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tac-bat · 1 year

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Why I love How Sky Portrays Death

Before I start, I go into detail about death and loss, and description of the afterlife and dying and examples of it in sky and a little mention of religion irl.

I wrote this while sleep deprived if this makes no sense, i'm not sorry

Take this all with a grain of salt as this is purely my observation and interpretation

To many, death is scary, unpredictable, and inevitable. Death is frightening because it represents the end of life, the loss and grief it brings, and the uncertainty of where we will go. Every religion has its own version of the afterlife, from our soul moving to a new body, places ranging from rewarding good and punishing evil, to simply being nothing. Death is scary because we'll never truly know what lies beyond or what awaits. It's complicated ,heavy, and it's something that many have delved deeper into too. I only bring this up because the sky not only answers, but embraces death. How? Let's take a look.

Orbit

Sky's interpretation of the afterlife is perfect. "All are given breath by starlight," as stated in the intro mural, everyone ends up back in the stars someday, becoming spirits that travel to this small part of the galaxy. They even seem to become one with the light and stars if they so please. And it's relaxing; it's soothing.

They know it exists.

Spirit's have shown from the beginning of the game that they can descend and ascend whenever they please. See all TS's, Grandma, and event spirits like Yeti, who appear briefly during Feast to cast a snowman spell before ascending. According to this logic, orbit is widely known because ancestors were bound to descend to explain what happens. And spirits aren't gone from their loved ones' lives; they're still present. They're not gone and can visit anytime they like; it's not hard for me to imagine them visiting others during holidays and events.

Gravestone's

In every social space, there are gravestones for every base-game ancestor. What's interesting is how they're laid out; unlike regular graveyards, which are organized in a line, none of the graves are uniform, some being lengths apart. This is very clear in Prarie, with one near the closet and another nestled in a cave; even irl graveyards that are less uniform don't tend to put burials that far away, but Sky does. It almost seems like an ancestor could've possibly chosen the placement themselves. You also have the special burial site at the 8-player door, a working elevator and all, the graves have their own little buildings and stones draped in gold, implying a ceremony as we know. Not only that, but Valley's way of honouring death is extremely interesting.

Let's talk about Samekh's temple

Valley really demonstrates how death is viewed—not in a morbid way but in an honourable way. The hallways of both races are lined with gravestones, with the exception of some open spaces. When compared to decorations such as the eight-player door, the gravestones themselves are painted in gold. They're unlike any graves seen so far, and you can argue that these were reserved for champions, and if so, I feel like the halls would be packed considering this is the valley of triumph, but no, there are still a few open spaces. Which makes me adore how there are gravestones in the twin's temple.

Their temple is the only one that not only has gravestones inside, but is lined with them! And considering their position and how we know they play a big role in the sky as leaders, to the point where they have a temple, it makes the fact they share it as an ancestor's final resting place so heartwarming to me. They were under no obligation to place gravestones; they could have dragged the banners down, added more statues, or even designed something similar to Daleth's temple like the murals we see, but they didn't. They allowed the room with their shrine to be a graveyard, they value their people's lives; they regard it as an honour, and whether those are the graves of champions or ordinary people, they value them all the same.

And it still hurts.

Even in the sky, where the question of death is answered, it still hurts.

It hurts when Mindful and a Tearful miner witness the deaths of their friends, Tearful having to bury their own. It hurts when Teabrewer returns with herbs for their loved one who died while they were away, so much so that they become anxious when they leave anyone alone, as seen in their info card. It's horrifying to know how many ancestors died in the war with no way to escape, faced with the fear of death every day.

Death is still scary in Sky, and I love it for that. Even when you know where you'll go, you still value your life; you don't want to die, and you don't want to go. But when that time comes, when you choose to be one with the universe, or roam your home with your star-kissed body, you'll never be alone. And that's why I adore the way death is depicted:

Because it's bittersweet.

#i spent way to long on this but head full #head very full #sky cotl #sky children of the light #skyblr #valley twins #valley elders #valley of triumph #daylight prairie #sky spirits #death mention #tw death #sky: cotl #sky: children of the light #tac rambles #tac art #?

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underprivilegedcactus · 5 months

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It's totally fine if you don't think God!Gale and Ascended!Astarion endings are necessarily bad endings. I agree there's definitely some ambiguity when it comes to these outcomes, but there's something that people should consider: When writing a character, one of the things a writer can choose to focus on to build them out is to consider What They Want vs. What They Need.

Gale WANTS to become a god (eventually) to both show up Mystra and to help mortals the way he feels that gods should. What Gale NEEDS is to realise that he is enough as is, that he is more than just his power and any more strength he could aqcuire. Gale needs to have more confidence in his own self worth.

Astarion WANTS ultimate power so that no can ever hurt him or those he loves ever again. He wants to be so strong that no one would even try to harm him, and if they do he can effortlessly squash them. For him, it's only through power that he can ever be truly and forever free. What Astarion NEEDS is healing from centuries of cruelty through true friendship or even romantic love and to be seen as an equal, to take back control of his bodily autonomy and choices, and to become actually free from not only Cazador, but from becoming a slave to his darkest impulses that his rough life has exacerbated.

Sure, both Gale and Astarion are happy when they get what they want, but there's lots of hints that it's not what they really needed.

Gale becomes the god of ambition, which is never satisfied with its lot and will likely cause trouble for the pantheon down the line. It's also very clear that he lost a vital part of himself, and I don't think it's his connection with his mother or Tara, which are still important facets but are ultimately not the core of what he lost. It's the fact that he no longer cares about doing actual good for people, a key component of his former personality. One of the things I love about his character is that no matter how high he rose, mortal Gale still cared about helping people in positive ways. Ambition doesn't give a damn where its drive takes people, for better or for worse. Mortal Gale would be horrified if he knew that he influenced evil people to do worse things in the name of ambition. Mortal Gale would also be horrified that his god version openly admits to not offering ANYTHING to his followers, which is anathema to what Gale originally wanted godhood for. But hey, he got what he wants and he's happy, so that MUST be good, right?

Ascended Astarion has entirely lost any shred of his humanity, and is now a complete slave to his darkest desires. He no longer views his romantic partner as a person. They're just his most prized object, whether they want to be or not. He enslaves other people, inflicting on them the exact kind of bondage he had to deal with for two centuries, including the person he used to love. On top of all that, he loses his capacity to even recognize the wrongness of his actions. For all intents and purposes, Ascended Astarion becomes a megalomaniacal homicidal psychopath who's hunger knows no bounds. Worse, he has no way to ever recognise if this is a problem anymore or something he doesn't like. But again, he got what he wants and he's happy, so it MUST be a good thing, right?

There's nothing wrong if you still see these outcomes as good endings, or even just better endings than an outright "bad" ending. I see what you mean, and also, it's a video game and these are fictional characters, not people who can actually get hurt. Like so much media and art, it's really more of a thought experiment than any kind of moral indicator.

I do however implore you to consider why so many people, Larian included, don't see these outcomes as good, and in some ways perhaps even worse than other "bad" endings. A very common but very relevant trope in storytelling is "be careful what you wish for because you might just get it", and it's usually to remind us that getting what we want isn't always what's best for us in the long run.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #bg3 spoilers #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #astarion #bg3 astarion #storytelling

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donkeys-waffles · 6 months

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The new leaks are just so interesting!!! I kinda like how he did their backstories, it makes sense for All for One to be the way he is... I don't believe he was just born evil, since we've seen that he is capable of some sort of love or care, example being his reaction to his brother's death.

I think the reason he seems so dark, and evil is because that's how you survived back then. I always thought the fall of society was when the two were teenagers, maybe even adults. But the idea that they were born into a society in shambles without parental love or guidance, makes sense why the bastard man was a feral child coveting the feeling of unconditional love, killing the glowing baby because he, from what I can gather, was the only truly accepted one by society while the rest were seen as monsters needing extermination. He had to fend for himself, he had to teach himself to read and speak normally, he never had a parent tell him no. And in a time like that, I'm sure people weren't keen on being kind and gentle towards each other, I believe at best they were ignored because they were children. But no one picked them up or treated them gently out of fear they may possess meta-abilities, it was almost a 'kill or be killed' mentality. He reacts like a normal child in a situation with no guidance at all.... He acts feral because that's how the adults around him have taught him to react. He's still not a good person for a multitude of reasons. But ugh, I am just so curious about how he became the person he is now, from a small feral child to a calculating, manipulative adult. He knows how to twist and turn people to his whims.

The spoilers also show a little bit of his possessiveness, he views things he loves as possessions.... Which isn't shocking.... I've heard a lot of people mention this debunking the DFO theory... First off, how? If you observe the details of the chapter, you can easily deduce that AFO cares for Yoichi. He kicks him, but I really think that's just a result of having no parental figure, if you think about it. Children often hit other children when they feel strong negative emotions, they start off with little to no emotional regulation or intelligence, because they're children. That's what good parents are for, we don't just adopt moral codes on our own. It's our parents and society in general that teaches what's appropriate and inappropriate. And we obviously know that AFO and Yoichi didn't have a parental figure, or at least a stable one (if they were picked up along the way after their mothers' death.) The only thing teaching these children, particularly AFO, how to act is what's going on in society. What the adults around them are doing, and we can obviously tell there's a lot of mistrust, judgement, and violence being exhibited. Baby AFO is bound to catch on and adapt to survive... Our natural instincts are to survive, which explain why baby AFO was sucking his mother's breast, which is very normal, considering its our natural instincts to survive. Some people are saying that he was born evil because of this... No, it's a newborn, a fucking newborn trying to survive. Which during those early ages, that's all we really think of is our pleasure complex and survival instinct. Mother's normally feed their children within the first hour of childbirth, that's what's recommended from the American Academy of Pediatrics, so instinctually it makes sense for the baby to try to find that nutrients on its own if it's not provided.

#This is such a ramble #I have more thoughts about him just killing people without remorse as such a small child #Oh oh and hows he's illustrated in the chapter as looking like a monster.#Which this is supposed to me AFO's point of view...#Like come on that's so interesting #DFO #dad for one #izuku midoriya #all for one #bnha #bnha all for one #Sorry for any grammatical errors I was so excited and I didn't care if it made any sense

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deconstructthesoup · 1 month

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I saw a D&D AU with the Voices, and I decided that I also wanted to do a D&D AU with the Vessels, so here goes:

*cracks knuckles*

The players are the chapter 2 vessels, who have joined together after they were each mysteriously attacked---and nearly kidnapped---by worshipers of a primordial god only known as The Narrator. Even though they're all vastly different people with vastly different motivations, they have to work together in order to figure out how they've somehow angered a long-forgotten god.

The Tower is a scourge aasimar and an Oath of Conquest paladin, who devoted herself to The Apotheosis, queen of the gods and the embodiment of justice and retribution. She acts as the self-appointed leader of the group, even though a good chunk of the other players are having none of her self-righteousness and narcissism. She doesn't believe that the Narrator actually exists, and considers the quest to just be another heretic-killing spree.

The Adversary is a tiefling Ancestral Guardians barbarian, who grew up in a rough-and-tumble all-barbarian community and is slated to become its next leader. She's just happy to travel around the world bashing heads, and she winds up clashing the most with Tower---mainly due to their very different backgrounds. She genuinely doesn't care who or what the Narrator is, and just wants to kick ass and have a good time.

The Spectre is a ghost and a necromancer wizard, who actually died when she was attacked and has brought herself back in order to track down her killer and to take her revenge. She kind of lost herself in the ivory tower of academia when she was alive, and part of the reason she's sticking with the others is so she can actually form connections before it's truly too late. She's studied several old cults in her time, but the only thing she's found of The Narrator is an old painting of a crow with sharp teeth...

The Nightmare is a dhampir and an Undead warlock, who draws her magic from the dread vampire queen who turned her. She is no stranger to being hunted, for people fear and shun vampires and their spawn, but she knows full well that this time is different. And during the attack, she managed to devour a dream of her would-be captor, getting a little glimpse into the ancient powers of the god that wants her gone... and, well, who can resist the allure of taking down a being as old as time?

The Witch is a tabaxi Circle of Spores druid and an Arcane Trickster rogue, who's been living on her own in the woods after suffering a great betrayal and heartbreak that damaged her trust in anyone. She's only working with the others because she believes she'll get further if she does, and while she initially intends to backstab them once they're no longer useful, she finds herself growing closer to them as their journey continues. All she really wants is to go back to her old life... but her goal may change as her walls begin to come down.

The Prisoner is a human Armorer artificer, who once angered an archfey and was cursed to always be bound in chains. Undeterred, she turned this to her advantage, reforging her chains into armor that she could use as a weapon. She starts traveling with the rest purely due to self-preservation, as every time she resolved to just hide, The Narrator's worshipers found her again---but she's definitely the practical mind that they needed.

The Damsel is a half-elf College of Creation bard and a Beastmaster ranger, and she's a princess whose kingdom was usurped by an evil family member, leaving her on the run. She's very naive about how the world works, mainly due to being sheltered her entire life, and is sure that this situation can be solved with a nice conversation. Thankfully, she has someone to help her...

The Beast is a fey that was cursed to take the form of a barely-sapient panther, and she barely recalls her life in the Feywild. Still, she has a soft spot for the innocent princess she came across in the woods one day, and she will protect her for as long as she can.

The Razor is an elf Soulknife rogue and a College of Swords bard, and she's actually a pretty well-known circus performer. She's absolute chaos personified, and she really doesn't give a shit about The Narrator either way---she's just ready to kick ass, stab people, and hang out with her new best friends. Even if not all of them are super into being friends with the crazy blade lady.

And last but not least, The Stranger is a changeling Divine Soul sorcerer and a Grave Domain cleric, who unknowingly draws their power from the long-forgotten goddess of change, transformation, endings, and new beginnings. They woke up one day with no memory of who they were, and were immediately attacked for reasons they could not explain---so, needless to say, they're pretty traumatized. It also doesn't help that they don't even know what they really look like, so they're constantly changing to reflect what people expect of them... which isn't the most healthy thing, but they're an amnesiac, give them a break.

So... yeah!

#the chapter 3 vessels are either gods or monsters #slay the princess #dnd #stp the tower #stp the adversary #stp the spectre #stp the nightmare #stp the witch #stp the prisoner #stp the damsel #stp the beast #stp the razor #stp the stranger

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edenmemes · 2 years

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the northman (2022) starters

❝ your kingdom will not last. ❞ ❝ my fate did not ready me for finding you. ❞ ❝ your strength breaks men’s bones. i have the cunning to break their minds. ❞ ❝ i thought i must always shield my heart in stone. ❞ ❝ were you lost? ❞ ❝ in the end, you’re just like your father. ❞ ❝ even now, you believe the fairy tale i told you is true? ❞ ❝ you are still a beast cloaked in man-flesh. ❞ ❝ why would you come to such a hellish place? ❞ ❝ live always without fear, for your fate is set and you cannot escape it. ❞ ❝ should i fall by the enemy’s sword, you must avenge me. ❞ ❝ i must die for the sword. i will die in honor. ❞ ❝ this ground harbors evil. ❞ ❝ hate is all i have ever known. but i wish to be free of it. ❞ ❝ my hour of grief has passed. ❞ ❝ whatever you hear, you must stay hidden. ❞ ❝ my heart knows only revenge. ❞ ❝ i knew then you had a heart of cold iron. ❞ ❝ if you lose me, will you come and look for me? will you? ❞ ❝ never enter my chambers without invitation! ❞ ❝ i have never felt close to another person. not since i was a child. ❞ ❝ could it not be that fate has spun another thread for you to follow? ❞ ❝ wherever i go, i must take you with me. ❞ ❝ you came back for me. ❞ ❝ i cannot truly believe you have extinguished your fire for vengeance. ❞ ❝ your sheep’s clothing does not disguise you. ❞ ❝ this is the last tear you will shed in weakness. ❞ ❝ you sacrificed yourself so that i could flee. ❞ ❝ hide your cunning. show the shepherd you are a sheep. ❞ ❝ you must choose between kindness for your kin, and hatred for your enemies. ❞ ❝ you found me. ❞ ❝ i will tear out their eyes, and i will tear out their tongues. ❞ ❝ look me in the eye. ❞ ❝ i will become a hailstorm of iron and steel. ❞ ❝ you know why i have come. ❞ ❝ come morning, they will hunt for me. ❞ ❝ did you find it? what you lost. ❞ ❝ you best find yourself some sleep. ❞ ❝ if you’re as untrustworthy as a wolf, i swear i’ll put you down myself. ❞ ❝ like a battle-dog returning to its master, i’ve come to be fettered by your fair locks. ❞ ❝ ever are we bound. ❞ ❝ i will have my vengeance. and more. ❞ ❝ your mind reeks of your father. ❞ ❝ your words are poison. ❞ ❝ do as you’re told. go. ❞ ❝ please, it’s but a jest. a jest. ❞ ❝ you keep a foul tongue, yet i keep you as a deep-sworn friend. ❞ ❝ i refuse to die in sickness nor live the long life of a shameful graybeard. ❞ ❝ be not afraid. do as i do. ❞ ❝ together we will rage in the battlefield of corpses. ❞ ❝ my fate has brought me here. ❞ ❝ for now, i will haunt this place like a hungry corpse returned from the grave. ❞ ❝ can you fight? ❞ ❝ whatever happens tomorrow, be ready to run. ❞ ❝ this is not the work of my god. ❞ ❝ i should kill you and all that is dear to you. ❞

#rp meme #rp starters #roleplay meme #roleplay starters

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witchthewriter · 10 months

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𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄

Paid story for @yourwinchesterbros. Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: swears, SMUT no one under 18 read this please, i.e., rough sex

ᵐᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡⁱˢᵗ

Jax decided to drive both of you over to his place, pick the boys up and go to the park. You agreed, because … you didn’t really know what the boys liked to do. Jax found your anxiety a tiny bit humorous, only because you were so riled about it.

“I mean, what if I say … the wrong thing and they hate me forever? I don’t want to be the evil stepmother!” You said while the two of you got dressed.

“Babe, they’re not gonna think of you like that. I promise,” he said and gave you a peck on the cheek. Rolling your eyes, you zipped up your boots and went to feed your own two boys. They were waiting patiently at their bowls, both tails wagging when you made their food.

With Jax in the shower, your mind wandered to all the things that could happen. Fuck, what if one of them gets hurt on my watch? You thought while placing the silver bowls on the ground.

You weren’t expecting things to go well. That’s just how your mind worked sometimes, okay ... all the time. Low expectations meant you couldn’t get hurt. That whatever went wrong was bound to happen anyway. Basically, you were a supporter of Murphy’s Law.

You were already dressed and waiting on Jax. So, you decided to do a bit of tidying up, which turned into cleaning and when Jax came out of the bathroom, he saw you with two gloves on, heavily scrubbing the benches.

“Babe! It’ll be okay. They’re just kids-“ Jax had your face in his hands as he spoke, so you had nowhere else to look but in his eyes. Eyes that seemed to look straight through you. To see everything you were feeling.

It made your stomach flip. He truly believed his sons would somehow adore you. Just as he did. Oh, the folly of men.

You rode over to Jax's place on his bike and the whole way there you couldn't stop panicking. Children frightened you a little, but what you didn't realise was that Jax could feel your heartbeat through his back.

And at one point, he lightly slapped the side of your thigh. It was his way of trying to get you out of your own mind.

The ride felt shorter than usual and as you hopped off the bike and undid the helmet, you followed Jax up to the house. It was just like any other house. It was middle-class; clean, and well-maintained, even the lawn had been mowed. The mailbox stuck out to you, and you didn’t know why. Maybe it was because of how weird a biker in a gang would have such a normal, everyday, and mundane … thing. It wasn’t rusting or chipping either...unlike yours.

With one knock to the door, Jax opened it and went inside. With you right behind him, he squeezed your hand once and went to find his boys.

Oh fuck, okay here we go, you thought, looking around the place. Hell, it was clean. Cleaner than your own home. Well, Jax would have hired a cleaner, or at least, Gemma would have. But if you ever moved in with him, would you still keep the cleaner around? Would Gemma still come around as often?

It was these weird thoughts that sometimes kept you up at night. Were they stupid thoughts? Over the top? Were you thinking too far ahead? Calm down, you thought to yourself. And tapped your thigh right where Jax had before.

Your mind was snapped out of its cage when you heard the sound of heels on tiles. Holding a breath, you saw ...that Wendy wasn’t there. Unbeknownst to you, Jax had had a conversation with her the night before. It wasn’t a fun one either. But he did make things clear, as well as assure Wendy that her boys weren’t being taken from her.

Gemma stood there with her arms crossed. Was she glowering at you? No, no she was sizing you up. Once again.

“The way you handled Wendy the other night was pretty badass, Zoe.”

Some people would see that as a compliment but there was something sour in her words.

Before you could reply, Jax came out with two blonde-haired boys.

Abel and Thomas were hesitant as they clung to their father. All three had blonde hair, and the thought made you smile. For a split second, you wondered what coloured hair your baby with Jax would be, but instantly you scolded yourself. Don’t think so far ahead! you thought.

Abel was the easiest one to get along with, all you had to do was ask him about his toys and off he was, running around his house trying to drag you along, showing you all the different rooms and what he used them for.

“And in that one we do number ones and number twos,” he said brightly while pointing to the toilet.

“Whew, that’s good to know,” you responded with a laugh. Jax howled with laughter, while carrying Thomas close to his chest. Jax held onto Thomas, who didn’t want to leave his father’s arms. Not because he didn’t like this new stranger, no, he’d been around strangers all the time. It was just that right now he got all his father’s attention. Finally.

“Isn’t that right, daddy?” Abel said with such innocent eyes.

“Absolutely,” Jax huffed, and scruffed his son’s hair.

But he wasn’t done. Once Abel got someone’s attention, he had to keep it.

“And this…” he swung open the door, “is my bedroom!” He opened his arm in a ‘ta-da’ kind of way and then ran to his bed and jumped on it.

“Woah man,” you said. Trying your best to be as interested as possible. And it was interesting to see the little knick-knacks in the toddlers room. It was blue, with shelves full of photos and race cars. And a LOT of miniature toy bikes.

Jax followed you guys in and took in the picture before him. The three people he loved most in this world. His two beautiful boys. And the woman he’d been waiting for.

“Hey, you guys wanna go to the park?” Jax said and both the boys screamed “yes!” Even Thomas let his excitement show.

Fuck Murphy’s Law, you thought. The sun was shining, warming everyone’s skin, not a cloud in the sky. The playground was empty except for the four of you, who were currently in a very serious game of tips. Abel was it, and he had to tap the closest person so then they would switch. In a child’s mind it was perfectly logical. But explaining it to Thomas was a bit of a challenge. He was just happy to cling to Jax.

Whenever you looked over at Thomas, he buried himself further into his father’s chest. Almost covering himself with the kutte. God, if you weren’t seeing a lot of Jax, then these poor boys barely saw him. A pang of guilt hit you in the chest and you felt a little sick. You hadn’t even thought about the boys and what Jax meant to them.

“No, no ah!” You yelled as you ‘ran away’ from Abel (you couldn’t help but go easy on the kids. If it were with other adults … then your competitive nature would send you overboard.)

Abel’s tanned arm reached out and tugged at your shirt. “Got you! Got you!” He screamed in delight, his little mouth curling in a big smile.

“Zo is it!” Thomas babbled, giggling near his dad. The first time he acknowledged you. It made you beam. Maybe this was the reason people had kids … for some validation.

Looking at both boys, you curled your fingers, and you did your worst evil laugh. Abel screeched happily, jumping to the upper level, and running to the slide. Jax held Thomas’ hand and slowly ran away from you, hiding between the swings.

“Ohhh, I’m gonna get you!” You said to Jax, who looked at you with a sly grin.

“I would like to see you try-“ he replied, trying his best to hold in a smile. Being suave wasn’t actually that easy. Especially while playing tips.

But you took off, and without even moving, Jax let you jump onto his back and down to the ground. Abel and Thomas screamed in pure excitement.

The little boys piled on top of you two, squealing and giggling, they could barely stay on top because they were so small.

“We got you Dad!” Abel said, holding onto your back.

“Yeah, we dot you!” Thomas echoed, giving his father a kiss on the face. He was going to be the sweetest thing on earth. You just knew.

Your things were sitting on the park bench not that far from the playground. But Jax didn’t hear his phone ring. He placed it in your bag and actually forgot about it.

For once he wanted not to be interrupted, to have time true family time. Because he learnt from his past. And wasn’t going to make the same mistakes again.

But that meant he missed a call. Well, a few calls actually. Ones that would change the course of club business.

On the drive back home, you looked at Jax and spelled out “I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M?” He only responded with a deep belly laugh.

“Yeah, I reckon we can do that.”

By the time the boys arrived home, their faces were covered in icecream and sprinkles. Much to Gemma’s dismay.

“God, now they’re gonna be running on the roof,” she said with a huff. But you knew it was an act. She loved that the boys were spending time with their father.

“It’s alright Ma, I’ll clean them up.”

“Yeah I know you will,” she said like a whip. Her hands on her hips as she led the four of you inside. She ran the bath, and although the boys were filthy, they both whined.

“C’mon, Zo loves baths,” Jax said, adding bubbles and toys to the tub.

“Y-yeah, I do! They’re great!” You said enthusiastically, doing your best to persuade the two little grubs to get clean. They looked like the lost boys from Peter Pan.

When the tub was full enough, the boys still wouldn’t get in. Both with crossed arms (Thomas just copying his brother), they refused.

“I bet,” you said with an idea in your head, ”that you’ve never had a bath with your clothes … on.”

And their eyes lit up.

Gemma rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I mean a bath is a bath right?” You said to Jax, who looked at you with raised brows.

“I mean … yeah.”

After the boys were cleaned, Gemma was almost adamant that the two of you leave. You could feel the ownership radiating off of her.

Like leaving a lioness’ den, you got on the bike and Jax took you home. Gemma watched as you two sped off, and when she turned to go back inside, you could have sworn her tail followed.

When Jax dropped you home, he finally looked at his phone. You could see the concern on his face, but something in you told you to back off. To give him some privacy. Hey, maybe it wasn’t club business for all you knew. Maybe it was a big day for him as well.

Barely giving you a kiss, he waited for you to walk inside and sped off.

The club business had Jax fired up. And when he got to your place, he harshly knocked on the door, then started pacing back and forth.

“Coming,” you called, slipping on your pajama pants. Reaching the door, you yanked it open and saw a frazzled Jax Teller.

“Shit,” you said plainly.

“Yeah, shit,” he said darkly.

Moving aside, he stalked in and did not take a seat.

“Do you want a drink?” You said letting the door click closed.

“I- I don’t know,” he started pacing again, and you realised you were seeing the real Jax. The one that no one else saw. The one who did all his thinking by himself.

“Yeah, I know what you need,” you said slightly wide-eyed. Half of you was worried for Jax, and the other half was … excited. Excited that your relationship had progressed to letting each other see one’s breakdown.

In the kitchen cabinet sat a heavy glass bottle of brown liquor. It was something that Skeeter had made at home. You tried it before, and one glass was the equivalent to four standard drinks.

Getting out your nicest drinking glass, you put in a few ice cubs and two shots of the liquor. Before closing the lid, you took a swig and scrunched your face in reaction. That shit was strong.

“Here,” you said and sat down. Finally, he followed your lead.

For some reason, it was only now that he could take a deep breath. When you handed him the glass, Jax’s fingers lingered over your own, needing to feel your touch. It was then that he started to calm down. Down a step, then another.

Jax drained the glass and looked at you with the hunger of a wild animal. Pure lust in his blue, glowing, eyes. Heat travelled from your face, down your neck and in between your thighs. Fuck.

Prowling over to you, Jax picked you up with ease and laid you on the carpet floor. Your long hair now a messy crown around your head, the tv became background noise, as Jax became mesmerising in his pursuit of pleasure.

Biting down on your neck, he claimed you as his. With his hands clutching you tight, moving your top further upwards, he kissed at the exposed flesh. Groaning at your taste. The smell of you turned him on, let alone how you looked, how you walked and talked. The whole of you was like a need for him. Sustenance, nourishment; he needed you.

It was as if you both had that same thought. Jax needed Zo. And it was a race to have all of you.

With swift movements, he pushed your clothes from your body, grabbed ahold of you, and twisted you around. With your face to the ground, he pushed down your pants and ground against your bare ass.

“Jax,” you whispered and in response all he did was growl. Fuck, you thought. You weren’t with Prince Charming tonight. He wrapped his hand around your neck and with his lips, pulled on your earlobe.

Jax let go of you, only to undo his pants, and you started to move. But as quick as lightning, he pushed you back to the floor.

“Don’t fucking move,” he roared and the heat between your legs turned to slick.

In a split second you were completely naked. You could feel the roughness of his beard between your legs, the warmth of his hands rubbing your thighs, his mouth was everywhere. All you could do was lay there, doing your best to slowly arch your ass closer and closer to his cock.

Tonight Jax was full of aggression, of rage, of … tension. And he needed you. He hadn’t planned on having you face down on the ground, ass in the air. Such a pretty ass, he thought. And slapped it hard.

“Ah!” You flicked your head towards him and your eyes grew red. Raising an eyebrow, he inclined his head.

“No?” He grumbled. His voice was lower than usual. Gravelly, hoarse.

“Yes,” you said in a command. And an evil grin spread across his face. Within moments, your ass was red raw and it made your cunt even more sensitive.

Seeing you in that position made Jax want to touch every part of you. His hands gripped your cheeks and spread them apart. You knew his face was centimetres away from your core because you could feel his hot breath against it.

If it was any other night you would say something, but all you dared do was whine.

“Shhhh,” he cooed, swiping his nose against the exposed flesh. Licking your folds, toying with your clit with one of his fingers.

“You want me to fuck you?” He asked, almost entranced.

“Yes,” you whispered, and tried to move backwards, so his face was flush against you. At that, he laughed. But a hard hand slapped your ass again and you cried out.

“I know you want me to fuck you…” and then his mouth was sucking on your cunt, his nose gliding up and down. “I know you do…” he murmured against you.

The tension in stomach was tightening and tightening, but you didn’t want to cum without him inside of you.

“Jax-“ you whined, trying to get his attention. But he hands were firmly planted on your hips, his face completely buried in your ass, his fingers in your pussy, his mouth moving everywhere.

“I’m gonna-“

“I know,” and then he undid his pants and let his hard cock spring free.

It didn’t start off slowly like it had the first time. No, this time around Jax was rough. He plunged himself into you, thrusting hard; in and out, in and out. The sound of his balls slapping your ass filled the room but you were too hazy to be embarrassed.

“G-god,” you moaned loudly, letting his body pound into your own. Jax’s body was practically on top of yours, one hand around your throat, and the other around your middle, thrusting into you erratically.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“What was that about.”

“The deal went through babe, I’m sorry – wait I didn’t hurt you did I?” Jax got up from the floor to look you over. Only a few hickies on your neck and breasts. Well, and some on your thighs.

But you only laughed, a glint in your eye. Having his kneeling body right next to you was a sight to behold. Tanned all over, his hair messed, muscles bulging (may or may not have been flexing). He looked like a god. But to you, he was only a prince. Your prince.

“I’m fine, Prince Charming, now go get me a blanket, I’m cold.”

“As you wish,” he said and got up, his cock dangling between his legs. You almost gasped. Yes, you were a mature grown woman, but seeing the male form always gave you a little shock. Especially a male form that had been inside you.

“I gotta talk to you about somethin’,” Jax’s voice was heavy and your stomach twisted.

“…yeah?” You looked up at him and he sighed.

“I have to leave again, not as long as last time though. But I leave tonight.”

You groaned and flopped back onto the floor. You had only just gotten him back.

“Hey baby,” he said with a smirk on his face, “at least you have somethin’ to masturbate over now.”

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dirtytransmasc · 1 year

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What would the reactions of tonowari Ronal Quaritch recoms tsyrea and aonung lo'ak Kiri tuk spellmin siblings Jake and Neytiri to spider death like in the battle against the RDA

Spider takes a stray bullet for Jake a fatal shot spider can't speak his lungs got shot he's on his death bed and they all watch him slowly die

Like the angst I feel it would be personal absolutely personal all out war against the RDA not a single one of them is going to be left alive meanwhile ewya gives rebirth to spider

Like Ronal gets pregnant miraculously or Neytiri ( eywa giving her a second chance) or zdog or he's reborn into a Navi clan ( ash people)

there is going to be a part 2, more of a fic type thing, it'll be out in a few hours if my adhd agrees.

~~~

The anguish that would be felt by ronal and tonowari would be excruciating; they had just received this child, just begun to love him (they had loved him from the moment they decided to make him theirs, but that wasn't long enough for them, no amount of time would ever be enough), just began to bring spider out of his shell (they thought they knew the boy when they first adopted him, but the more and more they cared for him, the more he showed, and the more he changed. they would never truly know him now). he was theirs, had wormed his way into their hearts, Eywa's will bound them, the short time they had together was perfect, like it was always meant to be like that, spider as their child. how where they supposed to heal from losing a child willed to them yet kept away for so many years? how were they supposed to move on when they only had him for such a short time, if it was meant to be? it wasn't fear. the rage they feel would be unstoppable, it's feral and illogical and hellbent on making the demons pay for what they did, for taking their son. they have nothing to hold them back because even their other children are the same; even tsireya who barely picked up a spear even for her coming-of-age ceremonies was ready to fight the humans to avenge her brother. ao'nung was even more violent, had he not been held back by what remained of his parent's and sister's logic, would have charged the RDA by himself the second spider stopped moving.

I think lo'ak would go numb with anger, glowing with the ferocity of a hot ember, just waiting to be sparked up once again into an inferno; he lost 2 brothers to the same fucking people, he would ruin them in ways that would make them regret being born. tuk would be heartbroken, as she had been too young to understand why spider left, his death would hurt twice as much; she lost him twice, and both times no one was willing to explain it to her. Kiri is heartbroken because spider was her person, both gifts from eywa, they understood each other in a way no one else did, so to lose him felt like she was losing part of herself. the rage of the 2 eldest siblings paired with the protectiveness of their youngest and remaining sibling (because they both consider themselves so empty, they no longer exist) would be palpable.

jake and neytiri feel so wrong and gutted by his death; they never loved him, not like they should have. they never mended the broken bond after he was taken in as Hi'i'tsyil, never even apologized for the pain they caused him, and still, spider took a bullet to protect their family, to protect the father that never truly loved him. its like an irreversible weight is placed on their shoulders, never to be removed, like a debt that can never be repaid.

for the recoms it's like losing their baby. for quaritch and zdog, even lyle, it is like truly losing their baby, and a rage that was long tamed and bridled by the kids is unleashed, they thought they escaped the RDA, they thought they wouldn't lose anything else to that evil fucking company, and they were wrong; they would make them pay for it. the other recoms are crushed, spider was their baby, he was family, it was him who set the course for their freedom.

and the spellman siblings are robbed vacant, spider had been their purpose, the reason they kept going for almost 2 decades, and he was gone in then blink of an eye. what wasn't taken from them when spider stopped breathing, they took from themselves; they blamed themselves, they had promised to always keep spider safe, they ran through scenario after scenario as to always be prepared, and they still failed. ravi would crack, like genuine psycosis mixed with such immense grief, it'd be like a mindless soldier. Reyzi's anger would no longer be contained, she'd go fucking feral. Ro'eyk cranks up the violence from crazed scientist to an actual maniac.

they all agree they've lost too much, it's all or nothing following spider's death, cause he had become the heart of the little platoon, uniting previously opposing groups into one strong army. his death would be the catalyst for a suicide mission.

~~~

if spider were to be reborn it'd be a thing that ronal would feel the moment it happens. if he was born to her, neytiri, or even zdog, she probably would have sensed that it was spider's spirit being born again by the time of the birth, and it would probably be the one thing keeping the whole family from devolving; even if spider was no longer spider, they would cherish him, take care of him, make sure he never knows the life he had the first time.

if he was born to another clan, ronal would trust they would be brought to them again if it was meant to be, but it wouldn't stop them all for searching for him. its a time of war, the clans coming together to fight the demons invading their soil, and each time they travel, each time they meet someone new, they look for their son, their brother, their baby, wherever they go.

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honourablejester · 6 months

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I’m watching Pathfinder lore videos, because I just enjoy looking at other people’s worldbuilding, and a tiny little nugget stuck with me. I was watching this video on the demon lords of the Abyss, and it came to Angazhan, the great ape demon of jungles, apes and tyranny. And it just mentions that his realm, Ahvoth-Kor, is formed in a great ravine in the Abyss, with jungles on either wall, but gravity pulls towards the walls, so as you stand on the ‘ground’ in one jungle on one wall, you can see the other above you. Trees and rope bridges cross the gap, which must be fascinating as you cross the halfway point and gravity abruptly reverses itself. And I just. I mean, Angazhan doesn’t do much for me as himself, but his realm caught my attention the most in the entire video, just for that one detail. Because it’s so cool. He lives in a folded realm. You can climb a pillar to the sky and then fall up the top half of it to the ground on the far side.

And it just made me realise that I love the Abyss, or rather the potential of the Abyss, in both its D&D and Pathfinder incarnations. Because chaos gets all the cool world states. Because chaos feels free to break the rules and get weird, and therefore give you fantastic landscapes like Ahvoth-Kor. Which is actually quite normal, aside from the fact that it’s folded double on itself. You could go so much weirder.

But, at the same time, I also hate the Abyss, just slightly. Because you can’t get weird, apparently, without also getting evil. Because, while I have seen the chaotic good and chaotic neutral planes mentioned, they don’t get anywhere near as much attention. How many people even know the names of the good-aligned chaotic planes? And, yes, Limbo and the Maelstrom are more of a thing, and the Maelstrom at least is fantastically cool, but they’re not focused on really either. Because they don’t have cool themed villains hanging out in them. Which is, granted, another excellent selling point of the Abyss. Demon lords are a lot more idiosyncratic than archdevils, more, again, weird and wonderful. On the D&D side, which I’m more familiar with, I do adore Juiblex, Zuggtmoy and Fraz-Urb’luu. When you are shaping your realm out of raw chaos to match your personality, it gives you a degree of wild customisation that more lawful, rigid planes just don’t allow. The demon lords are exciting, in a way archdevils just aren’t for me.

But. It means that if you want really cool fantastic landscapes and batshit world states, you have to go to an evil plane where everything is trying to kill slash torture you. The good aligned chaotic planes of the respective ttrpgs, Elysium and Arborea and the Beastlands, are to a large extent just ‘unchecked nature’, the extremely pastoral idea of untouched wilderness. If you want to see truly cool and alien and fantastic things, you have to get tortured for it.

Or, granted, try the Maelstrom in Pathfinder. The Maelstrom is really cool.

Like. If they’re both formed from raw chaos, why can’t good be equally as batshit? Why can’t you have, I don’t know, a chaotic good sea god whose ship sails upside down on the surface of a vast ocean of air, and whose sea sprite petitioners venture down in diving bells to marvel at the stars? (Sidenote: there could also be more good-aligned sea gods, just as a general note). Why isn’t there a heaven for the souls of subterranean travellers and explorers where they get to spend eternity spelunking absolutely mind-boggling and impossible caves that open out into the raw foam of chaos? Why couldn’t the chaotic good plane also be a nested stew of personalised bubble worlds shaped from raw fundament by strong-willed but mildly-to-majorly batshit themed entities, that are just in this case also friendly and unlikely to torture you out of hand?

Why is good so tame? Even at its wildest, it’s so tame compared to how batshit and weird evil gets to be. Like, yes, good means safety, but safe doesn’t have to mean ‘bounded’. It could mean ‘I will touch my grace upon you so we can witness wonders together’. It could mean ‘let me make a place where fire does not burn so I can turn a sun inside out and let you experience the strange geometries of its interior’.

I just. The Abyss is really, really cool, this strange bubble realm of nested psychoses written onto reality by larger than life beings. I do love it. But. You could have that, and not have it built on suffering. Not instead of, but as well. With equal weight.

Let good be weird too. Let chaos in general just be the place where both horrors and wonders beyond imagining are explored.

As another, related complaint, I know it's to do with game balance and player capabilities, but it's also a bummer that the outer planes in general are something most PCs will never experience first hand, owing to being in general fantastically lethal and/or hard to get to. I just wanna wander Zuggtmoy's fungal fields, and climb rope bridges across the gravity line in Ahvoth-Kor!

Anyway. Carry on.

#pathfinder #d&d #worldbuilding #the abyss #chaos #alignment #i get that the aligned planes in general is dodgy worldbuilding to start with #but also it's such a waste of chaos not to go full weird with it #if this is the exercise we're doing #how are we conceiving chaos in relation to morality #why is good considered inherently less chaotic #also just let me explore some weird-ass landscapes #i just really want to

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hootiee · 6 months

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how different are the anime and manga? are there certain things you like about one more than the other?

very different, like night and day. i'll leave season 2 (kyoto saga) aside and just talk about season 1, since the movie is a side/non-canon story (i really love it tho) and season 2 is like 90% canon (minus the last episode with that scene where rin & yukio talked. in the manga it was a whole mini arc with them talking to eachother amidst a fight with high tension, rather than them just chilling by a river lmao)

the most apparent scene that was different from the anime & manga was the first chapter/episode 1-2, where shiro died. the anime made it into a pretty fascinating & exciting intro to the series, with rin getting hired as a grocery store clerk, and ending with a battle against demons coming after him. where the manga, while still at its core having the same important moments (rin looking for a job, having delinquents jump him, and shiro getting possessed), it was really just a sad scene with no one except himself, shiro & satan bearing witness to the events of that night. out of fear he caused his father's possession/death, he never speaks about it to anyone. so no one really knows how that night unfolded. unlike the anime having the priests see everything (kinda awkwardly) and then later yukio showing up.

the manga really expands upon & fleshes out the characters, whereas the anime (s1) really.. flanderizes them. i think yukio is the most painful example, he is very much not the irrational "all demons are evil" kinda guy, hes truly just a kid indoctrinated into the exorcists mindset since he was 7, but the anime never really showed how nuanced and deep he is, so he became a punching bag for people to easily/mindlessly hate. also, he is NOT a half demon like rin. he's fully human just with some..Peculiarities lol (iykyk)

anyways, blue exorcist truly shines as a slow burn story, we are 145 chapters in (with the next chapter being just a few days away) and have only just now touched upon the aspects that the final parts of season 1 showed. but it is completely different, in almost every aspect. yet you can still see the resemblances to the anime, i wont get too into it for spoilers, but yk the scene with rin's sword breaks? in the anime they repaired it & everything was fine again. but in the manga, rin permanently changes from it abruptly being broken. for better and worse. afterwards, it becomes a whole underlying character arc.

season 1 was like the story's blueprint, its building blocks in a sense. the manga is truly where it shines, letting the characters grow and each have their own moments & developments before things get really heated within it's world.

it also divulges into the lore in almost a philosophical level: what really are demons & humans, are they truly so different from eachother? with rin being the focus of this question as people say he is Both human and demon and yet simultaneously being Neither at the same time.

the world building becomes expanded upon, by leaps and bounds. we see how the order/exorcists really operate. we find out What demons truly are, and their real reasons to be against humans. we find out what really happened during the blue night and what lead up to that. the world feels more open & wide, and everything feels so intertwined.

it also touches upon some VERY dark and heavy subjects, becoming more and more dark as it progresses. from mental illness, trauma & generational trauma to war, suicide, human experiments & corrupt organizations. and yet despite this darkness it still sends a good message that despite things being bad, its still worth it to keep living. and the author just knows the perfect moments to grab people by their heartstrings with it.

s1 is not Bad per-se, sometimes im harsh on it due to me personally being obsessed with the manga's canon. it does have its cute filler scenes (i actually love that rin got a grocery job in episode 1) and its pretty enjoyable as a cute fluffy feel-good anime. i first watched the anime+movie as a kid in 2015 and loved it, but it felt like it had far more potential. which is where the manga DELIVERED, by leaps and bounds.

however, now that the anime is focused on adapting it faithfully, this will change within the future. especially once get more canon episodes compared to the vast amount of manga content lol. but until then, i suggest to check out the manga 🫡

TL;DR: this is the anime vs the manga (in a good way LOL)

#aoex #blue exorcist #ao no exorcist #THANK YUO FOR THIS ASK I LOVE TALKING ABT THIS AHHHHHHHHHHHH #i was not expecting to write this much going into this. it just kinda. happened.. erm #as u can see i can talk abt this literally for days #special interest goes brrrrrr #spent like 2hrs typing this out 🫡 all for you anon #if u want to check it out: it's officially available for free on the MangaPlus app (available international iirc)#or u can find the official volumes on mangasee/manga4life 🫡#the old scanlations arent too bad but they stopped once it got a simupub.. so better just to read it officially for consistency #i rlly recommend to start the manga from the beginning if u want to see the differences for yourself. At Least read the first chpt #but otherwise u can start from chapter 35. its where s2/kyoto arc ends off 👍#its hard to compare the anime vs the manga bc the manga literally has like nearly 150 chapters over the anime LOL #literally hydrogen bomb vs coughing baby lmaoo #ask #anyways anon u couldnt of asked this question to a better person (wink wink nudge nudge ppl give me more aoex asks PLEASEE)#very normal abt this series. so normal 😁😁

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demondamage · 1 year

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MediwhumpMay Day 21 - Field medicine

This was written on my phone and is not stellar so warning

Cw: broken bones, nothing graphic tbh

"I dunno doc, I ain't ever see nothing like this before."

If Jonah hadn't seen it in this forest before, no one else would have. You only ever really saw the Wildman on the rare occasion that he hurt himself too bad to fix with a little duct tape and spit.

"Shouldn't this be a job for animal control?" You ask, looking forward into the bramble thicket Jonah had lead you to. There was definitely something there, you could hear the wheezing and growling.

"It had horns like an animal sure, but it ran like a man. I'd call the police but, well, I still got warrants. Anyways, it's hurt. So I called you."

"Of course." You sigh, adjusting the doctors bag on your shoulder. "So you shot someone and need me to patch them up so you don't get a manslaughter charge?"

"My shot missed!" Jonah grunted. "Something else did that."

"Sure Jonah. Look, might be best for you to back up and let me deal with it."

"You sure you don't need me here? Gun could be useful.

"Or that gun will scare whoever it is off. Go home." You dismiss the older man, who grumpily dissapears into the woods. Alone at last.

The thing in the brush groans again, this time you can hear it sputtering and coughing. That was distinctively not an animal, and as a doctor it was your place to help whoever it was.

"Hello?" You call out to the thicket, hoping to get a response. Silence. Not simply a lack of response but complete silence. The rustling and groaning ceased, letting you truly hear the lack of any other wildlife. "I'm a doctor, are you injured?"

"Don't touch me." A voice snarls back, suddenly on the defense.

So it was a man. Or… if Jonah was telling the truth, man enough.

"If you're hurt, I can help you." You call out, stepping closer to the thicket. Sharp thorns snag your clothes and scratch your skin, but you manage to pull the brambles apart.

It definitely was not human.

The form of the creature mimicked a human's, arms legs and head all in the places they should be. But the limbs and digits were just a little too long, stained black to the torso. It's eyes blinked black, as if filled with charcoal, which only distracted for a moment from the third unblinking yellow eye in its forhead. And when that maw opened to snarl at you, there were unmistakably too many teeth. This creature was not of this plane or existence, and it wanted you to know it hated you.

Yet, as evil as it was, the longer you looked at it the more you realized it was broken. Thick leather restraints bound it's wrists together with a matching band collared around its neck. It's ankles must have also been bound, marks from broken bonds still visible on its legs. And then there were the gashes, sliced across its back in an immistakable criss cross pattern. Whip marks.

Did your hippocratic oath apply to this thing?

Maybe it was your years of training. Maybe you just felt bad for it. But, you couldn't just leave it here unattended.

"Hey, hey you're hurt." You quietly set down your medicine bag, getting down on its level. The collar was locked, but retrieving a large knife from your bag you were pretty sure you could cut the leather. "Stay still I can get you out of that."

At first the creature hissed, but as you lift your knife to cut its bonds, that anger fades to something else. Eyes closed, body crunched, waiting. Bracing for you to hurt it.

It even whimpered as you slid the knife under it's collar, straining and pulling to break that thick leather. It was as if any moment you would turn that blade and slice its throat. It wasn't until the collar finally gave and you pulled away the kine that the creature opened its three monstrous eyes.

"I can probably get your hands free too if you let me."

This time the creature obliged, holding its hands out to you and letting you cut the bonds. Rubbing it's now free wrists, the creature finally spoke again.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." You pull back, letting it sit up with some space. "Look, you're hurt. Let me take you to a hospital, those gashes look deep."

"No!" It was a slight hiss as the creature pulled away, gasping in pain. There was definitely something broken in those legs based off how it crawled. "I appreciate your help human, but i won't let you take me."

"Look I can't just let you go like this." You chose to ignore the human comment. "If you won't let me take you back, let me patch you up here."

It took a moment for it it agree, testing it's broken leg before speaking.

"Y-yes please."

At least this creature had some semblance of manners. You pull a long bandage from your bag and decide to address the leg first. It was definitely broken, and if you had it your way you would be setting it in a cast. But for now you would have to make do with a bandage.

"Alright, I'm going to have to re-set the bone into place. It's going to hurt like hell since I don't keep anesthesia on hand. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I– will it help me walk sooner?"

"Yes. Although you will still need to rest it for a while."

The creature paused for a moment, then finally nodded. "Do it."

You grip the foot tightly, noting the rough texture of the blackened skin. Hopefully it's bones were similar enough to do this right.

"On three. One…" You position yourself. "Two…" It curls itself, ready for the pain. "Three."

You've reset plenty of bones in your time, and heard plenty of screaming along with it. But nothing could match the animalistic roar emanating from the pained creature. It was low, guttural, something between a roar and a moan. You managed to pull the shattered leg bones into a workable place just before it pulled away from your grasp.

And then came the teeth.

Hot breath and fangs locked around your neck, forcing you to the thorn coated ground. A tangled mess of black hair curtained your face, moving slightly as the creature huffed and gasped, teeth pressing your throat.

Yet it didn't bite.

"I still need to wrap it." You whisper, careful not to even swallow less it cause the teeth to pierce your fragile throat. "Can I do that?"

"I'm sorry." It murmered through the mouthful, loosening it's grip slightly. "I'm sorry, I can't control it. I shouldn't have let you do that."

"It's alright. It's alright." You gingerly pull away, the creature releasing your neck. It hadn't occurred to you how loud your heart had beaten in your ears. "That's the hard part, it's all easy now. I just have to wrap it."

"I can't let you touch me again." It shook its head. "I don't want to hurt you."

"And I don't want you to fuck it up again." You lift the previously discarded bandage. "Lay still.

The creature paused for a moment before obliging, sprawling out on the thorns with it's foot in front of you. Every moment as you wrapped it, you watched those stained teeth for movement. But to the creatures credit, it only bit into a branch it had grabbed.

"I'm guessing you won't let me touch your back?" You ask, tying off the bandage.

"I wouldn't risk it." It shook its head, pulling away from you. "I can't- I cant control myself. And I don't want to hurt you after all you've done."

Under other circumstances you would have protested, but with teeth marks still fading from your neck you didn't want to test your luck.

"I'll stop by tomorrow with antibiotics then."

"I won't be here."

"You won't get far on that leg of yours."

"Maybe not. But if I don't try, they'll find me." The creature sighed. "Thank you. I won't forget this."

@mediwhumpmay

#whump #whump writing #mediwhumpmay2023 #MediwhumpMay

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reds-skull · 5 months

Text

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

I'm going back to my parent's house for the holidays, so I'm probably gonna post less in the next couple of days...

Soap’s eyes dart between the 3 revenants in the room, wide and fearful.

Ghost watches how he turns it into rage.

“I’m not a ‘revenant killer’, whatever the fuck they call it.” Soap snarls, glaring at the screen as if he’s looking at Laswell, “I wasn’t killed by a revenant.”

Laswell exhales, Ghost can imagine the smoke streaming from her mouth, “a revenant killer is a revenant that is made to combat other revenants. You were created to defeat whoever killed your squad - to kill Konchar.”

Johnny’s revenge… the reason they’re both stronger than they truly had to be. And yet, they’re different, Ghost muses.

Soap wanted retribution for his dead mates. Ghost? He wanted payback for his own.

Johnny clutches at his hair, hands burning bright, fire crackling dangerously. Ghost takes hold of his left hand, gently pulling it away from his warhawk.

“Johnny.” Soap glares at him.

“So much fuckin’ evil comes out because I lived that day, Simon. Sometimes I’m real feckin’ sick of it.”

Soap tries to fight his hold, but Ghost pulls him closer, towering over him, “then do something about it. The past is unchangeable, you’re already alive. What are you gonna do about it.”

Ghost squints, his voice lowers, “you wanted revenge? Let’s fucking get it, Sergeant.”

Flames dance in blue skies, anger and rage that knows no bounds, uncontrollable forest fire decimating everything in its path.

Johnny nods, determination fueling his flames.

Laswell was the last break they needed before they could truly form a rescue operation. She informs them of Graves’ power limits, his priorities, the reason he captured a platoon’s worth of revenants.

He aims for Soap. One giant bait the American knows Johnny would never ignore. If they could get their hands on the original revenant killer, they hope to be able to replicate his “success”. Create a pipeline of vengeful not-dead.

Gaz will cover the skies, radio in locations of shadows, suspicious movements, and if he can, the locations of their teammates.

Ghost, Soap and Rudy will take to the underground, tunneling under the prison and freeing Alejandro. From then on, it’s a race against time, Gaz and Alejandro using their abilities to find everyone, and Rudy and Soap clearing the Shadows from their paths.

Once everyone is outside his range, Ghost will use Limbo to annihilate any remaining Shadows. Before that, Ghost’s main objective is keeping Johnny safe. Limbo’s new docile state brings with it the long-lost control he had on the realm, the ability to create only a small circle of void around him, one that Ghost thought he’ll never have again. That means, if any Shadows try to grab at Johnny, Ghost will simply let his victims rip them apart.

They don’t have the element of surprise in that Graves is waiting for them, but what the Shadow Company revenant doesn’t know is how much they understand his limitations, as well as Ghost and Soap’s changed powers.

Laswell has to leave soon after they finish planning, Shepherd breathing down her neck. She promises to do anything that might help them, but their group is operating outside any government jurisdiction as of now.

Meaning, if they were to fail, no one will come to save them.

They have one shot. Ghost prays the Reapers that’s all they’ll need.

Johnny drags him to the back of the safe house right before they’re supposed to gear up, ignoring Ghost’s questioning hum.

He slams him against the wall, fingers digging into his shoulders, nostrils flaring with barely restrained anger.

“Let me get the kill on Graves, LT.” Soap says through clenched teeth, “this entire thing is my fault - I can fix this.”

Ghost tilts his head, mauling it over, “if the opportunity arises-”

“No.” flames grow in his peripheral, and Soap lets his hands fall away, “I need to kill him, I need-”

“Revenge?”

Ghost can see how Soap’s heart stops beating. How he stills. Ghost risks a hand, bringing it up to brush Johnny’s hair, wild and unruly from the previous days’ events. “I understand. But remember your first priority, Sergeant.”

Johnny closes his eyes, pushing lightly against Ghost’s hand, “get the others out alive.”

“The others and yourself, Johnny. Graves has his sights on you.” his hand travels down to Soap’s neck, pulling him closer, “if he catches you…”

Johnny nudges his head under Ghost’s. “I’m not easy to hold, Simon. Was made to destroy.”

Simon wraps his arms around Johnny, taking deep breaths of his smell, burning fireplace and safety.

Now that they practically disobeyed their Reapers, he’s not sure anymore that his Reaper’s prophecy isn’t null and void. If Johnny is still destined to kill him first. Simon’s mind conjures a million images, scenes of Johnny laying dead, body broken beyond repair, eyes vacant staring at the sky, never to meet Simon’s again.

“I’m going to be alright. I just told you I’m too strong for anyone’s good.” Johnny tries to joke under him, sensing his sudden tension.

Simon pulls him closer yet, “you’re still mortal, last I checked.”

A huff of breath tickles his neck, where the mask rucked up in light of Johnny’s wiggling. Simon brushes another hand over dark strands, ungloved hand tingling with the sensation, and he gets the urge to bury his face in it.

Simon is used to living in regret, in ‘what would’ve’s and ‘I should’ve’.

He doesn’t want Johnny to become another memory to fuel his aches.

Simon reaches above Johnny’s head, taking hold of the skull mask. With a deep breath, he slides it off his head.

“What are ye-” Johnny looks up in confusion, before his eyes soften, creases smooth over.

Blue eyes dart over his features, mapping the newfound grounds, tilling paths in their wakes. Simon can almost feel their weight, the burn, as they follow scars to landmarks.

A hand, white flames curling around it, raises slowly to brush over his skin, hot and cold, gentle yet firm. Simon feels tears gather in his eyes, and he lets his lids shut, head bowing to rest in calloused hands.

Johnny’s breath fans over his cheek, making him shudder, “didn’t know you had face markings.”

Simon opens his eyes, brows furrowing a little, “I don’t.”

Mirthful eyes follow a track down his cheek, “ye do… right here.” a thumb brushes from Simon’s lower eyelid, to his jaw. “They’re white, reminds me of yer eyes in Limbo…”

Tear tracks.

“They’re new…” Simon relaxes a little when he understands, “when you entered Limbo, I… my tears must’ve left them.”

“Fuck…” Johnny purrs, “You’re breathtaking, Simon.” he lifts Simon’s head when he tries to back away, “beautiful. Knew yer bonnie under that mask of yers.”

“Fuck off…” he turns away.

Johnny laughs, “I’m serious. Let me look at ye, please?”

Simon glares at him before relenting, Johnny resuming his examination, eyes and hands caressing him.

“Thank ye…” Johnny breathes, “thank ye fer… fer existing. Without ye, or Gaz, or Price… I wouldn’t have so many reasons to live.”

Simon inhales shakily, Johnny whispering now, “I couldn’t imagine wanting something more than repent before I met ye.”

“And now?”

He hears the small smile in Johnny’s voice, “now I want to be with ye, fer as long as I can. Fer as long as the Reapers will let me.”

Simon covers the hand on his face with his, “we don’t need permission from them. I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me.”

Johnny gives him that crooked grin Simon had come to love so much, “I’m afraid that will be quite a while, m'eudail.”

The dirt in Las Almas doesn’t smell too different from his grave’s, Ghost decides. The mask is the only thing protecting his mouth from its taste, and even that feels too thin.

There’s no place for panic on the field, no space for the soldier inside Ghost to raise his head and shout “I’m scared.”

Soap’s controlled explosions burn that smell, transform it into something more familiar.

Fuck, he could kiss Johnny’s insane exploding hands right now.

Their comms crackle to life, “Shadows didn’t notice you yet, clear to continue pushing.” Garrick’s voice barely sounds over the explosions.

“WHAT?!” Soap yells up front.

Rudy cups his hands to shout back, “keep going, hermano! We’re in the clear!”

“COPY!”

Ghost waits for Rudy, walking beside him to check the map, “how close are we to cellar level?”

Rudy taps a pen over a point, “this is our target…” the pen moves down, stopping about 2 inches away from the cellar, “and this is where we should be, according to my calculations.”

Another explosion shakes their tunnel, Soap rushing back to burn off oncoming debris from the ceiling, “we need teh move faster than this! Tunnel’s not gonna hold!”

Ghost nods, clicking his comms, “Gaz, we’re going to start running, be prepared.”

“Copy, good luck down there.”

Rudy mutters under his breath in Spanish, “may the Reapers keep us alive.”

Soap looks back, “on the count of three!” his body tenses in preparation.

Two…

One…

“NOW!” Johnny lets go of the ceiling, sprinting ahead and practically melting his way, Ghost and Rudy running right behind him as the tunnel collapses.

The three revenants continue running, Gaz informing them the Shadows have started suspecting something’s afoot, until Rudy rushes ahead to grab Soap’s shoulder and shout in his ear, “stop! Alejandro should be right here!”

His Sergeant instantly lifts his hands above him to hold the ceiling. Ghost notes they’re now surrounded by concrete rather than dry earth.

Rudy adjusts the light attached to his tac vest, trying to calculate where Alejandro is exactly.

Ghost instantly aims at the left wall when something goes through it.

Alejandro appears, Rudy and Soap gaping at him, before the Colonel grabs Rudy into a hug. The Sergeant Major returns it after a second of stunned silence, and Alejandro starts mumbling something in Spanish, before he lifts his head and notices Soap.

“You bunch of pandejos! What is he doing here?!” he points at Johnny.

Soap grunts, “can we get to the accusations later?? I’m still holding the steamin’ ceiling!”

Ghost shoves the two Vaqueros out of the way, and Soap stretches a hand to explode the wall to Alejandro’s cell. They all rush inside with Soap behind them.

“Ghost.” Alejandro nods to Soap, “you are aware Graves is after him, right?”

“Affirm. We got intel from Laswell.”

The Vaquero scoffs, “and you still brought him here?!”

Johnny walks around Ghost to confront Alejandro, “I’m here on my own volition. Unless you wanted Rudy and Ghost to walk through the front gates.” he casts a challenging stare at the man.

Rudy lifts his hands like he’s trying to calm an angry beast, “Soap knows the risks. We needed to save you. Do you know where Graves holds the rest of them?”

Alejandro’s face relaxes when he looks at Rudy, “probably on the top floor of the prison. I didn’t see anyone since we got caught.”

“Shadows are moving on your location, Bravo!” Garrick shouts through the comms, “strongly suggest you start moving, now!”

Ghost searches the cell for an exit, spotting a trap door on the high ceiling, “you’re not hiding a ladder anywhere here, do you Alejandro?”

The Colonel shakes his head as Soap follows Ghost’s gaze, noticing the door.

“I’ll get it, stand back.” Johnny’s eyes are locked on the ceiling as he positions himself under the door.

Ghost’s brow furrow, “what are you planning, Sergeant?”

Soap smirks in a way that brings only trouble, and turns on his comms, “gonna use the rocket technique.”

Ghost has to shove the bloody thing away when Gaz shrieks, “without me?! Oh, I’m gonna get you back for this, MacTavish.”

“Sorry mate, maybe next time.” Johnny snickers.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Ghost grabs the two extremely confused Vaqueros, dragging them back, Rudy muttering “rocket?” and sighs heavily, “get on with it, Sergeant.”

Soap smiles at him before looking back up, “with pleasure, LT.”

His Sergeant drops to a crouch, placing his hands on the ground, and inhales. The cell is too damn small for this “technique”, and Ghost has to cover his face with a forearm when Soap explodes up.

Ghost lets his arm fall when he hears a comically loud THUNK when Soap hits his head on the door, watching the Sergeant scramble to hold the edges. Johnny twists his body in a remarkable feat of agility, and kicks the door open before swinging out.

A moment later, a ladder drops down, Johnny popping his head out of the door, “all clear!”

When they climb up, Ghost notices blood trickling down Soap’s temple, and he calls, “Johnny, how copy? Solid?”

The Scot lets out a frankly concerning laugh, “aye, think Ah got a wee concussion, bu’ it’ll heal in no time.”

“It fucking better, Sergeant.”

Soap offers a hand and helps Ghost up, “of course, sir.” he has a dopey smile when Ghost lets go of his arm, “have I ever told you how beautiful yer eyes are, LT?”

Ghost grabs the back of his neck and shoves him forward, ignoring the giggling Vaqueros behind him.

He’s going to smack Garrick for putting this idea in Johnny’s mind next time he sees him, fucking hell…

You guys don't know how long I've been waiting to put the rocket technique in a mission

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esta-elavaris · 4 months

Text

Part Fifteen [4,160 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - *Part Fifteen*

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @teawithshakespeare @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm

It turned out, much to Theo's hidden dismay, that the going-away dinner was a natural precursor to the welcome back dinner that those in Port Royal liked to throw for the higher-ranking returning sailors after a spell away. It was a good chance, Elizabeth explained, to acknowledge their losses if there were any, to celebrate the lack of those losses if their luck held true, and to give the men their first good meal since they'd set sail. It was a way for them to blow off steam in a classy way, essentially. Unless Norrington was coming, because it was her own personal opinion that deception and humiliation weren't particularly classy – but what would Theo know? She was Irish, after all.

Elizabeth, being Elizabeth, wanted her to wear something evil for the dinner. Evil, here, having the meaning of show-stoppingly beautiful. She'd refused, flat out. Not only because she didn't have the heart for it, but because it'd be transparent and very pathetic, and only make her feel more ridiculous than she already did around most of those whose names were on the guest list. There was no desire in her to show him what he was missing, or anything that reached those levels of utter meltery, because he wasn't missing anything, and she didn't want him to miss anything. She was done. What was the point in playing games that she'd find no fun in?

Only when she insisted that if the matter was pushed, she'd fake a sudden illness and spend the night in her bedroom, in her nightgown, did Elizabeth relent. Highly begrudgingly. At least until she caught the pallor creeping into Theo's face, and the tremor in her hand, as the prospect of the night ahead saturated her with dread, and then their spat was over before it had even truly begun.

So, the lengths of red satin that her friend had been trying to push upon her were replaced by a muted jade gown that had delicate white flowers working its way up from the hem of the skirts, along with the bottom of the bodice. Her one concession was the fabric of the underskirts – a brilliant emerald green that peeked out from the gap in the middle between the overskirts. The hair was understated, too, the updo more a simple collection of curls all bound together rather than something that had her resembling a skyscraper. Finally, she wore her own necklace from home about her neck, more of a totem than an accessory tonight, so she could at least feel like her dad was here with her in some way. In truth, she missed him more sorely now than she had since arriving here, and even the thought was almost enough to send her into a fit of tears.

But she couldn't afford that tonight. Maybe that made the necklace a mistake, but she couldn't bring herself to remove it once it was on.

Tonight would be the worst of it. The first time having to face him again – but at least she'd do so while knowing that his maid, Hattie, would've told him that she returned whatever books of his had still been in her care. Now, he would have no reason at all to speak with her. He'd like that.

James knew that, had Theodora departed, he would have heard so soon upon returning to Port Royal. And while he heard no such thing, he still hadn't the heart to outright ask – not even his own staff – so he remained silent, and when he entered the Governor's mansion that eve, he was relieved when it took no time at all to spot a head of fiery hair among the crowd. Although the relief was hardly devoid of other, more mixed emotions.

He should apologise. That was not a conclusion that it took him a great deal of time to reach. It would be the right thing to do – the gentlemanly thing to do, even if he was not a gentleman in the technical sense of the word. Nor in the looser sense, if his behaviour as of late was any indicator.

However…she had also asked him to leave her be. It was impossible to respect that wish, while also doing the right thing, which left him with the dilemma of which course of action was more right. The answer was the one he liked least. That he should simply leave her be, as she wanted.

And whatever relief he felt at seeing she was still here was in danger of evaporating when he saw more of her throughout the evening. Her face, and her general demeanour. How often had he thought to himself that there must be nothing under the sun that could possibly dampen her utterly indomitable spirit? Her humour? While the thought had once exasperated him, he now wished his theory had not proven incorrect. It helped nothing that he was the cause of it.

He kept his distance throughout the night, and she did not look at him once, but even when she was on the opposite side of the room from him (which she often was), she did not brighten. While James was placed at Governor Swann's end of the table, Theodora was at Elizabeth's, with Groves at her other side, to her left.

It soon became apparent that he didn't even need to pretend he was not taking stock of her, stealing swift glances here and there when he was sure she was distracted and would not catch him, for she didn't look at him at all. She barely looked at anybody, her eyes downcast and her face distant. It was not the manner of one who was in the midst of a strop – intent on making sure those around her felt the full weight of her displeasure via the mode of uncomfortable silence. So, while she did not smile, she didn't scowl either. When spoken to, she replied, and when spoken at, she listened patiently. But she was not there. Not truly. She did not flee in defeat, but she had put down her sword.

And that fact alone was enough to have his heart sinking down to his shoes.

Dinner passed without incident, and when they moved to the sitting room so that the servants could clear the aftermath of the meal, Groves and Elizabeth seemed in no hurry to leave Theodora's side. As hostess, Elizabeth was soon forced to do so and mingle, but Groves remained, although he appeared content to simply remain by her side rather than engaging in further attempts to pry conversation from her. All the while, her eyes remained far off, much as he suspected his own did when he was busy running over mental preparations for whatever voyage lay ahead.

She looked fetching tonight. Nothing new, really, for she was a fair woman – factually speaking. Bedecked in green which flattered her colouring, and not bedecked in ruffles or jewels that would only distract from the beauty that she herself held. But the difference was that, tonight, she was not as striking as she usually was. Not without the teasing grins, or the glimmer in her eye that so oft betrayed a wealth of things she was not saying.

What it took to snap her back into the room was something he wished had not happened at all. Amelia Simmonds flounced over to the pianoforte, and sat down before it with a flourish. Not content to make a point by halves, she flew into a complex piece that would have had even James himself impressed at her skill – had she not been who she was, and had she not harboured the motive she did. Instead, it only stoked his ire, perhaps pettily content that he had another to level at it who was not himself.

The performance was nearing its end when he looked back towards Theodora again, finding that this time, for the first time, she was looking at him. Indifference still veiled her expression, but this time it was just that – a veil. One hand toyed with the pendant about her neck, seeking comfort, as she watched him silently, as though waiting for a repeat of what had occurred the last time they found themselves in this setting. He knew the fact that he'd been caught changed his expression, but it did not change hers. She gave nothing away. Which, in itself, gave something away, for being so guarded was unlike her. And he'd caused the change.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, she looked away. Murmuring something to Groves, she took a step back, and then turned, departing otherwise without notice. Intent, he supposed, on not offering up another opportunity.

James debated on whether he should follow, but as another seized their chance to play, Amelia was by his side.

"My, Miss Swann really did tame the wild beast, did she not?" Amelia asked with glee.

He realised then, with a dull sense of horror, that she viewed him as an ally against the woman she had pinned all of her ire upon, the moment Theodora had washed up on their shores. Said horror was no longer so dull when he was forced to concede that Amelia's assumption was not unfounded.

"Perhaps she should open a finishing school," she continued. "Or a dog kennel – for training, you understand."

"You are making a fool of yourself, madam," he said flatly.

The grin slipped from her face as she blinked up at him, but she recovered swiftly and forced a laugh.

"No, Captain, I'm making a fool of her."

"Then why, might I ask, is it you that appears ignorant, and not Miss Byrne?"

He took his leave before she could answer, following in the direction Theodora had departed, although he knew not what he would do if he found her.

It seemed another had already beaten him to accompany her, though. Lieutenant Groves' voice met his ears, drifting from the dining room that had already been cleared, and James stilled by the doorway, listening with something that felt dangerously and heavily akin to dread. For the Lieutenant's voice was soft in a way that denoted more than a desire to simply speak quietly.

"I was wondering if I might call upon you tomorrow morning. For…for tea, or perhaps a turn about the gardens. Whichever you'd like best. Or something else, if you'd rather."

"…Why?" Theodora's voice was filled with genuine confusion.

Groves breathed a nervous laugh, faltered for a moment, and then replied.

"Forgive me, but…I think you know why. I should very much like to get to know you, Miss Byrne."

"Oh…I…I see…"

It was silent then, for a few long moments – moments that felt all the longer for how terrible they were, as James wondered if he would find them locked in some sort of embrace if he chanced a look inside the room.

"Lieutenant…" she said finally, falteringly.

James despised the treacherous relief and joy both that coursed through him, for that mode of address entirely betrayed what her answer would be. And it should not have made him happy. Not for Groves' sake, not for Theodora's, and certainly not for his own.

"Please, call me Theodore. Unless it's too absurd for you to say with a straight face, considering how alike it is to yours."

She did not laugh at his teasing.

"I don't intend to be here much longer. But…if you want to come and visit as a friend, I'd love that."

Scarcely two full seconds went by before Groves was responding.

"You're leaving?"

"When I can find the right time, yes."

"Why? Because of…the other night…?"

"Not entirely because of it. I'm not that pathetic. If it was anything, it was a wake-up call. I don't belong here, and I don't want to be anywhere I don't belong. What point is there wasting my energy pretending otherwise? Everybody knows it."

"I think you're allowing yourself to be defeated. If I may be so bold as to say it outright."

"There's surrendering to needless defeat, and then there's recognising that the battle isn't worth fighting in the first place," she said, resignation filling her voice more than woe or self-pity. "I want to be somewhere where people understand me. Where they actually like and know me. That's not wrong. Elizabeth does, Elizabeth has been…has been so impossibly good to me. But I can't spend all of my time cowering behind her skirts and expecting her to stick up for me amongst this lot. It's not fair on her, and I don't want her to. I'm tired, Lieutenant. I've been tired ever since I arrived here. I don't think that's going to change if I remain."

Tired, James knew, was a code for the emotions she would not admit to. Fear, and melancholy. Amongst others.

Groves sighed.

"Very well. But I still insist that you call me Theodore."

"And if it is too absurd?" there was a smile in her voice now – the first display of mirth James' had caught from her all evening.

"I've never been much attached to it. We can brainstorm a new one for me when I visit tomorrow."

"You still want to visit?" surprise coloured her voice.

"You just said we shall be friends," he pointed out.

Theodora breathed a surprised laugh, and he could hear the smile in her voice as she replied.

"Good, then. I'll have a list ready. How do you feel about Beauregard?"

"I feel hopeful that the rest of the list will be more promising," Groves chuckled.

Knowing it was only a matter of time before he was either missed or caught, he turned…and found himself face to face with Elizabeth Swann. Judging by the look she shot in the direction of the room Groves and Theodora occupied, she had heard everything just as he had – and by the one she then levelled at him personally, his reaction had not gone unnoticed.

At first, it looked like she might speak, but the sound of shuffling reached their ears, and it would not be long before they were discovered. So, she nodded in the direction of the passageway that would lead out onto the patio, and then the gardens. James obeyed. He didn't have much choice in the matter, although he held little optimism about what words might pass between them. His last conversation in the Governor's gardens had hardly gone well.

They stepped out into the night, mostly overcast which meant they would not be seen easily here, and Elizabeth turned to him, watching him expectantly. James cleared his throat.

"I feel I must apologise," he said.

She nodded.

"If my actions have caused any awkwardness between you and Miss Byrne, for I know she has become a dear friend to you, then you have my sincerest-"

"To me?" she interrupted sharply. "You feel you must apologise to me, Captain?"

"Only because I cannot apologise to Miss Byrne."

"You cannot? Have you tried?"

"Last we spoke, she asked that I leave her be. I intend to honour that request."

"You shouldn't!"

"It is for the best," he replied firmly.

"The best for whom, Captain Norrington?!"

"For…for…"

He did not hesitate because he had no answer to her question, but rather because the answer was hardly one that he could speak aloud. The best for everybody. For Theodora, because it was what she wanted, for Elizabeth, because it would rid her of whatever suspicions he harboured about he and her friend, and for James himself because…well, it would rid him of any ill-gotten confusion. Regarding what woman he should have been spending his time thinking about.

While he could voice none of that, Elizabeth's shrewd eye seemed to catch it all on his face. Of course she saw it, she was no fool. Not in the slightest.

"May I speak frankly?" she asked finally.

While her voice held none of the sharpness it previously harboured, it was still far from gentle.

"By all means," he said – and he meant it.

Months ago, he'd have sawn off his arm with a wooden sword to have her speak frankly to him, rather than through fifty different layers of propriety and social graces. That had never been a problem for Theodora. No, she—no. That was precisely the line of thinking he was trying desperately to shake himself out of these days.

"How might you have felt, back there, had Theodora accepted Lieutenant Groves' overtures?"

Considering the dread that had seized him upon hearing said overtures, the answer was not hard to come by. It was, however, rather more difficult to admit. Even now, a worry grew in the back of his mind that he had not heard the last of the prospect of their becoming more. Many a stout romance began as friendship, and he had certainly been able to cheer her with remarkable speed. If that continued, she may decide to remain. With him.

"The private affairs of Lieutenant Groves are no business of mine," he said flatly.

Annoyance flashed in Elizabeth's dark eyes once again, as bright as a strike of lightning, even in the darkness the night cloaked them in.

"If I am to speak frankly, you must extend me the same courtesy," she warned.

"I am."

"You are not! Captain, since the last time you were here, I have barely been able to pry a conversation out of Theo. Much less a smile, or a laugh. Does that sound like her?"

Whatever small hope he'd had that her change in demeanour was simply due to his return, a ward to disabuse him of any temptation to approach, died a swift death then and there. His guilt only increased. That, at least, seemed to grant the woman before him some satisfaction where his words could not.

"No, it does not."

"I have since learned, tonight, that you have hardly been in the best of moods since that night, either."

"The gossip of sailors," he scoffed.

Ones who would find themselves buried under ungodly amounts of mind-numbingly boring tasks, once he ascertained who exactly had been spreading rumours.

"Is it?"

"I shall not pretend that I do not regret my actions that night, especially if they caused you distress in your own friendship with your guest, but-"

"She's talking about leaving, you know."

At that, he could not muster an uncaring façade.

"I do not yet know how she intends to do so, but I know that she will. It is not an idle threat. Theo does not make idle threats. Your actions and your treatment of her, she has told me, were a timely reminder that she does not belong here. That she was foolish to think otherwise, and that she was foolish to develop an attachment."

"If she believes her attachment to you was foolish because of my actions, then she-"

"To you, Captain. Not to me. To you."

"Well…I…" he finally stopped gawping long enough to respond properly. "That was misguided on her part."

"Was it?" she challenged yet again.

"Yes!"

"Why?!"

Now, he found himself echoing Lieutenant Groves' earlier sentiments, his jaw clenching and unclenching, staring off into the gardens so he could force himself to speak.

"I suspect you know why."

It was not an easy thing to say. But she had demanded frankness, and so she would have it.

"Captain, I have known you for some time. A long time. I do not believe you would be standing here in such distress if you had no feelings for Theo."

"In which case, that is misguided on my part."

"Why? Because she is Irish? Or because of her social standing?"

"Of course not!"

"Because you still insist she harbours sinister secrets, then? I will confide this in you, even if I know she would not wish me to do so."

"Then you should not-"

"I know everything she has not seen fit to tell others. All of it. There is nothing sinister there, and there is nothing that might impede you. Unless you truly do succeed in driving her away."

"What…?"

"I can say no more on the matter. Trust what I have said."

James stared at her, and she stared back – as though daring him to challenge her. How long had she known the answers he sought? What were those answers? If she said there was no impediment, that would mean…that there was no husband. But how did that explain all of the factors that led him to that suspicion? Elizabeth had hinted at cruelty, but…but one did not have to be married to a woman to be cruel to her. That much made sense. Perhaps…

Whatever theories began to arise, he put a forceful end to them. Those thoughts, at least, he could control. They mattered not, when weighed upon the conversation currently at hand. So he stopped his incredulous staring, cleared his throat, and schooled his expression.

"It makes no difference."

"Why, Captain? Why does it not?" she demanded.

"I have told you why, Elizabeth!" he all but snapped. "Because it is not…it is not…"

"What you had planned?" a strong sort of knowing seeped through her tone.

How was it that she managed to pin the thoughts he himself could not even begin to untangle with such expert precision?

At that question, her implorations turned from furious to soft, though no less firm despite that. The frown was smoothed from her brow, her eyes no longer blazed, but she did not shrink or falter. James suspected she was incapable of either, much like the woman she championed.

"Captain…James…" she sighed, wringing her hands and hanging her head for a moment before she looked at him once again, resolving herself to the rule of frankness that prevailed over this conversation. "Plans change. That is perfectly alright. It's good, so long as you don't cling to the old one for the sake of clinging to the old one, forsaking your own happiness and that of others for the sake of it. There are…there are times when doing the correct thing, in the eyes of others, can be the wrong thing, if done for the wrong reasons."

He hadn't the faintest idea of what to say to that – nor if he could speak if he even truly tried to do so. Happily, or unhappily, Elizabeth was not finished having her say.

"I am not inside your mind. I believe I am correct, but perhaps I am not. If so, leave Theodora be. I would not have you pursue her as a second best option – in fact, I should never forgive you if you do. But if I am correct, and you're denying both yourself and Theodora a chance at very real happiness because you're too stubborn to see what is directly before your eyes, I shall find that hard to forgive, too."

"However…hypothetically speaking…if the latter were the case," he said slowly, feeling quite numb. "It is far too late to change anything now. Is it not?"

"That, I cannot answer. But there is only one way to find out."

"Oh?"

"Try," she said.

They remained standing there for a few long moments, until Elizabeth finally sighed and clasped her hands before her.

"I would ask one thing of you," she said finally. "We will not discuss it, if you concede. This is for your sake."

"What is it?"

Considering how this conversation had transpired, he did not dare agree before he heard the request. Once, he might have – even if the request involved walking upon molten glass. But now, he could not.

"When you return to your home tonight, put whatever plans you may once have had from your mind," she said carefully. "Only for a moment. A minute, an hour, thirty seconds, whatever it takes. Picture two eventualities. One in which you do the expected thing. And one in which you follow what it is you truly wish to do, if I am in fact correct about what that is. Consider which one brings you more joy. Make that your compass. Not reason."

He did not agree, but he knew he would do so anyway, now that the idea was in his mind. He was a glutton for punishment, it seems. But she seemed not to expect a response, straightening and lifting her chin.

"My father tells me the formalities, in the way of paperwork, are all almost concluded to secure your promotion. You'll soon be Commodore Norrington, I hear. Congratulations – truly. You deserve it."

It was not news, not to him. Although until the ink was dry, he was content for it to be news that had not yet reached the ears of the rest of those gathered here. With a parting nod, Elizabeth swept soundlessly from the gardens, save only for the rustle of her skirts. James remained. Movement was even more impossible than speech was.

She had given him much to think about.

A/N: I really loved the idea of Elizabeth parroting the advice her father gives her in TCOTBP, even though he hasn't actually given her it yet in this timeline. I just think it shows the bond and the closeness between them, that they'd give similar advice under similar circumstances.

#catch the wind #ctw #james/theodora #fallen through time esta-elavaris #ftt #james norrington/oc #james norrington x oc #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #potcfic #james norrington fanfiction #james norrington fanfic

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