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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

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Meeting your demon pirate boyfriend

General plot: A demon pirate wins you in a card game

This is slightly off brand, it's not too monstery more piratey but I had it in my head...

Demon pirate (Harland) x gender neutral reader

💕 SFW MASTERPOST 💕

Word Count: 1k

W: gag, restraints, threats of sa, mostly sfw pirate fluff

You glared at the pirate as he threw another few cards down, biting down on your gag. Only a few hours earlier you’d been working at this very tavern, serving ale to the regulars of the small seaside town you lived in completely oblivious to how your day would end.

The pirates had taken the town easily. It only employed a small militia of skinny fisherman armed with spears while they had swords and cannons. The ones that didn’t run away immediately died screaming and the citizens they didn’t kill were divided up between them.

Now that the fun part was over, they’d crowded into the tavern to drink whatever ale was behind the counter and gamble. Only the pirate holding you by the hair was using you as a chip.

“You have to give me a chance to win 'em back, Harland,” he pleaded as he examined his losing hand splayed out on the table, “look at that ass!”

“No, I don’t think I will,” the captain of the ship chuckled at him, slapping his hands on his knees, “I’m bored with cards. Go find one of the leftovers from the pen to fuck around with, there are plenty left.”

He eyed you and you balled up trying to make yourself small. Curling his fingers at you he beckoned for you to crawl over to him. The pirate holding you loosened his grip and shoved you forward with a pout. A sore loser. You fell forward on your face, tangled up in your apron.

The captain chuckled at you, dragging you towards him by the straps of your apron. He was a demon, so he was much larger than you with thick, dark horns jutting out of his head. Narrowing his black eyes at you, he pulled your chin between his fingers and turned your head from side to side, examining you.

“You’re a pretty one,” he said, licking a gold fang, “you’ll do nicely.”

You trembled in front of him, terrified of what would come next. He threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and climbed the stairs to the rooms above. Instinctually, you fought, thrashing on his shoulder and probably bruising your sides.

He tossed you on a bed and shut the door, locking it behind him. You scooted as far away from him as possible, cowering in the corner.

“You don’t have to be so frightened,” he said, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

As if to prove his point, he untied the gag from your head and freed your wrists. You watched in terror as he crossed the room and pulled a book from a bag. He tossed it to you and you looked confused.

“W-what is this?” you asked, holding it up.

“A book,” he chuckled, “please tell me that you can read.”

You nodded hesitantly.

“Then read it,” he said.

You shakily opened the pages and stared at the words, but you didn’t process any of it. You were still terrified and now confused.

“Out loud,” he growled and you swallowed hard, forcing your eyes to focus.

You read the first page to him, your voice shaking. It was a story about an old man climbing a mountain.

“Mmm,” he hummed, “I like your voice. I made a good choice.”

He sank down onto the bed next to you and put his arms behind his head, leaning back against the wall and getting comfortable.

“Keep going,” he prompted you when you’d paused.

You read to him for a few hours until you glanced up and found his eyes were closed. Sure he’d fallen asleep, you quietly crept to your feet.

“There’s no sense in trying to run away” he said startling you, wrapping his big hands around your waist and pulling you into his lap, “you’re staying with me.”

“You can’t do this!” you cried, trying escape his iron grip.

He jerked your chin up to him so that you had to meet his eyes.

“Do you want me to give you to the rest of my men to do what they want with you?” he asked, “maybe I should lock you naked in the stocks in the middle of town, see if you’ve changed your mind in a day or two.”

Your mouth snapped shut. He gave you a cruel smile.

“If you want my protection, you’ll do what I say,” he said, “otherwise…”

He let you come to your own conclusions. You wanted to spit in his face, but you swallowed it down and relaxed in his arms.

“That’s a good pet,” he said, stroking your hair, “I’m not a cruel master. I can make you a very happy little companion if you let me.”

You whimpered, struggling with your impulse to fight. The pirate watched your conflict, amused.

“Eager for my men?” he asked you, dragging a claw over your cheek.

You glared at him and stiffly shook your head.

“Good,” he said, baring his big teeth at you, “it would be a pity if they got to touch you before me.”

You stiffened and he pulled you close to him, rubbing your head. You were surrounded by his musky scent, strong from all the day's exertion.

“You can relax,” he said, “I’m not going to force you. I’ve never needed to force anyone in my life. You’ll be on your knees begging for my cock in a few days all on your own.”

You let out a relieved breath, though you scoffed at the last part. He was horrible. There was no way in hell you were fucking him if he wasn’t going to force you.

“Then what are you going to do with me?” you asked, afraid to hear the answer.

He looked at you as if that should be obvious.

“I want you to read to me and when you aren’t doing that you can follow me around for status. It looks good to have a pretty toy on your arm,” he winked at you, "of course we'll have to get you some nicer outfits, maybe a leash."

He held a limp lock of hair in his hand, damp from your panicked sweat.

"...a haircut."

You were a little taken aback at how vain this pirate was, but now that you got a good look at him you should have guessed. He was adorned with a clump of gold chains and his shirt was a fine material with shiny gold buttons even though it had a bit of blood spattered on it. Punched into his pointed ears were a variety of earrings with sparkling jewels and his fingers were laden with shiny rings.

“Now,” he said, putting the book back in your hands, “start where you left off.”

He leaned back, absently dragging his claws through your hair, while you read to him late into the night.

#pirate romance #monster romance #pirate #pirate oc #demon #demon oc #monster human #monster x human #monster fluff #fluff #pirate fluff #sfw fluff #oneshot #my fic post #my fic #monster x gender neutral reader

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mamamittens · 1 year

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Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 2)

Masterpost, Part 1

Platonic Whitebeard Pirates & Reader-Insert (with glasses)

Warnings: Platonic Yandere behavior and yes, the kidnapping is still actively occurring. If yandere content disturbs or otherwise unsettles you, I deeply suggest you do not read this series and block the tag "oh sweet child of mine" as well as "one piece yandere". Though mostly framed in a humorous way, it is still very toxic and problematic behavior that you should, in no way, entertain in real life from anyone.

Stay safe and enjoy.

Word Count: 1,540 (would be longer, but I didn't want to have this transitionary chapter be squished in with meeting Whitebeard and settling in)

When you became a marine, you had considered what you would do if you ran afoul of pirates. Assuming they didn’t kill you outright, that is.

In none of these imagined scenarios did you picture yourself awkwardly curled up in a med bay on one of the ‘junior’ Moby Dicks. As it turns out, Fire Fist and The Phoenix were running a small supply run simultaneously to another junior vessel since none of the surrounding islands could accommodate the Moby Dick herself—the Yonko ship being so absolutely massive for her crew and captain. A young man with a blue mask over his eyes ‘Masked Deuce’ was wiping your face and inspecting your nose for any damage that hadn’t been healed with a critical eye. Fire Fist was somewhere else—likely getting food for himself if his gluttonous behavior was any indication—while The Phoenix appeared to be starting your medical file.

That… was probably not good. The slim possibility that you were going to just be ransomed seemed to dissolve with every scratch of ink he added.

“Well, aside from some possible malnutrition and exhaustion, you seem in good shape. Not what I’d expect of a marine in these parts, though I guess they didn’t care too much about your physical condition.” Deuce placed a firm hand on your shoulder and smiled. “If you’re interested, we can get you into good shape in no time! Or maybe you’re interested in pursuing something else? Oyaji has plenty of resources we can use.” You couldn’t help but grimace and tug on your hat.

“I uh… I’m a marine?” You said, wincing at the questioning tone. “I didn’t enlist for the uniform, you know… I… I’m supposed to try and arrest pirates. Not… join them.” You explained awkwardly. Deuce just laughed while The Phoenix snorted softly.

“Everyone adjusts differently. You’ll love it here eventually.” Deuce winked before handing you a set of clothes to change into. The shirt was emblazoned with Whitebeard’s Jolly Roger.

You were rather at a loss for words. You… well, you couldn’t exactly fight them. You knew that. But you felt rather like the world had tilted dramatically the other way on it’s axis while you weren’t looking. The only way this could get more bizarre is if Fleet Admiral Sengoku called you and congratulated you for the successful adoption and your new, very criminal, pirate-Yonko family.

“Bring-ring. Bring-ring. Bring-ring.”

Oh god, you weren’t ready!? Please no?!

Horrified, you scrambled to pull the snail from your pocket, The Phoenix sliding up and leaning on the bed as you answered.

“Ensign—”

“Where the hell are you?! Ensign Williams was found, thoroughly beaten mind you, on the ground! You were assigned to be his partner!” You almost wept with relief that you were just getting torn a new one.

“A-Ah—W-Well, I-I attempted to flee with Ensign Williams when The Phoenix was spotted with Fire Fist but was… very unsuccessful.” You admitted lamely as one of the men responsible for your plight gave a placid smile, his eyes fixed on you with a horrifying intensity. Though you had no idea what for. If he was pissed you answered, he was more than welcome to take the call himself at this point.

“And why not, Ensign?! Your orders were quite clear!”

“Because I was captured instead?” The snail sputtered.

“Then escape and return to base!” The operator screamed. You were nearly in tears, your day successfully having gone from bad to absolutely the fucking worst.

“How?!” You whispered in horror, practically seeing the dry response in The Phoenix’s eyes.

Run and I will scoop you up with my talons and fly you all the way to Oyaji myself.

The receiver was plucked from your hands and you were torn between thanking your captor or trying to get it back. In the end, you did neither.

“I’m afraid that won’t be happening. Feel free to mail us their last paycheck because they won’t be returning. Consider this their resignation.” The snail blanched.

“On who’s authority, you filthy pirate!”

The Phoenix grinned, all teeth and eyes narrow, sapphire slits.

“Their new big brother.”

It would almost be inspiring how confident he sounded if he didn’t say it like he was declaring that your kidney would taste delightfully delicious.

Any response was cut off by him lifting up the transceiver shell and crushing it with his bare hands.

His smile turned much more friendly as he set the traumatized snail down, but the edges still seemed… feral. He ruffled your hair, knocking off your marine cap in the process.

“Get changed and wash up properly before dinner. It’ll be a few more hours before we meet up with Oyaji. Ace will make sure it’s burned.” Overwhelmed and horrified, you couldn’t help the slight whimper.

“…but I like my uniform.”

The Phoenix paused, giving you a slightly pitying smile as he gave you a side hug, blue fire flickering over the both of you. Any other circumstances, it would feel warm and reassuring.

“I know it’s a lot, kid. But you’ll be fine, I promise.” He paused looking down at you. “The hat’s gotta go, but, I tell you what, how about you keep this, yoi?” He tugged the blue neckerchief loose and placed it on top of your ‘new’ clothes.

Against your better judgment, you were a little touched at the suggestion.

What is your life now? You’ve been kidnapped, forcibly made to join a Yonko crew, and now you feel touched because one of the commanders is letting you keep a token of your job?!

Whatever.

You’d just get issued a new uniform later.

If you ever get away from this crazy ass band of pirates.

“I do like the color…” You added lamely, unwilling to push the argument considering how laughably easy it would be for him to force the issue. And then you’d have nothing left of your own.

“I like the color blue, too, yoi.” You looked at him with a frown. Glancing at his shirt.

“Not purple?” The Phoenix blinked, surprised at your dry response before chuckling.

“Alright, sassy pants. Get marching.” He smirked, shooing you to the bathroom to get changed. Flush and embarrassed, you escaped before he could say anything else.

Now… did your new pants even have pockets big enough for your animal treats?

--*--

Surprisingly, the new clothes fit well. Roomy enough that you didn’t get weirded out that they had your exact size but small enough that it wasn’t going to fall off of you anytime soon.

Your marine blue neckerchief was tied around your right wrist. The only part of your uniform you got to keep besides your shoes.

Any blood was gone from your hands or face but Fire Fist still felt the need to inspect them, playfully pinching your nose to see if it hurt still. Upon seeing that you were in perfectly fine shape, and freshly clean, he beamed.

“I can’t wait for you to meet Oyaji, he’s going to be happy to have a new kid running around. It’ll be a while before you get assigned to a division, but don’t worry, they’re all pretty great! Well, not as great as mine, but still!” Fire Fist laughed boisterously as The Phoenix rolled his eyes, lightly smacking Fire Fist’s head.

“They gotta get used to the crew first, Ace. Don’t jump the gun so quickly or you’ll hurt their feelings.”

Ah yes. Their biggest concern in this whole debacle.

Your feelings.

Cause fuck the law, that’s why. And everything else for good measure.

But also your feelings, because if that was actually a concern they would have left you with your asshat partner and a bloody nose.

… your previous circumstances does not, in fact, justify kidnapping and forced recruitment.

You are a marine damnit! Maybe not a strong one, or even a great one (yet), but there has to be a line somewhere!

“Ahah~! Right, sorry! Here, we’re having soup! It’s not as good as Thatch’s food, but we’re getting back too late for dinner so it’ll have to do. He’ll want a little more warning to pull out all the stops anyway.” Fire Fist laughed, handing you a bowl of hot soup. It smelled good, but despite your hunger, you were still a little thrown.

“…Does he often want to impress captives?” You whispered, more to yourself than anything. Fire Fist paused and actually flushed, laughing to himself.

“Sort of, yeah. He kept trying to feed me while I tried to kill Oyaji for over a hundred days, you know!” You blanched, horrified.

You had forgotten that little tidbit, although most of Fire Fist’s recruitment into the Yonko crew was a mystery, you had overheard that bit.

Suddenly, your prospects of getting out of this scot-free seemed… unlikely.

If being a marine isn’t a deterrent, and neither is many murder attempts, then what the hell could get you out of this? Fire Fist kept laughing as you caught The Phoenix’s eye.

He seemed darkly amused and very much aware of your predicament.

He clapped your shoulder reassuringly.

“Don’t worry about it so much. You’ll figure it out.”

Somehow, you don’t think he was talking about escaping.

#one piece yandere #platonic yandere #reader insert #oh sweet child of mine #yandere marco #yandere ace #whitebeard crew #yandere whitebeard crew #reader: I'm a proud marine!#Marco: That's nice sweetie it's time to eat now tho #Ace: it's not so bad when you stick around #Reader: that's what I'm afraid of #marco the phoenix

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15-lizards · 8 months

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I'm not the genderswap Robb ask but can you genderswap the rest of the stark children? Fashion or not you're just so good at headcanons

Anon can we kiss

Male Sansa you are so beloved my sweet boy. The heir to winterfell but everyone thinks he’s a little bit ridiculous bc of his adherence to gentlemanly, frivolous southern customs despite being the future warden of the north. However he’s still courteous and charming enough to win over his fathers men. So he’s the odd one out but everyone still enjoys him. All the girls love how much of a sweet gentleman he is, and they love to watch him ride gracefully, dance gracefully, and spar gracefully. However he can be a bit snotty at times, despite his good intentions. So this means he frequently buts heads w/ Arry bc he doesn’t behave properly for his rank. Begging his father to betroth him to the princess (Joffahina? Idfk) so that he can become king consort and live in the south like he wants to, which Ned reluctantly agrees to. And we all know how that turns out…

Arry my bad ass little kid who I raised…also I know he’s aged up but Harry Gilby is so perfect for this idk just imagine him as a child. A true wild Northman, he fits in more than his brother does, but he’s not as physically imposing as others, nor does he respect authority enough (which is very northern behavior in some cases, but also very disrespectful in most others). He’s the classic ASOIAF unruly second son. Everyone’s headache, constantly shrugging off his duties to go riding or sparing or exploring, ignoring social conventions to make friends with every kitchen boy and serving girl. Thinks his brother is a stuffy ass of course. Once his brother gets engaged to the princess, Arry is suddenly the new heir. Goes south to court and avoids every betrothal his father tries to make for him, learning the braavosi style with his dancing teacher instead. Once all hell breaks loose he certainly has A Time trying to get home and eventually going to Braavos to shrug off his identity as heir to winterfell to become Nobody

Baby Branwen my child. Curious and stubborn little girl who isn’t quite at the age where she needs to start acting like a proper lady, leaving her mostly free to climb and explore and generally do whatever she wants. She’s quite taken with the idea of how the queen became a renowned female warrior, and has dreams of becoming one too someday, begging her father for riding and sword lessons, of which he only gives her the first at the moment. Her fall ruins the widely expected idea of ever getting her married, and her own idea of becoming a warrior, thus leading most people to believe she has become a generally useless burden. After her and the Reeds escape from winterfell and beyond the wall, she starts leaning more and more into her greenseer and skin changing abilities with aid from the three eyed raven, but despite this slow loss of morality she’s still just a scared child

Tiny Rina. Not much to say besides the fact that she’s still a feral three year old. No big changes from her male counterpart. However she IS riding back to winterfell on that damn unicorn I am making that canon in my head.

Joanna Snow the most hard headed ambitious stubborn teenage girl in the world with a superiority AND inferiority complex she’s everything to me. Doubly ignored and scorned for not only being a bastard but a female bastard. Useless in Westeros’ eyes. To her she only has one option, and gets shipped off to like an “elite” woman’s fighting force instead of the wall but surprise surprise this place also sucks balls and it’s still as cold. It’s mostly full of other bastards, former prostitutes convicted of crimes, and third and fourth daughters who didn’t want to join the faith. Total asshole at first but is eventually ride or die for most of her girls and the organization they’re in bc she is nothing if not loyal to her word.

#asoiaf #in my new gender bend world I don’t even know what’s going on with woman inheritance #I can’t say matriarchy cause that would imply the dance never happened #so I’m just calling it fem Robert installed royal succession regardless of gender and We Ball from there

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run-me-through-but-not-like-that · 1 year

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Edward Teach x Reader where they break up and reunite on Stede’s ship. They’re still annoyed with each other (as exes often are) and Y/n mostly avoids him on the ship. Eventually, tension kind of eases up and Ed starts to take a romantic liking to Stede. Maybe Izzy had an unrequited crush on the reader for a while and now that they’re closer, Izzy and the reader start a thing. But after seeing them together Ed gets pissed. I just enjoy hot men w irrational jealous anger sometimes. Idk how it would play out but yeah. Anyway off topic but I got a 57 on my math test and I thought I got a 95???

Starting Fresh:

Izzy sighed to himself after dismissing Ivan and Fang. As if this whole exercise wasn’t troublesome enough, now they had unexpected guests. He ran a hand through his hair and steadied himself before entering the captain’s cabin.

“Captain, there is a rowboat approach,” Izzy reported.

“Who?” The change in Edward was instant, the way he sat up and his expression darkened.

“We don’t know, boss. What should we do?” Izzy asked.

“Oh!” Stede perked up, looking unbothered by the report of a threat. “They aren’t trouble, it will be some of the crew returning. I completely forgot to mention it,” he laughed at himself, waving his hand dismissively. Even Izzy had to admit that for somebody who had been stabbed recently, Bonnet was recovering well.

“Your crew?” Edward asked, slowly relaxing back into his lounging position from before.

“Yes. Two of our crew were conducting some business nearby. One of them is my first mate actually, they’re incredibly capable, perfectly qualified to handle it without me. We were boarded while they were away, that’s why you haven’t met them yet,” Stede explained.

“Fucking hell,” Izzy muttered to himself. That would have been good information to have earlier.

“Well, let's go see how their business went,” Edward shrugged, stretching his bad leg before standing from the settee.

The two captains headed up onto the deck, a disgruntled first mate trailing behind him. Just as they were emerging onto the deck, the returning crew members were climbing aboard the ship.

“Frenchie!” Wee John greeted the first crew member to climb over the railing, sweeping the smaller man off of his feet in a ‘welcome back’ embrace.

A hand grabbed the railing, and the second crew member pulled themself up over the railing with ease. Edward and Izzy completely froze when the second person hopped down onto the deck, straightening out their clothes.

“The Spanish?” you shouted in disbelief, looking at the crew for some sort of update or explanation. Not that you actually gave them time to respond. “We were boarded by the Spanish? Is everyone alright?” you asked, frustration morphing quickly into concern for your crew. “Fucking hell, I knew I shouldn’t have left the ship. Captain, I told you-Edward…” you spun around to face your captain, freezing at the sight of your ex-captain.

“The crew is perfectly fine, I promise,” Stede assured. “Edward here, and his crew of course, came along just in time,” he placed a hand on Edward’s arm, a warm comradery obvious between them, though you didn’t really have the chance to think too hard about that.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Edward questioned.

Izzy sighed. Edward’s expression had darkened again, his voice lowering dangerously. The Caribbean was big but not that big and the two of you ran in similar circles, Izzy knew it was only a matter of time before your paths crossed again. He just didn’t think this would be the circumstance.

“Me?” you scoffed, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Saving the lives of your crew, apparently,” Edward retorted, earning a small snarl from you.

“You two…know each other?” Stede asked carefully, looking between you both. You had never mentioned knowing Blackbeard even when the crew shared stories about his legend.

“Fuck,” Izzy muttered, this was the last thing he needed. This ship was enough of a headache, and now this.

You and Edward just glared at each other, as if daring the other to answer. “Used to sail on the Queen Anne,” you answered.

“You sailed with Blackbeard?” Black Pete asked from somewhere to your right, the excitement clear in his voice. You didn’t take your eyes off of Edward but you heard a small grunt that suggested Lucius had elbowed his boyfriend to signal that now was not the time.

“Can’t get the fuck away, apparently,” you grumbled.

“Last I checked, I kicked you off of the ship,” Edward scoffed.

“Yeah, keep bragging, Eddie. That makes you sound like the good guy,” you smiled sarcastically, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Can we not do this here?” Izzy suggested.

“Do what? What is happening?” Stede asked.

You took a breath, squaring your shoulders and turning your full attention to Stede. Your captain. “Captain,” you cleared your throat, getting his focus on you. “I’ll give my report later. I’ll go check the rations,” you turned and walked away without being dismissed, just needing to create distance, to get some air.

Edward muttered something to himself, something Stede couldn’t make out, before storming back into the captain’s cabin. Stede frowned and hurried after him, already looking like he was about to fret over everything.

Izzy looked up at the sky, almost cursing the clear blueness of it, begging whatever higher power might exist to just stroke him down where he stood.

Lucius, with wide eyes and his mouth agape, quickly kissed Pete’s cheek and ran after you. He caught up with you in the corridors of the ship. “You used to date Blackbeard?!” It was supposed to sound like a question but came out more like an accusation.

Halting, you spun on your heel to face him. “What the fuck, Lucius?”

Lucius scoffed, it wasn’t like you to play dumb. “You’re obviously exes, and things apparently didn’t end very well.”

“I’m not telling you anything, so don’t even ask,” you jabbed your finger against his chest to get your point across before storming off down to the hold.

Lucius blinked. “Holy shit, what the fuck is going on around here?” he whispered to himself as you left him alone below deck. First Blackbeard boards their ship and their captain is obviously crushing on him, and now it turns out that you’re his ex? Finally something exciting was happening around here!

Izzy couldn’t believe Edward wasn’t taking the goddamn ship, that he wasn’t following the fucking plan. No, instead he was going to try ‘co-captaining’ with Bonnet or some dumb shit like that.

So, due to this new arrangement, Bonnet had sent Izzy to speak with his first mate, since the two of you would be co-first-mates now. Normally Izzy would snap and remind him that he isn't his captain, but he was just thankful to have an excuse to leave their quarters.

Izzy is going to stab himself…

You were up on the helm, stance relaxed and one hand on the wheel. You gave him a smile, small but genuine, as he joined you. At least spending some time with you wouldn’t be so bad, you were the most bearable person to be around on this ship, and the two of you used to be decent friends. At least, he thought you had been.

“So, you’re a first mate, now?” Izzy asked. A weak attempt at conversation but he never claimed to be good at it, and you should know that by now.

“What can I say, you inspired me,” you teased.

Izzy felt the corners of his mouth quirking up but fought it. “You know this ship is full of idiots, right?” You must see what he saw, you had served on proper pirate ships and weren’t as whimsical as Edward. Surely, you knew how absurd this whole thing was.

“They’re learning, I’m teaching them. Captain Bonnet doesn’t have any experience but he cares about the crew. The crew…they’re good people, I like them.” You knew the crew wasn’t…skilled…but they were good people. You liked this crew, they were a welcome change to the ship life you knew. They had been good to you and in return you had been good to them.

“You used to sail for Blackbeard,” Izzy huffed, as if you needed reminding.

“Yeah, and this is a very refreshing change of pace,” you shrugged.

It was definitely a change, though Izzy wouldn’t call it refreshing. “Still not forgiven him?” he asked.

“I assume the captains wanted us to talk about the ship, not my past relationships,” you mumbled.

Izzy sighed, that was fair. “At least tell me you think this whole thing is ridiculous,” he needed to know that he wasn’t the crazy one.

“Oh, completely ridiculous,” you agreed, the two of you chuckling. You smiled to yourself, looking out at the crew on the deck, feeling a little lighter. “Will be nice to work with you again, Iz. I missed you,” you admitted.

Izzy paused, refusing to look at you as he felt his cheeks warming slightly.

“Yeah, missed you too,” Izzy begrudgingly admitted

The two of you really had been good friends aboard the Queen Anne’s Revenge, he would even call you his best friend. The closest friend he had. Though Izzy could now admit to himself that he had always felt more for you.

Izzy knew that it was all just his luck, it pine after somebody who wouldn’t look twice at him because Blackbeard was right fucking there. He could still remember watching as Edward made you swoon, the two of you laughing as you plotted your next fuckery together. He still remembers how pissed he felt when Edward had fucked it all up, hadn’t appreciated what he had, what Izzy wanted.

You were on night shift when Edward next approached you, a few days after you returned to the ship and discovered him already aboard. He had approached in silence and just stood beside you, at least he didn’t seem angry.

“I’m not in the mood to fight, Edward,” you sighed. It didn’t seem like he was here to argue but you could never be too careful, and you really didn’t want to fight with him.

“Not here to fight,” Edward promised, “just want to talk.”

“Talk?” you couldn’t help but be a little curious, looking at him properly now. The two of you hadn’t really talked all that much towards the end of whatever you had.

“They do that a lot here, apparently it’s effective. Been kinda…good, thought we could try it.”

You managed not to roll your eyes at Edward acting like he had been here longer than you. “Alright…talk.”

Edward sighed and looked at you properly. “I shouldn’t have kicked you off the ship.”

You weren’t sure if you would get an actual apology from the man, so you would take what you could get. At least he was trying. “...I shouldn’t have shouted at you in front of the crew,” you said in return, “though, I think that was more embarrassing for me than you.”

“You know how I get when Jack is around, we bring out the worst in each other,” he attempted at some sort of jovial tone, but it didn’t really land.

“Yeah, you do,” you scoffed a little. Everyone knew how Ed and Jack got when they were around each other, it was a headache if nothing else. “But it wasn’t Jack’s fault, Ed. You can’t blame him, you made those decisions,” you reminded him.

Edward nodded, looking something close to remorseful. “You’re right…I’m sorry.” You almost couldn’t believe he was actually apologising.

“...yeah, me too. I’m over it, really. I moved on,” you shrugged softly. “I admit, I was angry at you for a long time, was angry when I saw you on this ship, but it’s just not worth it and I don’t feel that anger when I look at you anymore. It’s over, what’s done is done.”

“So…we’re cool?” Edward asked carefully. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had tracked you down just because he wanted to put things right or because Stede had convinced him to improve relationships among the crew.

“Yeah, whatever, Ed. We’re cool,” you agreed.

“Okay, great…yeah, okay,” Edward nodded, he looked like he was going to pat you on the shoulder for a moment before choosing not to and leaving instead.

“Ed,” you stopped him, cursing yourself for it when he turned back to you. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Stede, and you don’t have to tell me, it’s none of my business. He’s odd but he loves a lot, and he really seems to like you. If you hurt him, if you pull the same shit on him that you did on me, I won’t be as forgiving this time,” you warned.

Edward should have been offended, and he would be when he wasn’t so caught off guard, but instead he settled on, “me and Stede aren’t-” and you didn’t let him finish.

“Yeah. You weren’t with a lot of people,” you rolled your eyes. It at least shut him up. “Just don’t fuck it up with him. Either do it right or leave now,” you advised.

The crew had become fond of their eccentric captain and you could honestly see a mutiny happening against the great Blackbeard if he broke Stede’s heart. Edward’s mouth opened to argue but instead just left without another word, letting you get back to your shift.

After that late night, and uncomfortable, conversation with Edward, you had to admit that the tension had eased up. You still wouldn’t call each other friends but you were civil, you could work together, even if you still made a point of reporting and answering more to Stede than him. He seemed to accept that, especially since Izzy behaved the exact same way towards Stede.

Your conversation must have also given Edward a push to consider his feelings for Stede because they had somehow become even closer, attached at the hip all the time. You were glad to see Stede happy and figuring himself out, but you almost felt protective over him. Edward better watch his step, you actually liked that blond dumbass.

You always ate your meals with the crew, ever since you signed on with Stede. You still did, technically, but instead of sitting at the bench with the rest of them, you had tucked yourself into a quiet corner off to the side with Izzy.

Izzy didn’t really like sitting with the crew, he didn’t feel comfortable around them yet, but you liked sitting with Izzy. You usually ate your lunches with Izzy back on the Queen Anne, and occasionally sat together for supper.

“C’mon, you have to admit that Roach’s cooking is way better than whatever our cook was doing,” you teased, waving a chunk of fresh bread between you both.

“It’s…yeah, alright, it’s good. Bonnet wastes a lot of fucking money on this but…yeah, it’s good,” Izzy reluctantly admitted. Like complimenting a chef was so humiliating.

“Hey, it’s not our money, let him spend it and keep us well fed,” you shrugged.

“Ah, so you are still a real pirate after all,” Izzy smiled a little to himself, glad that this crew hadn’t changed you. Maybe you were calmer now, less impulsive, but that often came naturally as time passed, but you were still you.

“Just more house trained,” you joked, earning a small chuckle from the grisly man that warmed your heart. “How was everything after I left?” you couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic, when you had left you had missed the ship you called home and the crew you called family.

“Probably what you’d expect. Your argument threw Ed into one of his moods. It didn’t last too long, a couple of risky raids and things mostly went back to normal,” Izzy shrugged. It was pretty standard for the Queen Anne, though it felt a little tougher without you there.

“Fuck, Iz, it’s been way too long since we’ve properly talked.” Izzy had been on the Revenge for a while now and you felt like you had only really spoken about work. You wanted a proper chance to talk with him, to catch up, to hear about how things were after you left, to tell him how you met Stede and joined his crew, to properly reconnect. “We’re stopping at port in a few days, we’re going out,” you decided.

“Going out?” Izzy cocked an eyebrow, a little taken back by your determination.

“Yep. We’re going ashore, we’re going to whichever tavern you suggest, and we’re hanging out,” you told him, matter of fact.

Normally Izzy wouldn’t like somebody telling him what to do, just assuming he would comply, but instead he only found himself pleased that you were so eager to spend time with him. “...sounds good,” Izzy nodded, fighting off a small smile.

“Roach!” Edward called as he entered the galley, flashing the crew a smile when they looked at him. “Stede said you have more of those yummy cakes,” he turned back to the cook.

“One second, I’ll grab them for you, captain,” Roach nodded, sounding a little irritated, before going to fetch the sugary treats.

Edward lent against the longer table as he waited, only basking in the attention of the crew a little bit, looking around the room until he saw you sitting separately with Izzy. You hadn’t even looked up at his entrance, neither of you had, the two of you talking low enough that the others couldn’t hear you. Like you were in your own little world.

He didn’t know why it bothered him so much, that you were both too caught up in each other to pay him any attention. He supposed he was just used to naturally demanding it, he had once had your attention and even after you left Izzy had hung on to his every word.

Thankfully, Roach returned with the cakes before Edward could dwell to long on the feeling.

Another month had passed and the two crews had completely found their place together, with more ease than anyone expected. Stede and Edward were still co-captaining and officially courting each other, other than Izzy, Ivan and Fang were the only crew members from the Queen Anne that had decided to stay aboard the Revenge for the long term, and you and Izzy stuck by each other’s side more than you ever had before.

Edward couldn’t believe how much had changed over the last couple of months, all he knew was that this was the most fun he has had for years, maybe ever, and he had Stede to thank for that. That fascinating, loving, man. Stede felt much the same about Edward, happy to indulge in the other man’s affections.

“It’s a clear night, will you please teach me how to navigate by the stars?” Stede asked, not even needing to bat his lashes to have Edward jumping to his feet.

“All you have to do is ask!” Ed grinned, planting a happy kiss to his partner’s lips before guiding him towards the door.

They left the cabin with their arms intertwined, leaning against each other as they emerged onto the deck. There was a lantern lit up on the quarterdeck, most likely whoever had a shift tonight.

“Who’s on watch?” Stede asked, not being the one in charge of creating a rota.

“Not sure. We’ll just tell them we’ll cover for them,” Edward shrugged, also not responsible for the schedule. That was the job of a first mate or quartermaster, not the captains.

The two men quietly walked up to see who’s night they would be making before pausing at the sight. Instead of a tired looking crewmember leaning against the railing, they saw you and Izzy sitting together comfortably, with mugs of something warm in your hands.

You were leaning against each other, shoulder to shoulder, talking quietly between yourselves. Both captains felt as if they were intruding on something even though they hadn’t yet been caught.

Occasionally one of you would point up at the sky and discuss something, voices low but light. Izzy spoke, close enough to you that his nose brushed against your temple and quiet enough that the captains couldn’t make out his words, but they did hear you laugh and see him smile in response.

Shaking your head fondly, you placed your mug down safely beside you and lent over to give Izzy a kiss. Just the faint brush of your lips against his that had Izzy leaning in, as if under some sort of spell.

“Let’s leave them be, Ed,” Stede whispered, giving him a small shake when he didn’t respond. Edward still felt like he was in some sort of shock, unable to protest as Stede guided him away and back to their cabin. They could stargaze another night.

“You’re adorable,” you cooed, loving the way Izzy’s face heated up at any compliment you gave him. Of course, his easy to fluster nature only made complimenting and praising him all the more satisfying for you.

“Fuck off, no I’m not,” Izzy grumbled, even as he lent into your hand that stroked through his hair.

“Yeah, you kind of are, though,” you whispered, almost wistfully. “Can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner.”

Izzy sighed a little. “You were a little preoccupied,” he reminded you.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you groaned before tenderly pressing your forehead to his. “Can I tell you something?” you asked.

“Sure,” as if he could ever deny you.

“Before I was with Ed…I kinda had a crush on you. Didn’t think you were interested, you were, like…unattainable. Unreachable, y’know? Didn’t seem to take an interest in anybody, especially if they weren’t Edward. And then I started spending time with Ed…and y’know, things just happen,” you confessed, feeling like you had made some silly mistake somewhere along the line.

Izzy closed his eyes for a moment, before pulling away. “I don’t need you to say that to make me feel better.”

“I’m not,” you frowned, keeping your hand against his shoulder but not stopping him from moving away if he wanted to. “I mean it,” you promised.

Izzy looked at you, all glassy eyed and vulnerable in that way he got. You looked genuine, sounded sincere. Anyway, lying really wouldn’t get you anything, nothing he could think of anyway. You didn’t need to convince him of anything, he was already here with you. “You really didn’t know I was sweet on you?” he asked, blushing as if he was confessing feelings that you didn’t already know about.

“Looking back now…it was kind of obvious, I guess. But no, I honestly didn’t know. I was pretty stupid back then, have learnt a lot since. Matured and all that bullshit.” Back then you hadn’t noticed the more quiet affection that Izzy offered, the stolen glances and shy looks, the way he just did things to make your life easier without even acknowledging it.

You saw those things now, cherished them they way they deserved to be, but back then you had been blind. Izzy hadn’t teased or flirted, hadn’t touched and lent in close at every opportunity, had nervously sat beside you instead of pulling you down onto his lap. He wasn’t the type to pursue and you had overlooked that.

“Would it have changed anything?” Izzy asked, though he wasn’t sure how he wanted you to answer.

“I don’t know. I’d like to think so,” you confessed. “No point thinking about that now. We’re here now,” you gave him a sweet smile that had him relaxing again.

Right, just like you said. You were here, with him, and you were happy. He was happy. The past was in the past, you were here now. “Yeah, guess we are,” he gave a small smile in response as he leant back into your touch.

You were both still smiling when you kissed him again. Izzy kissed back, just as he always did when it came to you, and let his arms loop around your waist. You didn’t hesitate for a moment, slipping yourself onto his lap.

Ever since he walked in on your date night with Izzy, Edward had been flipping through possible explanations in his mind. He knew that the two of you were friends, all three of you had been, but that night certainly wasn’t purely platonic. Izzy was looking at you the way he always had, with adoration, and you were looking back at him much the same. The same way he would catch Stede looking at him, the way that always made him melt and feel fuzzy inside, made him feel loved and cherished.

It was only a couple nights after the discovery that Edward decided that he just had to speak with you about what you were doing with Izzy. Whether it was serious or not, just friends keeping each other company, just a one time fluke thing, or something else. He had to know…he was captain and it was his responsibility to keep an eye on the crew afterall.

Edward left Stede sleeping in their bed and searched for you, finding that you weren’t sleeping with the rest of the crew. He double and triple checked that you hadn’t just disappeared bundled under a blanket among them before he realised where you must be. You must have been in Izzy’s cabin, which only served to worsen his mood.

Izzy hated sharing a cabin, sharing his cabin. And his space on the Revenge was much smaller than what he had on the Queen Anne, and yet it seems that he let you in. Were you staying in there with him or just every now and again?

Before Edward knew it, he was down in the ship and throwing open the door of the first mate’s cabin.

Instinctively, you and Izzy jolted awake, ready to defend yourselves from the intruder. The blanket falling to the floor, leaving you both in the underclothes you had gone to bed in.

“Should have fucking known you’d be here,” Edward scoffed, looking at the two of you like you had done something wrong.

“What the fuck, Ed? Is something going on?” Izzy asked, voice even hoarser with sleep but blood pumping through his veins, ready for an impromptu raid or storm.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Edward retorted petulant.

“Ed?” you groaned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes now that you knew you weren’t under attack. “What the fuck, man? I’m too tired to try to figure out what you’re talking about,” you grumbled. The sooner he told you what was wrong, the sooner you could tend to it and get back to sleep.

“What’s going on here?” Edward questioned.

You just frowned at him, trying to understand the question. When you did realise what he was talking about, you sighed and rolled your eyes. “Are you serious, Edward?”

“Told you he’d be pissed,” Izzy muttered, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to get it under control as he grabbed the blanket from the floor.

“And I told you, I don’t give a shit. He needs to get over it,” you huffed back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Are you doing this to piss me off?” Edward asked, though it sounded more like an accusation than a question.

“Edward-” Izzy began but you cut him off.

“Fucking hell, Edward! Not everything is about you. This isn’t about you,” you couldn’t help but snap, feeling the anger surge up inside you.

“Sure, it isn’t,” Edward scoffed, “you’re fucking my first mate.”

Izzy froze by your side but you could only stare at Edward. “So?” you asked slowly.

“You’re fucking my first mate but it’s not to get back at me,” Edward stated like it was the most obvious thing on this fucking ship.

“It’s not about you!” you snapped again. “I like Izzy, we like each other. We’re giving it a try. Most importantly, it’s none of your business.” At least when this all took a turn for the worst, you could claim that you tried to be reasonable.

“Oh c’mon. Izzy was always following you around like a stray, drooling over you. You’re telling me you’re not just fucking him because you know he’s obsessed with you and it would make me look bad.”

Izzy looked away from you both, suddenly finding the thread count of his blanket incredibly interesting. Clearly he must have shared some of Edward’s thoughts and that only made you angrier.

“Fuck you, Ed,” you snarled, suddenly protective, “Izzy has always been my friend, you know that.”

Whenever Edward would disappear for an undisclosed amount of time, usually when Jack was around but not always, it was you and Izzy that would maintain the ship together. It was Izzy you would spend your time with, and after getting over your initial annoyance with Edward’s disappearing act, you would find yourself not even caring that much. You and Izzy had always been close, always been there for each other, and Edward knew that.

“It’s my fault that I didn’t realise what I felt for him before. I’m trying to make that right now,” you were seconds away from jumping up from the cot and shoving him out of Izzy’s cabin.

Edward’s glare turned dangerously neutral. “We’re you fucking him when we were together?”

“Fuck you!” Without even realising, you were up on your feet, stepping up to Edward. Izzy shot to his feet behind you, standing still and careful. “You don’t get to make accusations like that,” you spat at the dread pirate captain. When Edward only snarled back, you swallowed down your rage and spoke stiffly. “No. I wasn’t fucking him, but maybe I should’ve been. Maybe I should have just been with him instead of you in the first fucking place.”

“...fuck you,” Edward growled. “Is it because I’m with Stede now?”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself as you stepped back from him, you were not going to have this argument. You had to be better than this. You could deny it all you liked and it would be the complete truth, but Edward would believe what he wanted until he calmed down.

“Get out, Edward,” you ordered lowly. You didn’t give him a chance to protest even when he tried, “get out now and I won’t tell Stede that you’re such a jealous fuck.”

Edward gave another snarl before storming off, you were just glad that it was that easy to get rid of him. The door slammed behind him, shaking on its hinges.

You let out a breath and turned around, watching as Izzy tugged his pants on. You didn’t know what to say, partly hoping Izzy might speak, partly hoping neither of you had to speak and could just let things settle down for a moment.

Unfortunately, Izzy did speak. His words making you ache.

“Maybe you should go…”

“Iz-”

“It’s not worth it,” Izzy wouldn’t even meet your gaze, wouldn't even look at you.“You know how Ed can get…”

“What’s not worth it, exactly?” you asked, not taking your eyes off of him even if he refused to look at you.

“Me. I’m not worth it,” his gaze snapped up to meet your own, something heartbreaking about it.

“Iz, love-”

“Are you just doing this to piss off Ed?” he asked. He was accusing you but it sounded like he believed it well enough, that there was just a part of him hoping that you would deny it.

“No!” you answered sternly, not wanting to leave any room for doubt. “Izzy, that’s not what-do you really think that?” your voice cracked. Had Izzy been worried about this the whole time?

“I’m not Blackbeard. Either you are doing this because he’d hate it or because I’ve always just been your second choice,” Izzy concluded sorrowfully.

“Izzy, no. Please listen to me,” you pleaded, ready to beg as much as he needed, as you walked up to him. “When I came back to the ship and saw you and Ed, I was more excited to see you, you were my best friend. Seeing you again made me realise some things. This honestly isn’t about Ed, it’s about us,” you promised.

“You know he can get jealous.” Even Izzy wasn’t completely sure what he meant by that, if he was accusing you of some plot or warning you of how Edward might react.

“I know, which is why I was hoping it would take longer for him to find out. How could I have been doing this to get a reaction out of Edward when I didn’t even want him finding out yet?” you asked and Izzy had to admit that you made a good point.

“Izzy,” you gently took one of his hands in yours. “Look, neither me nor Ed were great in that relationship. We weren’t good for each other in the long run but we had fun and got into trouble, and maybe that was what I wanted then but it’s not what I want now. Now, I want somebody to care for and have care for me, somebody to rely on and love. I want something real, a real love that doesn’t just burn out. And I want that with you, Iz-love.”

“I want that with you too,” Izzy breathed out, like speaking any louder might break him.

“I promise you. Whether Ed was here or not, I’d want you, I’d want to be with you. If Ed wasn’t with Stede, if he was single, even if he wanted me back, I don’t want him anymore. It’s you that I think about nearly every second of every day. I’m crazy about you, Iz,” you confessed, nothing you hadn’t already tried to tell him over the last month.

Overwhelmed with feelings, so much having happened in the last few minutes, Izzy knew he had to do something but he couldn’t find the words to fit. Instead, he surged forward to meet you in a clumsy but passionate kiss, needing to get those emotions out, needing you to feel them. And you did, giving just as good as you got, clinging right back to him.

This wouldn’t be the last time you had to defend your relationship to Edward in some way but it felt like a strong start. You hoped that now that Ed had got out his initial outburst he would calm enough to do a little introspection. You hoped that he would see that nobody took anything from anyone, that he now got to be happy and now so did you and Izzy.

Either way, Edward would just have to accept it because you had taken Izzy for granted once, lost him once, and you wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

#israel hands x reader #izzy hands x reader #ofmd izzy #izzy hands #ofmd x reader

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rui-nova · 1 month

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Tragedy at an Impasse: The Terror, Hope, and Loss

Or a series of digressions about the story's themes of hope and some of its manifestations.

Once upon a time, a Greek chorus would sing upon a spectacle, and before then, and ever after, tragedy would fascinate us, because it would call to our familiars, because we, too, live with regrets, on a stage with little control over our fate, where we are nonetheless festering hope, a speck of something unattainable, a longing for what we may have once dreamt as familiar, as safe, as right.

There is no chorus in The Terror, its music is haunting, quiet, and acute. Like a good tragedy, its beginning already spells its doomed end, but its theme is silence. How then, should one replace the chorus, how can one call for fear and mercy, which muse should sing for them, rotten as they are, lonesome as some vowed to be? Its characters are left bare, but few of the self can be recognised through their exposed thinning flesh and frail whimpering. They are no geodes, expecting to be broken, to reveal a truth only their God would lay claim upon 一they’re Heraclitus’ paradigm of the shifting river, Theseus’ ship, and they are gone. Dead, and gone.

They are a graveyard of hope, with no bones to be buried. It begets grief and resistance, in their path laden with loss and futileness. The Terror is a tale of hubris and loss, of unfairness upon silence, of humanity bereft of it. Hope, too, is bereft of itself —but it does not die until they all do.

I. Devotion

On occasion, the characters pour hope into their devotion. After all, the men of Erebus and Terror cling mostly to the way of the lands they leave behind.

Far from the waylay ships and their forsaken fates, they hang on to the faith of their merciful God, whose scripture should stand above all laws of men. Here? There is no place for the divine. Not for them. The land, they soon see as godless, as it is put under prejudice, as they try to conquer that which is not theirs; soon it is godless, as human law and debauchery attack it, and thus God cannot love them. Their faith, and thus their hope, cannot reach him, if he is there.

Forsaken, what is God to them? He who loves them not, and in whose stead Fitzjames raises Sir John first, then Crozier?

Like Irving, the men who know the gospel in their hearts doubt and suffer, but they find contentment in that divine law, in its order. That God would not grant them ghosts. There is no more content soul than that of the most pious devout, and that of those who deny religion and gladly accept it in their heart. To Irving, faith was enough, as he upheld 'propriety' at the ships. It was enough, as he trudged atop the ice and the steppes. It bloomed, when hope was granted by chance, as a meeting with the Netsilik, as the goodwill of humanity was rekindled before his eyes. Freezing, devoted, doggish Saint Bernard that he was, it is still known: tragedy fancies not a mercy to devotion, to faith.

God-fearing Franklin and David Young cling to faith, when they feel their passing near. Perhaps, convinced by Goodsir, Young would fashion himself a more fortunate Icarus, even when his wings he did not will himself; why would he not wish to be anything other than a canary in a coal mine, after all? Perhaps, Sir John fashioned himself a Robinson Crusoe, that God would say to them that “As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Joshua 1:5). Perhaps, but God is not there for them.

Even then, when Goodsir claims it does not matter if God is with them, it matters to some, it matters to Hodgson, and Fitzjames, who gnaw onto its hope and meaning for salvation, for legitimation. Hodgson equates the Holy Communion to human consumption, he incarnates the horror that Dante appealed to with Count Ugolino and his purposely ambiguous verses, and he hopes, or rather wishes he hoped, that this faith will preserve his humanity, as the body of Christ preserves life, because he is hungry, and he wants to live. Fitzjames, in its stead, plays his subtle counterpart, he plays Ugolino’s sons, he pleads to give back to those who believed his performance more than he did, and he cries, to Crozier, who ‘loves the men more than God does’, “Father, much less pain ’twill give us / If thou do eat of us; thyself didst clothe us / With this poor flesh, and do thou strip it off. / Then hunger did what sorrow could not do” (Canto XXXIII, Inferno). Indeed, he is not Christ, but his body he will offer.

Hope, thus, is named faith, in the name of Christ, the son of the absent God, ripped apart like a Dionysos by men hungry for his love, when hunger did what sorrow could not.

II. Consumption

Could we say, then, that hope is consumption, in the human need of possession, the desire of life?

The crews find little wonder in this place. They wonder only of below, of forward, by Franklin's ghost. Life can bloom, one can find beauty in Nunavut, Goodsir learns, and Silna mourns, but the other sentenced men see only a barren land. The hollow land, for hollow men.

Hope turns some to forbidden consumption, to harvest corpses for the life that does not bloom in them, and it is both the epitome of Arendt’s banality of evil, that “wholly unexceptional complacency” (Eichmann in Jerusalem) that waltzes into horror, and an act of fear and unrequited understanding, unrequited love.

It is said that “incorporating what you love is a sure way of seeing that it never escapes from you” (Crain, 1994). It is no wonder that he who has nothing would want to consume everything.

Rat, vulture, prophet, devil, monster, chosen, no one, ‘Hickey’ 一neither of which he is. Few understand hope as Hickey does. Hope is whatever one makes of a bad situation. Hope is survival, and “survival is a nasty piece of business. But we do what we have to do.” There is no troubled complaisance, because this force of life, this meaning, is owed to the possession of something, anything; it is feeding from the possibility of having a place and a meaning in the great scheme of it all.

This curse may leave them loveless, may leave them unconsumed by the recognition of the other through their ever-decaying humanity, but Hickey opens the door to hope through consumption. No more would they be shown “fear in a handful of dust” (The Wasteland: The Burial of the Dead, TS Eliot), but rather, a new life from it: a utilitarian Noah's ark of mutineers. Or the attempt of it.

Because Hickey scraps from meat and its ornaments, he dresses in that which the world knows he is not, in the boots of a man who must stand to the view of all or believe himself no one at all, in the coat of a subservient man who forced him to expose himself for the 'godly' concern of ‘dirtiness’ —but Hickey is no Dr. Jekyll. He is both sinner and sufferer, but cannot conjure a Mr. Hyde. He cannot become someone else, someone born with different circumstances, someone beyond tragedy.

But hopeful, of his powerful change of fortune, he must have felt. Hopeful that the intimacy of anthropophagy and lust —and perhaps even love— would fill him as they should, that he would be seen and loved by a place through which he only works if it is to mingle with the dead… but this place, this barren, hollow, wasted land that they have made, cannot love them back. It cannot love Hickey back, no matter how much he hopes so.

III. Legitimacy

Hope is born out of recognition, a yearning that could not be wholly unreal, that there may be no certainty, but still a possibility of that desire, and a strength to see it through. As such, hope calls for an act of mercy, in repentance and debt, a hope for meaning and order; hope longs for foresight, as it guides the defeatist soothsayers to silent survival.

Mercy demands a hierarchy, a higher power and a higher moral, and what claim do these downtrodden souls have on such exercise? What right have they, to instil upon their lot the pretence of order they left back on their homes? What legitimacy have they to cry for Lazarus, his grave either sealed or in the making?

If hope is survival, if hope is in the rightness of humanity, and the purity of the flesh, it gives, that the physicians would dare all they did, a vow to knowledge, a vow to wellness ーthe burden of mercy. It is telling, then, that Stanley and Goodsir’s sentence is set from their very own sickened flesh, when their soul can no longer be contained, when it cannot bear to heal what is thought lost. Song is lost, through Morfin, and so is fellowship, through Collins, and truly, what remains of man by then?

Soon, they will be husks, there is no other end to life and their sentences. Three roads stand before them: they may seize all banal struggle, end it here before hope eats itself; they may push forward, wait for someone to take up the torch while they impossibly keep its fire alive; they may also cut expenses, maximise the chances of the fortunate few. Le Vesconte chooses the latter, to Little's dismay, but truly, nothing is fair where they are. The ill shall die alone, but they, too, already are "dead and gone", and damn it all ーthey still hope to live.

Theirs is an act of love, a hope that their mercy might make it right, but, ultimately, they are no God, and they cannot command the choice of their men. They cannot play Abraham nor the shepherds, because they are Cain, indeed, their brethren’s keepers, and the death they plan is also the death they hope to inflict upon the lead and the fear that is slowly sentencing them.

This is a truth that they know all too well, but few more than Silna and Crozier do, soothsayers, voice in the wilderness, shamans that they are. They have the certainty, and they suffer the curse of Tiresias and Cassandra, of an Orpheus who shall see his darlings leave when he remains, and whose cries shall be for naught but a sad song with no words.

And Crozier shall drown in the alcohol and the visions of a David who will be thrown to the lion's den and survive it, yet he will long for that spiteful hierarchy of patronising mercy, in the mistrust born from others’ devaluation of him —but Silna shall be a symbol of the suffering that colonial enterprises inflict upon the innocent. She shall bite that “We were never meant to survive” (A Litany for Survival, Audre Lorde), but why would they not leave, why would they not let her bury her father, force her to play Antigone? Why are they tying her down with them, making her Lady Silence? And, to Crozier, “Why do you want to die?” Why— why would he kill hope, why would they make her home a boneyard?

And, far removed from who they were, exiled from their homes, both shall inflict a silence upon their legacy, and enact the aftermath of that hope.

IV. Hope

What value does hope have, if this is an inked and parched tragedy? What goodness is it, when loss is assured, faith is unheard, consumption fills no well, and mercy is not merciful at all?

Most died, and there were innocents back in the graveyards they left behind, as there were innocents in Sodom and Gomorra. Faith and trust are gone, and so is warmth, while love is frail. Hope is at odds with itself, it is both a noble promise and a delusion, and it is the trembling gun that points not to the narrative’s back, but to its chest, cold, heavy, knowing, undoing. That particular gun should fire, it would be right, but a certain lieutenant wavers, does not pull the trigger, because he hoped— He hoped it did not have to be like this.

A question is thrown to the skies, from sore, tender hearts: “Why?”

The veterans remember well, ‘why’. Before their minds were touched by darkness, “it wasn't sickness or hunger that mattered most to our chances.” Instead, as Mr. Blanky relates, “what little love we had amongst us was the only thing keeping us civil”, and Blanky speaks not only of the story of Fury Beach, but also of their very fates.

If hope is to be the compulsion to bite the hand that feeds, to split its head open with a boat axe —if hope is to be a stronger faith in the others, or the self, than on living on, then so be it.

To hope against hope, in the face of silence, of loss, is worthwhile, and it is allowed, Blanky proves, as he discovers both the Passage and Tuunbaq by his own, lonely path. Then, hope needn’t be of survival, it needn’t be of a cleansed state of naïve, optimistic utopia. Ephemeral as life is granted to humanity, I’d dare say we are allowed this, to hope not only in spite —but because of death.

Because of death, the Netsilik family that feeds Irving matters —because of it, the efforts Lady Jane pursues back in England matter —because of it, Collins, Hartnell, and Tozer’s care for their fellows matters so, even as it leads them straight to their death.

Because hope is restless, and it cares little for tragedy when tragedy cares so much for it, it lives on, and it instils upon the bystander the chance of that bittersweet, wonderful catharsis.

Hope punishes Jopson, due to a frenzied servitude and loyalty that is paid in the botulism-induced disbelief of abandonment, but it pushes him forward, too, closer to the open than to the living dead the tents guard; hope chokes Little through angry chains and a last command, it reduces him to puppetry, but it pushes him to a subtle integrity few are allowed, and something must remain at the very end, to ask ‘Close?’, and thus hope for an answer, if it mattered, in the end; hope tells Bridgens love is what life is worth being alive for, and he’ll want for nothing else when Peglar’s gone, but he guards the pocket-book to his waist, he keeps his lover's words close, closer than his own, and he hopes not to die an empty book.

Crozier speaks without a waver, through words that haunt The Terror till its very end. That “‘close’ is nothing. It’s worse than nothing. It’s worse than anything in the world.” This is a tragedy, there is no happy ending. But ‘close’ does have a meaning. ‘Close’ means ‘hope’, and hope is the remnant in Pandora's jar, to which they were so close. Hope is what made them, once upon a time, alive, and hope is why it hurts.

If you reached the end, this is an invitation to talk about the hyperfixation together 🤝

#the terror #meta #long post #i really needed to write about hope and end it on a positive note. it mattered to me -perhaps it might matter to other terror fans (?)#inspired by conversation with @even-in-arcadia!

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daddycassie · 14 days

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Welcome to my blog! 🐝☀️

It’s been a while since I’ve done an official introduction for my blog, so here is the new an updated one~

I’m Casper, you can call me Cas or Cassie <3 👻🎃

I’m an author, and I write for tbosas, aka the hunger games trilogy! I’ll write platonic headcanons for characters, x readers(fem or gender neutral, but mostly fem), ship headcanons, ship fics(snowbaird, coralbaird, dovecrane, dovecranebaird, dovebaird! Yes I know — odd selection, don’t be afraid to ask about any of them) Note that I do also write very specifically for Anthea from Shazam fury of the gods, and Maria from west side story 2021, I just love Rachel Zegler a lot <3

I keep requests open most of the time and try to get to them within a couple days but it really depends on how motivated I am, so sorry if it takes me a while to get to yours!!! 😭🫶

I write fluff, nsfw, and angst, don’t shy away from giving me your headcanons either, I love to hear from you guys!!!

I run two other accounts; @theclemmiedovecote and @barbazurebairdtrue ! These are character blogs that I am generally very active on, don’t be scared to say hello <3

Other characters include: @tamamberoffically @clerkcarmineclade @billytaupeclade @officialmaudeivorybaird @justlucygraybaird @s-plinth @arachnecrane @coralfisher @officallaminamason

If you wanna join in, any spot not listed here should be open!! We’d love to have you as a part of the fun.

Speaking of @ ing, these are some of my favorite people that you MUST follow!!!

@torturedcoveydepartment @sparklebear11 @sleepy-gee @noooooooop-e @lettersfrompanem @officialelioperlman-deactivated (may you rest in peace)

my wife @losingmymindrn gets their own spot because I bit her 😔 ILY FOREVER BABY

He is the CEO of Coralbaird and I’m her secretary ✏️📋

———

More about me ~ 🌼🌙

I was born on February 7th, making me an Aquarius ♒️

My MBTI is INFP ✨

my irl name is like covey 🌹

my favorite colors are yellow and pink 💛🩷

I go by all pronouns, but I am a lady ☺️

I am an out and proud lesbian who occasionally loves fictional men!!! But am currently smitten w/ Rachel Zegler and her characters so good luck dragging me away Coriolanus Snow 🫵

Some of my favorite things include; my moots, My dogs, Rachel Zegler, Tom Blyth, Crystals, the hunger games series, my wife, origami, the moon, writing/literature, bugs(especially spiders and beetles), candles, Halloween, Pumpkins very specifically, sweettarts, stuffed animals, old creepy things, stickers, Sanrio, card games, movies, pop figures, quilts, my quote books, pickles, theatre, TAYLOR FUCKING SWIFT!!!! (this list goes on too long I love too many things)

For now this is all I have… I’m sure I’ll add more so stay tuned pumpkins 🫶

#cassie being an idiot #cassie talks to YOU #yes you #Right there in the cool cloths #Intro #request are open #Asks are open #request currently in the works!!

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fuutaprotectionsquad · 3 months

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Yknow I feel like I should have a main post where I share my Milgram opinions/verdicts (thought of this bc i was writing my sister's opinion on the milgram characters). So I'll go character by character.

Will anyone read this? I don't know but its here

Haruka: I relate to him a bit (shitty mother, intrusive homicidal thoughts, neurodivergence). I def feel bad for him but hes still really guilty in my mind. I just think the whole killing for attention thing is a really dangerous mindset you can't just get out of, especially if you're being told you're not in the wrong. And it definitely seems like he doesn't actually feel bad for the girl he killed, just feels bad because people are mad at him for it. Idk. But I enjoy his dynamic with Muu a lot, even tho its toxic i just think its really interesting. But I wish him the best and he deserves a hug. His songs are mid tho (/hj i like them)

Yuno: I love her personality and I think shes so fun, but I honestly don't think about her a lot compared to the others. But I love her and specifically enjoy her dynamics with (obv mostly in fan content) Kazui, Mahiru and Fuuta. Her and Fuuta are such a good platonic ship (romantic is fun too). Innocent vote, obv. I like her songs, but Tear Drop moreso than Umbilical.

Fuuta: Oh my god I wonder what I think of him. In all seriousness he's a major hyperfixation of mine at like every given moment. I adore him and i think he deserves better and to be innocent. Like he feels so guilty for what he did and he didn't know any better, everyone around him was encouraging his behavior and praising him for it. But then it got too far and all his friends abandoned him and blamed him like. Poor fuuta :( and he's like 100% right when he says him and es are exactly the same. On another note, major fan of 0309 (romantically, but either way works), and also love his dynamic with Haruka, Yuno, Mahiru, Amane and Es. His songs are both in my top three (backdraft being #1)

Muu: Tied for my fav character(? Fuuta might beat her idk) I love her personality and vibe and everything just ❤️❤️ queen shit. And her queen bee design is gorgeous. Typically my favs are men but shes one of the first women ive hyperfixated on this much. Again, love her dynamic with Haruka, not from a like. healthy relationships could make the characters better standpoint, but from a story perspective its interesting. But yeah guilty. As for her songs, INMF is my #2 and i like After Pain

Shidou: Honestly I used to be kinda indifferent about him and just found him to be boring but then I rewatched his voice dramas and read some fics and I like him more now. I feel really bad for him bc he went through a really shitty situation which he felt he had the power to change and was stuck in a shitty moral dilemma bc of it. And in the end he did shitty things to save those he loved and it didn't even matter. He feels so guilty and doesn't deserve it. Innocent <3. Also romantic 0507 ftw (0506 is cool too). Him and Amane are silly too. As for his songs i like them, but they're not my fav

Mahiru: i like her, but im not too like. invested in her ig. But i feel bad for her :( she just wants to feel love and like. clearly she did something wrong but she didn't know she was. She never intended to hurt anyone. So innocent. Unless we find out she like. did something really fucking bad then maybe guilty. But in I Love You it implies it was a mutual toxicity so it probably wasn't something super terrible? But anyway. I love her with like all the characters cuz shes just so fun to see interact w others, but specifically with Yuno, Fuuta, Shidou, Amane and Mikoto.

Kazui: Hes so fun i love him. Like all he wants is to be honest and be himself but he feels pressured to lie and then finally he tells the truth and his wife fucking kills herself like- jeez- poor guy. Like following the gay theory, i get why she mightve done it (imagine being told the romance you built your entire life around for like 20 years was all a lie, and that your husband never actually loved you and just pretended to and every time you kissed or something he was just pretending like. that sucks poor hinako) but its so awful that he had to go thru that. But anyway innocent, kazui come out we accept you. And stan 0507. Song wise cat is easily #4 but. half is ok ig

Amane: Yknow i love amane but I also hate her and i think part of that might be the fandom? idk. I feel sorry for her bc she grew up in such a shitty situation but also i think shes beyond the point where we can uninstill those ideologies. Like shes 12, not 5. And amane says it herself that she has as much of a free will as everyone else and that her decision to kill/stay in this environment should be valued. Not that i think she should remain in this abusive situation, but she's not just some innocent kid whose being manipulated, she knows what she's doing. Hence, guilty. I don't think either vote will change her or anything so im voting with my honest opinion. As for dynamics, i love seeing her interact with all the other prisoners, but especially Shidou and Fuuta.

Mikoto: I love mikoto a lot but im so on the fence about his verdict. Ive been voting him innocent but theres still a part of me thats like. debating it. Bc he shouldn't have to be punished for John's actions, and it sucks that that's the situation hes in, but its that or more murders are left to occur. The main reason i say innocent is under the idea that John could go dormant or just stop fronting as much if we reduce mikoto's stress (like he says will happen i think). But hes so complex and fun i love mikoto. Specifically i love romantic 0309 but also his dynamic w the smoking group and mahiru. Also i love his songs.

Kotoko: I love her but also fuck her for hurting fuuta (and mahiru too but mainly fuuta). She annoys me bc she was so quick to almost murder several people based on a preliminary verdict that was made using little information. Like she knew this wasn't a concrete verdict, but attacked them anyway. I get her ideology of "kill people who evade justice to protect the weak" but only when they've actually done bad things (ie. the guy kidnapping the little girl). But when she doesn't know what they did and knows the person accusing them doesn't either???? Like bruh. But i like her character shes fun. I like seeing how she interacts with es and everyone she attacked. And songs, harrow is okay and i really like deep cover.

Whew im done.

#this has been in my drafts for a hot bit so im posting it #milgram #haruka sakurai #yuno kashiki #fuuta kajiyama #muu kusunoki #shidou kirisaki #mahiru shiina #kazui mukuhara #amane momose #mikoto kayano #kotoko yuzuriha

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historia-vitae-magistras · 7 months

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do you have any thoughts on prussia and Canada non romantically? I think they could have an interesting dynamic that’s way overshadowed by all the shipping in the fandom, like they were enemies at one point and i think Prussia would fear Canada bc Canadians had a reputation of being really strong on the battlefield in both world wars. I think they’re def chill w/ each other modern day though.

I understand if this just isn’t ur thing, just those two are making me think thoughts and I cannot find any non romantic content of them

this was all sparked by your fic where Matt and jack are captured by Gilbert and Ludwig btw, I really liked how you wrote the dialogue there. Also you mentioned they had interacted before, care to elaborate? 👀

Oh, man yeah. Idk what precisely about prucan makes me want to jump in a lake, but in my universe, Matt literally took or nearly took Gilbert's head off with an axe in 1918 to slow the German spring offensive so lol yeah. That was his little side quest during the whole 'Alfred was mad Jack and Zee moved back behind the lines without Matt' fic from a while back. A solid quarter of Matt's war crimes were directly against Gilbert and Ludwig personally.

With the whole invisible meme and how practically every man, woman and child in Quebec participated in extremely severe brutality against the Americans and British in the 17th and 18th centuries and then threw our war crimes record on top, it's just too perfect not to write him as a trench wraith. Other nations have limits. Europe may stay their hands personally often because they never know when they might need that ally later. But Matt's never held back in his life. He couldn't afford to when he was small, and crawling on his belly through no man's land was easy for him. Ghosting his way behind enemy lines, spitting skulls and slitting throats is nothing new for him. He did that as a child, the wee freak.

And Gilbert did, too. Knight, crusader, zealot whose hand was certainly not stayed. Mutual recognition of being so fucked up they can't spend much time with the other without being reminded of some USDA Grade-A beef. I fully adhere to the headcanons that Matt's a walking flashback for Gilbert in some circumstances. But they get along fine. It's incredibly funny to picture a 1,200-year-old war machine chatting with Alfred or Arthur and then absolutely jumping out of his skin because Matt appears out of nowhere wanting affection or is just interested in the conversation. The whole anglophone world has swallowed Alfred's or even Arthur's perspective about Matt being the milder, sweeter version of Alfred, but Gilbert's specific situational PTSD just sweating bullets gives me life. It's a kind of cruel, but Matt takes utterly too much pleasure in it.

As for before that point, the long 19th century of Anglo-German fuckery as Anglo-Saxonism and a largely German monarchy drew Britain into closer cultural ties among the elite of Germany and Prussia; Gilbert often found himself in Arthur's company. They fucked a lot, mutually griping about their children. Gilbert and Matthew met and saw each other, and I want to rewrite that ficlet where Gilbert isn't exactly clocking him when he really should be in my current timeline lol. The part from canon about how everyone sees Matt in his early life as being a menacing figure at Arthur's shoulder greatly appeals to me. The guard dog with the loyalty and obedience of the best of Arthur's hounds.

Like at least once in a group drinking setting, Francois' arse has caught and kept Arthur's attention and Matt and Gilbert find themselves at a table having a conversation and swapping stories that would have them both before the Hague if they were more recent. And they just vibe. Both men depend utterly on the goodwill of often testy and impatient brothers. There is a loneliness of having one neighbour that matches fairly well with having mostly neighbours who probably hate Gil's guts on some level and loving women who could kill them. This absolute canyon of difference in how Gilbert is relegated to the museum display case, and Matt is an active, dynamic part of the world political system that keeps them apart.

#the ask box || probis pateo #Gilbert || from this baltic cannonball #matthew || my country is winter

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lamaenthel · 2 months

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Came Back Wrong

[read on ao3][masterlist]Febuwhump prompt: came back wrong

"I'm sorry, Commander, but I need you awake." Rex snaps his fingers so she'll look at him. "There's a lot to explain, but while you were asleep the Jedi staged a coup and tried to overthrow the Chancellor." Ahsoka sways, blinking unfocused eyes. "W-What?" "It's alright, we know you weren't in on it. Lord Vader flew us to Mustafar—" "Who?" Ahsoka stares at him like he's grown another head. Rex isn't allowed to say the old name out loud. "Your Master flew us to Mustafar, and now he's dueling with General Kenobi but I can't go and help him if you don't—" "Rex!" Ahsoka grabs at his pauldrons and pulls him close. "What are you talking about?" She's shaking, her blue eyes wide and terrified. "Kenobi is going to kill your Master if you don't give me permission to leave the ship!" Rex shouts.

Characters: CT-7567|Rex/Ahsoka Tano, Darth Vader, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Sidious Wordcount: 2935

The screaming in the Halls of Healing has mostly stopped. The men have made quick work of the ones too sick to leave their beds. The Healers—trained Jedi—gave them only a bit more trouble than the comatose ones. They spent their war fighting in operation theaters and triage centers instead of alien plains, and a laser scalpel doesn't do nearly as much damage as a blaster bolt.

Rex regrets that the medics have to die, but he has his orders; including the special order issued by Lord Vader. He steps over the smoking corpse of an elderly blue Twi'lek Jedi to enter the Jedi's bacta center. All of the tanks are full; by the looks of it, most of their occupants are Padawans. He turns off the air supply for every tank except one. "I've secured Ahsoka Tano," he says into their private channel. He watches the sleeping Padawans twitch in his peripheral vision.

"Load her onto my ship and wait for my return. She is not to be harmed under any circumstance." Lord Vader's order is punctuated by blaster fire and the humming of lightsabers.

"Yes, Sir." Rex activates the waking protocol for Ahsoka's bacta tank and preheats the sanisteam for her as he waits; he's served under her long enough to know how much she hates the lingering sweet-sour smell of bacta. He is beyond grateful—all of the men were, in fact, when they received Vader's amendment—that he does not have to execute her like the rest of her traitorous brethren. She may very well be the only Jedi to survive the Order's attempted coup. As Lord Vader has explained, she couldn't have been in on their plan since she'd been in bacta for more than a week, recovering from the injuries she sustained helping to rescue Chance—rescue the Emperor.

Rex catches the slippery, lithe Togruta once the lift deposits her on the ground. "Rex?" she murmurs, groggy and confused, blinking unfocused blue eyes at him.

"Yes, Commander." He keeps a firm grip on her arms as he walks her to the sanisteam, careful to not to let his eyes linger on her exposed body.

"Where're we—" She sputters as hot water hits her face.

"Just getting you cleaned up, Commander." He rotates her under the water, making sure she's thoroughly rinsed. He wraps her in a warm towel once she's done.

"The Force…" Her knees buckle and she collapses in his arms. "Rex, the Force… it's screaming, what's happening—"

Lord Vader had warned him that as Ahsoka had no idea what the Jedi had done, she was likely to panic once she felt their deaths in the Force. He readies the hypospray he was given for that very reason and shoots it into her neck before her distress worsens. She goes completely limp in his arms with a frightened whimper.

Rex tries to preserve her modesty by looking at the ceiling while he dresses her in a set of caf-colored robes. With one last look to confirm that the other Jedi have stopped twitching in their bacta tanks, he carefully cradles Ahsoka to his chest and begins the long walk down to the Temple hangar.

He's glad she's unconscious. He knows all the bodies would have bothered her, even if she is on the right side.

Eight hours later, they land on Mustafar. Lord Vader abandons the cockpit and sits on the edge of Ahsoka's bunk, watching her sleep with a haunted expression. She hasn't come to yet, but whatever she's dreaming of makes her twitch and whimper like a beaten pup. "It's almost over, Snips," Vader whispers. He kisses her on the forehead and tucks her blanket around her, swaddling her like an infant. His eyes are swollen and bruised, wet with unshed tears.

Rex pretends not to notice.

"Stay on the ship while I finish this." Lord Vader stands, wipes his eyes. "Protect her with your life."

"Sir, yes sir!" Rex snaps his heels together.

"The war's about to be over, Rex." Vader gives him a smile that doesn't make it to his eyes. "We did it. We won." He gives Ahsoka one last look before departing the ship, Artoo hot on his heels. The droid rolls back through the airlock a few seconds later, beeping morosely.

"Don't you worry about him," Rex reassures the droid. "You heard him. He's ending this. It's almost over."

Artoo silently rolls to his charging station and shuts down. Rex turns his attention back to Ahsoka. She twitches violently in her sleep. Her tears have soaked the pillow beneath her writhing head.

"It's alright." Rex removes his helmet and gauntlets and scratches between her montrals like he saw General Koon do after Zygerria. Almost immediately her twitching stops, her pained mewling replaced by a throaty purr. "There you go," he murmurs, smiling a little. It's not necessarily against regs to be petting his CO like a tooka, he's fairly sure, but it's close.

He stops scratching and cups her cheek. Her skin is silky soft, hairless, wet from her tears. He strokes her winged marking with his calloused thumb, amazed; for some reason he thought it would feel different than the rest of her skin. Her plum lips open in a soft O. "Rex," she murmurs. Still asleep, she lays her hand on top of his. "You have… to protect…"

"I'll protect you," he rumbles. "I'll protect you until the end, Ahsoka, I promise."

Ahsoka's big blue eyes flutter open for a few confused seconds, then close. "Anakin," she whispers, then she falls back into a deep sleep.

Rex watches them circle each other like a pair of nexu from the viewport in the cockpit. "Your new Empire?" General Kenobi demands, outraged. At his feet lies Senator Amidala, either dead or close to it after her confrontation with Lord Vader. Her pregnant belly is almost grotesquely large on her petite frame.

"Don't make me kill you!" Lord Vader seethes.

"Anakin, my allegiance is to the Republic, to democracy!"

Rex draws back from the viewport and hurries to Ahsoka's side. "Commander," he whispers, gently shaking her. "Ahsoka, can you hear me?"

Ahsoka's head jerks from side to side, but she doesn't wake up.

Rex lets out a frustrated huff and looks around for a medkit. Spotting it on the far wall above the droid's charging station, he yanks it off the wall and gets out the epinephrine pen. "Hope this works on Togs," he mumbles to himself. He jams it into her thigh.

Ahsoka rears up with a screech at the same time an angry scream reverberates from outside, followed by the humming of lightsabers. "Rex?" she gasps, clutching at her chest.

Ahsoka sways, blinking unfocused eyes. "W-What?"

"It's alright, we know you weren't in on it. Lord Vader flew us to Mustafar—"

"Who?" Ahsoka stares at him like he's grown another head.

Rex isn't allowed to say the old name out loud. "Your Master flew us to Mustafar, and now he's dueling with General Kenobi but I can't go and help him if you don't—"

"Rex!" Ahsoka grabs at his pauldrons and pulls him close. "What are you talking about?" She's shaking, her blue eyes wide and terrified.

"Kenobi is going to kill your Master if you don't give me permission to leave the ship!" Rex shouts.

"Obi-Wan?" she asks incredulously. "Are you insane?"

He points towards the cockpit. "Look outside if you don't believe me!"

Ahsoka pushes him away and staggers to the viewport, nearly tripping over the newly-awakened Artoo. Rex hears a sharp gasp; she turns around and pushes past him in a coltish sprint for the airlock. He grabs her arm before she can leave. "Give me permission to leave the ship," he pleads.

"You don't need my permission!" She yanks her arm out of his grasp.

"Yes I do!" he says desperately. "Please, Commander—"

"Permission granted!" The ramp finishes unfurling with a loud clunk. "Secure Padmé, I'm going after Skyguy!" She makes a break for the twin blue stars spinning in a violent dance over the lava river.

"Ahsoka!" Rex yells, panicked; he has to obey before he can follow. He turns with a curse, drags the senator up the ramp of her ship, and leaves her for the droids to fuss over.

By the time he catches up with her, she's sliding down a hill of obsidian sand to where her Masters are. Kenobi stands on the peak of the bank below them. Lord Vader hovers above the lava river on a mining droid, murder in his eyes. He jumps; Ahsoka leaps forward and tackles Kenobi out of the way. "Have you lost your mind?" she shrieks in his face.

"Get out of here before it's too late!" Kenobi rolls them out of the way of Vader's wide, overhand swing. Rex slides down the black sand with a curse.

"She's not going anywhere," Vader seethes. He stalks towards Kenobi, rolling his shoulders with a predator's grin, and flings Ahsoka with the Force directly into Rex's arms.

Rex takes the opportunity to drag Ahsoka as far away as he can while she's stunned. "Get the hell off of me!" she snarls at him. He lets go immediately. "Anakin, what are you doing, stop! It's Obi-Wan, stop!" She darts back towards them.

"Ahsoka, run!" Kenobi parries every blow that comes his way but he's losing strength; Vader's titanic blows force him to one knee, and he grins madly.

"Anakin!" Ahsoka jumps on him from behind and uses all four limbs to pin his arms to his sides. "Please stop, please!"

"He can't be reasoned with anymore, Ahsoka," Kenobi warns. Vader furiously pries her off of him; Rex hears a sharp crack, and she shrieks and grabs her wrist. "Don't hurt her! It's me you want dead, remember?" He falls back into his defensive stance. His saber arm shakes. "She is innocent."

Vader pins Ahsoka to his chest and holds his saber to her throat. "Yield." He grins.

Kenobi blanches. "Don't, please don't—"

"Better she die by the hand of someone who loves her than be corrupted any further by the Jedi." Vader's blue blade turns Ahsoka's wide, terrified eyes into glowing stars. "I won't ask again, Obi-Wan."

The High General lets out a long, shaky breath and tosses his saber at the lava. Vader laughs and immediately shoves Ahsoka back to Rex. She stumbles and trips into his arms. "You really think I would hurt my own Padawan?" Vader taunts. He raises his saber. "I will give you one last chance to pledge your loyalty to me."

"Come on, Commander," Rex whispers, dragging her backwards. Her legs give out from beneath her.

"I can't do that, Anakin." Kenobi steels himself for Vader's blow; a sleek black ship enters the atmosphere, scattering clouds with a sonic boom that draws everyone's attention. Kenobi takes advantage of the distraction to pull Vader's saber from his hand with the Force. He hesitates, his eyes darting between the black ship and Ahsoka, then flees with a mighty leap across the lava river.

"Obi-Wan!" Vader roars, charging to the edge. "OBI-WAN!" He turns on Ahsoka, his face contorted in a nightmarish mask of rage. She is ripped from Rex's arms and flies into the air, clawing at her throat. "WHY DID YOU INTERFERE?"

Ahsoka reaches for Vader and clings to his wrist until her orange face drains to chalk white, mouth gaping open and shut pathetically.

Rex cannot intervene. He watches the life leave Ahsoka's big blue eyes, powerless to stop it. I'll protect you until the end. He draws in a shuddering sob of a breath and sways, shaking.

Lucidity returns to Vader's eyes. He drops her with a gasp of horrified realization and collapses to the obsidian sand beside her. "No, no… wake up, Snips, breathe—"

Ahsoka rears up, gasping and clutching at her purple throat. Vader pulls her into his lap and peppers her forehead with teary kisses. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Ahsoka, I didn't mean to hurt you, I would never hurt you—" He cups her face in his oversized hands and presses their foreheads together, weeping. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"We… we're going to figure this out," Ahsoka chokes weakly, layering her hands over his. "It's okay, Master. I won't leave you."

"A pity." The Emperor has arrived. "Is that how you show respect to your ruler, Captain?" An invisible Force rips Rex to his knees so hard that he feels something pop. "Stay there. Do not interfere."

"Master." Vader bends his knee.

"Kenobi has fled, but this one still lives." The Emperor hisses like a snake. "The Rule of Two states that there is only one Master, one Apprentice. No more." Hatred oozes from the words like hot tar. "Kill her. Finish what you started at the Temple."

Vader's eyes go wide. "No!"

"You dare defy me?" The Emperor's eyes flash gold.

"Why must she die?" Vader demands. "She's loyal and skilled, and strong in the Force. She would be an asset."

"She would be a rival." The Emperor bares his brown teeth. "I am no fool. The two of you are bonded too deeply in the Force. While she still breathes, your loyalty is divided. You prove it even now as you beg for her life. Kill her and be free of it."

"Anakin," Ahsoka whispers, shaking. She clings to him like a child.

"It is your choice, Lord Vader." The Emperor's maw widens in a psychotic smile. He's enjoying this. "Only I have the knowledge that will save Padmé. Kill Ahsoka, or I will ensure that Padmé dies. Your children die."

Fresh tears stream down Vader's cheeks. He turns to his Padawan, trembling. "I..."

"Master, don't." Ahsoka backs away. Her hands instinctively go to her sides to grab her missing sabers. "Please don't hurt me!"

"I'm so sorry, Ahsoka." Vader advances.

"Do it, Lord Vader." The Emperor's cackle sounds like cracking ice. "Destroy her and take your place at my side! I am the only one with the knowledge that will save your wife."

Vader's face crumbles. "I have done every horrible thing you asked of me," he weeps. "Tell me how to save Padmé, and I will… I will do this too."

Ahsoka looks desperately to Rex for help. He can't even get to his feet without permission.

"Your sentiment makes you weak." The Emperor shakes his head. "Do it now! Kill your Padawan, kill the last, weak piece of Anakin Skywalker, and only then will you have enough strength in the Dark Side to save your family!"

Vader turns back to Ahsoka, despondent. "I'm sorry," he whispers, raising his hand.

Ahsoka stumbles backwards. "Anakin, no!"

Rex's vision goes spotty. He sways, nearly falls, and only when he takes a deep gulp of air does he realize he's been holding his breath since the Emperor touched down.

The Emperor's vile grin grows. "Do it!"

Vader's arm shakes. "I have to save Padmé," he whispers to her. "I… our babies…"

"Skyguy." Ahsoka's blue eyes have never looked bigger.

"Pathetic." The Mustafar night turns blinding blue-white. A bolt of lightning cracks from the Emperor's outstretched hand and hits Ahsoka in the heart, flinging her backwards. She rolls to a stop in front of Rex. Her chest doesn't move.

"NO!" Vader screams. The arm that failed to strangle his Padawan turns towards the Emperor instead, splitting the air with a stream of blood-red lightning. It meets the Emperor's blue in the middle and explodes into a blinding ball of violet plasma, sending the two Sith flying back.

Rex stares into Ahsoka's big, empty blue eyes, and feels something in him die with her. He hears snarling, screaming, the humming of lightsabers; he can't stop staring into her blue eyes. Blue eyes that beg him to do something, anything just get up Captain get up Captain GET UP CAPTAIN

The Captain leans over, pinches her nose shut, and breathes his life into her mouth. Her chest rises. He begins chest compressions, dipping every five seconds to breathe for her again. He is dimly aware of screaming, buzzing electricity, the humming of lightsabers; he doesn't care enough to look away from her. He doesn't even care who wins.

Her ribs break with a sick crack under the force of his compressions. A blast of boiling, staticky air scalds his face and nearly sends him flying backwards. In his peripheral vision, a head bounces by wetly and rolls into the lava river.

"Move aside." Lord Vader kneels opposite of the Captain and holds His left hand above her heart. His eyes burn like live coals in His skull. Red lightning gathers at His fingertips and surges downward.

She screams. Her body contorts, twitching unnaturally as Vader's red lightning restarts her heart, sending her into a horrifying ball of arched, cracking limbs like a dying spider. She rolls onto her side facing Vader, panting and shaking, and slowly uncurls.

"You're alive." Vader softly pets her montrals. "You're alive."

"I'm alive." Her voice sounds different; higher, unbalanced. It sends a shiver down the Captain's spine.

Vader pushes up to His feet. "Rise, Darth…" he pauses and tilts His head, listening to an invisible whisper. "Korrē." He smiles and helps her to her feet. "Rise, my daughter." He wraps her tightly in His arms and crushes her against His chest.

"Thank you, my Master." She smiles at the Captain over her shoulder.

Her eyes are gold. Bright, molten gold.

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