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dindjarindiaries · 1 year

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The Mandalorian Seasons 1 & 3: Direct Parallels

After rewatching The Mandalorian season 3 cohesively and thinking back to season 1, I came upon a realization that every episode of season 3 somehow directly parallels back to each respective episode of season 1. Below is a breakdown going episode-by-episode and diving deep into each parallel I noticed. Please keep in mind that these are my observations and theories, nothing more!

CHAPTER 1: THE MANDALORIAN & CHAPTER 17: THE APOSTATE

“Chapter 1: The Mandalorian” is all about setting up Din Djarin’s journey, mainly the job he’s tasked with that causes him to cross paths with a new ally, Grogu. “Chapter 17: The Apostate”—like many season openers—accomplishes the same thing: setting up Din’s journey and causing him to cross paths with a reluctant ally, Bo-Katan Kryze. IG-11 is an important part of each episode and helps to bring some comedic relief to the screen. In Chapter 1, Din utters the infamous “I like those odds” line when his odds are 4 to 1. Din also finds himself with 4 to 1 odds during the pirate showdown, where he takes down four of them and leaves Vane standing. Lastly, Chapter 1 reveals that the job Din’s taken is a very difficult one that other hunters either can’t complete or refuse to. Chapter 17 proves that Din’s journey to Mandalore is also seemingly impossible and many others refuse to do it.

CHAPTER 2: THE CHILD & CHAPTER 18: THE MINES OF MANDALORE

“Chapter 2: The Child” seals the bond between Din and Grogu as Din faces trials in his journey to bringing Grogu back to Nevarro. “Chapter 18: The Mines of Mandalore” seals the bond between Din and Bo-Katan as allies while Din faces trials in his journey to redemption on Mandalore. In both episodes, Grogu has to rescue Din when he’s in danger, and both times he tries to use the Force to do so. Each episode also features Din fighting off an ambush on his own, though that tends to be pretty common for him. Both episodes also featured a creature that hasn’t been seen in Star Wars live action before: the mudhorn and the Mythosaur, respectively. By the end of each of these episodes, Din’s gained at least one new ally and has accomplished his original goal (getting Grogu back to Nevarro and earning his redemption).

CHAPTER 3: THE SIN & CHAPTER 19: THE CONVERT

“Chapter 3: The Sin” and “Chapter 19: The Convert” both see their protagonists going against a set of rules they’re expected to follow in order to further what they view as the greater good. In Chapter 3, it’s Din breaking the Guild Code to rescue Grogu. In Chapter 19, it’s Penn Pershing breaking the rules of the Amnesty Program to restart his research. Both episodes feature a betrayal of sorts, Greef Karga and Elia Kane respectively. Additionally, the Children of the Watch in both episodes—most notably Paz Vizsla—start both episodes off by being hostile towards Din only to end up helping him in some way. In Chapter 3, it was saving him and Grogu from the hunters, and in Chapter 19, it was accepting his redemption as well as Bo-Katan’s. Each episode title also uses religious language.

CHAPTER 4: SANCTUARY & CHAPTER 20: THE FOUNDLING

“Chapter 4: Sanctuary” and “Chapter 20: The Foundling” each start off a 3-episode run of different adventures that fill in the storytelling space and offer the characters time to face trials and grow before the overall story starts to wrap up. In Chapter 4, Cara Dune mostly leads the effort to rescue the village. Bo-Katan fills this same role in Chapter 20 by leading the Mandalorians to rescuing the foundling. Interestingly enough, both these episodes also are some of the only to address how and when a Mandalorian should remove their helmets to eat. Chapter 4 offers some Din backstory that he gives to Omera while Chapter 20 offers some Grogu backstory. At the end of each episode, the rescues are complete, but another call to adventure haunts the protagonists.

CHAPTER 5: THE GUNSLINGER & CHAPTER 21: THE PIRATE

These two are probably the hardest to draw parallels on. “Chapter 5: The Gunslinger” starts with a dogfight, while “Chapter 21: The Pirate” features quite a long dogfight as well. Peli Motto was originally meant to appear in Chapter 21 and her introduction to the Star Wars galaxy was in Chapter 5. Fennec Shand tells Din of the Mandalorians’ fate on Nevarro in Chapter 5, but in Chapter 21, the Mandalorians are the ones taking down others on Nevarro. Each episode also leaves off on a cliffhanger that isn’t resolved by the next episode, with Chapter 5 featuring Boba Fett saving Fennec and Chapter 21 featuring the New Republic finding beskar within a destroyed shuttle.

CHAPTER 6: THE PRISONER & CHAPTER 22: GUNS FOR HIRE

This one has some of my favorite parallels, and for no good reason! In “Chapter 6: The Prisoner,” Din teams up with mercenaries he used to work for, while we see in “Chapter 22: Guns For Hire” that Axe Woves, Koska Reeves, and other Mandalorians have become their own band of mercenaries. Both episodes feature Din being very hostile towards droids, even more so than usual. They also both include notable cameos, Bill Burr and Matt Lanter for Chapter 6 and Lizzo, Jack Black, and Christopher Lloyd for Chapter 22. In Chapter 6, Din is against the side of the law, while in Chapter 22, Din is united with Bo-Katan on the side of the law. The end of Chapter 6 saw Ranzar Malk and Qin sharing some choice words about Din while the end of Chapter 22 saw Axe also sharing some choice words about Din. (It’s fun how similar these two episodes are to each other in my head!)

CHAPTER 7: THE RECKONING & CHAPTER 23: THE SPIES

“Chapter 7: The Reckoning” and “Chapter 23: The Spies” each act as a part one of the overall grand finale of their respective seasons, with each ending on a devastating cliffhanger of a main supporting character’s tragic death. Both episodes start with a somewhat reluctant team-up of Din’s collected allies to continue a journey. Each episode is also Moff Gideon’s first appearance in their respective seasons, with both featuring Moff Gideon’s holographic image on a call before his actual physical appearance. Both episodes see the groups venturing across a desolate landscape to get to where they need to go only to get led into an ambush. In Chapter 7, it’s Grogu who gets captured by Gideon, while in Chapter 23, it’s Din who gets captured by Gideon. Additionally, each episode has peril in which allies cannot be contacted by comms. Lastly, as referenced before, Chapter 7 ends with Kuiil’s tragic death, and Chapter 23 ends with Paz’s.

CHAPTER 8: REDEMPTION & CHAPTER 24: THE RETURN

“Chapter 8: Redemption” and “Chapter 24: The Return” both end on a hopeful and somewhat peaceful note for Din and Grogu with a brand-new call to action. In Chapter 8, Moff Gideon blows up Din, while in Chapter 24, Moff Gideon gets blown up. Grogu protects Din and his allies from fire in both Chapter 8 as well as Chapter 24. In Chapter 8, the Armorer tells Din he is as Grogu’s father, while in Chapter 24, Din officially adopts Grogu as his son. Din earns a mudhorn signet for Grogu in Chapter 8 and Grogu earns part of Din’s name in Chapter 24. IG-11 sacrifices himself in Chapter 8, but comes back to life to serve as the marshal of Nevarro in Chapter 24. Both episodes contain big battle scenes that eventually lead to an entire planet being liberated. Chapter 8 features the Darksaber’s first appearance in live action, while Chapter 24 features the destruction of that same weapon. Finally, Chapter 8 sees Din and Grogu leaving Nevarro, but Chapter 24 sees Din and Grogu staying there in a home of their own.

#and this is why i love the mandalorian #is most of this just me reaching and being delusional? perhaps. perhaps #but as a season 1 girlie and a season 3 lover i will gladly go down this route #the mandalorian #star wars #the mandalorian season 1 #the mandalorian season 3 #din djarin

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gremlines · 1 month

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today i'm thinking abt black sails and its portrayal of The Other

the way flit has always been other, either by society's design or his own. a working class naval lieutenant surrounded by the sons of landed gentry. the way he holds himself as other from the rest of nassau & the pirates, even from those like hornigold who (to my memory) are also ex-navy (or at least ex-navy coded??)

the way madi, miranda, eleanor, max, and anne are all Other for being women in a male-dominated space, but how eleanor is less Other for her whiteness and wealth vs madi (and to a different degree, max) who are on the other end of the spectrum as being enitrely othered by the dominant culture. versus miranda who COULD be like eleanor but chooses to hold herself as other.

the otherness even of those you'd expect to NOT be other, like vane - very traditionally masculine, but still other for his anti-slavery stance.

that one scene where rackham is in boston talking to socialites and you can FEEL how OTHER he is. the way the people in boston talk abt pirates as distant and different and Other. an intentional separation - an intentional Othering - by so-called civilization toward those they deem dangerous. the Othering of flint & vane at charlestown, where only abigail ashe sees them as people and not as Other

something something civilization wants you to cling to its light, but there is freedom in the darkness!!

#incoherent ramblings and half-baked thoughts #just the way the narrative frames civilization vs the other!!#black sails

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freedom-in-the-dark · 1 year

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A Fight Taken To Heart: How Edward Teach Became a Queer Ally in Honor of Charles Vane

This piece was originally written for the fantastic @blacksailszine, which unfathomably came out over a year ago (and you should check it out if you haven't!). Somehow, I managed to procrastinate posting this here for that long, which is asinine. Especially because I'm actually very proud of it!!!

The news about Ray Stevenson today has me emotional (of course) and thinking again about how his performance as Blackbeard had a great impact on me. In his honor, it feels like a fitting day to finally share my tribute to his character on this blog.

Without further ado... please enjoy my meta below 🖤

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The first time we see Edward Teach’s eyes, they’re framed in a mirror with a heart carved above it. Within the context of a scene designed to convey that Teach is a figure who commands fear and respect, this seems to be a curious choice for an introductory shot. Yet, much like many details placed throughout Black Sails’ meticulous narrative, the mirror’s design is poetic in hindsight because Teach’s heart was his ultimate motivation.

Over the course of multiple scenes, the first half of season 3 introduces us to both the pillars of who Teach is as a character and the primary characteristics of his relationship with Charles Vane. Taken as a whole, the picture painted of Teach’s presence in the story is that he acts as a metaphor for heterosexuality, toxic masculinity, and tradition. We learn that Teach had nine wives over the course of eight years, at least partially because he is motivated by the desire for a son. He glorifies strength above weakness, and he defines strength as superior physicality, independence, and sufficient leadership. He reminisces about the original state of Nassau in his youth, in which the standard was an enforced masculinity, powered by the notion that “one had to prove his worth.” And as he says to Vane and Jack in 3x02, in his view,

“You have taken away the one thing that made Nassau what it was. You have given her prosperity. Strife is good. Strife makes a man strong.”

Upon his introduction, Teach sees only the small picture of Nassau, not its place in the bigger picture of the world. He looks upon a Nassau rich in monetary plunder, preparing to come to its own defense or go to war, and he sees the ease in which men can typically join any crew as a marker of a lack of conflict. What he fails to take into account is that the primary strife now originates externally rather than internally because it is the strife of oppression, and that the solidarity that results from that strife creates its own version of strength.

”Why are you so determined to defend Nassau?” he asks Vane in 3x02, because the island is no longer anything special to him. “A lion keeps no den,” he tells Vane in 3x05, “Because the savanna, all the space within it. . . belongs to him.” Teach is not beholden to Nassau for haven or home, because he was able to assimilate into civilization whenever he had cause or desire. He married multiple women, flew under the British flag, and even spoke their “language” of flag codes (3x10). While Teach is certainly a pirate, it is by choice rather than survival.

As a result, he cannot understand the importance of true solidarity amongst the oppressed–and thus, Nassau’s defense–because he’s never needed it, as a straight white man who’s never been limited by oppression. And because this is a narrative where piracy is arguably a metaphor for queerness, filled with characters who do not have the luxury or desire to play by civilization’s rules, Teach sticks out upon his entrance. It’s also partially why he’s initially framed in an antagonistic light; he is not “with them,” and therefore, he is “against them” by default in some capacity.

The exception, of course, is his bond with Vane. Teach is one of many characters motivated by the desire to leave a legacy; as he says in 3x03, “There is an instinct to leave behind something made in one’s own image.” In his case, this manifests as his desire for a son–but he saw parenthood as an opportunity to mold and form another man to be his reflection. Teach wanted Vane to be a copy of him, but Vane never was, and it’s the primary source of the conflicts between them.

Teach had no love lost for Nassau, and so he calls it a “burden” on Vane, while Vane insists that he is “committed to it” and Jack by extension (3x03). Teach scoffs at the idea of such loyalty, deriding and discounting Vane and Jack’s relationship, casting aspersions on Jack’s character in the process–even as Teach demands to receive such loyalty from Vane himself. It’s evident that Teach doesn’t understand core aspects of Vane’s personality and motivations, but Vane is unequipped to explain himself to him.

This is partially because Vane initially doesn’t understand his own motivations either, especially in the face of his father figure’s disapproval. His inner struggle is exemplified in how he’s torn between allegiance to Teach, or allegiance to the rebellion for Nassau’s independence and his people caught in the fight. Flint summarizes Vane’s internal conflict by bringing it to light for him in 3x06:

“They took my home. I can’t walk away from that. Can you? Forget me, forget Teach, forget loyalty, compacts, honor, debts, all of it. The only question that matters is this: Who are you?”

It is not insignificant that a gay man says this to Vane. The struggle of finding oneself is inherently queer as a framing device, especially in the context of a narrative where piracy and freedom are pursued by the marginalized. The fact that wrestling with identity is the defining point in Vane’s arc implies that the answer exists beyond the bounds of what others would ascribe to him. Straight people–particularly in regards to Black Sails’ main cast of characters–are not faced with this question.

And various players do try to ascribe an identity to him. Teach tells Vane that he’s a lion, while the Spanish soldier calls Vane a fellow sheep (3x05); Eleanor lists Vane as the antithesis to civilization (3x01) and calls him an “animal” to his face (3x09). Yet even up to his end, though civilization and history would paint him differently, Vane’s motivations were always painfully human. Vane was driven by emotions on a deeper level than most recognized, and by desire for two primary things: freedom and honest loyalty.

Vane felt empathy for the unfree, and he was defined by wanting to avoid living in chains again at all costs–literally or metaphorically. He explicitly compared the fear that slaves face to the wider struggle of the pirates on Nassau (3x01), and the fear they feel as they sit on “Spain’s gold on England’s island,” expecting a retaliatory response. Vane feared subjugation or submission at the hands of any person or power, considering it a fate worse than death; to him, “no measure of comfort [was] worth that price” (3x08). His manifesto was “side with me. . . and we’ll keep our freedom,” and he said he was “[a man] who would die before being another man’s slave again” (2x06), which became his ultimate fate.

Pursuing freedom defined both Vane’s life and death, but it was not an abstract concept. It was freedom to a purpose: freedom from expectation; to make his own choices; to define home as he saw fit; and, crucially, to surround himself with honest people who provided mutual loyalty and respect without subterfuge or manipulation. This is why Jack, who knew him best and cared for him most, called Vane a “good man” and summarized him this way in 4x07:

“He was the bravest man I ever knew. Not without fear, just unwilling to let it diminish him. And loyal to a fault. And in a world where honesty is so regularly and casually disregarded…”

Vane exhibited and sought both honesty and loyalty. It was also how he expressed his love, and the way he wanted love to be expressed to him in return. That is partially why Eleanor so effectively acted as his downfall: he repeatedly trusted her, but she could not or would not be loyal to him. By contrast, as he told Teach in 3x02, Vane found loyalty and commitment in Jack–and in Anne by extension.

So while “a lion keeps no den,” as Teach said, what a lion does keep is a pride. A lion may be free to roam, but it does so with a family. Teach did not begin to understand the significance of that to Vane until after Vane gave his life not only in the name of freedom, but also in defense of his family and home.

This turns Teach’s earlier question of “Why are you determined to defend Nassau?” into the unspoken question of Why did Charles Vane willingly die to defend Nassau and those who are fighting for it?

When Teach called Nassau–and, to some extent, Vane’s partnership with Jack–a “burden,” Vane tried to explain to him that wasn’t the case. At the time, Teach didn’t listen. He gave Vane an ultimatum: I’ll help protect these people, but you have to leave them, their cause, and your “commitment” behind.

Teach thought leaving all of that behind was freedom, and it was a definition of freedom he thought that he and Vane shared, referring to the two of them as being “of the same mind” (3x05). But Vane was unable to leave his people or their fight behind, because that’s not what freedom meant to him. For Teach, freedom meant solitary independence; for Vane, freedom came to mean solidarity (3x09):

“Because they know that my voice, a voice that refuses to be enslaved, once lived in you. And may yet still. They brought me here today to show you death and use it to frighten you into ignoring that voice. But know this. We are many. They are few. To fear death is a choice. And they can't hang us all.”

After Vane’s death, Teach listens. In the absence of being able to listen to Vane directly, he does the next best thing: he goes to the people Vane valued most and died to protect. In the name of the mutual interest of revenge, he listens to Vane’s family.

At first, Teach obviously thinks Jack and Anne are both weird–to use a different word, he thinks they’re both queer–and he makes that clear in underhanded comments. Neither Jack nor Anne fit into the boxes of “man” or “woman” in the traditional senses that Teach is most accustomed to valuing. He doesn’t understand why Vane would align with them and their cause above all else, or why Vane would be loyal to them and value their unconditional loyalty in return. But Teach seemingly knows that if he can get to know them, then perhaps he can understand what Vane saw in them, and–in turn–learn more about Vane as well. Vane lives on in pieces of them, and so it is upon listening to them that Teach ends up indirectly listening to Vane one last time.

In a discussion spurred by Anne’s concerns, Jack and Teach debate the merits of murdering Eleanor Guthrie or chasing Woodes Rogers, and they bond over their shared understanding and memory of Vane’s “distrust of sentimentality” (4x02). They can chase an empty version of revenge in the name of justice, fueled by emotion... or they can fight to win the war of resistance that Vane gave his life to incite. Between the two of them and their shared grief, and in an echo of Vane’s internalized arc, they find that the only question that matters is this: Who was Vane, and what mattered to him most? They both discover they already know the answer.

For Teach, acknowledging that answer involves fully accepting that Jack and Anne were the family that Vane chose, that the rebellion for Nassau’s freedom was personal enough to Vane that he died for it, and that this is a fight which holds value and necessity that Teach initially misunderstood.

Teach is straight, and his views on masculinity are not fully incompatible with the ones civilization enforces. Oppressive powers hold no true threat for him, because he is capable of assimilation; he could leave Nassau and thus the rebellion for its freedom behind. He always planned to. But after the sacrifice of the man he considered a son, he chooses to become an ally in the fight against white supremacy, and an explicit supporter of Jack and Anne–the queer found family that Vane prioritized, and died to protect.

Teach always thought he was molding Vane into his own image, but the reverse became oddly true instead: Teach allies with the cause, gives his life for it, and indirectly protects Jack and Anne with his final moments, echoing and honoring Vane’s sacrifice.

Woodes Rogers expected to keelhaul Teach into submission by default, through torture no man should have been able to repeatedly survive. But to fear death–to submit to death on anything other than one’s own terms–is a choice. A pirate’s fear is an opponent’s victory; Vane and Teach both knew that, and embodied it. Teach’s unwillingness to let fear diminish him or to be broken by Rogers was largely the result of his own principles and hard-won defiance, but it was also the only reason Jack and Anne narrowly avoided the same fate.

It aligns poetically: in the final months of his life, Teach’s actions were motivated by old shifting shrapnel lodged in his chest and the beating of his heart, which he referred to as “a grim little timepiece” (3x06). And “the louder that clock [ticked]”–the more the shrapnel moved, and the closer his end became–the more inclined he was to pursue happiness and purpose (3x01).

Ultimately, he was keelhauled 3 times, and then he was shot.

For Charles–tick.

For Jack–tick.

For Anne–tick.

And for Nassau–

Boom.

How fitting.

After all, Edward Teach always expected that his heart would bring about his end.

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If you'd like to read more of my meta about this show, here are the other pieces I've written:

• Black Sails, Queer Representation, and the Valid Canonicity of Subtext

(I should crosspost that to tumblr at some point ^)

• The Flinthamilton Reunion Is Definitely Real

• James Flint Is Gay

And my pinned post on Twitter @/gaypiracy has a collection of the shorter posts / writing I inadvisably did on there.

Don't forget to check out the Black Sails Zine for a variety of incredible work :)

#black sails meta #edward teach #blackbeard #charles vane #black sails #edward teach meta #this is mostly going to get seen and scrolled past by people who are into that Other Show now isn't it? probably lol #vanerackham #what on earth is the trio's quasi ship name?#vanerackhambonny #fuck it I don't know #charles vane meta #my meta #okay I'm done. but in all seriousness I'm still very proud of this piece of writing!!!!#thank you to Ray Stevenson for all that he gave us by playing Teach with such gravitas and depth. RIP to a wonderfully talented man

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cakbanedraws · 1 year

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wazzup! Already watched Mando season 3 a few days ago, my mood for following SW content is back. Also, there is one new character that makes me interested to draw him, his name is Vane

A Nikto space pirates, btw I share one of my another WIPs...

Will finish this piece sooner

#onoha-arts #mandalorian season 3 #din djarin #grogu #mandalorian #star wars #wip #space pirates #hondo ohnaka #vane #nikto #fanart #the mandalorian #mandalorian spoilers #space pirate vane

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storkmuffin · 6 months

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The INCREDIBLE emotional resilience of James Flint/McGraw is absolutely fascinating to me. In the space of one afternoon he had Miranda tell him he should stop being ashamed of being gay, was handed the true love talisman (Meditations of Marcus Aurelius), after which he had to admit to how he is haunted by not immolating himself to try to rescue Thomas Hamilton from Bedlam, learned about the girl Abigail who is The KEY to achieving his long term dream and THEN while he was meditating on his heartbreak got attacked by fucking Vane (who is such a sucky pirate he can't even kill someone whom he ambushed from behind - dude get it together!), yet he pulls it all together in the space of minutes to give a stirring speech to inspire the Guthries to get on board with his program with the blood still on his face and the tears still in his eyes. Man of all time. Bar None.

#this is a james flint stan account now #captain flint #james mcgraw #black sails

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nnschneider · 19 days

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Username Fic Game

@wurzelbertzwerg tagged me for this so I'll give it a whirl. Just an aside that it's a little intimidating to recommend stories to the void, to pick a list that is varied across different fandoms and

Rules: Take each letter of your username and rec a fic whose title starts with that same letter! Then feel free to pass it on to your friends.

I think we can tell that I don't recognize the authority of whoever established the rule to this game. I used my AO3 name -- snafsnaf -- so I'd have fewer letters to recommend for and then I totally substituted the letter sometimes when I really felt like it, which was a lot.

S - Stronger than we are by wurzelbertzwerg: Northanger Abbey AU with vampires! Catherine! Henry! Gothic thriller! This one has a body count.

N - Ouroboros: the Endless Cycle by WANMWAD: yeah, yeah, this isn't really an "N" titled story but allow me to recommend it anyway. It's Zootopia as a Meso American fantasy.

A - Anthophilia by fortinbrasftw: a Good Omens Human AU from 2015 that made me want to get an AO3 account just so I could bookmark it.

F - Five Times Frederick Wentworth Had the Breath Knocked Out of Him On the Ice (and one time he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding) by amarguerite: a modern , Canadian, Figure Skating AU of Persuasion. The slow burn is already baked in!

S - In Favor with Their Stars by mxmollusca: the last word in the title begins with "S". Our Flag Means Death,,, in space! But not space pirates.

N - Gentle Antidote by x_los: this has 2 Ns in the title and neither is the first letter of a word. It's a Peter Wimsey/Harriet Vane soulmates AU. I read soulmate AUs but I don't bookmark them, except this one.

A - Anywhere, I would have followed you (Say Something) by Indygodusk: angsty Miraculous Ladybug. I watched my inbox religiously for updates when it was coming out.

F - Fear of Wolves by untoughphotoreceptor: Dramione reimagining of Little Red Riding Hood.

I really am terrible at ending these and passing them onto someone else so I'll just offer this up to the universe. Are you reading this? Tag, you're it!

#tagging game #fanfiction #i don't make the rules #i don't follow the rules

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somedaylazysomeday · 1 year

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Captured - Part Two

Charles Vane x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

The Ranger is under attack by another ship.

Rating: NC-17, explicit, lemon, etc. Minors DNI!

Word Count: 4,500

Warnings: multiple mentions of blood, canon-typical violence, brief non-consensual sexual touching, mentions of fighting, graphic description of violence and death, mentions of slavery, fingering, brief oral sex (male receiving), unprotected piv sex, creampie

Previous | Next | Masterlist

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Humans bled. You were well acquainted with the process - had spent more than a few of your years lamenting that very fact. Everything from your monthly courses to a stumble or a scrape left you cleaning the rust-colored liquid from your skin and clothing. To bleed was a natural thing and blood was nothing to be frightened of.

It felt entirely frightening now.

You stared blankly at the wall of your small office aboard the Ranger. Your eyes stung with the need to close them, to sleep or sigh or blink - but when you shut your eyes, all you saw was red.

You had been living on the Ranger for several months now. After you had proved that the crew’s spoils were worth less on Nassau than other crews earned for similar goods, the crew had voted to keep you onboard as their permanent clerk. You devised ways to deal with Eleanor Guthrie - sometimes going around her to deal with Mr. Scott, other times selling the ship’s goods to other crews in exchange for a small service charge - but you had other duties on board as well. You calculated rations, helped tally inventory, and tracked the ship’s speed, considering every different variable you could collect data on.

The secret of your true identity was still largely a secret. Anne Bonny had ferreted out the truth in only a few short weeks - well before you had reached Nassau for the first time. What Bonny knew, she often shared with Jack Rackham, so there was a possibility he knew as well. And, of course, Captain Charles Vane was well aware of your womanhood. You slept in his quarters nearly as often as you slept in your office. You would do a great deal to avoid the barracks, but you could privately admit that there were other perks to sharing space with the captain.

The crew may have grumbled about the fact that you did not take part in their squabbles with other ships, but most seemed to accept the idea that you were not a pirate. Your role on the Ranger was to deal with numbers, not with people. You were useful in other areas, which was precisely what Captain Vane told them any time he overheard them complaining about your ‘privileges’. Vane had his own reasons to keep you out of battle, but he declined to share them with you. More likely than not, it was because he would prefer to keep a warm cunt to bury himself in. You were happy to avoid hearing those words directly.

For those reasons, you were always tucked safely away when the Ranger took a prize. The doorway of your office was barricaded and blocked, and you were armed with a small pistol and a dagger. The first few times had been terrifying - the world-shaking boom of cannons and the sharp clatter of musket fire reaching your ears with laughable ease even through the protective cover of the ship - but nothing had come of them. Captain Charles Vane was well-known and widely feared. Few could stand against him and even fewer were willing to try.

This time was different.

The Ranger had spotted a promising ship on the horizon in the early hours of the morning. They had caught up to her by the afternoon and prepared to board. Vane had locked you in your office himself, placing the pistol in your hand and giving you a sharp nod before he left. You still were unused to the sounds and uncertain you ever would be, but you did your best to ignore them… until you realized they sounded wrong.

The other ship was firing as well, cannons discharging at the Ranger. You heard the crack of splintering wood from somewhere on the ship, but you could not begin to guess where it was coming from. And once the screams started, you no longer cared to work it out.

Curses and shouts of vengeance mingled horribly with the screams, undercut by the sound of boots thudding against the deck over your head. A chill went down your spine: the Ranger was being boarded.

For the next eternity, the sounds of fighting reached you, falling thick and fast through the sturdy wooden beams of the ship’s deck. You prayed frantically, trying to slow the pounding beat of your heart as you eased under whatever protection your desk could offer. It did no good - your door was forced open shortly afterward.

You gasped, fumbling for the pistol. An instant later, it was kicked from your stinging hands and you were dragged to your feet by an unfamiliar man of an impressive stature. His eyes were cold and cruel, and the naval uniform he wore did nothing to ease your mistrust of him.

“Are you a pirate or a hostage?” he asked, gaze flicking over your body.

You stared at him, struck mute with fear and apprehension.

He shook his head impatiently. “Come with me and we’ll sort it out on deck.”

The man used his grip on your arm to tow you out after him, walking through the barracks and past several fallen members of the Ranger’s crew. You stared at them in dismay, slowing in a way that displeased your escort.

“Keep up, boy,” he snapped, giving your shoulders a shake so harsh that the thong tying your hair fell away. “The crown will hardly care about one more dead pirate-”

He trailed off, eyes brightening as they watched the way your hair fell from the tight tail you had kept it in. Those eyes darted across your face and torso, tallying up parts of your appearance and seeming pleased by the total he had reached. Before you could even attempt to push away from him, he dropped a hand, forcing it below the band of your pants and cupping the mound of your sex.

“What is this?” he asked, smiling cruelly as you gasped. “A whore in disguise?”

The decision to release your dominant arm worked against him and you located the dagger in a heartbeat, burying it in his stomach a moment later. His face convulsed, tightening in shock as he stared down at the handle of the dagger still held in your hand. You kept your grip firm, jerking the dagger sideways until the man’s face went purple, then white as he crumpled to his knees. Your hand was washed in a hot wave of blood and you lost your grip on the dagger - now buried in the writhing mass of intestines spilling from his gut.

You retched, moving to clap a hand over your mouth but caught sight of the blood before you could do something so foolish. That made you retch again and you retreated into your office, closing the door as best you could behind you.

That was where you still were, your blank gaze fixed on the opposite wall. If you were careful, you could avoid seeing your blood-spattered hands or the browning stains spread across your clothing. If you just focused on the wall, you could pretend your ears were not ringing with the sound he had made as he finally collapsed to the floor. In the solace of your mind, you could be far from here.

And that was what you did.

Even when the sound of your name shouted in increasing fervor echoed through the barracks and around the walls of your office, you kept your eyes fixed on that wall. When rough hands grabbed you, they could belong to no one other than Vane, but you flinched anyway.

He bit out your name so harshly that the sound seemed like it should have hit you as a physical blow, but it seemed like it was coming from a great distance away.

The firm slap against your cheek came through with perfect clarity.

You gasped at Vane, only just managing to stop yourself from touching your face with your still-bloodied hands. He watched you without remorse, but there was a tinge of worry underlying the intensity of his stare.

“Are you injured?” he asked, and you distantly realized that it was not the first time he had asked the question.

“No,” you assured him slowly, trying to remember. “It is not my blood.”

If you were even slightly more aware, the surprise on Vane’s face would have offended you, but it was all you could do to keep your attention fixed on the conversation. “Whose is it?”

“A soldier, I believe,” you told him, gesturing vaguely toward the door of your office. “He is still out there. He was big.”

“That was your doing?” Vane asked, sounding even more astonished. “A man twice your size? You gutted him.”

You felt your stomach lurch again and shook your head sharply. “Please. I cannot- do not make me discuss this. I need…” You held up your hands, mutely showing their iron-scented dye to the captain.

“Wait here.”

Vane had left the office, but returned only moments later. He was holding a strip of cloth - one you recognized as the cloth he used as a handkerchief - that was dripping with water. He knelt in front of you and began cleaning your hands. Ridiculously, your thoughts were consumed with hoping he had used the ladle from the water bucket rather than dipping the cloth directly inside. A contaminated bucket would do nothing but begin arguments among the crew.

“You’re quiet,” Vane commented, running the cloth along the very edges of your fingernails.

“I- I cannot help but think over the things that brought me here.” Vane stilled, his pale eyes searching your face. “I could have hidden somewhere else or been faster to shoot. I could have fought on deck with the crew or stayed behind on Nassau. I could have chosen to die when you boarded the Persistence. I could have lived my life in London and never set foot on a ship as long as I drew breath.”

“You hated London,” Vane said, the reminder seeming to spring automatically from his lips. You had said it often enough, and it was the truth, but…

“But it would have meant I did not take a man’s life,” you countered. “It would have meant that I could have died never knowing the weight of a man’s intestines against the back of my hand.”

You shuddered, your hand tightening into a fist at the remembered sensation. Vane wiped the cloth over the back of your hand and down over your knuckles, coaxing your fingers open with a gentleness that frankly shocked you.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you murmured. “My life wasn’t supposed to be piracy and ships and blood-”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen, but you did well,” Vane interrupted, cleaning the path left by a single drop of blood as it had trailed down your forearm.

You laughed, the sound ugly and harsh in the otherwise peaceful office. “I did well. You are correct, I defended myself very well. I used a dagger in a way I had hoped never to do. I never planned to do. I wasn’t supposed to be the type of person who has stabbed a man to death.”

The world began to soften around the edges as your gaze returned to the opposite wall. You missed the way Vane’s hands tightened around your newly clean fingers, and the way his eyes grew steely. You noticed when he stood, but only because he rose directly into your line of sight and there was no avoiding him.

That was especially true when he wrapped warm hands around your upper arms, yanking you roughly to your feet. He ducked to be on-level with you, the tight battle-style of his hair leaving his face devastatingly bare.

“Listen to me,” he ordered. “I can’t say I know what you’re going through. You thought you wouldn’t be like this, thought you would have a different life. Maybe it would have been a better one - who’s to say? But I know damned well what my life was before. This is far better than I ever dreamed. I thought I was fated to pain and toil. I was told I deserved chains. Hell, I’m still told that now.”

You blinked at the unexpected perspective. “I’m sorry-”

“No,” he said, silencing you with a single syllable. “Here’s what you need to know: it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what you thought your life would be, or what you planned for yourself, or even what you feel you deserve. All that matters is where you are. You’re here, you’re alive, and you killed a man to make sure of it. He deserved his death, but you’ll have his blood on your hands for the rest of your life.”

You took a breath, listening to the way it shuddered into your lungs. Slowly, carefully, you nodded. Vane nodded with you.

“You have a life because you fought for it. Now you decide what you want to do with it.”

The next breath you took was far more steady. You met his gaze. “Distract me. Please. I need to think about… I need to stop thinking. Please.”

“What do you need from me?” he asked.

“Fuck me, Vane,” you amended. The captain always appreciated a direct approach.

Vane’s stare burrowed under your skin. His voice - always deep - went so rough it sounded almost painful. “That’s really what you need?”

You nodded, any verbal assurances caught behind the lingering fear still bubbling in your throat. Vane didn’t wait for anything more, ducking slightly to capture your mouth in a heated, exploratory kiss.

Despite your inner turmoil and the visions dancing behind your eyelids, you melted into Vane. It was instinctive at this point, something you could not fight even if you had wished to. You knew what pleasures came from this, and your body would not be denied.

In moments, your breasts grew tender, peaked with stiff nipples as the familiar dampness grew between your legs. Vane’s hands rose to run over your bare skin, creating more of it with every pass of those roughened fingers. Your male clothing fell away as he dropped his head to mouth at your neck, to nip at your shoulder. He hissed a curse against your skin and you realized that your hips were making tiny circles, searching for friction against Vane’s leg.

“How do you want it?” he demanded, a frantic look in his pale eyes.

“I want to be overwhelmed,” you told him, voice breathy. “Beyond that, I do not care.”

Vane nodded and you found yourself on the floor of your office only a moment later. You arched against the cool wooden boards, but Vane pressed you into them again as he lowered himself down on top of you. His hair had fallen free of whatever cord or thong he had used to tie it back for the battle and it fell freely around you both. You were awash in the scent of smoke and man and Vane.

His mouth was pressed against yours once more as his kiss grew - if possible - more intense. His lips and tongue worked against your own in a messy fumble that resulted in more than one clash of teeth between you.

Your hips shot upward when Vane managed to push your trousers far enough down your legs that his foot could catch and push them away, leaving you bare for him. The touch of his fingers between your legs brought an instant surge of pleasure, instantly made sweeter with the way one of those fingers breached your channel.

“So tight,” Vane said, his voice half a plea. “Don’t know how long I can wait.”

“Then you should not wait,” you urged, raising your hips once more. Vane’s eyes darted down to the place where his hand was pressed, heating at what he saw there. You could hear your own wetness as he thrust his finger into you.

You had a moment of guilt so pronounced that it nearly knocked you out of the moment entirely. You had never been overly religious - nothing more than weekly church services - but the moral reprehensibility of doing this act outside of the sanctity of marriage had been made clear. Even then, proper ladies didn’t enjoy it. You had not been taught much of your own body, but it had been made clear that you were expected to submit to your husband - lying still and silent under the blankets in a darkened room.

That expectation bore little resemblance to where you found yourself now.

Before you could stumble any further over your own upbringing, Vane added another finger and your mind grew far too distant to waste energy pondering the implications of enjoying this.

A noise burst from you, the desperate whine answered with a deep growl from Vane. His thumb pressed against the pearl at the top of your sex and your hips jerked once more. Your head thrashed back and forth against the floorboards, brow furrowed as you chased the pleasure shining just out of your reach.

“Let it take you,” Vane commanded, leaning down to press a hard kiss to your lips.

You let out a little cry into his mouth as the shining wave broke over you, leaving you floating in a pool of bliss uncorrupted by thought.

“Better?”

You peered at Vane, reluctantly opening your eyes to do so. When you had closed them in the first place, you weren’t sure. He was watching you with fondness on his normally fierce face. There was patience there, a bit of wry amusement, but also a touch of hunger.

A warmth heated your chest. If you said you were better - that you were finished - Vane would take you at your word. He would leave you be rather than push himself on you when you were fragile. Of course, you would pay that particular bill with interest later. If you denied him now, your coupling that night would be frantic, full of heated whispers and growled promises.

That was almost enough to convince you to wave him off for now, but you never had been good at saving some of your sweets for later. You shook your head. “No, not at all.”

Vane nodded solemnly, but his pale eyes sparkled at your dramatic pout and the sad look you were aiming in his direction. “Then we’ll keep trying.”

“I hate to be so much trouble,” you said with a sigh, draping a hand over your head in a way that always made Vane take one of your breasts into his mouth. You had teased him about it once, warned that he would suffocate that way if he were not careful. He had been unmoved, telling you that it sounded like a better death than he had ever considered.

The memory - pleasant as it was - left your mind entirely as Vane’s lips closed around your nipple. The pressure he applied with his mouth left your knees weak and your jaw slack, though he chased a sound from you when his teeth closed in the space surrounding the tight peak. He did not seek to do any permanent damage, but as he pulled back, the pain that rushed into that place warned that you would be sore when you tried to bind your chest the next day.

“Have you resorted to cannibalism?” you asked, cradling the tender flesh of your breast.

One side of Vane’s mouth lifted in a filthy smirk as his gaze traveled down your torso to fix between your thighs. “It’s a thought.”

You chuckled as you pushed his shoulder. Vane collapsed flat on his back with a groan that you could feel through the floorboards. You leaned over him, horrified. Had he been injured in the skirmish and decided against telling you for some reason?

“Vane?” you asked anxiously.

He cracked his eyes open, looking solemn but free of pain. “You’re a fierce opponent. You’ve bested me.”

You sighed, shaking your head and biting back the amusement you felt before it could show on your face. “I was worried you were hurt!”

“I am,” he insisted. “I may never stand again. There is only one thing that can heal me.”

The walls of your office were thin, and the placement of the barracks outside meant that you worked to remain as quiet as possible during your activities with Vane. This time, however, you were unable to fight back a shriek of laughter as he grabbed your waist and settled you firmly on top of him. You were straddling him, knees splayed to either side of his narrow hips.

He muffled your giggles with his lips, dragging your face down to his for a kiss that felt like he truly was trying to eat you alive. At the same time, the gentle rocking of his body between your legs was stirring you from mere readiness to the edge of madness.

Vane was a man who liked to be in control. You could hardly blame him, given his past experiences, but it meant that you had few chances to hone your repertoire of movements when you were in charge. In truth, you could only remember a handful of times you ever had been in this position.

So, when Vane frowned, shifting uncomfortably beneath you, you feared the worst. “What is it? Do you need me to-?”

You started to rise up from your seat, but Vane held you firmly in place. “No, don’t move. Not like that anyway. But I cannot feel you at all through this,” he complained, indicating his breeches.

This time, you let your amusement show. “What a tragedy! Allow me to help…”

You slid backward, shifting your weight to his thighs as you unlaced the front of Vane’s breeches. When his cock was free, bobbing hard and angry from the confinement, you continued back, drawing the material with you until Vane could kick it away. On your path back up to him, you paused to lick a stripe up the underside of his manhood, lingering at the tip for a moment while you decided how you wanted to proceed.

The choice was taken from you when Vane hissed a loud curse and pulled you upward. The movement was totally lacking in grace, but - as you spilled over the bare planes of Vane’s muscular torso and you realized that he had spent his time undressing while you were plotting his pleasure - you did not entirely mind.

“I am trying to give you the chance of occupying your own mind,” he bit out. “But more of that and I won’t be able to control myself any longer.”

“Shall I apologize?” you asked playfully. “I know how much you enjoy losing control of yourself.”

Vane’s eyes were wild. “Apologize or don’t, it makes no difference to me. But make your choice soon or I’ll make it for you.”

This kiss was initiated by you, and Vane seemed surprised when you slipped your tongue between his teeth before he had the chance to do the same to you. Still, he was enthusiastic in his response, and you liked to think you startled him a second time when you held his cock in place and sank down onto it.

Vane broke from you with a groan, eyes widening briefly before they fell closed in pleasure, a faint smile on his stern mouth.

Finding your rhythm was not a quick process, nor was it particularly elegant, but you found a pace that made your own breath quicken. The muscles of Vane’s abdomen tightened under your hands, which you assumed meant he was enjoying it as well. Of course, you considered the muttered curses and broken-off thrusts to be additional proof.

Your thighs started to tremble and your knees ached, but stopping was a solution you did not bother to consider. Everything else would pass; this was essential. Even when you realized that the pleasurable peak you had summited earlier would be out of your reach with Vane’s hardness as your sole source of stimulation, you continued the regular rise and fall of your hips, working toward an end with a fervor that was almost mindless.

A brush against the swollen bead at the top of your sex made you gasp. A glance down showed that Vane had dropped his hand to his pelvis, cradled in a way that gave you a brush of friction every time you and Vane were fully flush.

It was clever, you mused in the back of your mind, the only place with enough sense remaining to think anything more than yes, yes, please, more, yes. Vane was not forcing pleasure upon you or even giving it. Instead, he was offering it, encouraging you to find your own stimulation. It was what he had been doing all along, and you were grateful to him.

Of course, those considerations were locked away behind an ever-growing need to shatter once more. You picked up speed, the large muscles of your thighs cramping and your hips protesting the wide angle at which you were holding them, but your mind was fixed on a single purpose.

In only a few more strokes, you achieved that purpose.

You tipped forward, your hands bracing against Vane’s stomach to keep from collapsing altogether. It was a mystery to you how your trembling limbs managed to hold you when your mind and body were occupied in exploding outward, soaring until you swore you could see the stars themselves.

Fragments of your consciousness were still floating down to the Ranger when Vane gave a stuttering thrust upward. Your eyes cracked open enough to see him watching you. With a dreamy smile, you repeated his earlier words, “Let it take you.”

With that permission, Vane drove himself upward, burying his length between your thighs over and over as his grip on your hips kept you in place. When he gave a hoarse gasp and slammed himself full-force into you, shuddering with the violence of spilling into you, your core gave a weak squeeze around him as if in sympathy… or an unwillingness to let him fall alone.

When you allowed yourself to melt to the floor beside him, you could feel the perfection of the moment melting, but slowly enough that you stayed to savor it. Vane’s release was starting to leak out of you, slipping around the captain’s softening length. Your sweat was starting to cool, except where your skin was pressed to Vane’s, where it worked to adhere you to him. Your knees hurt, as did your breast.

It was precisely what you had needed.

With a smile, you leaned over to press a kiss to your lover’s cheek. “Thank you, Vane.”

Vane choked out an incredulous laugh. “Never say that again. If you need me, I’m here.”

It was the closest thing to a declaration of… anything that Vane had ever made, and you allowed yourself another moment to lie by his side and push the thoughts away.

---

Author's Note - Congrats on making it this far! When I was writing the warnings, I figured no one would actually read this chapter. Sounded pretty bad, huh?

I don't offer taglists for explicit works, but you can check out my other works on my masterlist. I'll be back tomorrow with another fic for Fanfic February 2023!

Thanks for reading!

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2023 #fanficfebruary #black sails #black sails reader insert #captain charles vane #charles vane #charles vane x reader #charles vane x you #reader insert #reader insert fic #reader insert fanfiction #lemon #no minors allowed #not suitable for minors #minors dni

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