowl turning softer. “It's suicide to try and talk him out of this.”

“Still- it'd be better. For all of us.” Frenchie piped in, nervously looking anywhere that wasn't the shorter-statured man. Izzy had noticed the bard was very iffy about eye contact, fluctuating between a hard stare and no eye contact at all. The first-mate didn't know what to make of it, and instead decided it wasn't worth his time- knowing Stede Bonnet's crew, they'd have Izzy soft-side up and forcefully coddled like he was part of their crew. Part of them.

“Get back to work. Fuckin’ useless twats.” Izzy snarled, turning away. A deeper part of him knew that Jim was right- hell, even Frenchie! Of all people, excluding Jim, Frenchie actually had a point- one stating that sitting idly by would only make things worse. Izzy would never admit it, even in his dying breath that he agreed with Stede fucking Bonnet's maniac of a bard. Shame worms its way up Izzy's spine, settling in the center of his chest like a weight in his ribcage.

He… wanted to mutiny against Blackbeard. The one thing Izzy swore his life to uphold the name of, and here he was regretting his choices. A sickening feeling sits ominously idle in his gut, like a viper waiting to strike… waiting until Izzy is distracted. The first-mate swallowed back the rising pain in his throat, stalking off to the top deck and not even waiting to see if the crew listened.

He found himself below deck in his cabin. He was pacing the cramped room, hands tangled in his graying hair, trying to calm the raging storm of emotions in his mind. Izzy was never one for emotions, always keeping them bottled up until they all came out in spiteful insults and barked orders. Right now was not one of those times.

In a swift attempt of releasing his pent up self-destructive loathing, he grabbed a stool and threw it against the wall, the wood exploding into splintering shrapnel as it made impact. Izzy let out a strained shout, heaving in breaths as his attempt of control became vain. He had never let the thought of mutiny cross his mind.

“Fuck. Fuck!” Izzy growls, sitting roughly on his rickety cot and burying his face in his hands. He was sure his death was imminent if Blackbeard heard any whisper or word of possible opposition. The crew would die alongside Izzy if they didn't cower to the Kraken's absolutely mental demands and pressuring emotional manipulation.

Izzy Hands wanted to turncoat on Blackbeard, the man- no, the myth- he helped create. To break the promise he had made so long ago that it became the very air he breathed to upkeep. All for just a little taste of comfort in a trying time that won't last. He was stupid for letting himself be so… invested in the damn crew. How they felt, how they saw him, how they fucking bitched and moaned about how horrible Blackbeard treated them and yet, Izzy understood. How, he'd never know and even if he did, he'd never tell.

Of all people, Israel Hands understood their pain. Of all things, he could empathize with their distaste and wariness of Blackbeard's volatile behavior. The only grace Izzy gave the crew was being the one who took the brunt of all of the Kraken's anger and physical violence. And he wanted it. He deserved it.

A strangled sob left him, his heart hammering in his chest as his throat felt like it was closing. The walls felt like they were closing, his vision tunneling into the abysmal darkness of his own mind, eating away at whatever control he had garnered before it all went black. Silent. His body ached, his chest tightened and he couldn't breathe. He blindly grabs at his shirt, the collar, ripping at his clothes just for some air. Another noise left him as his struggles proved fruitless and he felt suffocated in the weight of this newfound desire to flee. To run from his past, his choices, his actions.

And as if it were as sudden as it set in, he calmed. His breathing was still yet heavy and sharp, sweat soaking his brow and clothes. He was shaking, hands gripping the front of his leather vest like his life was on the line. And it was. If he even told Ed about any of this, he'd lose another toe- no, his entire foot, maybe his life. He inhaled sharply, shakily. He had to set this right.

Whatever it was he needed to do, he'd do it. He stiffly removed his hands from his shirt, gingerly flexing his fingers to get feeling back into them. Smoothing back his disheveled hair and wiping his forehead with his sleeve, he took in a steadier breath. He'd steel himself, force back all of this panic and anguish and become Izzy Hands again. Cold, stoic, and damn near emotionless. Calculated- not some emotional disaster who couldn't even fathom not being dependent on his captain.

#blackbeard ofmd #ouizzy ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd #jim ofmd #frenchie ofmd #ofmd izzy #izzy hands #israel hands #our flag means death #our flag means death fanfic #author is in fact an izzy apologist #ofmd angst #ed teach slanderer #gentlebeard is toxic do not even try to argue it because i will end you with psychology and film analysis #izzy deserved better #frenchie is definitely going to be the “better” he deserves

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hummingbird-of-light · 24 days

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In Our Favor

Part 187

McCoy

“I’m sorry,” McCoy said as he and Christine left the dining hall. “I did forget what time we said.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Christine said. “As long as I get a good grade on this paper, we’ll call it square.” She grinned. “I know how you two can’t stand to be apart from each other.”

“Hey!” McCoy laughed. “What are you and Roger doing?”

“Well,” Christine began, holding out her hand to catch the rain. “I don’t think we’re having a picnic anymore.” She shook her hand back down to her side. “So I’m not sure. We’ll think of something. At least we get to see each other.”

“And I know you’re glad for that,” McCoy smiled.

“It’s so dumb to think of all the time we wasted trying to hide, when my parents knew anyways,” Christine bemoaned. “If they had been clearer or me less stupid.” She shook her head ruefully.

“Hey! Don’t think like that,” McCoy said quickly. “Besides, if you and your parents had understood each other, what would me and Scotty have done?” He grinned. Christine swatted at his arm playfully and McCoy laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Christine said. “No pity party for me.”

“I know what you mean though Chris,” McCoy said in a more serious voice. “I wish you guys hadn’t felt like you needed to keep secret, but I am grateful for your help.”

“I know. And I’m glad I got to. You two were made for each other.”

“What are you and Roger going to do? When we finish.” McCoy used his free hand to gesture around at the campus.

A soft sigh left Christine.

“Probably a space station somewhere. Maybe somewhere planetside. The benefit of studying medicine; I can go most anywhere Roger’s research will take us.”

“That’s not bad,” McCoy nodded. “Especially planetside.”

Christine gave him a sidelong glance.

“How are you coming with flying?”

McCoy let out a sigh. “Some days are better than others,” he shrugged. “I know the controls backwards and forwards now, but when we’re in the simulator, when it moves…” He trailed off and shiver went down his back.

“You’ll get there Leo,” Christine said comfortingly.

“Guess you better stay out of trouble then Jim,” Sulu laughed as Jim told them about Pike’s class having a reunion visit.

“Who is Christopher?” Aporal asked.

“He was the headmaster at our academy,” Jaylah replied.

“I’d say you’d like him,” Sulu said, “but I think you’re a person who likes to decide that on your own.”

“That’s true,” Aporal agreed.

“Well, I’ll say I hope you like him,” said Uhura.

“We shall see,” Aporal said and went back to eating.

“How many students has he sent here over the years?” Christine wondered.

Jim laughed. “He could probably crew a starship with his students.”

“So he’ll have more people to see than just us,” McCoy said, lifting an eyebrow at Jim.

“Maybe, Bones, maybe. But we have something his other students don’t have!”

“Aye lad? And what’s that?” asked Scotty.

“Me!” Jim exclaimed.

The other groaned and like Aporal went back to eating.

Part 188

Scotty

After lunch, Scotty and Leonard headed back to their room. The rain had quickly gotten worse and therefore they couldn't spent the afternoon outside. It was kinda a good thing. They still had a bit of homework to finish.

It didn't take them too long, but it was stressful, and once they were done with their work, the boys lay down in bed, ready for some relaxation.

Leonard reached for their book which was resting on his nightstand, however Scotty quickly stopped him by grabbing the prince's arm with his hand. Leonard gave him a surprised look and the Scotsman slowly shook his head before he rested it on his husband's chest.

"Let's... just enjoy the silence for some time, can we?"

"Sure." Scotty could hear the frown in Leonard's voice without even looking at him. A hand started to gently run through his hair. "You okay, leannan?"

The Scotsman nodded against Leonard's chest.

"Aye, it's just... those last few days have been loud and exhausting. I... kinda miss the lake back at boarding school. It was so quiet and peaceful there."

Whenever he had needed time for himself, time to escape from reality and relax, Scotty had always gone to the lake. It had always been a nice, soothing place and it had become even better when Leonard had stepped into his life.

Here, at the academy, they didn't have a private place like that except for their room. It was kinda sad.

"I see. Well, we can stay quiet for as long as you want. Just... let everything sink in."

The hand kept on caressing his head and Scotty leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. This was good. He really needed it.

They stayed that way for a very long time, gathering strength for the upcoming week, and when they eventually headed to dinner, Scotty felt much more energetic again.

On Wednesday the big day finally arrived. Jim was beaming with joy as they watched the landing shuttles, carrying the people who had graduated thirty years ago.

There were lots of elderly men and women, though many people probably weren't able to come due to private reasons or due to work. After all, lots of ships were out there, fulfilling their missions.

Scotty kept his eyes fixed on the groups of people, scanning the various species, but Jaylah was the first of them to find the headmaster in the crowd.

"There!" she exclaimed and pointed at a small group of men leaving a shuttle just then.

Jim's grin widened even more as he started to move, running through the crowd.

"Chris! Hey Chris! Over here!" The blond boy waved his hand and once he reached the headmaster, he threw his arms around him.

Scotty couldn't help the amused but soft smile forming on his face as he watched that sight. If Francine was like a mother to Jim, Christopher Pike was like a father.

Slowly, the rest of friends followed Jim and when they came to a halt, Pike looked at all of them. He chuckled.

"Hello everyone. I see the whole gang is still together, huh?"

"Of course! I'll make sure that all of us will be placed aboard the same ship one day!" said Jim, proudly raising his chin. Pike slowly shook his head, the soft smile not leaving his lips for even one second.

"Nothing has changed."

He let his eyes wander and found three young people standing behind his former students.

Aporal, Eugene and Cora. They had been curious enough to join their friends after Jim hadn't stopped talking about the famous Headmaster Pike.

"But I see that your crew has grown."

The older man gave the three of them a gentle nod.

"Hello there. I'm Christopher Pike. I was responsible for these young men and women for the last few years."

"Yeah, we know. Heard a lot about you, sir," Aporal said, sending Jim a meaningful glance. The human boy just grinned.

"This is Aporal. He's a real grump, but he's okay. And those two are Cora and Eugene."

"Hello, sir."

"It's nice to meet you."

Greetings were quickly exchanged before they all headed inside to have lunch.

#star trek #montgomery scott #leonard mccoy #scones #au #in our favor

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haloud · 6 months

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Writing Patterns

Rules: Share the opening of your last ten published works or as many as you are able to see if there are any patterns!

I was tagged by @ajna-eye-cogitations and @angrycowboy :)

through the looking glass

Michael closed his eyes to the feeling of Isobel petting his hair. Her fingers worked nervously, the rhythm soothing neither of them, doing nothing to tether Michael to his body—but that was for the best.

2. parted from me and never parted

For most of Jim’s life, people had told him he had a problem with authority. Some of them even meant it kindly. It frustrated no one so badly as Captain Pike, the one authority Jim did trust. He’d say again and again that Jim would get people killed one day, thinking he knew best, thinking he could test a limit that shouldn’t be tested. Well, Jim disagreed with that assessment—had barely restrained himself from a deeply point-proving emotional reaction to Pike thinking little enough of him that he’d ever endanger his crew like that.

3. main sequence

They were a half-mile from the ship when the sky opened up. The distant setting suns turned the raindrops blue and violet and gold; Alex was running, Michael was laughing, and Michael grabbed his wrist and pulled him under an overhang to wait out the storm as water pooled on the rocks and streamed down in technicolor rivulets. Alex stood stock-still for a minute, arms slightly outstretched as his clothes and hair dripped, until Michael yanked him in closer to kiss him, kiss his lips, kiss the water from his face.

4. straight on 'til morning (final chapter)

Michael trailed his fingers across the outer curve of the console as he approached the captain’s chair. His eyes were fixed on the distant stars outside, barely visible from the ambient blue light of Aun. One of them was Oasis. Maybe this would be the last time he ever saw his own planet with the naked eye. Good riddance.

5. forever in a day (nsfw)

“Michael, Michael, fuck, Michael!” Alex cried.

6. like clockwork

The world was getting colder. Day by day, frost crept over the creosote and sagebrush in the mornings, and Walt walked the three miles to town in men’s boots and three pairs of socks, the sky high and blue and watery above him. He got less and less work these days, but he knew how to stretch a dollar, and he knew Roy Bronson’d buried a hundred of ‘em in a tin pail “just in case” and where to dig, and soon enough he’d get his growth spurt, and once he was fit for working the fields, no one there would care about scars, not like shopkeepers and society ladies did.

7. morningmist

The three of them made a party as dismal as the weather as they rode through the mist at a snail’s pace. None of them spoke. Zidan and Xiaodan, of course, often needed no words, but even between them, this silence was a different one.

8. rivalry series

Panting, Isobel swung herself back onto the bench and bashed her stick against the low wall with a scream of rage muffled behind her teeth.

9. thunderstorm warning

Alex groaned and smacked his head back against the pillow. He’d been in bed for an hour, tossing and turning, folding and flipping his pillow, fighting with the blankets, changing sides, switching back and forth between his side and Michael’s, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t get comfortable. The bed was too cold, or he was too warm under the blankets, or the house was too quiet, or every little sound jerked him to attention.

10. torrential

The house was quiet when they came home. Peaceful. They weren’t even gone long enough for the air to grow stale—only a faint hint of rain lingered in the air, and that was home, too.

Only used solo published fics because I genuinely can't remember who wrote the opening lines of most of my cowrites. I'm not sure what patterns to draw here...It appears that I don't typically start a fic with dialog, and I tend to start in media res, though the degree of the action varies. Only two of the fics include establishing information before the action begins, and I would honestly deduct "like clockwork" from being evidence of a trend there, because that fic had a deliberate structure that by definition would buck any trends I have in my writing.

for anyone wondering, the two non-rnm fics in this list (parted from me and never parted + morningmist) are fics for star trek: strange new worlds and a book called Silver Under Nightfall by Rin Chupeco respectively. pls read vampire book. thank you and goodnight.

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sentinelmania · 1 year

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Trivia Information about Jim and Blair from episodes..

More info for writers from Robyn:

https://web.archive.org/web/20090803084851/http://geocities.com/Hollywood/Academy/8097/trivia.html

Jim:

likes sushi -- The Killers

works out -- Cypher

took SenQuil, non-drowsy formula in Night Train to combat cold (bad move)

golfs -- Vow of Silence

likes to gamble -- Caesar's Tahoe comment in bus and Vegas comment at tag scene of Vow of Silence

plays basketball -- Vow of Silence and Three-Point Shot

when angry, tends to grab phone away from Blair -- Flight and The Rig

likes the music group Santana -- Out of the Past

likes to fish -- Reunion, Secret, and Poachers

likes motorcycles, used to ride in high school -- Payback

has a phobia about deep water out of sight of land -- The Rig and Storm Warning

likes poppyseed -- Blind Man's Bluff

likes buttermilk in donuts -- Blind Man's Bluff

likes to surf -- Light My Fire

hates pineapple -- Second Chance (Thanks to Gen for the suggestion.)

doesn't like horse racing -- His Brother's Keeper

rides horses well (except for the blue-screening) -- His Brother's Keeper

Jim reads books by author Jack Kerouac -- Sleeping Beauty

seems to have a thing about silverware theft -- Sleeping Beauty (locking it up) and The Girl Next Door (counting it)

likes the TV show Bonanza (has at least 5 episodes recorded) -- Vendetta

Jim's cell phone number is 555-4563 -- Poachers

reads Asian philosophy -- Poachers

cousin Rucker is a Coast Guard -- Storm Warning

plays poker -- Storm Warning

has a six-year-old niece -- Prisoner X

grew up in Cascade, rich family -- Remembrance

parents divorced, he and Steven both living with father -- Remembrance

father - William, mother - Grace (?), housekeeper - Sally -- Remembrance

got nickname of "Chief" from an adult friend, Bud, which, of course, he later uses for Blair -- Remembrance

played football, number 12 -- Remembrance

had Sentinel senses as a child (age 10), suppressed them after finding Bud's dead body -- Remembrance

father somehow knew about Jim's special senses, didn't want Jim to use them -- Remembrance

has a habit of clenching his jaw -- just about every episode!

frequents hot dog stands ("Mr. Tube Steak") -- Blind Man's Bluff, Sweet Science, Foreign Exchange

likes prune danish -- Most Wanted

Blair:

phobia about heights -- Black or White and Survival

climbs trees at Jim's request despite height phobia -- Pilot and Dead Certain

has a brown backpack he carries with him about everywhere

Blair's outfit in Siege is the exact outfit later worn by Lash in Cypher (he won't be wearing that again)

"Uh-huh, no way, I'm not going around packing. My deal is that I'm here strictly, strictly as an observer." -- famous last words by Blair in referring to using a gun -- The Killers

beginning of the great "Does he or doesn't he have a nipple ring?" debate -- tag scene of Cypher

doesn't approve of junk food -- Love and Guns, Blind Man's Bluff

plays basketball -- Vow of Silence, Three-Point Shot

ironically lacks a sense of direction despite "Guide" status -- Reunion and Survival

collects baseball cards and things relating to the year 1961 -- True Crime

likes to surf the net and is computer-savvy -- True Crime, Secret, Red Dust

mother Naomi; father unknown, maybe Timothy Leary -- Spare Parts

has an uncle who drives semi-trucks; Blair helped him drive one summer -- Spare Parts

ate a piece of contaminated pizza despite aversion to junk food -- Blind Man's Bluff

"I minored in psych." -- Dead Drop

"Spent two summers at a welding plant. Fastest torch on my crew." -- Dead Drop

started taking college classes at 16, thought he knew everything -- Smart Alec

leaves keys in bad places -- Smart Alec (in his car) and Vendetta (on top of loft door jamb)

likes horse racing and likes to bet on them (and is pretty good at it too!) -- His Brother's Keeper

stole a microscope when he was 12 (I think) -- His Brother's Keeper

has basketball card that "Orvelle Wallace" signed when Blair was in high school -- Three-Point Shot

cousin Robert is a bookie -- Three-Point Shot

has cousins in Fort Worth, Texas -- Vendetta

twelfth birthday present was an electric guitar signed by Jimi Hendrix originally given to Naomi -- The Girl Next Door

eats weird food (he calls it "experimenting in panculture cuisine") -- Foreign Exchange

doesn't like sauerkraut -- Foreign Exchange

is very adept at calling the station for backup/reporting crimes (playing "Phoneboy" as named by Moniker and Kaz) -- multiple episodes (Out of the Past, Vanishing Act, Foreign Exchange)

has an algae shake every morning for breakfast (Neighborhood Watch)

Jim and Blair undercover personas:

Blair as a social worker into Earl's grandmother's building -- The Debt

Jim as country town policeman -- Reunion

Blair and Jim infiltrate a car theft ring; Blair is semi-truck driver (and Jim is a wanna-be) -- Spare Parts

Blair pretends to be Amber's male friend, Hank (complete with facial hair, picture right) -- Iceman

Jim and Blair as Cyrus's drug dealing agents in the area -- Blind Man's Bluff

Jim (as Jim Tanner) and Elaine as poachers and contraband dealers -- Poachers

Jim as Jim Lawson - security for a mafia family and Blair as a personal tutor -- The Inside Man

Jim as Bill Murdoch from Texas, a safecracker (with a lilt) -- Vendetta

Jim as Jim Curtis, a copkiller and Blair as a creative writing teacher -- Prisoner X

Blair as a mental patient at Conover -- Mirror Image

Jim as Joe Brock (freon buyer) and Blair as Arthur Saban (freon seller) -- Finkelman's Folly

Jim and Blair as bums -- Love Kills

Jim and Megan as a married couple and Blair as Jim's nephew (by a second marriage) -- Neighborhood Watch

Jim -- Carl McQueen, hired as a bodyguard by Hydra -- The Real Deal

Blair -- Anthony, an artist, lover of Mrs. Somerset -- The Real Deal

Megan -- Mrs. Somerset, rich married woman who hires Hydra to protect her from a lover who won't leave her alone -- The Real Deal

Jim -- driver for bank robbery heist -- Most Wanted

#the sentinel #the sentinel tv show #the sentinel fanfiction #Jim/Blair #JimBlair

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house-afire · 3 months

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own true love (Izzy/Crew, past unrequired Ed/Izzy, mild D/s)

Prompt: 100 words of custom-made collars

Izzy had always made do with a black cravat. Edward’s men all dressed in black—“Nothing more fearsome than mass color-coordination,” Edward said once, a half-joke he delivered with a man’s blood on his teeth—so the color was a foregone conclusion. I belong here, it said. I belong to him—but only in the way everything on the ship did. Edward wouldn’t notice or care if Izzy tore this pathetic, grasping, makeshift claim from his neck.

At least it was Edward who had chosen the color. Who had said, “Above all else is loyalty to your captain.”

But it was Izzy who tied the knot every morning, who drew it up close where he could feel it all day long. It was Izzy who held it in place with his mother’s ring.

“One day,” she had said, folding his hand around it, “you’ll give it to the girl you want to marry.”

It was a long time before anyone else figured out what Izzy wanted the cravat to mean.

Maybe years of only ever having what he wanted on starvation rations had made the need start to show. Or maybe this crew just had more time to sit around and dissect his tender feelings—wriggling, bloody things that they were—because they were never doing any fucking work.

Either way, they noticed things. How pliant he went when one of them fitted a hand around his throat and held him like that when they dipped down for a kiss. How much his face burned when they called him theirs: our Izzy, our Iz, our first mate, our unicorn.

(How he’d spent days having a fucking idiotic personal crisis about whether to keep on wearing the cravat, how he’d loosen it, tighten it, take it off, put it back on.

Took it off again and felt bare without it, but more honest than he’d been in years.)

And because they were all the touchy-feely kind, when they saw he’d put the cravat in a drawer for good, they had to do something about it:

“We thought you might like it,” Frenchie said. “Bit of each of us.”

“We know it’s super-weird,” Lucius put in, “obviously, but it’s not like any of us are normal, so—”

“If it’s the bad kind of weird, just say so,” Jim finished.

It was a collar. A real one, like they’d just decided he could want what he wanted and they would give it to him, as easy as that.

Like maybe they wanted it too: that stamp of ownership, a claim on him that would rest flush against his pulse.

Black Pete cleared his throat. “Elephant in the room here, but—sorry it kind of looks like ass.”

“That’s some of my best leatherwork,” Fang said, as affronted as he ever got. “The leather part’s okay.”

Izzy ran one finger along the patchwork outside of it. They had all added something, stitching together bits and pieces and snips from Fang’s leathers, Jim’s old duster, Wee John’s knitting, Lucius’s scarf, Frenchie’s coat, Archie’s snakeskin, Roach’s apron, Oluwande’s hat. Pete had carved the wooden buckle.

“We did pad the inside,” Wee John said. “Figured it’d be more comfortable that way, if you did want to wear it.”

“Which you don’t have to,” Oluwande said. “I mean, like Jim said. It’s up to you.”

“It’d be really hot, though,” Archie said. “Kinda hope you go for it.”

“He will,” Roach said with perfect confidence, before Lucius hissed at him and Olu elbowed him.

Izzy had to clear his throat, and even then, his voice came out strained. Anyone but this lot wouldn’t have known the difference between that and how he sounded any other time, but now he had to put up with Roach’s smugness spreading to the rest of him.

Put up with. Fine. He loved it.

“He’s right,” he said. “I’ll wear it. You sentimental twats. I—” He wheeled around and dug through his desk until he came up with his mother’s ring.

He hadn’t known what to do with it after he’d finally let go of Edward, but he knew now. He held it out to them.

“If you want it,” Izzy said roughly. “String it on a cord or something. Pass it around amongst you.”

He had to put up with Fang’s tearful hug and Lucius’s delighted, “Oh my God, that’s so romantic,” and Archie wolf-whistling him, but eventually, thank God—sometime after Pete asked if they were supposed to come up with the cord themselves: “I’m just saying, there’s a disproportionate amount of labor here”—Frenchie took it and slipped it onto his little finger for temporary safekeeping.

“I can’t believe that fits you,” John said.

“It’s because I’ve got a musician’s slender fingers, babe.”

Izzy couldn’t bring himself to pick the collar up off the table. It was like it was too heavy for him to lift on his own. He swallowed and said, “Suits you. Now is someone going to put this on me or not?”

It took them a fucking endless number of games of rock, paper, scissors—during which Izzy threatened to leave them all at the next port—to determine who would have the honor, and Roach and Frenchie started side-bets that would probably keep the lot of them in hock to each other for years. But by the time they pressed him down to the bed, the collar was around his neck.

In the end, he gave up a lace from his leathers to hold their ring.

#izzy hands #revenge crew #izzy/crew

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girlbossblackbeard · 1 year

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Okay the brain rot worms are already hard at work painstakingly breaking down every single letter and piece of punctuation in this synopsis and here is the word vomit we've got so far:

-"Stede reunites with his crew" which we mostly already knew BUT this means there doesn't appear to be any time jump between last season and this season. We're diving right back in where we left off.

-"and go searching for Blackbeard and the Revenge" so they somehow acquire a ship (I'm assuming) in the very first ep?? And set out to find Blackbeard. We don't know what headspace Stede is in when they embark on this mission, whether it's about finding a lost love or saving Frenchie, Jim, and Lucius, or maybe (and most likely) both! I'm guessing Stede will be in a "I can fix him" sort of mode bc he doesn't know the extent of Ed's regression. I'm also envisioning maybe a scene at Jackie's tavern in order to get a ship?? Where are they gonna get this fucking ship??????? Or maybe they're just collecting intel from other pirates in this ep??????? EDIT: ALSO the separation of going searching for "Blackbeard AND the Revenge" makes me think it's definitely the "both" option I proposed earlier. I think Stede and the crew have their own missions/motivations for tracking Ed and Co. down, Stede wanting to get back to Ed and the crew wanting to get back to their family/home and also beat some serious ass for the marooning, which I'm very curious to see if that has any impact on tension/intra-crew fighting!

-"Jim does their best to escape their kidnappers" okay 1) I cannot fucking WAIT to see Jim kick some serious Izzy and/or Ed ass if that's in the cards for us, but maybe it's more of a sneak away situation? Also note the lack of a Frenchie mention, my guess is he's too scared to try to escape and/or maybe they discover Lucius in the first ep and Frenchie agrees to stay behind to help feed him? Why isn't Frenchie mentioned in this part at all????? Also "does their BEST to escape" really does make me think there's some kinda duel, this wasn't just a plan thwarted before it could begin, it sounds like Jim put their blood, sweat, and tears into getting off that ship, but-

-"but the Revenge is in for a surprise" soooo my first thought was "surprise, it's Lucius who isn't dead!" but then I realized I don't think his presence would put a stop to Jim's plan. I'm guessing the Revenge gets ambushed by another ship, either a pirate/privateer or the navy for essentially draft-dodging, and that forces Jim to stay behind and help fight for the Revenge. Hell, maybe it's even Hornigold who's come to try to take in Blackbeard since he actually did turn privateer in real life, but part of me thinks that's more of a s3 plot than s2. It could be that Stede and the crew manage to catch up with them already, but I really think they're gonna keep Ed and Stede separated for at LEAST 2 eps before we get a reunion simply because that's one of the basic tenets of storytelling in film, for the most part. Gotta milk that heartache for all it's worth so the payoff is even sweeter when it comes.

Idk man!!!!! This show makes my brain turn into chef boyardee beefaroni!!!!! Share all your thoughts on this post below please!!!!!

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd s2 speculation

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mandiemon3 · 4 months

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The Best Revenge is Living Well- Chapter 17

Mo struggled to fall asleep that night. They rolled over in their hammock, listening to the quiet dripping of water and distant sounds of a storm. They weren’t used to sleeping with so little sound, and found themselves missing the snores and mumblings of their crew, and the small noises Izzy would make as he slept, each slow breath rumbling softly as he inhaled. Their eyes stung as they pictured their friends, stranded on an island somewhere. How long would it take for one of them to die from starvation or dehydration, or turn on each other in desperation? How could Edward do such a thing, leaving the very people who had welcomed him with open arms to die? Their fists clenched on their ratty blanket, gripping the coarse fabric tightly. Izzy had been right all along. Blackbeard could never be trusted.

Mo’s heart lurched. Izzy. Poor Izzy was out there, trapped with that deranged lunatic. Even if they didn’t have any proof, they knew that Edward was the cause of his first mate’s limp. Blackbeard is back. He wouldn’t have said that unless it was related to his physical state, and who else could land a severe enough blow to the swordsman to make him limp? Edward was the only person Izzy would let near enough to him to do such a thing without drawing his blade and expecting the worst. He trusted him, decades of sailing together cementing a deep trust between the two. Why would Edward hurt Izzy, his most loyal follower and oldest friend? And if he was willing to hurt him once, who’s to say he wouldn’t do it again. Mo grit their teeth as they scowled up at the cracked ceiling of their room. They thought they could trust Edward, had even told him as much when they were leaving the ship. They’d left their partner with the most dangerous man on all seven seas, and had no way of knowing where he was, or how he was doing.

They cursed themselves for asking Frenchie to travel ahead of them. If they had stuck together like he had wanted, he wouldn’t have been at Jackie’s when Edward docked. He would be there with them now, tucked up beside them on the floor, the two huddled against each other for warmth and comfort. Mo began to cry, pulling the blanket over their head to hide from the world. What had they done? Because of them, their best friend was in unspeakable danger. Their mind spun thinking about it, trying to find some way to rationalize the situation, some reason to believe that everything would be okay. What could Blackbeard want with Frenchie? He was a good man and a good friend, and he held his own when it came to sailing, but he was hardly a bloodthirsty pirate. He was good at protecting himself, and he loved to make a quick coin, but he wasn’t the type to seek out the kind of violence necessary to survive, let alone thrive, on a real pirate ship. Jim was more suited to be a part of Blackbeard’s crew, maybe even Black Pete or Roach, but not Frenchie.

Mo hauled themselves up, unwrapping themselves from their blanket to step out of their hammock. Sleep wouldn’t be visiting them anytime soon, so they might as well spend the time trying to write. Who knew, maybe putting their feelings on paper would help them make sense of them, or calm the tornado of thoughts rushing in their head. They fumbled with the rusty lantern Jackie had given them, propped on a stool they were using as a makeshift bedside table, struggling to spark a match to light it and quickly snubbing the match when they finally succeeded. They pulled their notebook out of their bag where it was tossed on the floor, careful not to let any of Frenchie’s notes slip out from between the pages. They grimaced as they sat down, feeling the dull ache of the pain in their legs from so many days on their feet as they opened the notebook to a fresh page. A twinge of sadness hit them as they realized they were already almost half of the way through the book. They’d have to either find more paper or stop writing if they weren’t reunited with Izzy soon. They took a deep breath before picking up their pencil to write.

Mo’s hand shook as the tip of the pencil hovered over the page. How could they even begin to express what they were feeling? They swallowed thickly, before starting, doing their best to ignore the tightness in their chest.

My beloved, Israel Hands

I did it. I made it to Jackie’s in the Republic of Pirates, and Matt is dead, but I feel more lost than ever. Jackie told me what Blackbeard has done to you, at least all that she knows. I’m so sorry. I never should have left you, and I wouldn’t have if I had known something like this could happen.

Their breath came rapidly as tears began to fall. Even though there was no one around to hear them, they did their best to stifle the sob that caught in their throat.

When I find you, I’m going to kill him. I’ve never been a religious person, but I pray that you stay safe until then. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you. I don’t even want to think about it, but I’m sure that would be one problem that I couldn’t fix by fighting people. The whole world would be dead before I could even start to calm down. Please, for the love of gods, any gods, be safe. If not for your sake, or mine, for every innocent bystander who would have to deal with me. I’d be even worse than I was in Saint Francis Cove.

Mo choked on a fond chuckle, dabbing a fallen tear that had fallen onto the page away from their fresh writing as they remembered how Izzy had comforted them. They wished he was here with them now, that they could lose themselves in his strong arms and bury their face in his soft hair as he whispered reassurances that everything would be okay. They wiped at their face with a groan, doing their best to dry their tears with their sleeves. Izzy wasn’t here, they reminded themselves, and no amount of wishing could summon him.

If Blackbeard lays another finger on you, or Frenchie, I’ll skin him alive and toss him into a barrel of rum. I’m sorry that he’s putting you through this. He doesn’t deserve your loyalty, maybe he never did. You deserve to be treated like a prince. Not in the literal sense, they added. I know you’d hate to be a royal, but you should be taken care of. You deserve to be protected and cherished, to be given as much as you offer to others. You’re a good man.

Mo’s hand faltered, unsure whether to continue. The lantern light flickered over them, casting a dancing shadow over the page as they collected themselves. Their brow furrowed as they took a deep breath, bracing themselves as they pushed forward.

I’m scared of what I might find when we’re finally together again. Not that we’ll be different, or changed in some way, but I’m afraid that you might be gone by then. Blackbeard would be a stupid man to let something happen to you, even if only considering how useful you are to him, my only comfort at this time, but I now know all too well that he’s not a rational man. If he was, he would protect you at any cost, not hurt you. I’m sorry I left you with him, I should have known better. You were right all along about him. I look forward to hearing you say “I told you so” a hundred times when I give this letter to you. Just please stay safe long enough to read it. I love you.

Forever yours, Mo Berch

They dated the letter, drawing a small heart next to their signature as an afterthought. They took a moment to look at it, doing their best to tell themselves that Izzy would be safe, before tucking their pencil back into their notebook, closing it between the pages and setting the book back into their bag. They extinguished the lantern and climbed back into their hammock, wincing lightly at the strain on their legs. They sighed as they covered themselves up with the scratchy blanket, beating their lumpy pillow into shape as they laid back. A deep exhaustion had wormed its way into them, not from their travels or lack of sleep, but from not knowing what had become of their loved ones, the pressure of the unknown looking over them. They stared up at the ceiling, doing their best to ignore the weight of their worry and pretend that it didn’t feel as though a cannonball weighed them down. As much as they hated it, there was nothing they could do that night to help Izzy, Frenchie, or any of their friends. All they could do was try their best to sleep and hope that their loved ones would make it through the night.

The following weeks were hell. Mo hoped each day that Jackie or one of her plethora of husbands would bring them news of their crew, some reason to hold out hope that everything would be okay, and each day they were disappointed. Every once in a while, word would work its way back to the kitchen about a new Blackbeard sighting, usually in the form of a husband sticking their head through the doorway, but the most information they could pass along would be that the Revenge or the Queen Anne had been spotted tailing a target ship. Each time the location would be different, and it took days, sometimes weeks, for someone to stumble into Jackie’s tavern and drunkenly ramble about what they had seen or heard, giving the ships far too much time to move about for their locations to be pinpointed.

Mo was relieved to have steady work in the kitchen, something to let them earn their keep in the business and distract them from their thoughts about their crew, about Izzy. They scrubbed dishes intently, pretending that each speck stuck on the dirty dishes were their negative thoughts, and doing their best to remove them. If they worked hard enough and the tavern had enough patrons that day, they were sometimes able to sink into their hammock at night and drift off without tossing and turning half the night. They still wrote letters daily, and sketched when they were able, hoping to be able to return Frenchie’s gift of momentos when they were reunited with him, but they found themselves buried in their notebook more often in the daylight than at night now. They penned letters as they ate lunch, tucked away in a quiet corner of the tavern or alone in their room in the cellar, or in the early morning before climbing upstairs for breakfast with the others.

Mo was grateful for Jackie’s husbands and the company they provided, finding most of them to be very nice men. They were hesitant of the young pirate at first, as they were of them, but it didn’t take long for the odd group of men to take them under their wing when they found Mo to not be any threat to them or their business. Mo was slower to trust, but soon found the men working through their emotional armor, each meal shared and joke passed between them strengthening their bond. Sooner than they expected, they began to view the men as friends, especially as they went out of way to bring their new coworker any scraps of information they could gather about their missing crew.

“Hey, Bunny!”

Mo lifted their head from the glasses they were scrubbing as the low voice rang through the kitchen. The rest of Jackie’s family had taken to her nickname for them, choosing to use it instead of their actual name most of the time. They set down the soapy glass, wiping their hands on their apron as they made their way out of the kitchen to the front of the tavern.

“Yeah, Carlos?” they called as they ducked through the doorway. “What’s up, you have some more news for me?”

Mo froze as they looked up. Standing at the bar, looking like they’d been to hell and back, was their crew. Their voice cracked as they laughed in relief, startling the haggard group of men before them, who looked over at them like startled wildlife, their tired forms snapping into a defensive form as their eyes widened. Mo stilling for a moment before running to Roach and throwing their arms around him, laughing as the tall man wrapped his arms around them tightly. The rest of the crew was quick to join them as the reality of their situation sunk in, huddling around them and exclaiming as they clumped together in a group hug.

“How-how did you guys get here?” Mo asked, pulling back enough to look around for Stede. “Jackie told me you were all stranded.” Their brow furrowed, realizing they didn’t hear Lucius’ distinctive voice among the surprised greetings, or feel his hand ruffling their hair. “And where’s Lucius?”

The crew quieted, looking at each other with uncertainty written across their faces.

It was Black Pete who broke the silence, his voice forlorn. “We don’t know where Lucius is.”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up though,” Stede said, clasping his friend’s shoulder. He was still doing his best to stay positive, even under their suboptimal circumstances, a hopeful smile plastered to his face. He turned towards Mo, his brow furrowing and he turned more serious. “They were stranded. I managed to find them and get them to shore. Took a while, but here we are.”

Mo nodded. “I’m glad you’re here,” they said sincerely. “I, uh, I heard a bit about what happened with Blackbeard. About you all getting caught by the English and having to get away. Heard that you left for a bit, Captain, and that Blackbeard marooned everyone afterwards.” They grimaced, looking down. “Heard he hurt Izzy too,” they said quietly.

The crew stilled, looking at each other uneasily.

Wee John hummed, clapping a strong hand onto their back. “Don’t you worry. It takes more than an injured foot to take down that fecker.”

Mo huffed out a weak laugh. “You’re not wrong,” they admitted with a small smile. “He’s really something, isn’t he?”

“That’s one way to put it,” Roach muttered.

“He’s the one who marooned us, y’know.” Mo looked up at Black Pete, shocked by his cold tone. He met their gaze defiantly, and they could see the pain in his eyes, a scowl etched into his face. “Your loverboy is the one who left us to die. And who knows what he did to Lucius.” His eyes glistened with the beginnings of tears, and he squinted, trying his best to blink them away as he turned his head, not wanting anyone to see.

Mo stammered, unable to wrap their head around this new information.

“Izzy would never hurt Lucius,” they said lamely. They cursed themselves as soon as the words left their mouth as the crew shifted, tension gathering among the exhausted pirates. They knew that Izzy would never hurt Lucius, but their friends had just been abandoned by him on an island, presumably to die, so why would they believe a word they said in his defense?

Mo sighed, gripping the chain of their locket tightly as they continued. “Look, I don’t mean that to say that I don’t believe you, because I do. I believe that Izzy left you out there. I don’t believe that he did it because he wanted to, or that he didn’t have a good reason. I just don’t think that we should jump to any conclusions when we don’t even have the full story.” They felt themselves grow frantic as their friends looked away, unable to meet their gaze. Roach shook his head softly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know you don’t believe me, but Izzy isn’t a bad person! He doesn’t dislike any of you, and he wouldn’t just do something like that, not without a reason!” Pete scoffed, his hands coming to his hips. “What reason is good enough for leaving your crew on a burning rock in the middle of the ocean?”

Mo shrugged, breathing a hysterical sounding laugh as they threw their hands up into the air. “I don’t know,” they admitted. “I have no fucking idea, but I know it must exist! Izzy wouldn’t hurt any of you. He wouldn’t.” They jumped as Roach put his hand on their shoulder. “Love, just because he wouldn’t do it to you doesn’t mean he wouldn’t do it to us,” he said gently. They shook their head frantically.

“No,” Mo insisted lowly. “No. There has to be a reason. He wouldn’t do that, he wouldn’t. Something must have happened.” Their eyes widened and their grip on their locket tightened as they realized. “Blackbeard,” they whispered. They raised their head, looking at their friends desperately, needing them to understand. “It was because of Blackbeard! He’s the only person Izzy’s afraid of, and the only person who could make him do something like that!” The Swede frowned. “But I thought Edward liked us?” he said sadly, looking around for reassurance.

“He does, Swede,” Wee John replied. “They’re just looking for reasons not to blame Izzy.” He shook his head. “Poor Ed. Getting’ blamed left and right.”

Oluwande spoke up. “Ed left us too, guys. Izzy couldn’t have made him sail away, and I doubt he would have done it without Ed’s permission. The marooning, I mean.”

“Yeah, but Ed was heartbroken,” Wee John countered. “Izzy is just, well, kind of a dick.” He glanced at Mo, not wanting to hurt their feelings even if he was upset at their partner.

Their chest began to burn with anger. “Wait a minute,” they said. “So, everything that Edward did is okay to you, even though he’s the one in charge and he’s the one who gave the order to maroon you, but I’m getting a talking to because of Izzy?”

“Guys,” Stede butted in, his voice gentle but firm as he cautiously separates the upset members of his crew. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll have time to figure this all out when we find them.” Mo frowned, their eyes narrowing in confusion. “You want to find them? Even after you left?” they asked, rounding on their captain. They cursed themselves for still sounding angry, doing their best to push away their feelings of irritation for the time being.

Stede nodded, lifting his arms to the sides as if the answer was obvious. “Well…yes. They have my ship, and part of my crew.” He paused, looking away for a moment. “And, well, Edward is there,” he said more softly. Grief was written across his face. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have left, I drove him to this.” He raised his voice, turning to look around at the crew. “I’m sorry everyone. This is all my fault.”

Everyone bustled around him, patting his shoulders and back reassuringly as they comforted him. Even Black Pete told him it wasn’t his fault, though he avoided Mo’s gaze as he rubbed their captain’s shoulder with one hand.

“You’re too kind,” Stede said, looking around at his crew. “All of you. I’m terribly sorry for having dragged you into this mess.” The sincerity in his voice was enough to break Mo’s heart. They could relate to regret about leaving a loved one, and causing others harm in the process.

“It’ll be alright, Captain,” Mo said. “We’ll find them, and we’ll figure it out. Jackie said Blackbeard docked nearby a few days before I got here.” Their gaze darkened. “I had sent Frenchie ahead of me for the last stretch of our trip, and…he took him. Blackbeard has Frenchie.” They shook their head, swallowing down the lump in their throat and doing their best to pretend they didn’t feel the pitying gazes of their friends burning into their face. “But we can do this,” they continued. “We’ll get Izzy and Frenchie back, and Lucius,” they looked at Pete, giving him a small nod, “and Edward too, if we must.”

Stede smiled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wanted to believe them, but how could he?

“Jim is missing too,” Oluwande said, shuffling forward. “Has been since we were left out there.”

Mo rubbed his upper arm, giving him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Olu.” They sighed, looking for some way to comfort their friends who had already been through so much. “I’m sure they’re all looking out for each other back on the Revenge.” They smiled softly, an image springing into their mind. “Frenchie can diffuse situations so they don’t come to violence, Jim can handle things when violence is needed, and Lucius can…boost morale with his quick wit.” “He’s also a good pickpocket,” Black Pete added, a hint of pride in his voice.

Mo nodded, grateful for the addition. “Even better. With the skill those three have, they’ve got all bases covered. They’ll be just fine, and we’ll find them before too long. And Izzy will do what he can to protect them in the meantime.” They ignored the burning look they got from Pete. “Believe me, or don’t, but I know that man, better than the rest of you put together. He’ll make sure they’re safe, and he’ll look after the ship in our absence. They’re all in good hands with Iz.”

Stede looked less than convinced, but had the decency to chose his words carefully. “I don’t think Izzy quite understands the type of…vibe I was going for with the Revenge.”

Mo smiled weakly. “Maybe not,” they admitted. “I don’t expect it will have all the same frills and amenities it had when we last saw it, but it’ll still be functional, and well maintained.” They tilted their head, giving Stede a pointed look. “You can’t say Izzy doesn’t love to keep things practical and efficient.”

Stede conceded, giving a small sigh as he nodded. “I suppose the important thing is that we’re all safe,” he surmised. “Not what the ship looks like.” He frowned. “Or how many comforts are lost along the way.” Mo could practically see the images in his head, of all his precious trinkets being tossed overboard or cut to ribbons. His library stripped away and his wardrobes, all of them, gutted.

He soon shook his head, snapping himself out of his trance.

“So, Captain,” Mo asked, “what’s the plan?”

Mo was beyond relieved to be reunited with their crew, at least those lucky enough not to have been left with Blackbeard. They were happier still when Jackie granted the odd bunch of men permission to work at her tavern, offering them a roof over their heads in exchange for labor. She had told the crew that they could sleep in the cellar room where Mo had been sleeping alone, and had done her best to convince Mo to move upstairs and spend more time with her, but they politely declined, pointing out again that they were in a committed relationship. They made sure to thank her for her continued generosity, not wanting to make an enemy of such a powerful pirate, especially when she was housing them and their family. And so, Mo found themselves that night cramped into a damp cellar room with half a dozen men. They had staked their claim regarding their hammock, declaring squatter’s rights and refusing to sleep on the dank floor now that they finally had their own sleeping quarters, even if it was just a strung up piece of canvas.

Sleep came to them easier now that they knew that at least some of their crew was out of harm’s way where they could keep an eye on them, soothing away some of their fears as they listened to the snores and groans of the men they had been so worried about. Mo was on the brink of slipping into a dream when an unusual sound cut through their stupor, rousing them back to the land of consciousness. Someone was sniffling, and Mo could hear unsteady breathing. They blinked rapidly, trying to wipe the drowsiness out of their eyes with their hands as they sat up. They swung their legs out of their hammock, careful not to step on Roach’s sprawled form on the ground underneath them, as they looked around for the source of the sound. They found it on the far wall of the room, a figure balled up underneath the solidary window, his form shaking as he cried.

Mo carefully stood, weary of any stray hands as they crept their way across the room. “Pete?” they asked softly. A head rose and they saw that his eyes were red, and his cheeks streaked with tears.

“What do you want?” he asked grumpily, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he sat up.

Mo crouched down, able to find just enough room to sit next to him without disturbing any of the rest of the crew.

“I’m sorry,” they said simply.

Pete looked taken aback, a flash of suspicion crossing his face.

“For what?”

Mo sighed, raking a hand through their hair. It had grown, enough that it was touching their shoulders now, and they pushed it away from their face.

“Everything.” They glanced at Pete. “I’m sorry about Lucius. He’s a good guy, and he doesn’t deserve to get dragged into this mess. Neither do you,” they added, gently elbowing his side. His defensive expression faded away, quickly softening into one of worry.

“I just…I don’t know what I’d do without him.” He looked down at his lap, where he fiddled with his hands.

Mo nodded. They toyed with the chain around their neck as their gaze directed down at their sock-covered feet. “I understand the feeling.” They didn’t meet Pete’s gaze as he looked at them. “Thankfully, Lucius is smart, and quick to adapt. He’s a survivor. I think the most likely thing is that Blackbeard finally realized it was worth keeping someone aboard who can read and write.”

Pete frowned. “Can’t Izzy do that stuff? I thought he was all book smart and everything.” Mo couldn’t help but smile. “Nah. He can read a bit, better than you’d expect from someone with no formal education, and he can sign his name and a write a few important words, but he’s not like Lucius. He’d never pick up a book for fun like Luce would, or write stories. He’s a brilliant man, but he wasn’t given the same opportunities I was.” Pete hummed, lost in thought. “Maybe,” he said carefully. “You could teach him. When we get back to the ship, I mean.” He froze when Mo didn’t respond, instead looking at him carefully. “What?” he asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Mo shrugged, trying to find the right words. “I…I guess I’m just surprised,” they said haltingly. “That you’re suggesting I help Izzy. I thought that would be the last thing on your mind right now, after what he did to you.” Their tone was delicate, as if reminding Pete of his time marooned by Izzy would break whatever tentative peace they had been able to find.

Pete sighed, looking back at his hands. “I don’t know. Maybe I was a little quick to judge him. For all we know, Blackbeard wanted us shot, and Izzy talked him down. Besides,” he glanced at Mo, giving them a small smile, “you vouched for him, and I know you have good taste in friends. That’s why you’re so close with Lucius.”

Mo smiled. They tentatively brought a hand up to lay on Pete’s shoulder, giving him a soft squeeze and hoping he could tell how much they appreciated him.

“I’m friends with you too, y’know.”

“See? Great taste.”

The two stayed like that, reassuring each other that their partners would be okay, until exhaustion clawed at them, forcing them back to their nests. Mo was relieved as their head finally hit their pillow. Their crew was back, safe and sound with them, and Black Pete had forgiven them. If even he was willing to make amends after Izzy had left them all stranded, surely the rest would soon follow. The only one less forgiving of the gruff first mate was Stede, but he’d forgive him as soon as he was reunited with his dear Edward. Even the lovestruck captain knew that Izzy was the one keeping Edward alive and safe, his only tether to reality when his mind became too wild.

It was a small miracle that everyone who had been marooned had made it to land safely. Mo just hoped that those still at sea were as lucky.

#izzy hands #ofmd #ofmd izzy #izzy hands x reader #izzy hands x oc #my writing #original character

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