sareenawails

[sareenawails]

Hello everyone, if you can please share and donate to the Shehab family’s campaign to support them through displacement and famine. Sahar, her family of eight (five of whom are children), and extended family (three are children) need funds to survive as food, water, formula and baby products become more and more scarce and expensive. All donations will go towards evacuation funds, and to help them recover afterwards and build towards a brighter future once more. Please keep this family in your hearts and minds, and show them your kindness through sharing and donating, thank you. @danashehab is one of the accounts for the family who contacted and asked me to make this post for them.

Tags below the cut, let me know if you’d rather be removed.

@fricklefracklefloof @pocketsizedquasar-3 @a-shade-of-blue @autisticmudkip @punkitt-is-here @heritageposts @sayruq

[sareenawails]

phish food - chapter zero

prologue - pilot

| playlist | chapter index | ao3 link |

The air still smelt like battle. Smoke, air, blood, betrayal. It’s the kind of smell that you never forget because of how traumatic the war was. The kind of stench that never truly fades– not from the battlefield, but from  your memory.

They crowned Asta as the Wizard King a year ago. Around that same time, you wore WIllian Vangeance’s– no. his former mantle: Captain of the Golden Dawn. 

You stood on the edge of the base’s tower, just right above the training yard, watching knights practice how to break their enemies bones using their squadmates as friendly practice. This was all fine, although there were certain pieces, and people missing. 

Klaus and Mimosa were near you, watching the others as well.

 Obviously, he wasn’t here. You didn’t go to the coronation. You couldn’t stomach it. The look he gave you across the grand banquet hall the night before– when the verdict was announced like a whisper in the wind– was enough. He didn’t speak. There was no need for him to open his mouth. You could sense his mana getting twisted with the storm brewing in him, sharp, bold and silent. Thinking about that moment made your heart twist with its tubes. That day still haunts you more than you can handle. 

The clang of weapons echoed through the courtyard. Golden Dawn members pushed themselves harder these days– more magic, more force, more hunger to prove that they still belonged at number one of all the squads. You watched from the top of the tower, arms folded, eyes hyperfocused but tired. 

Klaus barked corrections to your subordinates, like his voice and those glasses of his could contort mana itself. Mimosa stood beside you, watching silent, but peacefully. 

“This one’s a little sloppy with his reinforcement spells,” she pointed at one of the knights with a fixed stare, “He may even burn himself before he can land a blow.” 

You nodded in agreement. “He’ll burn himself that way. That’ll teach him." You muttered. 

You felt Klaus shooting you a glance, half disapproving, half impressed. You weren’t Vangeance, and you certainly weren’t him. You had your own ways of leading. You were a sharpshooter. Less patient. Evidently colder. 

You didn’t mind.

You felt a small gust of wind coming to the right of you, causing you to raise a brow. Your messenger crow  was coming towards you. That was strange because you rarely have been receiving messages since last year, before the war with the Spade Kingdom and the Dark Triad. Finally, the crow comes before you, letter in mouth. You take it from the crow and read who it is from.

Asta. 

Captain ______

I’d like to talk with you. If possible, could we please talk today? Alone?

Asta

Your fingers tightened around the paper. His handwriting still remains horrible and hard to read, but you felt the serious tone through the ink.

He wants to talk to me? About what? Nothing has happened since the war last year. Forget that, I haven’t spoken to Asta since he’s become the Wizard King… 

It was something you had to think about. Talking to Asta wasn’t the hard part because he wasn’t a person that was hard to approach. The matter was: what was there to talk about? Your ex-boyfriend lost in a lifelong battle for the throne that Asta now sits on, even though your ex was the one who had all the accolades and was recognized the most, and he still lost. In the end, he was second place, to the boy that was feared the most by the nobles of the kingdom, most recognized for “trouble”.

Tch. You would be salty too. 

“Klaus. Please watch over everyone’s training.” You sighed, looking at him. 

“Where are you going?” He asked. 

“Asta wants to speak to me.” Was all you said before using your Heaven’s String Magic to make a portal and teleport to wherever Asta was.

✾✾✾

You had invisible-like strings on everyone you cared for. How your magic worked was that you could turn atoms of your body into strings and attach them onto people, places, objects, animals, any living or inanimate structure and control them using said strings. So, in this case, since you care about Asta, your strings guided you through the portal and sent you to Hage Village. Asta’s childhood village.

“Hage Village, huh?” You said allowed as you looked around from the onto the hill you were standing on. 

“ _/_…” You heard a male’s voice from behind you. You quickly turned around as soon as you heard the first syllable of your name. The male had ash-blond hair, big but stunning bright, vibrant green eyes, a black right arm, a black vest, a red cape which covered his left arm that had the Black Bulls insignia on it, black pants and boots, and a soft smile that sat on his face. 

 (@/ sk_martins_ on twitter/X)

“Asta…” You stared at him intensely with wide eyes. You could cry just by being in his presence. You couldn’t believe it was actually him now. The boy you used to visit every month for 10 years from your manor just to watch him fail at magic every single day of his life, just for him now to be the Wizard King of the Clover Kingdom that stood right in front of you; as if you were his best friend and not one of his Magic Knight Captains. 

“You look so different now that you're Captain of the Golden Dawn!” He beamed, pulling you in for a hug. 

“You can’t be talking, Wizard King Asta.” You smiled, wrapping your arms around him gently. 

“Just call me Asta. That’s enough for me.” 

“Just call me Yuno. That’s enough for me.” A wild flashback appeared in your brain. Your heart sank because of the similarity of the two boys. You shook that memory away. You lifted your arms from him and took a step back, to look at him once again. 

“Uhm…” You look away from him and to the vibrant grass staring at your black and gold knee-high boots, something to avoid eye contact, anything to not look at that optimistic gaze of his. “What did you want to talk about? It has been awhile.” You asked, still looking away. 

“I was worried. It’s been a year since I’ve last seen you. I mean, I’ve heard updates from Klaus, and you know, the reports coming from the Golden Dawn but, I haven’t seen you. I was worried. Have I done something to make you stay away from me?” 

“It’s been a year since we’ve last seen each other?” You now looked at him with a raised eyebrow, your heart slightly dropping at the realization. You haven’t noticed until now but, you’ve been avoiding everyone who isn’t a Golden Dawn member since the war against Spade. It wasn’t on purpose, but it was a response to the trauma you’ve experienced. It was hard to look at people, talk to others, tell everyone how you’re doing, and communicate with your fellow captains.

 “No…” You shook your head. “That’s impossible, Asta.” You confidently retorted.

“Well, it sure has felt that way.” Asta pouted. “Just because you accidentally tangled yourself in your strings while successfully tangling up Lucius in the process doesn’t mean isolate yourself from us. That helped us win the fight.”

It was also that as well. That specific moment where you gain momentum after slashing down one of Lucius’ clones, you were able to salvage some remains of molecules from your body that were turned into strings because of your magic and target them right at him. The problem was though, he was levels above. Lucius saw that, and so did everyone else once you were tangled in your own magic. This makes you feel uneasy and anxious when reminded of that moment.

“It doesn’t matter if I was able to concentrate my magic into trapping him, he copied it and made it his own. And even if it was just for that very moment, I was weak. A man was able to successfully use my magic against me in the exact manner I use it against my enemies. It was humbling.” You explained, your heart slowly dragging down to your stomach, wanting this conversation to be over. 

“But, because of that, we won. That’s all that matters.” Asta spoke with a serious tone, staring right at you. You looked at him back and blinked slowly, eyes squinted from the exhaustion of thinking back to last year. Somehow, the vision in his eyes was still bright enough to make another star, even after all Asta has been through. He’s grown, he’s more mature now. Hell, he’s even 5'7 after a year. Who knew growth spurts could happen within a couple of months? 

“I guess.” You finally looked away and scoffed.

“You’re always guessing.” He pouted, raising an eyebrow. 

“I guess.” You scoffed again. 

“Oh come on, _ /_!” He exclaimed, evidently tired of your dry humor. 

“Is that why you wanted to speak to me? Because of my lack of appearances? Or was it something else?”

“I wanted to ask you about… Yuno.” You stiffened. It wasn’t obvious but Asta saw that in your body language. You didn’t like that he noticed. There was a silence between you two. All that could be heard from the wind passing the nearby trees, the work of the farmers, and the distant chattering of families and children. 

You swallowed that name down your throat. It wasn’t a pleasant taste but it sure was something bitter. No sweetness. 

“I haven’t seen him since last year.” You spoke stoically. 

Asta scratched the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “Yeah, I kinda figured that out. It’s just… after the coronation, he disappeared. No letter. No message. No goodbye. He just left. And I thought, maybe–” 

“Maybe he’d talk to me before anyone else?” You cut in, trying to see where his head is at. 

Asta blinked, surprised. “Yeah…”

 “I thought that too, but why? You know him better than anyone else does.” You sighed through your nose. You felt the wind shift. Even the mana around you tense. It was then silent between you too again. The words hung between you two like broken thread. For a minute, neither of you spoke. 

“I didn’t go after him.” You admitted, looking away, folding your arms over your chest. “It wasn’t my place. I had to look over the squad. Somebody did. He left, and I let him.” 

Asta looked at you, his eyes softening. 

“Maybe that makes me selfish, or it makes me a coward–”

“Or maybe it makes you human.” Asta’s voice softened. You looked away again, eyes following the clouds overhead. “I became Captain of the Golden Dawn, Asta. I had to rebuild the squad, replace every single one of our dear members that we lost… using my strings to thread us back together.”

A dry laugh slipped from your throat. “If I chased him… I doubt I would’ve come back.” 

Asta stared at you, trying to figure out if you were still the same girl he knew last year, and all the years prior. “So you still–” 

“I still don’t know what to feel.” You cut him off. “I loved him. I loved who he was. But then, he left. I don’t know who he is anymore.” 

Suddenly–

The sky started to twist. A massive swarm of mana surged, cracking through the atmosphere. The birds fled. The grass flattened. Even the horizon bent.

You turned just in time to see a small, green conjunction– no, a tear– open midair.

And from the tear, stood him. 

The Cloak of Spade royalty. Two grimoires at each hip. Aura sharp enough to cut stone. His eyes, still that untouchable gold, found you automatically. And they burned.

Asta and you turned to look at each other with the same damned look of visceral shock.

“_/_”

Yuno.

next chapter (coming soon)

[sareenawails]

📍 A Family in Gaza Is Going Hungry

In the heart of Gaza, a family struggles to survive. They have no home, no income, and now — no food. Parents go to sleep hungry so their children can eat a little… but even that is no longer enough.

Every day is a battle just to find a loaf of bread or a handful of rice. The war has stolen everything from them — their home, their work, their safety — and now it threatens to steal their hope.

💔 No child should cry from hunger. No mother should feel helpless watching her child starve.

If you can, please help. Even the smallest donation can mean a warm meal, a smile, a bit of hope.

🍞💧 Give what you can. Share if you care.

#Gaza #Humanity #FeedTheHungry #StandWithGaza.

[sareenawails]

Hello, my name is Lama, and I am from Gaza City, specifically in the northern Gaza Strip. I grew up in a loving family of resilience and hope, with my parents working tirelessly to provide us with a life of dignity and opportunity. My father was our steadfast provider, and my mother was the heart of our home. I have two brothers and three sisters, the youngest of whom is just six months old. She is frail and often sick due to the lack of proper food and medicine. My siblings and I have shared dreams of education, careers and a bright future. But life in Gaza is marked by hardship, and when the war began, everything we had built was shattered. My older brother, a kind and a courageous soul, was martyred while trying to secure basic necessities for our survival, my younger sister was gravely injured, and the cost of her treatment weighs more than the universe to us, now the responsibility for my family has fallen on my shoulders.

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #510 )✅️

Our home, once filled with warmth, laughter and memories, has been reduced to rubble. We have been displaced more than thirty times from place to a place with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Each time we returned, we found more destruction, we always clung to the hope of rebuilding, but in the last attack, our home was completely destroyed, we are now homeless, living in unsafe conditions with no shelter to protect us from the cold nights. The loss of our home is not just the loss of a building, it’s the loss of safety, stability, and the place where our dreams were nurtured.

With my father unemployed since the beginning of the war, we have no income to provide even the most basic necessities. Water, food, medicine, warm clothes and blankets-things that many take for granted-are beyond our reach. Every day is a battle for survival, and every night is a reminder of the dangers and struggles we face. I am determined to care for family and give my younger brothers and sisters a chance to grow up with hope. But I cannot do it alone.

I am reaching out to you with a plea for compassion and action. Your support can help us rebuild our lives, restore hope, and secure a future where my family can live in peace and safety. Every donation, no matter how small brings us closer to survival and dignity. Please for the sake of god and humanity, help us in this time of desperate need.

[sareenawails]

"Help sooad Family Survive & Rebuild in Gaza"

Vetted by gaza-vetters number in the list ✅365✅

Hello, my name sooad Muhammad, I am a 61-year-old mother and former school teacher from Gaza💔

After the army entered the city, we went out to Rafah under the attack of planes and missiles.And the bullets that spare no one, we lived in torn tents that did not protect from the heat, the cold, or the rain. All the words in the world cannot describe what we have lived through. All I want is for you to look at me and my family with a merciful heart and help me.

Before October 7th, I lived a humble life, dedicated to teaching and raising my children. But everything changed. Since that day, my family and I have been living in unimaginable conditions—without electricity, without clean water, without safety.

Our home was destroyed, and we now sleep in a torn tent, exposed to the freezing cold. My children cry from hunger and fear. The markets are empty or unaffordable. Bread is now a luxury—I knead pasta just to make something to fill their stomachs

Please open your heart and stand with us in this time of despair.

We are not asking for much—just a chance to survive. A blanket for the cold. A piece of bread. A roof that does not leak. A moment of peace for my children

I am humbly asking for your help. Your donation, no matter how small, can give us warmth, food, and hope. It can help us survive these dark days and rebuild a life with dignity.

Your support means the world to me and my family.

Please donate 🙏

All the destruction that you see, we live every day a hundred times, and we live hunger, death, and a life that has no taste of life

[sareenawails]

maybe this time picking at Textures on my skin will lead to being silky smooth

[sareenawails]

[sareenawails]

My husband has become a prisoner of the Israeli occupation😭😭

After we were besieged in Rafah for more than four days, the tent was demolished over my heads, my children, and my husband, and we were able to miraculously escape. For those whose story of escape was not complete, because they were able to capture my husband and he is now their prisoner after he was injured in his feet from the bombing. My child was also exposed to danger and underwent a difficult surgical operation that failed. My family is now without a father, without a breadwinner for us, in light of this war and this catastrophic famine. I cannot provide food and drink for my children, nor can I provide treatment for my sick child. Please help us by donating to save us from danger.

Please donate now

I want to thank every person with a humane heart who helped me and my children. I hope you continue to donate to my family.

[sareenawails]

In the mean time, le me entertain u with some sketches I've done

Procrasinating to actually keep goin<//3

OOOHHH!!!! 👀 THAT LOOKS LOVELY!! 😍

[sareenawails]

TWOOOOOOOOOOO?!!?!?? KAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Riptide

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 8.7k

Synopsis: A summon brings unsteady waves to the bloodsail pirates.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, pirate AU, A sequel to BDAS, CW alcohol mention, CW food mention, CW panic attack, R has nicknames, hurt/comfort, fluff.

Navigation

Beyond the Sea of Night Masterlist

Chapter 4 >>> Chapter 5

The ride to the smaller island was quiet. Not even Yuri nor James cracked a single joke about the rocky road being as rocky as Yuri and Lyla's relationship or something in the lines of that. It's as if you're in line for the gallows. Xavier, still with a broken nose with a sickening bruise along the sides, rides alongside the cart. His eyes are fixed on the road towards the twin island. A single road with no fork in the middle to go anywhere else, just one— the Tempest, a dilapidated shipwreck perched on top of an island.

The sun beats down on you and the crew while Hobie never unlatched his hand around yours. His eyes are fixated on the open sea before him, back straight, still looking like the pirate captain that he is. Even now he doesn't show weakness in front of Xavier's cavalry. Whenever the red head glances at Hobie, he finds himself at the end of his stormy glare.

Stark the horse stops by the end of the rope bridge that connects the main island from the tempest. Riri glances over her shoulder on the driver's seat. Her grandfather is sleeping soundly beside her.

“We're here. The horse can't obviously cross so we'll wait here for you.”

“Thank you, Ri, we owe you one.” Hobie reaches to clasp her shoulder.

“How many IOUs is that one, Hobie?”

“Fourteen,” he says matter-of-factly, “I keep count of it, Ri.”

She chuckles, akin to a scoff. “Well, shit, I didn't even know you could count.”

That earns a few laughs from the crew as they give their thanks to Riri while exiting the cart. Hobie even manages a strained smile that masks his amusement.

“Thank you, Riri. I'll make you another batch of the ointment as thanks.” You say, smiling gently.

“Bit of advice, duchess? Don't be scared of Thorpe, he's a big teddy bear really. Kind of like Finn.” She smiles at the memory of him.

“A more murderous version of Finn.” Yuri adds, already off the cart as she bumps her fists with Riri's.

“Don't slander Finn like that.” Gwen sighs, stretching her legs.

“You guys just complain and complain, huh?” The brunette says, watching Hobie be gentle with you as he helps you off the cart like you have sea legs. “Cap’n,” she calls for Hobie as his hand rests on your waist. “It's just Thorpe. You know him.”

“Aye,” he nods, and you can feel his hand balling the fabric of your blouse. “Jus’ a man.”

Riri smiles, “may the sea guide you.”

“And may she grant you a quick death.” The others say simultaneously, their voices echoing above the breeze.

“It's been a while since I've said that.” Pav adds, “feels ominous now.” He shivers.

You look at them like something possessed them. “What was that?”

Hobie urges you to walk with a hand on the small of your back, fingers gently guiding you towards the bridge where a few of Thorpe's crew waits for you to cross. Xavier is already at the tempest, wincing from the pain on his nose. The crew crosses first, while you and Hobie wait your turn to balance out the weight on the old bridge.

“Jus' an old sailor sayin’ that pirates adopted. Somethin’ that we also stole from ‘em.” He flicks his eyes at you, making sure that you're right behind him. “A bit creepy, innit?”

You nod, resisting the urge to hold his hand. “Aye.” Stepping forward on the rope bridge, it creaks and sways in the wind.

You're no stranger to heights or even rickety bridges, but this one has your stomach in a twist. The looming dilapidated man-of-war looks like an ancient being right in the middle of the island. Its wood is bloated, tattered sails fluttering weakly in the breeze. Its darkened façade and headless bow figure of a siren doesn't help with your churning stomach. It's as if you're walking towards the underworld, boarding a ship sailing right into the belly of the beast.

Every step you take on the rotting wood feels like you're walking on thin ice. As your hands shake around the rope, legs trembling as you look down towards the beach, if you misstep and plummet down it'll surely be the end for you. Suddenly you're back in the belltower, the beach reminding you of the same one back in the capital. The waves rushing in, white sands blinding you from below as you dig your dagger into Mathias' eye while you drop freely into the depths. You can still hear his gargled screams, and how his nails dug into your skin. Vertigo takes you, vision warbling as sweat trickles down your temple.

Hobie senses your trepidation, looking over his shoulder to find you breathing heavily right in the middle of the bridge. He has seen you climb up to the crow's nest a hundred times before without you faltering from the height, but this feels different. But the sight is familiar for you and for him. Without missing a beat, Hobie offers you his hand, the sight of his calluses and the scars on his palm was enough to bring you back to the present.

You take his warmth without hesitation, instead of the blade you held, his hand now accompanies your own. Soft and gentle, thumb running along your skin to comfort you even more. You're no longer thrashing in the waves, desperately swimming towards the light when your light is already in front of you.

“Hobie.” Your breathless sigh is carried by the salty wind.

He understands, the corner of his lips curling into a soft smile reserved only for you. “I've got you, scuttlebutt.”

“You got me.” The next thing you know, you're already in front of the Tempest.

There's a large hole in its hull, torches hanging from the sides, chains swinging slightly. You look up to stare at the sheer size of it, it's bigger than what you expected, larger than the Osprey and as big as the Black Hellion. It's a beast, and perhaps during its prime it haunted the sea with its black sails that still have remnants around the rigging, and its jolly roger flag still hanging up on its mast. It's nothing like you've ever seen before around the docks of the Mermaid's head, not the usual skeleton drawn on a black flag. No, it's a skull missing its jaws, horns sticking right atop its head. In place of its eyes are two red dots, whichever place you look at it, it seems to follow you with its crimson gaze.

Everything about the Tempest screams death and hell, from the numerous cannons on the side, wooden edges and bannisters carved with skulls and roses, it's as if Hades himself sailed on the Tempest. But here she is, left to rot on the twin island of the Mermaid's head. You wonder what kind of galleon took her down, or perhaps it's not a ship that did this, but the same creature that still haunts your dreams.

“He's waiting for you.” Xavier says, voice sounding like he's underwater from his broken nose.

You look at him with pity, pain medication and rum are probably the only things that's holding him upright. “You should get your nose set by a doctor or else it might fall off your face.”

“Is that a threat—”

“It's not, it's my medical advice.” You say without balking. Hobie squeezes your hand with a smirk thrown at the man, he got his nose good. “Take it or leave it, I don't care.”

You and Hobie leave the man outside while the crew waits for the both of you in front of two massive double doors. The doors are carved with sea battles against familiar looking beasts towering over a fleet and the stormy sea. The sight of the uncanny scene has you frowning. The others feel the same, it reminds them of what they lost that day.

Hobie inhales, taking one last glance at you before letting your hand go to open the doors like he owns the place. The silence is enough to set your nerves alight even more. With the doors opening, it reveals a carved out hall inside the ship. There are various treasures lined around the place, a gigantic conch shell perched on top of a platform, a decapitated bronze statue with its head placed right on its rusted arms. A couple of Grecian statues, a minotaur and perhaps a goddess sitting on a marble throne. There are armours and weapons from all corners of the world, a samurai sword, a knight’s polished armour and a spear so large that it could take down an elephant. Some you could barely recognize, nothing like anything you’ve seen before. A large cage sits in the corner, exotic birds flying about, they look comfortable at least, but you bet they'd rather be free than be stuck in there.

The flickering lamps draw dancing shadows around the moss covered walls, and you see Captain Thorpe with his back turned away from the bloodsail pirates.

“We're ‘ere, Thorpe.” Hobie doesn't falter, walking in front of the crew, standing straight with his coat tails brushing along the creaky floorboards. “If this is about—”

“Have you heard of the story of the three sailors stranded at sea?” Thorpe says, voice gruff and gravelly as if he just smoked a cigar. His tone alone could command a whole fleet as you stand beside Pavitr.

“Thorpe—”

The sound of a butcher's knife clacks into the dimly lit room, stopping Hobie in his tracks. And you almost jump in your skin. “It's a damn good story, Brown, maybe your crew would like to hear ‘em.”

Hobie inhales, from where you stand, you could only see his shoulders moving. “Sure, we've got all the time in the world.”

“Aye,” even his chuckle sounds like stones rolling on a rocky hill. “There’s these three lads rowin’ their dinghy right in the middle of the sea with nothin’ but a lamp as their fourth companion.” He raises his arm, the knife glinting off the candle lights until he smacks it into something fleshy. “The lamp was nothin' special, just a glass one that merely held fish oil. Then one of the lads, in his starvin’ state, opens the glass to drink from it and out comes a genie clad in gold chains and silk cloth.” No one dares interrupt him.

You now notice the long table set right behind him, food and drinks galore, a feast prepared for the crew. There are silver candelabras with candles lit, and plates and cutlery all set to seat people. Everything on the table looks familiar, until you see the lilac trimming around the plates, and you know it's the exact same ones on the Osprey, the same ones that Hobie just sold.

“The genie asks ‘em what they wish for, since there's three of ‘em, they get one wish each.” The captain continues, cutting into something as fresh guts fall right beside his feet. “The first sailor wishes to be with his wife, with a flick of the genie's wrist, the man disappears. The second one, astounded by what happened, wishes to frolic the fields again with his children. And jus’ like that, he's gone like the first one.” Placing his knife on the table, he rips into the poor thing that he's cutting. “The last man turns towards the genie with tearful eyes, and says that he's lonely and wishes to not be lonely anymore. And with another flick of the genie's hand, his friends come back, joinin’ him right in the middle of the sea once again.”

“I've heard that story before, Thorpe.” Hobie utters, hands hidden inside his coat pockets.

“Well ‘m not tellin’ it for you, ‘m tellin’ it for the bloody duchess.” Thorpe turns around, hand covered in slippery ichor, blood dripping onto the floor as he holds a cutting board with the largest fish you've ever laid eyes on placed on it. He's missing an arm, but that doesn't look like it hinders him as he stands tall even without it. “My crows have told me you were smart, tell me, duchess, what's the moral of the story?”

You feel like the sphinx is asking you a riddle. If you get the question wrong, you get gutted like the fish he's holding. The others look at you, Hobie’s hand is placed on the handle of your father's gun, at the ready. Even Yuri winces and pities you.

“Be careful what you wish for?”

“That's the obvious one.” He stands into the light, clicking his tongue at your abysmal answer. His hair is in long braids, white strands weaved around it like silver threads— skin tanned from the sun, and his build is comparable to Finn's. He's huge, hand dwarfing the cutting board and even the fish as he places it in the middle of the table together with the rest of the hefty food. “The real moral of the story is to be a bloody good sailor so you don't end up stuck with a bunch of wankers. Jus’ a bit of knowledge for you lot.” Sitting down in the middle of the long table, he spreads his arm wide. “Come break fast with me.”

“Just me?” You ask in fear.

Thorpe guffaws, hand slapping on the table as utensils jump and shake from his sheer strength. “Oh, that would be lovely but I think the lad ‘ere wouldn't fancy that much, right, Brown?”

Hobie laughs but his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. “I'd be chuffed to shoot you right there if you do, Heinrick.”

Thorpe lays his elbow on the table, pointing casually at Hobie. “See? The lad always had anger issues. Especially when it comes to his bird—”

“What do you want, Thorpe?”

“Why so pushy? I thought we had all the time in the world?”

“I said that sarcastically. Knowin’ you, you didn't catch it the first time.”

He laughs again, wiping his hand on a napkin that you're sure came from the Osprey too. “Fine, fine, I'll drop the act. Jus’ join this old man for breakfast and I'll tell you. Why are you all standin’ so far away?” Noticing everyone's apprehension, he sighs. “What? You think this is poisoned?” He then proceeds to take a piece of the raw fish, dips it in sauce and pops it in his mouth. “Trust me this kind tastes better when it's fresh and raw. See? I'd drop dead by now if it was. ‘sides, I've got my girls to worry ‘bout too, I ain't feedin’ them poisoned fish.”

“Girls?” Hobie asks, “since when did you have children with Olga?” He says with a bit of discomfort and a hint of disgust.

The older man grimaces. “‘m not that old, Brown. Girls come down ‘ere and introduce yerselves.” He gestures down while looking up at the scaffolding of the hallowed out ship.

As everyone follows his gaze, you see shadows slinking around the wooden scaffolding. You hold your breath as the dozens of shadows lessen as they continue to climb and slither on the wooden beams until there are only two figures looking down at you.

“Zarina, Gayatri, come down ‘ere and eat. You two keep missin’ breakfast.”

The two shadowy figures effortlessly climb down the beams as if they're just simply floating down like a couple of flower petals from a tree. They stand on each side of the table, and the light finally shows them to you. The one on the left looks taller in stature, honeyed eyes glancing around the crew. She's clad in red and blue, curly hair tied in a twin bun. Her golden necklace shines, the letter ‘Z’ dangling from her neck. She has twin slim daggers on her side, simple yet polished to perfection. The one on your right is smaller than Zarina, gold piercings shining in the lamp light, hair tied neatly into a long braid as she's clad in emerald green and soft yellow. On her hip is a curved sword with etchings of waves and the sun. There's also a leather whip, her hand brushing alongside it like she's wary of you and the crew.

Hobie seems to be as confused as the rest, while Pavitr sighs longingly beside you, eyes glued on the girl on the right. You know that look, it's the same one Miles always looks at Gwen. And the same softness you wake up to as Hobie gazes at you in the haze of the cool morning and before bed. Nudging Pav, you raise a brow with a knowing smile. His eyes widened before looking at his feet bashfully.

“Meet my daughters,” Thorpe says excitedly, grinning as he gestures for them to sit beside him.

“Adopted.” They both say simultaneously with a brief smile that if you blink you'll miss it.

Thorpe feigns a surprised gasp. “You are?! Why didn't your mother tell me?!” They roll their eyes at him, taking their seats beside their adopted father. With a chuckle, he takes one of their plates and fills it with fruits and flat bread. “This one right ‘ere, my firecracker, is Zarina.” He gives it to the girl on his right, patting her head as she nods curtly at you and the befuddled crew. He does the same for the girl on his left, putting fish and wheat bread on hers. “And this one, my cannonball, is Gayatri.” She politely smiles, and you swear you heard Pavitr take a deep breath and mumble her name. “Come sit, it'll be weird if it's jus’ us eatin’”

Hobie takes the first step, sitting adjacent to Thorpe. The rest follows behind him, the previous introduction helped lessen the tension slightly, but the apprehension is still looming over the whole crew.

Sitting beside Hobie on his left with Gwen on his right, Thorpe helps serve the fish around the table, treating the bloodsail pirates as his guests.

“I didn't peg you to be a father, Thorpe.” Hobie says, hand subtly brushing your own under the table, a reassurance and wordlessly asking if you're alright. You answer him by looping your pinky around his index for a moment.

“Well, I didn't either, but fatherhood comes when you least expect it, I suppose.” He offers you a bowl of clams, and you accept it with a small smile. “‘m sorry that Olga's missin’ this little reunion. She said she'll be ‘ere though, ‘m not sure when.”

“I’ve been lookin’ for her fish soup.” Hobie cracks a smile and Thorpe mirrors it.

“I know it's ‘ere— there! Beside the lobster.” He cackles, gesturing to Pavitr for help. Pav hides his nerves and takes the bowl beside him to hand over to Thorpe as he pours some on Hobie's bowl. “Brings back memories, eh?”

Hobie smiles, and takes a sip of the soup. “Aye, I remember eatin’ this first thing in the mornin’ to stave off sea sickness. Olga really saved my arse on the ship.”

“Me wife does that, always ready with a bowl of warm fish soup for the youngsters.” The older man chuckles fondly as your eyes hone in on his missing arm, he notices, and you fear for your life until he gives you an apologetic look. “Disgustin’ innit?”

“No, I'm admiring it.” You immediately respond truthfully as if he can tell if you're lying. “The cut and the stitching are clean. Whoever patched you up did a good job. And I’m s–sorry for staring.”

Thorpe smiles, while his daughters mirror his expression, albeit more subtle than him. “Well, thank you, got this little souvenir after a cannonball took it all off. The surgeon who did this actually has a practice ‘ere. If you want I can tell her ‘bout you? Maybe get you an apprenticeship there while you're gettin' the Osprey fixed.”

You gasp in shock. “That would be great, thank you.”

“Aye, don't worry ‘bout it, she's always yappin’ ‘bout young people havin’ no respect for science.” He waves it away, and you can't help but smile until you see the raw fish on your plate.

The sound of utensils scraping against porcelain echoes around the room. James munches on the fish, clearly loving the sauce that accompanies it. Yuri cuts her fish into smaller bites, while Miles starts off by opening the clams and placing some on Gwen's plate, which she affectionately pats his hand as thanks. Meanwhile Hobie's loving the spread, he has everything on his plate, from crabs to some kind of spiky fruit. He sees you looking at your plate with apprehension, worried at the raw fish on your plate. Back at the island you've always overcooked meat, whether it's fish or bird, in fear of getting sick from eating it raw. You've never been one to be a picky eater, but raw food has always been an exception for you. Without a word, he grabs your empty bowl, placing countless slices of fruit in it, mangoes, kiwis, coconut shreds, and a bundle of grapes.

Sliding the filled bowl over to you, your face lights up, hiding your fond smile towards the younger captain. “Thank you, Hobie.” You whisper to him, hand briefly squeezing his hand under the table before digging into the bowl with a fork.

Thorpe watched the scene in front of him with a subtle smile, a thick brow raised questioningly at Hobie, who just shrugs and the two captains come to an understanding that you're not privy to.

After a brief moment, with your nerves being almost gone but there's still slight fear towards the imposing man in front of you, who's currently helping refill Yuri's glass with rum. You put on a brave face, tamping down your anxiety as you think of your words very carefully before you let it all out at the man before you.

“Captain Thorpe?” You ask, voice surprisingly steady. He gazes at you, dark eyes fully meeting with your own, adding to your trepidation. “I thought that we'd be meeting with the Pirate council.”

“Aye, where the fuck are they?” Hobie adds, rather uncouth compared to your words. You side glance at him, wincing.

“That,” Thorpe scrunches his nose, giving another slice of mango to each of his daughters, who hum a thanks at him. “They were ‘ere yesterday, lad, but you kept sayin’ later so they left me to meet with you.”

You sigh, exhaling out a breath that you didn't know you were holding. Hobie pats your thigh underneath the table, gently reassuring you.

“Right, tell the others that I was jus’ a bit…occupied yesterday.” Hobie gives him his best smile. “We jus’ docked ‘ere after four years, we had shit to do, Thorpe.”

The man tilts his head and gives a ‘fair enough’ expression. “Doesn't mean you had to beat up me men for it.”

“They were annoyin’ the fuck out of me.” Hobie says matter-of-factly, hand wrapping around his glass filled with rum.

“Xavier is fuckin' annoyin’ I'll give you that.” Thorpe clinks his glass with Hobie's before taking a generous gulp of the amber liquid. It doesn't seem to affect him very much, as if he's simply drinking water. “What's your excuse?” He flicks his eyes over to you and you act like you didn't freeze in place.

“M–Mine?”

“Aye, why'd you have to aim at him? He's bloody annoyin’ but that doesn't warrant a bullet to the poor lad’s head.” Everyone turns to you at the new information revealed to them, all except Hobie and Thorpe's children. Gwen looks at you with a wince, while Yuri and James subtly give you a thumbs up from where they sit.

“I—” you try to make up an excuse on the spot but you're blanking out in front of the imposing man. “I don't have an excuse, Captain Heinrick. After Mathias…” your eyes gloss over briefly. “I sensed danger, I just wanted to protect my captain and myself before the tides turn for the worse.”

To your and everyone's surprise, he nods, accepting your words. “Honesty is a good attribute to have for a crew member. Mathias was the worst of the worst, ‘m jus' glad he's not out there huntin’ me people on that wretched ship. You lot did us a favour for killin’ the son of a bitch. All offence to his mother, she’s not a lovely lady to begin with.”

“Is that why we're here?” Gwen finally speaks up, confidence laced in her tone. “Because of what happened?”

“No, this feast is exactly for that though.” He rips a leg off of a crab. “I called you lot ‘ere for a different reason. And I apologize in advance for the shit ‘m ‘bout to hand to you.”

Hobie shuts his eyes, inhaling as if he already knows what the older captain is saying. “It's a ticket ain't it? None of my crew asked for one so we're ‘ere to fulfill it for someone else.”

“Aye, ‘m sorry, Captain Brown. The council already chose you for the job.” The man seems genuine, while you're utterly confused by the conversation. And Hobie looks like he was just sentenced to hard labour for the rest of his life.

“A what?” Your question has everyone staring at you. “I'm sorry, I'm just confused on what a ticket is. Is that a sentence you're giving us for what we did to Xavier and your men?”

The doors suddenly burst open, prompting Hobie to instinctively grab you and shield you from the source of the noise.

“What, am I interrupting something?” A woman, probably just a few years older than Jessica, saunters out of the doors while carrying the largest marlin you've ever seen on her back. You're sure it's not a shark she's carrying by how large it is. Her short hair is tied into a small ponytail with white strands weaved around her dark curls. She has various metals hanging around her flowy clothes, and a red velvet eye patch on her right eye. There's a golden band around her ring finger, one that matches Thorpe's. “And we've got guests!”

“My seashell!” Thorpe exclaims, laughing loudly as his eyes shimmer in the dark. Standing up, he meets her halfway, taking the gigantic fish from her and placing a chaste kiss on her cheek, right under her eyepatch. “Captain Brown is ‘ere.”

“Brown?” Her eye narrows, “I thought— oh this Captain Brown! Hello, dear, fancy seeing you back after what I heard you being in the gallows.”

“You know me, Olga, nothin’ can kill me.” Hobie says with a smile.

Olga walks closer, she smells of the sea and salt. “I can see that! And the little trio aren't so little anymore, huh?” She pats Pavitr's and Miles’ head while she bumps her fist with Gwen’s. “Oh, Yuri and James! It's good to see you all well, especially all the news that drifted our way.”

“Aye, fucked up news.” Thorpe says while dropping the fish on the table where he carved the previous one on. “Nevermind that, the bloodsails are a resilient lot, ain't they?” He then turns back around, pulling out his chair for his wife to sit on.

“They are, and judging by the big fucker in the docks, you got off well considering everything else.” Sitting down, she greets her daughters with a soft smile, hand clasping their shoulders. Then her eye falls on you, softness fading. “The Hazelside duchess,” she exhales out. “I never thought that we'd have former nobility here but here we are. Good on you for saving our Hobart, and not a lot of us can say that we snuffed out the king's flame himself.”

“It wasn't exactly a cake walk. It's good to meet you, Olga.” You try your best to give her your best smile but the mention of Mathias has you on edge. “And calling me duchess isn't necessary.” The woman nods with a faint smile.

“Right,” Hobie finishes his meal and chugs the remainder of his drink. His glass thunks against the fine oak, and he stares at the couple in front of him with a storm brewing inside. “You two are butterin’ us up like a lobster, what do we need to do so we can get it over with?”

“Well, hold on now, Brown.” Olga says while her husband fills her plate with an abundance of fish and clams. “When I was coming in, I heard she doesn't know what we're talking about, we have to inform her so she knows what she's signing up for.”

Thorpe hands Olga her plate before placing a quick kiss on the crown of her head and positioning himself right behind her chair. A hand right on her shoulder. “She's right, she needs to know.”

A beat passes, forks scraping along plates, glasses thumping down on the table and yet no one explains it to you.

Gayatri clears her throat loudly to get everyone's attention. “If no one's going to tell her, I will.” Pavitr looks like he's all ears. “Every pirate has a ticket, it's a request that the council of pirates will try to grant to any pirate that asks for it, under any circumstance, whether it be simple or not, they have to grant it at all costs. Only one per Pirate, and they need to have at least three years of being at sea to be eligible. Or have a big enough reputation to gain one, like finding a huge treasure trove or taking down an admiral for example.” Her eyes glance over to Hobie and Gwen.

“Or the king's flame.” Pavitr adds, eyes never straying too far from Gayatri.

Her eyes flicks over to Pav briefly before continuing. “Every ship has a different code, but everyone adheres to the ticket code. Whether they're a captain or a simple boat hand. If you swore on the code and are eligible, you have a single ticket to use in one lifetime. No more, no less.”

“Thank you, Gaya.” Olga whispers softly to her, patting her shoulder, and Gayatri shrugs with a smile.

“So in this case, we're the one granting it?” You ask, swallowing thickly. Glancing at Hobie, you find him staring at his empty plate with equally empty eyes.

“Yes, I told you she's smart.” Olga elbows her husband. “In exchange, of course you'll get paid for your work. On top of that, the council decided to waive off any ship renovations expenses you'll have here on the island.”

The crew gasps out, eyes shining at the prospect of having everything for free and of course the coin they'll get. Except for Hobie, whose eyes teeters from confusion to worry.

“You won't be alone on the journey. The sons of the sea will accompany you.” Olga says against the mouth of her cup. “They're already on the way, you just have to meet them near the port of Italy.”

“The sons of the sea?” Miles asks, eyes wide while you and the rest are filled with hope. “Karl and Robbie are alright?”

“Aye.” Thorpe says, grinning back at them. “Their situation was almost the same as yours. Numbers dwindled, with no ship and whatever's left of their crew were injured or missin’ a limb. But they're back on their sea legs now, we got ‘em a ship and found ‘em a reliable crew. All that's left is the bloodsail pirates to join ‘em.”

“This ticket's fucked innit?” Hobie finally speaks up, grey eyes daring the older pirates to quip back. “If you're offerin’ this much then that means there's a chance we're not comin’ back in one piece.”

Thorpe eyes him back, daring him. “Yours was fucked too, Brown. You asked for a fleet—”

“And you got me two ships with barely any workin’ cannons—”

“And yet they helped you take down Admiral Kinney.”

“He wasn't the target.”

“Mathias felt it though, got him hidin’ in the new world after you took a chunk out of the admiral's neck.” Thorpe doesn't back down. “We granted your ticket, and it's your turn to grant someone else's. It's not our fault the tides didn't favour you that day, Brown.”

“You know the rules, Hobie. Those codes are what's holding us up, keeping us afloat when the world’s changing.” Olga adds, the tension is thick enough to cut with a cutlass. “If you refuse— keelhauling. For you and your crew. No exceptions.”

Hobie meets with your eyes, already apologizing for what he's about to put you and the crew through. The waves are raging inside him, conflicted to disobey the rules but if he stands up against it, it'll end in everyone's death. He can't even picture you with your hands bound, hanging from the rigging and plunging into the waters until your skin is shredded and ripped apart by the very ship you call home. Then he turns to his crew, his measly crew— his family, he can't lose what he has left just because he doesn't want to obey his oath. An oath he took back when he was barely his quartermaster's age.

Cupping his hand with both of yours, hiding the affectionate action that could be read as weakness— you grip tightly, wordlessly telling him that you'll be there every step of the way whether he decides to defy them or agree to their terms. If he fights, you'll fight. You're already set on taking the knife in front of you.

Flicking his stormy greys at his captain, Hobie steadies himself, showing him that he won't falter. “What do we need to do?”

“Go east. Beyond the sea of night and onto the land of the rising sun.” Thorpe's jaw relaxes, and Olga exhales, continuing. “Head to the islands of Japan, where a man waits for you on their shores.”

“Who is he and why is he there all alone?”

“His crew mutinied against him.” Olga opens her palms to her husband and he places a map in her hand. Unfurling the map, the details are impeccable, every piece of land and obstacle in the sea are written and drawn on it. “Dropped him here.” She points at one of the islands on the map. “He managed to get a message out to us, that was a month ago now. But with him being far away, we don't know if he's even alive. That's why we're sending you and Captain Anarchy, in case there will be a fight or it'll all be for naught. At least you'll have company during the voyage. Whether you get him home or not you'll be paid.”

“As for who he is.” Thorpe answers for his wife. “We call him the Immortal. He's the former captain of the Blight.”

“Doesn't ring any bells.” Hobie's demeanour sours with every word they utter.

“He was before your time, lad. And he's been out sailin’ on that part of the world for a decade and a half now.” Thorpe rolls the map and hands it to Hobie. It feels heavy in his hand.

“Why is he called ‘the Immortal?’” You ask, trying to get every information you can before they send you and your family halfway across the world.

“He survived keelhauling twice and managed to escape with his life.”

“That's impossible—” Gwen says in disbelief.

“Take it from me who has been keelhauled once, it is, but this wanker is resilient.” Thorpe answers her, taking a drink to wash it all down.

“So, Captain Brown, what’s your verdict?” Olga asks, index tapping on her glass while everyone on the table looks at him.

Hobie takes one look at you and his crew, they all nod subtly at him while you mirror their actions. Wordlessly telling him that you're all with him till the end, no matter what he chooses. His head swirls with hundreds of what if’s, plans to get out of the summon, which weapon to take down who, and how to keep you and his family alive throughout the escape to the docks. It all ends the same— death. Only one doesn't end that way, and it's to grant it.

“I'll do it, if you pay for our supplies too and double our pay if we get the Immortal home.” Hobie doesn't yield, a picture of a proper captain. “And I want insurance for every crew member I have. If I die…” your breath staggers at the thought. “I want them taken care of, if they get injured or killed while on the journey, their family or next of kin will have reparations.” He lifts his chin at them, grey eyes darkened by the lack of light in the room as the clouds above block the sunlight through the gaps in the roof. “Do we have a deal?”

“Deal.”

—

The ride back to the ship was uneasy, air weighing heavy around everyone as they clambered up the gangway to the ship. Lyla ignores Yuri at first, but after a simple look from her, Lyla relents and tugs her into a corner of the ship. George tries to ask his daughter what happened, but Gwen just waves him off, telling him that she's too tired and will tell him later in favour of Miles' company up in the crow's nest.

The foreboding journey weighs heavy on everyone's mind.

The crew finds their own little corner in the ship, just letting their thoughts wander around while their hands are busy with the usual work around the ship. James mops the whole deck without complaints, And Pavitr polishes the cannonballs as if they needed to be polished. Once again the bloodsail pirates have been denied of sailing the open seas freely, without the shackles of revenge to hold them down this time, but with an obligation that could end in their demise either way they choose. Thorpe didn't give them much choice in the matter, there might be no crown that rules here or law that's kept in place. But the code reigns here, crime and punishment is still adhered to what you thought was a free city, a paradise for the lost and a chance for outcasts to live in whichever way they choose.

This place feels different to you now than when you first gazed at it in awe.

Before Hobie could tug you away and into his arms, you slinked away towards your cabin to see to your cousins. To be left with your heavy thoughts. Collette is doing much better, already smiling at you as she eats an entire bowl of porridge by herself. She's still weak in the knees, hands trembling as she holds the spoon, remnants of all the hard labour they were put through. John sighs in relief when he sees you. He hands you your satchel that still has the presents you haven't given away, and he gives you a reassuring smile when he notices the happy façade you've put up.

You should be happy, in other circumstances you would be with the pay they're offering. But with how Hobie reacted to the news, brows pinched together, breath staggering as he heard of sailing on a set destination to what could be an ocean filled with unsung danger— you're filled with dread. If he's that worried, you should be terrified.

As you hear Hobie's commands above deck while you brush all the knots in Collette's hair, he gives the crew their jobs to prepare for the voyage ahead. You didn't hear your name called once.

Supper has come and gone, but no one's in the mood to eat together so you just left the pot of soup in the galley and grabbed three bowls before heading back to John and Collette.

After eating and tucking in Collette, you hastily put spare clothes in a sack before leaving the sleeping twins in your cabin. You had a small glimpse of the tattered wedding gown inside your wardrobe, deciding to sell it and finally rid of that memory. And of him.

Shutting the door closed quietly, you see yourself in the polished bronze door knob, expression weary. You don't recognize yourself anymore, all that worry and hurt hasn't been kind to you. With a deep exhale, you head towards the captain's quarters, only to find him sitting on his desk with a dim oil lamp lighting his tired features as he reads the map Thorpe gave him. He looks lost, conflicted about his decision.

Just like the rest of the crew, his former captain didn't give him any choice. For their sake and yours, he'd do what the council asked for him to do. The faster he gets the ship sailing, the faster he can accomplish his mission and the quicker he can show you the world. He wishes that he could do that already, to keep his promise to you before retiring with you in some secluded lighthouse near the sea where he can always wake up to your face and voice. But if he decides to run away from the island now, they'd capture him and his crew. The cavalry standing guard outside is the testament to that. They'd sooner set fire to the ship with all of you in it than let him go. Not even his history with Thorpe and Clayton could save his soul.

“Hobie.” You call for him, and he immediately feels lighter, like a fish bone stuck in his throat has been coughed away and finally giving him space to breathe better.

“I’ve been lookin' for you.” The sack over your shoulders falls on the floor, and he glances at it as he stands from his chair. “You still want to stay ‘ere with me?” This isn't the same captain who stood up to Thorpe when everyone else was frozen. This is Hobie at his softest, already borrowing grief from the future as he gazes at you with those hurricane eyes you love so much.

“Of course,” you say gently, worn down shoes crossing the small distance towards him. The floor's cold, you're magnetized to his warmth like a moth to a flame. “Why wouldn't I? You already made space for me.”

Hobie cracks a smile, silver piercing shining as he sighs. “Aye, I did. You've always had a space ‘ere ever since we stole this ship.” He goes around the table, settling himself in front of it as he opens his arms for you.

You stare at the space meant for you and wonder if he'll always greet you like this. That he'd love you like this even after years of being together.

“Hobie, I–I need to tell you something. There's a reason why I didn't move in before.”

You practically berated him before when he didn't tell you the truth about Thorpe, advising him that he should tell you that kind of information so you could make better decisions. But in truth, you're afraid. Afraid that he's withholding all those memories inside of him because he still doesn't fully trust you, that he's not sure about you staying, that your blood is keeping him at bay. And that once the waves settles, he would realize that he only loved you because of the circumstances, because you were in close proximity to him. That he still loves MJ like he loves the sea. Even with those thoughts and insecurities, you let it all out because you want to let him in, to let him know that you love him not for the circumstances that you two were stuck in, but because you love him for who he is despite all the blood and raging storms.

“I don't want us to stay stagnant, my mind was thinking that if I move in with you that'll be the end of our relationship. That there's nothing else after this because I want more than this. I'm not talking about marriage or having children already but— I think… I just don't want you to get bored of me.” You take a deep inhale, vision painting him in watercolour lights as you gaze at him with unshed tears. “Because you're you and I'm just… me.”

“Is this your way of sayin' you're leavin’ the crew?” He doesn't meet your eyes, gaze settling on a framed picture on the table.

“No,” you immediately say, taking a step closer. “No.” Shaking your head, you step forward. “I think, I just want reassurance.” That you'll still love me after this.

A beat passes, the ship rocks in the shallow water, the sounds outside continue to echo past. But he stands there, staring at his feet. You patiently wait for him to speak, heart beating loudly in your ears.

“Y’know, I jus’ realized somethin’ all this talk ‘bout sailin' the seven seas together, takin’ on adventure. But I've never once asked what you wanted to do.” Hobie looks up, meeting with your eyes as he fidgets with something in his pocket. “What do you want to do, love? I saw you light up like the sun when Thorpe mentioned the apprenticeship.” He smiles fondly at you, genuinely urging you to do what you dreamed of. “I wouldn't hold you back from your dreams, if you want to stay on the island you can. Anyone who says you can't will be met with the end of my gun.”

A sob escapes from your lips, and before he could hold you, you crash your body with his, hugging him against the table. As you cry on his chest, he embraces you like he always has, gentle and tender like this will be the last one he'll ever get.

“There's nothin’ wrong with jus’ bein’ you.” Hobie whispers against the top of your head, eyes closing as he kisses you. “You're the woman who managed to take down Mathias Bradshaw, and lit a fire under the people just by savin’ my ass. You saved my crew by being a fuckin’ good doctor, survived everythin’ that was thrown at you. And you're the woman I love, I'd bear the ragin’ waves jus’ to get home to you. I'll never get tired of you.” Inhaling, he rubs your back. And you relax at his reassurance. “I understand that it's terrifying where we're goin’. If you want to stay, I won't hold it against you. I'd be bloody proud of you if you do.”

Craning your neck to look at him, you trail your thumb across the scruff on his chin. “Will you still be proud of me if I want to stay with you? I can't bear the thought of leaving you while you sail away.” Choking on a sob, you try to act brave. “I'll take lessons while we're fixing the ship so I can be better for the crew and for you. If I die while we're out there, it's on me.” His breath hitches at the thought. “This isn't my way of saying I want to leave. This is my way of saying I want to stay.” You pat his cheek for emphasis. “And be a better doctor for you.”

“You should've started with that, scuttlebutt.” That earns a light chuckle from you. Hobie nudges his nose with yours, breathing you in as he lets out a sigh, breath fanning against your wet lashes. “And ‘m always proud of you for puttin’ up with us.”

“Thank you, with everything happening, it just came vomiting out of me. I'm sorry.” You tug at his collar anxiously. And he answers with a peck on the tip of your nose. Giggling as he peppers kisses on your face, his whole body relaxes in your hold. Noticing the framed picture on his desk, you immediately recognize it as one of Miles' drawings of you, where you're smiling fondly, the same one he said where you're staring at Hobie all those months ago. Gasping, you turn it closer to look at it better. “When did you put this here?”

“Yesterday.” He takes something from his pocket but you don't notice it as you affectionately look at him. “You like it?”

“I love it, I can't believe you still want to stare at my face even though you see me everyday.”

Hobie bites his lower lip, chuckling lightly. “‘m not talkin’ ‘bout that but ‘m glad you're chuffed.”

Your brows furrow. “Then what're you talking about?” Something shiny and small in between his index and thumb catches your eyes. “What's— Hobie!” Gasping, you can't help the grin spreading across your cheeks as you hold his wrist.

“I was goin' to give this to you before we set sail.” He mirrors your grin, albeit more nervous than yours while his other hand grips your waist for balance. “I had a plan and everythin’ but with what jus’ happened… I figured I won't hold it off any longer.” Saying your name breathlessly, he takes your palm and places the silver ring on it, waiting for you to wear it yourself. “I love you despite the circumstances.”

Happy tears slide down your cheeks as you chuckle in surprise. The ring is simple, shiny and newly polished, etched with a wave heading towards a flying sparrow that's identical to the one on your mother's necklace that you always wear. It's as if they're slowly joining together in the middle, a marriage between the sky and the sea. A promise. In the bird's eye is a tiny black pearl, carefully placed in the socket like it's looking back at you. As you gaze back at Hobie, the black pearl on his clavicle mirrors the one in the ring.

“Hobie, I—”

“Is it shit? I designed it myself but I told the blacksmith—” You shut him up with a kiss, pushing him onto the table with your knee as he stumbles back against the oak with a creak. His hands rests on your hips, kissing in tandem with you fervently and desperately. When you lean away, he's breathing heavily like he just climbed up the crow's nest. “Fuckin' hell.”

Before he could catch his breath, you push him further onto the table, kissing him again. Papers, books and quills get knocked off the table as he grabs the back of your knees, lifts and places you on his lap. The wood creaks again, but he doesn't pay it any heed.

With one final kiss, giggling into his kiss bitten lips you look down at the impeccably made ring. Running your finger around the ring, you feel for the indents inside, where an inscription reads, ‘I’ve got you, scuttlebutt.’ As if that didn't take your breath away, right next to the loving words, he followed your parents’ tradition of inscribing yours and his initials together. For luck. Heart squeezing in your chest, you finally put it on your ring finger, the simple act has Hobie grinning from ear to ear as if he just found buried treasure.

“It’s beautiful, Hobie.” Patting his cheek, he leans against your touch, squeezing your hand that's in between his shoulder and cheek, feeling the cold ring around your finger. “It's perfect.”

“It better be, the blacksmith swindled me for it, I think. I rushed it, I don't fuckin’ know why but I did.” Taking your hand, he admires how the ring fits perfectly, how it looks like it's always meant to be on your finger. “‘m happy that I did, it's perfect for you, love.”

“I’ve got an idea why.” Hobie chortles, brushing away your happy tears with his thumb. “I love you too.” Chuckling, eyes glowing, you peck his lips once again. And he hums against the kiss, chasing your lips as you lean away. “You—” you're breathless. “—you actually beat me to it, if it weren't for Xavier I would have it by now.”

“Yeah?” He asks giddily, grey eyes lighter than ever as he looks at you through his lashes. “Think yours will be better?”

Shrugging, you make a playful face. “Maybe, did you actually design this?” Showing off your hand, you two admire it in the light, cheeks pressed together as he holds you.

“Yeah, did you think I don't have a single artistic bone in my body?”

“I've seen your doodles, Hobie.” You joke, he chuckles lightly, heart warm and soft while he squeezes your hip.

Moving away, he gazes at you, nodding. As if he's promising something to himself. “We'll get out of this in one piece, I promise you.”

Nodding back, you gently grasp the back of his head, placing your forehead atop his own. “I’ve got you, you got me, captain?”

“I've got you, scuttlebutt. It's you and me.”

[sareenawails]

YIPPPPIIIEEEEEEEEE BSN ON FRIDAY CAN TODAY GET ANY BETTEERRR

Two Sparrows

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 7.8k

Synopsis: A surprise reunion.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), R has nicknames, CW blood and injury, CW violence, CW guns, inaccurate medical treatments, CW vomit mention, description of illness, Sequel to BDAS, fluff.

Navigation

Beyond the Sea of Night Masterlist

Chapter 3 >>> Chapter 4

Hobie snatches the musket from the red head's hands, bashing the end of it against his nose in a sickening crack of bones. He immediately takes the opportunity when your abrupt sprint distracts the other pirates. Tossing the gun into the water, he lets his fist do the talking while the crew follows suit.

The sound of fists hitting flesh and the crew yelling and grunting would have you running back, but the twins need you more when they're both unarmed and getting pummeled by an unknown pirate.

“Collette, Jonathan!” You throw your inhibitions away as you run towards the burly man who just punched your cousin. With a swift kick, the thump of your feet meeting where the sun doesn't shine, he falls on his knees. All the while the familiar sounds of fighting echoes right behind you.

“Cousin?!” Jonathan yells above the commotion, eyes wide as he holds onto his sister, whose nose is bleeding profusely against her sleeves, her capillaries have burst in her right eye, making it harder for her to see you clearly in her haze of pain. They look nothing like how you remember them. “We actually found you!”

“Found me?!” You look back at Hobie and the crew, they don't seem to be killing each other, just kicking and punching when the crew discarded the other pirates’ weapons that are now sinking in the docks. As you grab the twins, the man groans, slowly rising up as he clutches at his injury. “Shit!”

“You'll pay for that!” He swings his big fist right at you, and you push your cousins away as you dodge, his sharp ring grazing your cheek.

“You punched a little girl!” You yelp, back hitting a barrel.

“And I'm going to punch another one!” Looming over you, shadow casting down on you, there's a glimpse of the past behind your eyes, a man bursting into flames, fists wrapped around your neck. Before his fist meets your already bleeding cheek, the same old man who was stalking you appears from the sides, tackling the man with his hidden strength. “Wha—?!” Before the bigger pirate could properly get a foothold, he's pushed towards the docks, body splashing into the waters as he splutters out obscenities.

The mysterious grandfather stands tall, sun spots dotted along his hands and face as he stares at you. His grey eyes glances at Hobie then over to you, and as you look at the crew, they're holding their own, but they look like they need another pair of fists. Especially Gwen who's shielding herself with her arms while she receives a volley of punches. The others try to help, but they're quickly yanked away by their opponents.

When you gaze back at the old man, he's gone like some ghost who happened upon you and saved the day. The big man starts to climb up the docks, still angry and seething while he looks like a wet bull, so you grab the twins and run to the crew.

With your arms full, leg starting to hurt after the hard kick, you haven't thought things through when you have to pull them away from getting punched by a random fist before Lyla yanks the arm away and down to the ground. Your frantic eyes look on at the chaos, trying to find an opening where you could squeeze the twins into the ship. George managed to get to Gwen and is beating up the one who was on her with raging fists. Hobie kicks someone into the waters, and as fate would have it, a gun goes off, the fight stills and you fear for their lives as you look towards the source.

Gunpowder still licks from the flintlock, arm raised high as the stranger glares at everyone on the docks.

Riri stands next to the unknown man, hands on her hips like a disappointed aunt.

“What don't you get by ‘no infighting?’” He says, scrunching his reddish nose kissed by the sun. “Xavier!” His voice echoes through the crowd, making everyone stand at attention. He has that aura around him that could make anyone do whatever he says. A Captain. “Did Thorpe ask you to beat up his guests?”

Xavier, or the mustache man stiffens on the spot while he was gearing up to hit Hobie behind his back. Fist paused in mid air. “N–No, sir. Clayton, sir.” His fist falls to his side like a child told ‘no’ by his mother.

“Then help them up!” Clayton gestures with his cane, wrinkled hands not even shaking as he commands everyone on both sides to help the other stand on their feet. Even though reluctantly, they still help, letting their voice out by huffing and puffing.

The old captain's hair is still full on his head, white as snow with no dark twists in sight. There are crow’s feet around his eyes, someone who has smiled a million times in his life to leave that kind of mark. Sun spots litter his skin, a clear sign of being at sea. When you pictured a pirate during your younger days he's what you would've pictured— a grizzled old man who has sailed to every corner of the world. Found treasures beyond belief, and could shoot at navy from a hundred paces away. This is Riri's grandfather and you can see the resemblance in their eyes and matching disappointed frown. The good bloke according to Hobie. He does look kind with his gentle eyes, but the crossbow strapped on his back says otherwise.

“Duchess,” To your surprise, he acknowledges you, “behind you.”

Without missing a beat, you let go of the bewildered twins and punch the drenched man right in the gut. You're even taken aback yourself at the quick hit. He wails, and you're sure you felt a rib crack underneath your fist. You can already tell that your wrist is sprained at the least, or worse, broken.

“Hah!” Clayton guffaws, thumping his cane against the ground. “Good one. Now fuck off, Mickey.”

“I'll be back for you!” Mickey, or the man you just cost weeks of pain, limps away back to his side of the docks. The twins flinch from that, and more questions pop in your head.

Once he's turned away, you hiss, clutching your hand. “Fuck.”

Hobie, attuned to your pained wince, makes his way over to you. His nose is bleeding, and there's a cut on his lip, other than that, he seems fine, happy even. Satisfied that he decked Xavier real good.

Before he meets with you, Clayton thumps his cane again. “If you're not a bloodsail pirate, fuck off!”

“But sir—” Xavier pleads, nose lopsided and broken, mustache drenched in blood.

With one pointed look from Clayton, he surrenders, leaving and taking his men away, slinking back towards the shambles. Some who were kicked off the dock leave wet patches of sand in their wake.

“Thanks, old man—” Hobie says, hand reaching as a greeting which Clayton slaps away with his cane.

“What the fuck are you doing, Hobart?”

“Tryin’ to get out of a summon?” Hobie shrugs, eyes glancing towards you briefly while you set Collette down on the ground.

“Well at least you're honest.” The older captain sighs, both hands on his cane. “Thorpe's patience isn't the size of the sea, kid. First thing in the morning you get your flat ass on the Tempest or I won't be able to help you the next time he sends in the cavalry.”

Hobie nods, bleeding fists stretching on his sides. “Fine.”

“No, not fine.” He puts his foot down, “you fucking do it or I'll drag you up there myself.”

You expect Hobie to reply back with a quip, but he just nods in place, hands on his waist while he looks at the old man. Hobie doesn't always submit in front of anyone, even you, well sometimes he does but that's a different kind of surrender. But with Clayton, he doesn't kneel to him, and he'll never kneel to anyone, but he accepts his advice and listens to every word he says. It's respect, and Clayton shows the same amount back to Hobie with a pat on his arm then over to his head as if he has done it a million times before.

“What happened to your hair? Did you start balding already?” He rubs Hobie's head with a chuckle. Riri meets with your eyes, shrugging and matching her old man's smile.

“No, fuck off.” Hobie slaps the old man's hand away with a sneer. “It's late, aren't you supposed to be in bed?”

“All the noise woke me up.” Clayton fakes a yawn. “You need to tell me what happened to you, kid.” He flicks his eyes towards you then back to Hobie. “Every bit, yeah? All I've heard are either too good, or fucking impossible.”

“Yeah, yeah, just get out of ‘ere.”

“The same goes for all of you.” Pointing with his oak cane, he smiles at the crew. “Carve some time for your old man, yeah?”

“Will do.” Miles does a mock salute, clutching at Gwen, who's trying to stand straight.

Pav grins even with his sprained neck that he's stretching out. Yuri is too busy fussing over Lyla, so James answers for the both of them with a curt nod while he's nursing a cut on his arm.

“Christ, not even a ‘thanks, grandad!’” He clicks his tongue, turning around to walk back home. “The new generation is fucked.”

“Don't worry, we'll pick you guys up with the cart.” Riri rolls her eyes and accompanies her grandfather, helping him subtly on the uneven street.

A collective sigh echoes out on the docks, and everyone else who weren't in the fight goes back to their business. Lugging crates and selling wares like nothing happened.

Hobie finally walks over to you, glancing questioningly at the twins as his hand immediately gravitates at your cheek. His thumb brushes around the cut, and you wince.

“Scuttlebutt,” he breathlessly says, body heaving as adrenaline leaves him in waves once he gets a good look at everyone. “You alright?”

“I'm fine,” you take his hand, thumb feeling around the cuts on his knuckles. “let's just go inside, I need to check on—”

“Was that Riri?” Lyla asks in a sing-song tone, body wobbling while Yuri and James help her up on her feet. “She's so pretty.”

“I think Lyla got hit in the head.” You say, wincing. “Don't let her fall asleep!” Yelling towards Yuri and James whilst they're hauling Lyla on the deck, you worry about someone else being concussed.

“I'll get everyone in the infirmary.” Pav says, reading the worry etched in your brows as he helps people get inside the ship. You nod, thanking him.

You feel tugging on your sleeve. “I think Collette has a concussion too.” Jonathan says, and just as he utters it, his sister throws up sick all over your new shoes.

One glance at Hobie, and he's already helping you carry the younger twin up on the gangway.

—

“Will she be okay?” Jonathan asks, eyes cast downwards at his mumbling sister, who looks pale and sweaty under the oil lamp light.

“Yeah,” you're not sure yourself, a head injury is hard to tend to, the brain and everything around it is still uncharted territory for the likes of you. Only time could really tell. “Just make sure she stays awake the whole night and have her drink the honey water. Are you sure you don't want to go to a doctor?” Jonathan doesn't seem like he's listening as he's looking at the skull perched on your shelf. You placed them in your cabin for now and away from the crew while they're tending to their minimal injuries there. You thought that it might be better for Collette to have a quiet space to rest in. “Jo, I'm sorry but this is important.”

“No, we don't want to go outside.” He swallows thickly, eyes shining with unshed tears. “It's just that— this is my fault.” Cuddling his sister close to his chest right on the floor with the piles of blankets and pillows under them, his lips wobble. Sometimes you forget how young they are. “I convinced her to come here. To come find you.”

Taking the cup filled with sweetened water, you gently place it on Collette's parted lips, letting the water slowly drip down. “Why? Where are your parents?”

Something flickers in his eyes. “After you left… and the mercenaries too, mother and father got a summon from the king, for them to come to the docks and sail on the royal ship with them. Collete and I sensed something was wrong, so after we got to the docks, we jumped out of our carriage and just—” he inhales, taking a look at his twin. “We left, paid our way into a pirate ship heading this way because we figured you'd be here. But when the money and Co’s jewels ran dry… they put us to work, hard labour.”

You now see all the new calluses and sunburn on his and Collette's skin. “Then why did the man hurt you?”

“We told him that our bargain has ended now that we're here, but he said that it wasn't enough. He wanted us to work for his ship and sail away from here after they resupply.” Your blood boils, you should've punched that man harder. “We've been here for a while, cousin. He was dragging us back on board when you found us.”

“Jonathan,” you hand him the cup, signalling him to take a drink to quench his thirst judging from his dry cracking lips. “The king's dead.” His dark blue eyes widened. “I think that was the queen's doing, to try to get your family on her side because of what she did.”

The worry he has for his parents rear its head. “What did she do?”

“She killed him. Tried to kill me too.”

He's pondering your words, disbelief shown on his confused expression. “She was always nice to us. Why didn't we hear this news while on board?”

“Is this your first port after you got on board?” He nods. “Then chances are the pirates you were with didn't know either. Or they were hiding it from you, knowing that you're noble and could get more coin if they hold you hostage. They're not all good, Jo. I'm sorry that I gave you the wrong idea about pirates.” You gently grasp Collette's hand when she stirs, she weakly squeezes back while groaning in pain as you adjust the cold damp cloth on her cheek. “You're safe here, you don't have to worry about them taking you away.”

“You're not mad at us?” He asks, voice small.

“Why would I be mad at you?” Your free hand reaches his own, and he finally lets the water works out, tears spilling over his cheeks. “You and your sister are welcome here, this is technically your ship.” You try to joke as he quickly wipes his face. “Why come for me, John? Was the mainland that bad when I left?”

“There was talk of a rebellion forming, and with father being paranoid because of granddad's stories, he didn't take another look at the letter and had us packing our things.” He sniffs, and Collette's eyes open a smidge, green peeking through her tired eyes. She's a fighter. “I told Co that if there was a rebellion forming, it would be safer to stay far away from the royals. Even if they're at sea.” Shaking his head, he tucks the blanket on his sister's chin. “I told my parents that, but they wouldn't listen. Collette listened and here we are now. You were our safest bet.”

Nodding, you fix the pillow under Collette's head to prop her up better. “You don't have any other family? Someone you also trust?”

“You're our only family.” Your heart squeezes in your chest. “It's either you or O’Hara but he terrifies us.”

“Miguel is only mean if you are to him, trust me.” Smiling, you pat his arm. “Rest here, this is my room, so I'm sorry about all the medical books and bones lying around.” Moving to stand, you're stopped by Collette's clammy hand. “Hello, cousin. How do you feel?”

“Like a motherfucker.” She mumbles, eyes glossy but pupils normal, a good sign. Her words earn a good laugh from you and John.

“Stay strong, stay awake, and when morning comes you'll be all better.” Patting her hand, she smiles weakly at you. “I'll bring some pain medication for you, they'll taste bitter but it'll help. I'll be back to check on you two.”

“Thank you, Y/N. I promise we'll be out of your hair.” Jonathan looks up at you as you stand.

“Stay as long as you want. We'll figure something out, I'm sure.” Biting your cheek, you give them another option. “I can try to get a letter out to your parents if you want. Tell them that you're alright.”

He shakes his head, and Collette's frown deepens. “No— I mean, we don't know. I don't know if they'll even care.”

“They're your parents, they care about you.”

Thinking, John helps Collette drink. “Not them, they haven't cared for a long time. And we're tired of pretending that they do.”

Nodding, for once you have no idea how to comfort the twins as they sit on the floor with none of the regalia they wore nor gold or silver on them. Just siblings trying to survive the harsh world that their parents didn't prepare them to face. You've only known them for a few days back in Hazelside, but they were the only ones in that place who were genuinely nice to you without an ulterior motive. You have a soft spot for the twins after they showed you their true selves without all the noble façade. And they're the only blood relatives you have, your parents would want you to take them in just like the bloodsail pirates and Jessica have done for you.

“Alright, I'll— I'll be back.”

As you leave the room, your smelly shoes wait for you outside, you sigh, shutting the door and picking them up from the floor. Heading towards the infirmary gives you enough time to just think. What did he mean by a rebellion? Did the people burn down the whole palace? You really need to get more information or else the fire could reach the seas. And did the queen's invitation really mean well? You don't worry about your so-called aunt and uncle while they're with her, but you worry about the toll their fates would have on the twins.

The three months of bliss you and Hobie had feels like it's been cut short, a brief reprieve to what's to come. Anxiety bubbles in your gut, and as the smell of sick sticks to your skin, you almost hurl all over the scuffed floorboards.

But the sound of Lyla's yelling inside the infirmary brings you back to reality, whatever catches up to you now is up to the future. You'll face the consequences, hopefully with Hobie. Whichever he decides to do, run or fight, you'll do it beside your captain.

Opening the door, you're immediately hit with the smell of harsh herbs. The air smells of antiseptic, from a dash of putrid herbs, both for numbing the pain and to clean their wounds. To a stench akin to horse dung. Your eyes start to water with how powerful the scent is, and as you roam your narrowed eyes around, you find the source of it being the numerous opened jars and ampules right on your table.

The crew is in shambles, Yuri tries to get a hold of Lyla, who's flailing around the metal surgical table in the middle of the room. James sneezes relentlessly on the bench while he's picking at splinters out of his arm. His dirty nails make you grimace. Pav argues with Hobie, a rare sight to see when the usual smiley Pavitr is glaring at Hobie while he holds up a cold and drenched cloth, all the while Hobie is holding out a warming stone covered by fabric. His nose stopped bleeding at least. Gwen, the only quiet one it seems, covers her eyes as she lays on the single cot in the corner of the room while Miles and George fusses over her. She looks more annoyed at them than in pain.

Your work as the ship's doctor has never been easy when it's just you who's left to tend to them. The responsibility to keep them healthy and alive is all on your shoulders. It's a hard task, especially that you don't have all the knowledge or the experience to be fully equipped to help them. Jessica, your adopted mother, taught you as much as she could before everything transpired. After that it was just you gathering information from various medical pamphlets, and if you're lucky, a book that you either bought with your spare coin or one that is small enough for you to subtly place inside your pockets.

You remember how busy you were back in the old people's revenge and that had a crew of less than a hundred. And with Gwen's calculations, the Osprey, as big as it is, will need more than that for it to function better.

Letting go of your sick filled boots, it loudly falls on the floor, making them jump in place as they look at you with wide eyes. “I leave for five minutes—”

“I think there's something wrong with Lyla!”

“Gwen's still hurting, doc!”

“Love, tell Pav that he needs a hot cloth instead of a cold one for his sprained neck!”

“Am I gonna lose my arm?!”

Their simultaneous words overlap, and you feel a vein throbbing in your temple.

“One at a time!” You match their tone, inhaling deeply, and trying to remember how to triage. “Who's more hurt?” They all raise their hands, except Gwen, who has two representatives on her case. “Pav, cold cloth on your neck for a few days then switch to a warm one after. If it still hurts after that, come to me for medicine.” You instruct the two as Pav scrunches his nose at Hobie and the stubborn captain rolls his eyes. A half victory for them both you suppose. “James, you're not going to lose your arm. And clean your hands before doing that, use this—” tossing him a pair of tweezers from your table, he catches it as you start closing the medicine jars. “And why the fuck are all my medicines open?”

“It's to cleanse the humours and get rid of the miasma.” George replies, shrugging as Gwen lays back down on the cot with an annoyed groan.

“That's— that's not how you do it.” You huff, taking a jar of rolled painkiller pills. Gliding along the floorboards of the infirmary, soft socks against smooth floors, you walk over to the cot. “Gwen, take one, it's for the pain.”

She stares at the contents with a grimace. “That smells fucking disgusting.”

“It's almost the same one you've been taking. Only more bitter.” Shaking the jar, she gives you one last look before taking one and popping it in her mouth. “Miles, make sure she ingests it.”

“Already on it, doc.” He says, a cup of water already in hand.

“Now for the screaming banshee of the ship.” You turn towards Lyla, glasses lopsided on her nose with one lens cracked. Your nickname has her glaring more. “I already checked on you before I left, you're fine Lyla, you don't have a concussion.”

“I have the same symptoms as Collette!” She says with a sneer. “Why am I hurting then?!”

You glance at Yuri, who just shrugs, eyes clearly worried for her. Taking Lyla's chin, you take a look at her pupils again, finding them normal. She didn't vomit like Collette did, or was wobbly on her feet. You even check her pulse, and her breathing but everything feels normal. Or as normal as it gets for someone who's been screaming their head off for the past hour, or what feels like two.

“Do you feel like you're about to fall asleep?” She shakes her head at your question. “Does your head hurt?” She says no again. “Then where are you hurting?”

“Here.” Lyla points at her chest, right at her heart.

Your pensive eyes glance at her, “I don't see any blood, did you get punched there? I need to see if you have—”

“No, I wasn't!” Her groaning and sudden flinching down backwards on the metal table as if she's dying has you scratching the back of your head.

“I need to see, Lyla, so I can help you better.” You truly don't know what's wrong with her.

“But why does it hurt?!” She yells, clutching her chest, and Yuri has to hold onto her tighter.

“I checked you already, there's nothing.” You say apologetically.

Sobbing her eyes out and curling herself into a ball on the metal table. Lyla backs away from Yuri, swatting her hand away from her arm. The ravenette sighs and mumbles sorry to you.

“Shit,” Hobie appears beside you, grey eyes reading your worried expression as he grabs your elbow gently. “What do you need?”

You inhale and exhale out, “I don't know what's wrong with her.” Your broken tone hurts him. “Maybe we should take her to the doctor's, this is beyond me, Hobie.”

“No, no doctors! Leave me alone!” She jumps off the table like a startled goose, and Yuri runs after her with a groan.

“Lyla, come back here!”

“Why? You have Riri and her pretty face and pretty hair!” She says, flinging the door open and shutting it in Yuri's face.

“Ri–?” Realization flickers on her face, hand rubbing along her forehead. She turns to you with a sigh and a half chuckle. “She's fine, doc. I'll make sure she doesn't do anything stupid.” Leaving the infirmary, her calls echo around the halls.

“What?” James looks confused, “should I go after them?” He points at the door with the tweezers.

Hobie shakes his head and places his hands on his hips disappointedly. “She's not sick.”

You look at him with the same confusion as everyone else in the room. “What does she have?”

“Emotions.”

“Oh.” Your shoulders slump in relief, then realization, it's just a bout of jealousy rearing its green head. “Oh, come on.” A round of groans and eye rolls leave the crew members.

“I still don't get it.” James says, and Hobie walks over to him and grabs a roll of clean cloth to help bandage his arm.

“You'll get it once you're all grown up.” The captain patches him up just like how you taught him. While James grimaces in offense.

“Now, it's your turn, Gwen.” You turn towards her, squeezed in between her two bodyguards— George and Miles.

“I told you I'm fine.” She says, annoyed.

“You got punched right where you're healing.” You wave the two away, and they look at each other briefly before reluctantly leaving her side. At least they're on good terms when it comes to Gwen's wellbeing. “You told me to check on the others before you and I've done that already so it's your turn, quartermaster.”

She turns her nose at you, “well you haven't tended to Hobie yet.”

“That's true,” you nod, fake contemplating. “But I can do that once we're alone.” Pulling the wooden partition to hide her cot from the rest, she groans in defeat. Or maybe disgust.

“I don't need to hear that.”

“Lie down.”

“Come on, this is stupid, I'm fine—”

“Lie down or I'll tell Hobie to give you less work for a week.” She eyes you down, glaring but not lying down. “Fine, make it a month—” the sound of the cot dropping has you sighing and stretching your tired wrists. “I just need to check.”

“It's healed.” Gwen says through gritted teeth, arms crossed over her chest.

“It shouldn't be hurting anymore then.” Sitting down beside her, you ask if you could unbutton the first two buttons of her shirt, and she answers by doing it herself with a huff. The fresh scar is still red, raised skin stretched from her clavicle down to her sternum. A splash of watercolor amidst her other scars. You tap the skin once gently, and you wrack your brain on what could be wrong with it, recalling nothing. It doesn't look infected, or healing wrong. You're out of your depth. “Shit.” Maybe George is right, it's the unbalanced humours.

“Shit, what?” She buttons her shirt back, lifting herself up by her elbows as she looks worriedly at you.

“I—” you pinch the bridge of your nose, cheek still throbbing from the cut. “I don't know what's wrong, I'm sorry.”

Her blue eyes soften, hand reaching for your shoulder, squeezing you. “It's fine, it's probably nothing.”

“Or it could be something.” You're worried, rightfully so, all your reading and book smarts could only take you so far. “You need to go to a doctor, a proper one. Someone who actually went to school for this.” She opens her mouth but you stop her by grasping her hand. “Please do it for Miles and your dad at least. Just one visit is all I ask.”

She thinks for a second before nodding reluctantly. “Fine, just one.”

“Let me come with?” You ask, albeit a push too far with her patience.

“Sure,” she sighs with a smile. “At least you can suffer with me. Can I go to my cabin now?”

“You stopped hurting?”

“Minutes ago.” Gwen scoffs out before standing up and even helping you on your feet. “And you're a good doctor, Y/N.”

“A good one, not a proper one. I still have ways to go.” With a pat on her back, you move the partition away, finding Miles and George eavesdropping. You raise a brow at them.

“We'll make sure to get her to her cabin.” George gives you a wobbly smile.

“Yeah…that!” Miles agrees and ushers Gwen away. “Thanks, doc.”

“Yeah, you're welcome.” Tired on your feet, you stumble back into the cot, sitting and stretching your leg. The throbbing pain ebbs up to your knee, a hammer smacking right on your joint as you hiss.

“And then there were two.” Hobie leans against the metal table casually, dried blood sticking to his sleeves and collar. “Who tends to the doctor, hm?”

“Hopefully the captain?”

“Aye, the captain can do that.” He gestures for you to scooch over and make space for him as he sits down beside you. Taking the jar of painkillers right from your pocket, he opens it for you, shaking it as he wordlessly tells you to take one. “I heard it's bitter as shit, but works.”

Snorting, you take one, the pill is soft under the pads of your fingers, like raw dough as the silver coating sticks to your skin. “Shit is bitter? How'd you know that?”

“Have you heard of a simile?” Chuckling, he takes the pill from you and taps your chin twice as you open your mouth and he places it gently on your tongue. He already has a cup of water ready for you as you drink it to the last drop. “There, you'll feel better.”

“Wow, big word.” Resting your head on his shoulder, he sews his fingers around your own, calluses rough on your palms but you don't mind as you squeeze him back while he casually kneads at your aching wrist. “Thank you, captain.”

“I need to clean your cut, love.” Whispering, he kisses the crown of your head.

“In a minute. I just need to breathe you in.”

“Jus’ curious, what do I smell like right now?”

“Like the sea and the sun.” You say with a whispery tone.

“Like an awful sun dried fish innit?” He raises a brow.

“Fuck off, you're putting words in my mouth.” Leaning away, you lightly push him away.

“Nah, just medicine, scuttlebutt.” Throwing his arms around your shoulders, he pulls you back in against him, embracing and pecking your temple. “‘m sorry ‘bout today. I jus' didn't want to see him.”

“Who is he exactly, Hobie?” You rest your chin above his shoulder, hands holding onto him. “Is he a threat to us?”

“He's powerful, but no, I don't think so. But he can be.”

“Then why were you so afraid of seeing him?” You ask with no ounce of ire or pity, just curiosity and worry for the man before you.

“I wasn't afraid. Jus’— I asked him somethin’ back then, before I met you. After MJ,” you swallow thickly. “It was somethin’ impossible, and I think he's tryin’ to claim what I owe him.”

“Or maybe he just wanted to see you? Like what Clayton said.”

Shaking his head, he nudges your temple with his chin. “I don't know, we'll find out tomorrow. I jus’ wanted to sail away with you like we talked about.” Exhaling, he leans away and smiles softly at you while you gaze at him with heart eyes. “Can I tend to your cut now or do you want to snog until it stops hurtin’?”

“The latter sounds amazing right now but it really needs to get cleaned. I don't know where that man's hand have been through.”

“That fucker,” he clicks his tongue at the mention of the one who hurt you. Taking a jar of herb antiseptic, he gently rubs it on your cut, your one eye closed as he gingerly cleans it. “If I ever see him—”

“You'll call me so I can land another punch at him.” You say, and he smiles. “I have a bone to pick with him after what he did to my cousins.”

Hobie finishes up with your wound, thanking him with a quick peck on his lips. You take the jar this time, dipping your finger in to wipe a decent amount of it over the bridge of his nose and knuckles. All the while relaying what John has told you.

“Wanker.” He says through clenched teeth.

“That he is.” You sigh, making sure every broken skin is covered. “I placed them in my cabin for now. I'm not going to need it anyway now that I'm moving in your quarters.”

He gazes at you fondly. “Aye, no more callin’ on you to sleep beside me.” Placing a kiss right over your pulse, he slumps against you after you finish cleaning his wounds. “What's their plan? How long will they stay?”

“They haven't thought that far.” You wrap your arm around his back, thumb trailing along the curve of his jaw. “I was thinking that they would stay here for a while, with us?”

“They'd be a burden, love. They're noble, and don't have any experience in actual sailin’. Sounds like big Mickey only had them swabbin’ the poop deck.”

Leaning away, you look at him with furrowed brows. “So was I, Hobie.”

“I didn't mean it like that, scuttlebutt. You learned the ropes.”

“So can they.”

A tense silence hangs above the two of you. He stares at you, mind going a hundred knots while you release your hand from his. You don't necessarily like what he just said, a burden, was that you back then? A burden to him? Another worry?

It leaves a bitter taste in your tongue.

“I need to clean the infirmary.” Standing up, you leave him on the cot, walking farther and dunking a cloth in the water basin.

“Love.”

“You should go to bed, we have an early morning. We'll talk about this when all this Thorpe business is over.”

Hobie swallows thickly, stands up and then grabs the mop in the corner and begins to clean the floors.

“What're you doing, Hobie?” You pause from your scrubbing. Hands cold from the water, waking you up.

“Helpin' you.”

“Hobie.”

“I don't want to fight, love.” He says, stopping his guilty mopping, determined with a hint of worry and hurt. “I don't want to sleep angry. Or to sleep without you beside me.”

“Me neither,” you utter with a shaky breath. You've fought with him a couple times before, but they're mostly small things, nonsensical arguing that ends up with kisses or laughter. But this one is different, it feels heavier. He gazes at you tenderly, grey eyes, almost silver under the lamp light. “They're my cousins, Hobie. They're not going to survive out there all alone either if we leave them here. And you're right they're noble, pampered their whole life but they went this far because they felt safer with me. They survived, that's something.” Inhaling, you let the water drip from your fingertips as you face him. “I don't want to just chuck them out. They're my only relatives, I'll take responsibility for them. They'll be my burden to carry. Please don't make me choose, because I will fucking hide them here.”

“I don't want to make you choose.” Hobie crosses the distance, leaving the mop to fall loudly on the floor, arms open as you meet him halfway. “And I don't doubt that, love, and this is your ship—”

“Our ship.” You say, muffled against his skin.

“Our ship.” Hugging you tighter, he savours your warmth, heart beating in sync with your own. “‘m sorry for callin’ them a burden. We'll find a way, yeah? Maybe they can learn the ropes.”

“They're smart, I'm sure they can.” Sniffing, you let your gentle pecks do the apologies for you.

“Jus' like their cousin, hm?” Kissing your cheek, careful of your cut, he cups your chin. “Let's go to bed, ‘m bloody knackered.”

“I need to check on Collette and give her something for the pain first.” The bottom of his lip juts out into a pout. “But I'll join you there, I promise.”

“You better or I'll come pick you up like always.”

Leaning for a kiss, you sigh into his lips. “As my captain orders me.” He almost sinks down to his knees at that.

—

You wake up feeling like you got keelhauled. Muscles aching and throbbing, eyes bloodshot from the lack of sleep. Hobie isn't faring any better than you, he looks worse for wear. Eye bags hanging under his dulled grey eyes, soft curls all over the place since you didn't have enough time to oil his hair and for him to tend to you after you two knocked out in bed the second you entered the cabin.

Even with the fogged up vision of fatigue and heavy bones weighing you down, just looking at him gives you reprieve, a gentle caress for your overworked eyes. Like a plunge into a cold pool of water from the summer heat, a gentle breeze in the night, or the first bloom in spring. He's your calm, a constant amidst all the chaos and uncertainty.

Hobie splashes his face once more, cold water dripping from his arms down to the floorboards. “Do I need to shave?” He asks himself in the fogged mirror, condensation dripping off it in beads. “Nah.”

“I like you with scruff anyway.” You say, fighting a yawn while putting on your old shoes when your new ones are still soaking in clean water.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, love.” He says, stretching his hand to help you off the bed.

“You know, we could just sail away right now.” A half joke on your part, tiredness seeping through your bones as you take his cold hand.

“We could, but the old man would have half the island after us.” Lifting you up, he kisses the back of your hand before tugging you towards the door. “Let's jus’ find out what he wants, yeah?”

“What should I expect from him?” You ask, patting your weapons on you just to double check if they're all there. “Is he the kind of man who will shoot us if we don't comply? Or is he a chatty one then shoot later kind of man?”

“He's a pirate, same as any of us.” He guides you through the winding halls, the ship rocks back and forth gently on the docks. It's barely light outside, too early to even be walking around. “Jus’ be careful with…everythin’.”

“He's volatile, got it.”

Hobie chuckles under his breath. “He has his moments, but he didn't get to his position without crackin’ a few coconuts.”

“He's a legend around here then?”

“Aye, he was my captain.”

“Wait, what?” You pause, finding yourself by your cabin door. “You didn't mention that. You never mentioned that.”

“Nothin' much to say, love. I was only with his crew for a year and a half. It was before I sailed with Miles and Pav. I was younger than both of ‘em back then.”

“That's not nothing, Hobie.” You whisper, noting the soft snores inside. “I—” inhaling deeply, you squeeze his hand. “I don't know anything about your past before you were a captain or before you became a pirate. It would be nice to be kept in the loop especially when you never told me that the same man who was summoning us was your captain.” Cupping his cheek, you can't read his swirling grey eyes. You wish you could. “Why won't you let me in?”

The door opens suddenly before Hobie could answer. John's face peeks out, sleepy eyes looking between you and Hobie.

“Sorry, you were asking to be let in? I didn't hear you knock.”

You sigh, leaving Hobie's side. “I’ll see you on deck, I need to check on Collette.” Hobie nods wordlessly as you enter your cabin.

Collette sleeps peacefully on the floor, head propped up by one of your pillows while she's covered in your lilac blanket. She looks angelic, too peaceful for your liking considering her injury. But as her lashes flutter open and her green eyes gaze up at you softly, you sigh in relief.

“Hi, cousin. We found you.” She says groggily, voice cracking.

“That you did. Morning, Co.” You smile at her, palm placed on her forehead to check her temperature, and pulse. She feels better now, even looks better when colour has returned to her cheeks. “How do you feel?”

“Good, but I'm hungry though.”

“I'll ask Lyla to give you two something to eat. You do remember her right? Miguel's partner?”

“Is Miguel here too?” She asks in a small hopeful voice.

“No, he's not here.” She frowns, disappointed as she glances at her brother sitting on your hammock. “You're in good hands, I have to go somewhere for a few hours so please just stay here and rest.”

“We're not planning on loitering, don't worry.” John smiles gently at you, “we'll be alright.”

Exhaling, you grasp both of their hands before standing up. “Good, I know I can count on you two. I'll be back before you know it.” You take one last look at them before leaving the room, as the door clicks, you're met with Hobie waiting for you in the hallway. He's leaning casually on the opposite wall, arms crossed like he's pondering deeply. “I thought you'd be at the deck already.”

He shrugs, staring at you with furrowed brows. “And leave you angry?”

“I’m not angry, more like…frustrated.” Hand reaching for your necklace, you glide your thumbs over the etching on it. You can't keep ignoring the gnawing in the back of your mind anymore. “You don't have to tell me if you're not ready, I’m just tired of not knowing things.”

Crossing the small distance, he gingerly takes your free hand, lacing his fingers around your own, waiting for you to pull away but you don't. “I promise you, love, I’ll tell you anythin' you want. Jus’ ask me and I’ll answer. ‘m sorry that I made you feel this way, it’s not what I wanted. My past…is not good, or as adventurous as you probably think it is.”

“But it's you, it's all you, Hobie. It's a part of you. Just like I told you, I love every bit of you, past or present, pirate or not.” Reaching for his cheek, you cup it gently, feeling his scruff underneath your palm. “I'm not pushing you to tell me, I'll never push you to do anything. But an important piece of information like this that I have no idea about— I…” you take a deep breath. “... I'm your crew too, and I need to know things like this so I could properly act during situations like these. So I could keep us alive. What if I shot Xavier in the market? I wouldn't know that Thorpe could have us killed right there and then.”

Hobie nods then rests his forehead against yours. He doesn't want to lose you over something like this, he doesn't want to lose you in any way. So he concedes. For a moment he saw you back on the island, tired and angry at everything. Terrified of the world, flame snuffed out by the salty waters. He loved you even back then, a glowing ember in his palm that he tried to keep at an arm's length away from him but you kept burning through his tough skin, etching yourself in his heart where you now reside, where he let you make a home for yourself.

You're right, it's a part of him, and shielding you from his past is only hurting you. He knows that now as he sees unshed tears in your eyes. He never thought that he could be hurting you over something he decided to keep away from you.

He'll tell you slowly about his past, his childhood, his family and everything you want to know. Not just to keep you by his side, but to keep you alive, to make better decisions.

“I want to get to know you better, Hobie. I want to know your story, who's really under that fuckass tricorn hat of yours.” You say light heartedly to rid of the deep furrowed brows he has. All the while tugging down his hat over his eyes.

“Oi, don't bring my hat into this.” Fixing his hat, he cups your cheek, leaning in to press a kiss in the corner of your eye. “You’ll know so much ‘bout me at the end that you'll wish you knew less of me.”

“I'll never wish that, Hobie.” Your soft words hit him, softening up his already soft heart for you.

“I promise, love. I won't shut you out again.”

“Thank you, that's all I ask.” You exhale out your worries, thumb kneading at his nape. “Come on, let's not keep the bastard waiting.”

[sareenawails]

Dear wlw fanfic writers, PLEASEE STOP WRITING ABT ELLIE WILLIAMS AND WANDA ALL THE FUCKING TIME IM TIREEEEEEDDD. WRITE ABT SOMEONE ELSE PLEASE

While you're at it write some Hazel Flood fanfics🤭

[sareenawails]

This is not just a photo it’s our daily reality in Gaza.

I am a father of five, living under the harshest conditions imaginable. My children go to bed hungry most nights, and I feel helpless watching them suffer. There is no food, no clean water, and no safety.

I myself am injured from Israeli airstrikes, and my health is deteriorating. I’m in pain, physically and emotionally. I want to provide for my children, to see them smile again, to give them a warm meal — even just one.

What’s happening here is not a natural disaster. It is forced starvation. It is the slow death of innocent people, especially children, because they are being denied food and aid.

Your donation can change everything for us. Even a small amount can feed my family for a day. It can help me get medicine, water, and the bare essentials to survive.

Please, if you have anything to give, I ask you to open your heart.

Please Donate now:👇👇 👇

💔 Don’t look away. Help us survive.

[sareenawails]

If hunger were a man, I would kill him.

How can I fulfill the hunger of three children in the midst of this mass starvation?

After my husband's capture, I'm responsible for providing for them.

I see my children tossing and turning for hours before going to sleep because they are hungry, knowing that I can only provide one meal a day.

My heart hurts when I can't provide them with the most basic rights (food and safety).

I am in a difficult situation after miscarrying my four-month-old daughter because of the fear and panic of running from the constant bombardment.

Every day I send thousands of requests for help to many, but few respond.

If everyone who watches my story sends 25€, it will contribute to my treatment, my baby's treatment and feeding my children.

Please please please donate my family

🔗 My number has been verified by @gazavetters, and it's the first number on the list.

Gaza is dying of hunger and there is no one to support it. Help these children and consider them part of your family.

[sareenawails]

small rant regarding sinners

i don't even post but the sinners fandom is already festering.

i dont mind there being a lot of remmick fics, i read some myself. i was excited to see people interacting with black culture except they aren't. instead they've pushed us aside in a movie that revolves around our people, our culture, and our influence. a lot of y'all are doing exactly what the movie warns about in fact.

i saw the movie on saturday and since then i've already seen:

- complete misinterpretations of the movie

- stack x smoke incest, stack x smoke x sibling reader

- SO MUCH sammie x remmick

- daughter of plantation owner reader

- thirsting after bert, a literal klansman

- an underwhelming amount of black reader but so much irish or white american reader

- white saviorism and/or inserting a white character where they don't belong

- overwhelming amounts of smut with zero ties to the plot

- lack of interaction with black characters despite the majority of the main cast being black

dark fiction is one thing but pure ignorance and racism is a whole different thing. i also understand y'all are allowed to ship whatever you want but there are certain power dynamics that cross the line especially in the context of the movie and the history behind it.

please consider how you interact with media surrounding sensitive topics like this even if it is fiction. just my two cents.

[sareenawails]

🆘 This is me. This is my voice. Please help us. 🚫

In Gaza, we are screaming for help — but the world feels silent. 🌍😔

This image shows exactly what it feels like: we are begging, crying, shouting…

and no one seems to hear us. But you can. 🙏

I am a mother 👩‍👦. My husband and my child were injured in Israeli airstrikes 💔. Now my son is lying in a hospital bed, in pain 😢.

He urgently needs medical care 🏥 and healthy food 🍲 — things we no longer have in Gaza.

I am trying to raise enough money 💵 to get him out of Gaza for life-saving treatment ✈️. Please — don’t scroll past. Help me. Help my son. ❤️‍🩹

Please Donate now:👇👇 👇

💸 Donate if you can. 📢 Share if you can’t. 🤝 But please, don’t stay silent.

✅️My campaign is vetted by el-shab-hussein& Nabulsi's, my number verified on the list is ( #355)✅️ 👇

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/0/d/1yYkNp5U3ANwILl2MknJi9G7ArY4uVTEEQ1CVfzR8Ioo/htmlview

[sareenawails]

🆂🆃🅰🆁🆅🅰🆃🅸🅾🅽 ⚰

From the heart of unimaginable suffering, I want to sincerely thank everyone who has supported my family 🙏🏻

Right now, famine is hitting us harder than ever, my heart cries whenever I go to the market to buy any basic necessities! The prices are crazy, and most days my children survive on just bread Hunger and thirst are destroying us, and cooking on fire increases our suffering unbearably! Severe eye and chest sensitivity, in addition to constant stomach pain due to the type of food and the way it is cooked.

All this while we flee from one place to another in fear of bombing, bullets, and imminent danger! I cannot describe what I feel, but it is a feeling beyond exhaustion!

Despite the exhaustion, your support gives us strength and I hope you will not let us down

If you can donate, please do so, or at least help us by sharing, so we can reach those who can

Your kindness truly keeps us going

>> Our campaign is vetted by gazavetters list at Momen & his family

Gaza is full of oppression #The worst is yet to come #Genocide #A resilient people