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ldpwriter · 3 years

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~*~Pirate Roleplay Character~*~

Name: Katarina “Kat” (She really only responds to Kat) Bloodrose

Nickname: Katy, Katia, Rina (which she hates), Fire-Kat or Wild-Kat, or Red (which she also hates)

Age: If you wanna live don't ask. But she's really about 25, but appears younger.

Gender: The fairer sex; female

Race: Caucasian - British decent

Rank: Pirate also known as an assassin

Family: Father - Jonathon Bloodrose (Pirate Captain)

Mother - Rosemary Bloodrose/Darling (High Class Lady)

Has other family members still alive on her mother's side but doesn't know who they are just that they're family name is, Darling.

Appearance: Lean, curvaceous figure. Appears fragile, but is stronger than most think. Deep green eyes that often show her emotions, with deep red fiery hair, down to the small of her back. Her skin is always tanned because she's on the open ocean and in the sun so much. Both Kat's ears are pierced with small silver hoops. And her right ear has several other piercings which also have either small hoops or jeweled studs. Several scars litter her body, mostly her back and arms. She has a lovely scar from naval to collar bone that almost took her life when she was 21. Her usual dress is anything black. Normally, however, she wears skin tight pants, a low cut shirt that comes to just above her naval, a black waistcoat, and boots that rise to mid calf. Occasionally though, she'll be found wearing a loose tunic with a corset around her waist. However, when she's hiding her femininity, Kat wears slightly baggier black pants, a loose V cut shirt, with her breasts securely tied, and her black waistcoat and boots. Also, to hide her long fire-red hair, she ties her hair up and wraps it in a bandanna and tops it off with a tri tip black hat. A black belt is almost always secured around her waist to hold her "effects".

The waistcoat, Kat wears mostly.

Face Claim: Katherine McNamara.

Weapons: Her father's cutlass, a pistol, and several knives in her belt, boots, and several other hidden places on her body. She can dual wield swords, or have a cutlass in one hand and a knife in the other.

Captain Bloodrose's cutlass, that Kat now owns and holds dear as one of the last things she has from her father.

Skills: Kat learned how to wield a sword when she was but a child barely learning to walk. She is adept with a cutlass in one hand or both hands. When she has a weapon in both hands she can be a whirlwind, able to defend herself against even the most skillful foe. She can throw knives with deadly accuracy and can shoot a gun, but prefers it as a last resort. It's too loud in her opinion. Adept at subterfuge, Kat can sneak into many a locked room. Her lockpicking skills are masterful. She is also a skilled assassin, killing foes before anyone knows she's even there.

Talents/Hobbies: Kat can actually sing quite well, but never will do so in public. The attention embarrasses her. She enjoys dancing as well having learned a bit from the old couple, but never has a reason to dance. Kat can read and write to most people's surprise, but her father had made sure she had the knowledge. Kat also collects knives. It was started with her father buying (or stealing) some of the prettiest knives she's ever seen and ever since, she's had a fascination with the quaint bladed weapons.

Weakness: Her temper and sharp tongue often get her into more trouble than what is good. She also has a well placed fear of enclosed spaces. She hates them with a passion and always tries to get out of being sent into small tunnels or entries because she often freezes while in them. Cages, wether behind bars in a prison or in the brig make her panicky. Oddly enough, wearing a dress terrifies her as well. It's like its own bondage and she hates being bound in any form. She fears love as well as dying alone. She is a wild card and hard to handle.

Likes: Pretty things, even though she doesn't really wear much jewelry. Even prettier knives. Children, dogs, singing, dancing, searching for treasure, killing evil people or those she feels deserves it, sailing on the ocean, sweets.

Dislikes: Men, women... okay most men and women. She doesn't get along with people well. Black Jack, the mutinous crew that killed her father, enclosed spaces, dresses, fancy things like balls and people.

Personality: Kat has a fiery temper, a sarcastic tongue, and a suspicious nature, which many would say matches her hair. The woman does not trust people easily. She has a particular hatred for the men who killed her father. She toys with men's hearts every now and then if it helps her get what she wants, but she never lets it go 'too' far. In truth, she really doesn't trust men, since most she had ever run into were liars, deceivers, and backstabbers. She is a loyal friend, however, and a good confidant. Kat also is not one to lay out her problems and when she is hurt or wounded she will not ask for help. She does not want people to find her weak. Which normally means she'll be dying before anyone finds out she's injured, which attests to her very stubborn attitude.

History: The only parent Kat ever knew was her father, who was a pirate. Her mother died giving birth to her in London. Kat's father raised her, on his ship the 'Grim Reaper'. As Kat grew older, her father taught her how to fight in hand to hand combat, sword play, and also fight with daggers/knives. She lived on her fathers ship becoming a pirate herself and grew to know the crew, although she didn't like most of them. The few she did befriend were like family to her and they treated her like a pirate unlike the others who belittled, teased, or flirted with her for being a woman.

One day when Kat was in her mid teens her father docked his ship in a seedy town. Her father figured that his crew as well as himself could use a rest after the pillaging they had just done. Kat and her father frequented the tavern to enjoy some ale and rum, while the crew came up with an evil plan. The evening after they docked, there was a mutiny. The crew killed her father, as well as any loyal to the former captain and took over the ship. The next thing she knew the crew tried to grab her, but fortunately she managed to escape with the help of her father's first mate, the only one left alive from the slaughter. Managing to sneak on land, though the mutinous crew was looking for her, she hid until there was a ship leaving port. Once she managed to stow passage on the ship, dressed like a man, Kat swore revenge on the mutinous crew.

Marcus, her father's former first mate and oldest friend took her away from the crazed, mutinous pirate crew. However, he was gravely wounded. The man took her to a pair of old friends and left her with them. The brother and sister duo were an odd pair. The woman considered herself a witch and knew many odd concoctions. The brother was a former assassin for the French empire. Both taught her how to fight in all new ways, to poison a blade, to blend into the shadows, and murder without being caught. Kat stayed with them for years until the nearby townsfolk got word of the witch in their midst and set forth to burn her. Francois, the brother took her to the nearby port afraid they would think she too was a witch. They disguised her by cutting her hair short and getting her baggy clothes. The Frenchman talked an old pirate captain friend of his to take her under his wing and that she would serve him well as an assassin. With that, the man left and Kat never saw him or his sister again. She never did learn if the two had made it.

For years, Kat kept her identity concealed until the old pirate captain grew sick and died. It was then time for the young woman to find her own way in the world. She let her hair start to grow once more and came across another brother and sister duo. They invited her to be a part of their crew, wishing to utilize Kat's skills for their gain. It wasn't until the brother, in a drunk stupor, tried to take advantage of her. Kat killed him in defense. The sister became enraged and attacked Kat. To the fiery haired woman's surprise, the ebony haired sister was far deadlier. The other woman managed to cut Kat from naval to collar bone. With such a dire wound, Kat threw herself off the ship grateful they had been near a French owned island. Somehow she managed to make it to shore, but passed out after. A kind elderly couple and their children found her washed up on shore and took her in. They nurtured her back to health.

When she was better, in the dead of the night, Kat snuck out. Leaving only a note and a few gold coins for their kindness, the fiery haired woman disappeared into the night. After that, Kat kept to the shadows mostly. Joining few crews and disappearing after a heist. Many referred to her as the Ghost of Shadows. Occasionally she would seek out higher paid quarries, using her assassin's skills to kill. It paid remarkably better than plundering as a pirate. As time slid by, Kat wandered from town to town, port to port listening for word of Black Jack and the Grim Reaper. But the ship had all but vanished, few going as far to say the vessel had sunk beneath the ocean's waves. It was disappointing and damn near heartbreaking for her.

One evening, Kat sat in a tavern in Tortuga. Alone in the back when someone approached her. The man said he would pay her in gold and information on the Grim Reaper's whereabouts if she did a job for him. It was the first news of her father's ship she had heard about in quite some time. Katarina readily agreed, not even caring who she was to assassinate. With that, Kat gathered her things and found the first passage she could and headed straight for her prey.

Her father's ship, the Grim Reaper

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

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*hums the Up is Down theme* All right, let’s get the usual stuff for the POTC AU out of the way super quick so we can just jump right in --

Previous part is here -- full tag is here -- alternate version of picture two with a lame attempt at blood is here -- and characters that aren’t mine are Jules Farrier-Weasley @cursebreakerfarrier; Finn McGarry/Davy Jones @theguythatdraws; Samantha O’Connell @samshogwarts; Arjun Singh and Aishwarya Mehra @hogwarts9; and Ellie Hopper @that-ravenpuff-witch! Hope you enjoy! xoxo

x~x~x~x

The crew member Orion sent delivered his Piece of Eight -- his right earring -- to Jules aboard the Revolution. Both Bill and Jules had been concerned about Orion sending it on ahead rather than bringing it back to them himself; they were even more concerned when the fleet of small ships was led by Jae and the Kumiho, rather than by the Artemis. Jacob and Ashe, however, didn’t seem surprised, even though Jacob’s eyes narrowed slightly and he went oddly quiet when he heard the news. If Bill didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn he might’ve even seen some guilt in the curly-haired pirate’s face.

Meanwhile Charlie pulled up alongside the Revolution to drop Chia Dalma off safely before the Phoenix rejoined the Blackbird, Naga, and Treasure. Before parting ways, Charlie actually pulled Chia aside.

“So,” he said a bit sheepishly, “guess it’s time, then?”

Chia nodded. She tilted her head slightly to the right in response to how uneasy Charlie looked.

“Something troubles you?” she asked.

“Not trouble, exactly,” said Charlie, offering a smile. “I mean, I’m glad you’ll get to be free. What the Brethren Court did, back then...it was a right rotten thing to do...”

His smile faded. “I guess I just wondered why you called yourself ‘Chia Dalma,’ and not Calypso. I mean -- you are Calypso, right? It’s not like when the spell is broken, you’ll just...disappear, right?”

Chia was taken aback by the concern. Then her pale face softened, betraying genuine fondness.

“You have a noble heart, Charles Weasley,” she said. “I’m afraid that Chia Dalma will cease to be, when the spell is broken. She is human -- I am human...and I no longer will be, when the spell is broken. I will no longer feel things the way I do now, or see things the way I do now...and my perspective once again will be that of an immortal, not a mere human.”

She gave Charlie a reassuring smile.

“But Calypso will not forget what Chia Dalma has seen and learned. Nor will she forget the kindness you showed her.”

The corners of Charlie’s lips turned up too. He brought up a hand and clapped Chia on the shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“And I won’t forget the sea goddess who was once my friend,” he said with a grin.

Meanwhile, on the HMS Lion, Cutler Beckett had assembled his higher-ranked officers on deck to give them their last set of orders. There would be no quarter during the battle, no prisoners taken -- everyone in the pirates’ fleet and in Shipwreck Cove would be wiped out, without exception or mercy. Carewyn could see how hesitant the other officers were, upon hearing this. Percy, in particular, looked very troubled.

“Lord Beckett -- ” he said before he could stop himself, “d-denial of quarter -- surely that isn’t necessary...we have more than enough room to transport prisoners back to Port Royal -- ”

“The pirates themselves wave a flag that represents no quarter,” said Beckett very smoothly without stopping his stride as he walked past the line of officers. “They have not earned the right to it themselves.”

Percy faltered. “W-well...yes, but...they are pirates, sir. Should we not...show a better example, as King’s Men -- ?”

Beckett came to a sharp stop in front of Percy, looking up at the slightly taller man with a rather beady dark eye.

“Do I sense a lack of conviction, Captain Weasley?” he asked, his voice very soft but very dangerous.

Percy stiffened, his freckled face losing quite a bit of its color. The officers surrounding him looked worried too. Rakepick, who was standing a few feet away from the line of soldiers with her arms crossed, didn’t look worried, but her dark blue eyes did narrow grimly upon Percy and Beckett.

“No, sir!” said the red-haired Captain very quickly.

“Ah, then it’s a conflict of interest, perhaps,” said Beckett, his voice becoming a bit harder as his lips spread into a cold smirk.

He leaned in a bit closer, and whispered something else in Percy’s ear that no one else could hear. It made Percy’s entire frame stiffen, his face blanching in horror as his wide brown eyes flickered over to Carewyn.

“Lord Beckett, Captain Weasley’s loyalty to the English Crown is unflappable,” Carewyn said in a very loud, harsh voice. “As is the loyalty of all of our officers. He meant no disrespect, I assure you.”

Beckett looked at her, his eyebrows raised high over his coldly narrowed eyes. As he strode purposefully over to stand in front of Carewyn, all of the officers tensed up even more anxiously, none more so than Percy. Rakepick had uncrossed her arms and was watching the scene unfold like a hawk.

“I certainly hope that is true,” said Beckett very softly. “Treason is -- as we all know -- a death sentence.”

Carewyn met Beckett’s icy gaze head-on, even as he likewise leaned in, his head once again lingering over her shoulder like it had back in his cabin, so that his breath grazed her face.

“I will not punish your brother for his insubordination, as a favor to you. But I expect proper gratitude on your part. After all, I’m already doing quite a favor for you already, allowing you and him to remain among the ranks.”

Carewyn’s almond-shaped blue eyes narrowed, but she refused to look at him or speak. Beckett’s face grew a bit colder still as he tilted his head enough that his lips were mere inches from her ear.

“Don’t forget, Admiral,” he whispered, and there was an odd satisfaction creeping into the corners of his pitiless voice, “your loyalty is, first and foremost, mine.”

He then moved away, turning his focus back to the rest of the officers with his more usual, detached sort of expression.

“Attack when ready -- no prisoners, no mercy. You’re dismissed.”

The officers all saluted and immediately bustled off to head back to their ships. Carewyn glanced over just in time to see Percy, rather than heading immediately back to his ship, rush up to her. His freckled face was ashen and his eyebrows were knitted tensely over his eyes.

“Carey...Lord Beckett -- ”

“I know,” Carewyn cut him off. She already knew what Beckett must have said to Percy, for the rose-colored lenses to fall from his eyes so quickly.

Percy’s brown eyes widened even more. They darted over to Beckett heading up to the helm and then back to Carewyn, welling up with anxiety.

“He suspected it after you expressed interest in him hiring a woman,” said Carewyn softly. “I reckon him knowing Rakepick first made it easier -- she dressed as a man for a while, when she was in the Navy...”

Percy seemed to be losing more and more of his courage every second. His face suddenly looked so much more boyish as his gaze fell away from Carewyn’s face, staring down at the deck of the ship without seeing it.

“It’s my fault,” he mumbled.

“Don’t say that,” Carewyn cut him off firmly.

Percy closed his eyes and shook his head.

“It’s all my fault,” he repeated, shame and pain pulsing through his face. “I never should’ve trusted him, I never should’ve believed -- I just -- he was so against piracy, and I...after you were taken by Orion Amari -- after you got kidnapped by the crew of the Revenge -- ”

“Percy -- ”

Carewyn brought a hand onto his shoulder, but he cut her off, his soft voice more choked and upset than ever.

“I never should’ve let Bill and Charlie go after you alone -- I should’ve followed them myself in my own ship, if I had to -- ”

“Percy.”

Her hand clutched the top of his shoulder, right beside his neck, so as to force him to look up at her.

“You were only trying to do what was right, as an officer,” said Carewyn, her blue eyes blazing with conviction despite their pain and empathy. “The Navy is your dream, far more than it ever was mine, or Charlie’s, or Bill’s. Don’t hate yourself for trying to do things the right way. ...That’s always been who you are.”

Giving Percy’s shoulder a tight squeeze, she steered him forward enough that she could bring her other arm around him and give him a hug.

“I know what Beckett must’ve threatened you with, Perce, but I want you to forget it,” she said, and her voice betrayed a crack of emotion Percy had never heard before. “Don’t try to protect me or my reputation -- those things won’t matter much longer anyway. Do what you need to, to do what’s right...for yourself and them.”

Them... Percy tensed. He knew who that “them” was, but...the way her voice choked -- was she...trying not to cry?

He looked at his surrogate sibling with dismay, but he couldn’t see her expression.

“Carey -- ”

“Admiral.”

Carewyn pulled away from Percy and looked up.

Rakepick had approached them, her dark blue eyes flickering from Carewyn to back over her shoulder at Beckett, who had seemed to have turned his focus back to the two red-haired officers -- almost as if she was...trying to warn them.

Recovering from this surprise quickly, Carewyn turned to Percy with a harder, more serious look and grabbed his shoulder, giving him a light push backward.

“Go, now,” she said, her voice hardening to try to obscure the pain and tears she was trying to force back.

Percy’s brown eyes rippled with anxiety. He clearly wanted to insist on her explaining, wanted to argue her point -- but he too could sense Beckett’s gaze. So, with a pained expression, he reluctantly straightened up and exchanged a salute with Carewyn, before finally leaving the deck and returning to the jollyboat that would return him to the Clearwater.

Rakepick and Carewyn both watched Percy go.

“You didn’t tell him,” said Rakepick lowly. “No doubt because you don’t want him to try to stop you...”

Carewyn looked at Rakepick, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Didn’t tell him what?”

Rakepick, however, didn’t respond. Her eyes watched the horizon absently, but seemed to almost look beyond it.

Carewyn's eyes flashed with even more distrust as she turned to face the older woman. “Don’t play games with me, Rakepick -- ”

“The time for games is long since through,” said Rakepick sharply, as she turned to looked Carewyn straight on in the face.

What...was that, in her expression? It was certainly harsh and arrogant as ever, and yet...there was something almost sadder there.

“You truly are a guardian, Admiral Weasley,” murmured Rakepick. “Right now, though...it seems to me that it’s you who most needs guarding.”

Carewyn felt a knife in her chest at the thought of Jones and the fate that awaited her. Her blue eyes drifted off to the side and away from Rakepick’s face, hardening further as she tried to obscure her emotions.

“I’m not so much of a coward as to choose my safety over the lives of others’,” she said very harshly, turning her focus to the helm.

She turned her back on Rakepick, her arms looping behind her straightened back in proper Navy posture.

“You should return to your post...before Beckett gives you the side eye too.”

Rakepick didn’t respond, and Carewyn refused to look back as she strode away.

Almost immediately, the strategy Jacob had devised did not go as planned.

The plan had been for Jules to bluff Beckett before releasing Calypso -- but although the Revolution, as flag ship, had pulled into position at the head of the pirates’ charge, Beckett’s (and therefore the Navy’s) flag ship the HMS Lion did not. Instead it hung back, letting individual Man O’ Wars immediately start the charge without it.

In alarm, Jules ordered her crew to hoist the colors and signal to the rest of the Pirate Lords to attack, as the Flying Dutchman sailed out in front as if to meet the Revolution. Charlie and Merula led the charge in the Phoenix and the Blackbird, firing at will against the Man O’ Wars in an attempt to hit their stores of ammunition, even as the Navy’s ships’ superior firepower quickly overwhelmed them, cutting down the smaller ships in the dozens with their cannons.

“Captain!” said Barnaby from his place at the helm. “We just lost three more ships -- oh. Make that four!”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed as he racked his brain.

The Man O’ Wars were too powerful to face head-on -- they just had far too much firepower, compared to their pirates’ fleet --

A mad idea beginning to take root in Charlie’s head, he whirled around toward Samantha O’Connell, who’d been up in the rigging adjusting sails so that the Phoenix could better avoid the Navy’s cannon fire.

“Signal to the Naga! We need to get closer to that Man O’ War at the front!”

Samantha’s mouth dropped open disbelievingly. “Closer? But that’ll only make it easier for them to shoot us down!”

“Not if we divide their attention!” Charlie shot back forcefully.

He ran up to the deck of the ship and leapt onto the railing so he could dangle off the rigging and better talk over the sound of cannon fire.

“We’re going to do what pirates do best,” said the red-haired pirate captain, shooting a huge, blazing grin up at Samantha, “we’re going to sack and commandeer that Man O’ War ourselves!”

With some help from Arjun and Aishwarya running interference, Charlie was able to steer the Phoenix up alongside one of the Navy’s ships, called the Clearwater. As mad as Charlie’s idea was, however, it seemed he hadn’t been completely off-base -- just as Ben Copper himself had proposed earlier, the Navy had indeed not expected the pirates to try sacking and stealing their ship. Unfortunately to get close enough, the Phoenix ended up directly in the path of the Clearwater’s cannons, and as the pirates started to board, cannonballs blasted through the air, smashing the Phoenix to pieces.

“ABANDON SHIP!” roared Charlie. “ALL HANDS TO THE CLEARWATER!”

The pirates all flocked to the rigging and gangplanks to board the Man O’ War, now their only hope at avoiding the ocean waves. Charlie met up with Barnaby on deck, even as its planks was blasted to pieces.

“Is everyone else off?” demanded Charlie.

“Aye, Captain!” said Barnaby.

As splinters of wood and metal shot through the air, Charlie and Barnaby both leapt up into the rigging, preparing to swing across --

Unfortunately, just as they both swung, a cannonball collided squarely with the ringing. In an instant, both men were flung off of the ropes they’d been holding and into the air, falling toward the water with the weight of stones.

Barnaby, in a purely instinctual move, leaned forward in mid-air and, with all of his strength, shoved Charlie forward just enough that he could clear the hurtle between the two ships.

Charlie ended up colliding harshly with the deck of the Clearwater, his leg collapsing out from under him with an unpleasant CRACK.

“ACK!”

With a bellow of pain, the red-haired pirate captain crumpled in on himself, gritting his teeth as he struggled to control his breathing.

“Charlie!”

Samantha chucked a lit grenade right into the side of one of the Navy soldiers’ heads, using the Navy officers’ alarm and the subsequent small explosion as a distraction so she could run over. Bending down, she quickly grabbed hold of his arm to help Charlie to his feet.

“Augh -- “ choked Charlie. “My leg -- I can’t...ack!”

Samantha secured her arm around his waist, using a considerable amount of strength to try to hold him up at her side. “Hold on -- I’ve got you -- ”

Charlie looked up and around, taking in the scene of his men hot in battle with the Navy’s men.

“Barnaby?”

Charlie looked around. His First Mate wasn’t there.

Limping badly on his injured leg, Charlie threw himself across the deck to look over. In the ocean between the two ships was an unsettling set of ripples -- as if a body had collided with the water.

“BARNABY!”

“LOOK OUT!” yelled Samantha.

Charlie would’ve likely thrown himself overboard to try to retrieve his fallen comrade, but he immediately had to yank out his cutlass and defend himself against a Navy soldier who‘d made to attack him. Samantha pulled out her pistols and began shooting, trying to beat the enemy forces back as they descended on the fallen Phoenix’s captain.

Neither Charlie or Samantha saw the second cluster of ripples and bubbles that burbled up from under the surface, nor the gold mermaid tail that briefly flipped up out of the water before disappearing again under the waves.

Nothing turned out as it should. The battle plan Jacob and the pirates had devised hoping to scare the majority of the Man O’ Wars into surrendering was cut off at the legs. If they released Calypso now, there would be no reason for any of the Navy officers to think that her release was a threat pointed squarely at them. Calypso would certainly have no reason to cooperate, even if Chia Dalma had expressed some favoritism toward Orion and Charlie previously. They were still pirates, and Calypso had no reason to help the kind of people who had trapped her for so long just because they released her, especially since the decision was made out of desperation. The only thing guaranteed by Calypso’s release would be that the battle would be harder and would likely put everyone’s lives in even more jeopardy.

Despite this, however, Jules was firm in her conviction. They’d made a promise to release Calypso, and more importantly, it was a decision that was already well overdue. Regardless of whether Calypso decided to help them or not, she didn’t deserve to stay in bondage.

So despite the hesitance on Jacob’s and the majority of her crew’s faces, Jules fetched the tricorn hat full of the seven Pieces of Eight she’d been given by the other Pirate Lords -- Orion’s gold hoop earring, Jae’s copper mun coin, Ellie’s sunflower-engraved pocketwatch, Arjun’s snake-engraved fob seal, Charlie’s “S”-trimmed anchor button, and Merula’s jade ring. Then Jules plopped in the eighth that Samantha had fetched from the inside of the Pirate Codex (a cheap copper brooch shaped like a mermaid and scarred over with greenish-white rust), to represent her as Pirate King, and handed the full hat to Chia Dalma before setting the pieces on fire.

“Calypso,” Jules murmured as gently as she could, “I release you from your human bonds.”

The transformation was terrifying. It was little wonder that the process of turning Calypso into a human was described as her “being bound in her bones,” for when the goddess was set free of her human form, it was like a foreboding, slow-motion explosion. Chia’s eye sockets erupted blueish-white light, while her hair and clothes dissolved away into terrible gusts of wind and crashing sea spray. The low, rumbling, earthquake-esque sound that erupted from her could not be contained by her lips, instead coming from her every pore, as she levitated up off the ground, her flesh and blood limbs dangling uselessly in the face of her supernatural essence breaking free of them. Her flesh seemed to melt away, becoming more liquid and blue and white and incorporeal -- until at last, Chia Dalma’s frame burst open in a violent crash of seawater that for an instant submerged the entire pirate ship.

Jules, Bill, Jacob, and the rest of the crew were suddenly underwater, scrambling to escape so they could breathe. It was only thanks to Ashe that they survived. The merman quickly swam up to the helm and took control of the ship’s steering wheel, chucking it all the way around to tilt the Revolution sharply enough that it forced the ocean wave that had been Calypso back off the side.

Calypso, however, was not just the wave, as the pirates quickly found out. Overhead, there was a horrible rumble of thunder. Within moments, the ocean began to quake under the Revolution and the Flying Dutchman, darkening forebodingly. Somewhere in the distance, Jules could hear a delighted roar, like a triumphant beast’s -- it was Jones, delighted by the liberation of his lover and by the vengeance she would wreck for him.

Rakepick stared up at the darkening sky, her eyes very wide. “This...this storm -- it can’t be -- !”

“Oh, but it is.”

The cursed captain whirled on Rakepick, a smirk curling up into his octopus-stained features and a malevolent gleam in his eye.

“And now,” he said as he unsheathed his sword, “I fear no consequence o’ this!”

Rakepick cried out in agony as Jones plunged his sword right through the upper-right side of her chest. The privateer-turned-pirate-hunter crumpled up on the base of the stairs, her tricorn hat flying off into the wind. She tried to pull the blade out, but she was pinned down to the deck, unable to move as blood spurted out of her chest like a red flower.

“Augh...augh...”

Satisfied that the woman who’d so haughtily lorded over him was going to suffer properly before dying, Jones whirled on the rest of his crew with a victorious gleam in his eye.

“Let’s finish dismantling this ship afore us!” he indicated the Revolution, which was sailing up alongside the Flying Dutchman. “Then we can turn our sights toward different prey!”

Out of the blackening sky, a bolt of lightning crashed down, colliding with the ocean a mere twenty feet from the HMS Lion. The threat of fiery white death terrified Beckett’s men. Carewyn struggled to keep them calm, ordering them to weigh anchor so the HMS Lion could join its brothers in the charge. Beckett, however, contradicted her.

“If we advance, then we’ll merely be sailing right into the pirates’ hands,” he said coolly, as he sipped a cup of tea from the helm. “Our other ships are already dismantling them well enough.”

Carewyn’s blue eyes flashed. In an oddly harsh move, she brought up a hand and slammed it down on the table, making the china tea set rattle precariously and her fellow Navy men flinch.

“Don’t be a fool!” she hissed. “This isn’t some normal storm! Look at the waves you’ve sent our ships into! Look at this lightning -- it’s touching the sea itself! This is not an act of God -- this can only be Calypso!”

The rest of the Navy’s crew tensed up at the name. Beckett looked up from his tea, his dark eyes flickering with some interest for the first time.

“Calypso?” he repeated.

“The Pirate Lords bound her years ago, and now it seems they’ve released her,” said Carewyn fiercely. "We can’t stay still, if we hope to evade the wrath of a sea goddess -- ”

“But you believe she can, in fact, be evaded,” said Beckett mildly, putting down his cup on its saucer with a soft clink. “Good. From what I understand, Calypso doesn’t particularly like pirates much either...so it seems we can have her do some of our workload for us, if we merely steer clear of her destructive path.”

Carewyn’s eyes widened, her pupils narrowing to slits of rage.

“So you sentence your men to death? You choose to abandon our other ships to the mercy of both the pirates and to a vengeful goddess, in the deluded hope that they’ll destroy each other and leave us be -- ?!”

She didn’t even care if her voice was shriller than it should’ve been, thanks to the emotions that rebelled against her chest.

Beckett got to his feet, stepping right into Carewyn’s personal space with a fierce, cold eye.

“Our men know where their loyalty lies -- may you not forget the placement of yours, Admiral!”

Carewyn, however, got right back up in Beckett’s space in return, yanking her pistol out of her belt and pointing it right between his eyes.

All of the soldiers on deck stiffened or let out small, shocked cries. Even Beckett, whose expression did not flinch, raised his eyebrows.

“Just because my soul is no longer mine doesn’t mean that I won’t protect my men, Beckett,” Carewyn spat.

Beckett’s eyebrows furrowed over his eyes, which gleamed with cold, stony, foreboding rage.

“You dare...?” he whispered.

Carewyn’s eyes flared with hatred. “The only leverage you had over me is currently out there, being sent to his death on your orders.”

‘You have nothing left to take from me, Beckett. I’m already enslaved to Jones, and therefore you. I have no future. I can’t do any more good for the others. ...I’m worthless...’

Carewyn returned her pistol to her belt and turned to her men with a gentler, but still very serious look.

“Prepare to abandon ship, Lieutenant.”

The young Lieutenant who’d nearly caught Ben the previous night straightened up sharply. “Sir?”

“I will not have men who were assigned to this mission lay down their lives fighting a sea goddess,” said Carewyn solemnly. “Just as I don’t intend to let the men out there do so. We can’t signal to them to retreat from this far-off, but I won’t endanger your lives while I call them back. Tell the men to abandon ship and head for the Swallow...and then do so yourself.”

Despite the firmness of her voice, she knew the gravity of what she was asking of him.

The boyish, uptight Lieutenant looked from the silently seething Beckett to the grim, pale face of his commanding officer, visibly conflicted. Then, his lower lip trembling, he saluted.

“...Yes, sir,” he said weakly.

The young officer and his compatriots reluctantly followed orders and left the helm, leaving Beckett and Carewyn alone.

“You will regret this most dearly,” Beckett said in a very soft, pitiless voice.

“I only regret that I wasn’t able to do it sooner,” Carewyn shot back icily.

“There will be no safe place to hide from me,” said Beckett. “The entire world will know who and what you are. I will hunt you down with the might of my Company and the English Crown, until you sit under my heel like a dog.”

Carewyn was reminded of how he spoke to Orion, back on that tiny island -- like he was some pathetic, disgusting cockroach.

“I’m not a coward like you, Beckett -- I have no intention of running and hiding.”

‘You won’t need to hunt me down,’ she thought. ‘I already know I'm trapped.’

She turned her back on Beckett and walked away, shooting coldly back over her shoulder,

“Flee with your life while you still can.”

Once Carewyn was sure that her soldiers had all boarded the jollyboats and were on their way toward the HMS Swallow, she immediately made her way down to the lower deck, to where she knew Ben Copper had set up the explosives from the previous night.

The HMS Lion could not use flags to signal the other ships to fall back, from this distance...but the flagship being in distress would be more than enough for them to come back to try to help.

Carewyn approached the highly flammable barrels of black powder, her jaw set in determination despite the fear and paleness of her face. There was only one way she could make it explode on her own -- and so, with a deep breath and a faintly trembling hand, she slowly slid her loaded pistol from her belt and raised it to point at the barrels.

All of a sudden, Carewyn felt someone grab her from behind. She struggled against the grip as the person’s hands seized her arm, trying to pull it back -- “No, please -- please, no -- please -- ”

The voice made Carewyn freeze where she stood.

It was soft, detached, almost airy, and yet so choked and tense...she’d never heard that voice sound that way. Not that voice, at least...only a voice much younger, much less confident --

Carewyn slouched immediately.

“Orion?” she breathed.

The Pirate Lord’s shaking hands still clutched at her arm even after her pistol was no longer raised.

“Please,” he gasped for air, clearly trying to steady his heavy breathing. “Please -- ”

“Orion!”

Carewyn dropped her pistol to the floor with a clatter. She couldn’t pull out of his grip, but she tried to turn around to face him. Only managing to make it half-way, she looked up at him, taking in his parted lips and hollow dark eyes, and reached up to take hold of his face.

“Orion...it’s all right...”

Shakily Orion released her arms. Then, very abruptly, he just as quickly grabbed the back of her head with one hand, cradling it almost desperately.

“Orion, breathe,” Carewyn said desperately as she trailed a hand through his dreadlocks to try to comfort him. “Breathe...I’m here -- I’m here...”

The pirate closed his eyes. His breathing gradually slowed and quieted as he worked to ground himself.

“...Carewyn...” he murmured against her hair at last, still sounding faintly tense, but much more level again.

Carewyn’s chest was so overfull of emotion that her eyes flooded with tears.

“God, Orion!” she swore.

She placed a short, searing kiss against his lips before pulling away to look at him and tearing into him with anxiety,

“What are you doing here!? You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“I could say the same to you,” said Orion, his much more usual, calmer voice low in his throat with disapproval.

Carewyn’s eyes fell down to his shoulder uncomfortably. “I have to signal the rest of the fleet to retreat -- ”

“You needn’t sacrifice yourself for that.”

“I can’t make this signal any other way!”

“Don’t take all of this onto yourself -- ”

“It’s the only way I can help now!” Carewyn burst out. Her own hands were shaking now. “I know what you and Jacob were trying to warn me about, Orion, but it’s no use -- I can’t just stay off the Dutchman! Jones told me that the contract can’t be undone unless I wanted to condemn someone else in my place, and I...I can’t do that, Orion! Even if it means I can never make that world I promised for you -- even if it means I can never get Bill and Charlie and Jules their lives back, or protect Jacob and Ashe from the Navy, or even see you again...”

She fiercely tried to hold back her tears even as they blurred her vision.

“My life isn’t worth protecting, if it means I lose you! I can’t lose you! Without all of you, there’s no point to anything, anything I do!”

Orion’s dark eyes were swirling like miniature galaxies as he adjusted his hand on the back of Carewyn’s head more securely, tilting it up to try to prompt her to look at him before speaking again.

“Carewyn...will you marry me?”

Carewyn looked up at him like she’d just gotten a splash of cold water right to the face.

“What?”

“Will you marry me?” Orion repeated, undaunted.

Carewyn’s mouth hung open in disbelief. Where in the world did this come from?!

“I don’t think now’s the best time!” she said in a weaker, more high-pitched voice than usual.

“Now may be the only time,” said Orion, sounding oddly serious.

Carewyn scanned his face, struggling to understand his thought process.

“Orion...I’ll be part of Jones’s crew -- there can’t be a future for us, even if we -- ”

“On the contrary,” Orion cut her off gently. “We would only have the freedom to be together, this way.”

Carewyn’s eyebrows furrowed. Then, very, very slowly, her blue eyes widened in understanding.

“You’d be a member of our family,” she whispered.

Orion inclined his head in a nod. “I’d take the Cromwell name, rather than give you mine. That would make it so that Jones’s conditions could apply to either of us -- and so, if we wished to be together...the one Jones does not take could volunteer to remain with the other, as part of his crew...or, if not...one of us would be free to leave, with the debt still paid.”

Carewyn stared, hardly believing what she was hearing. She clutched at Orion’s shirt with both hands.

“You...you can’t!” she said desperately. “Jones is still under Beckett’s command -- if you join Jones’s crew, you...you’ll never be free again! I can’t let you enslave yourself to Beckett, not after what he did to you!”

“What he did to me...” murmured Orion.

He cradled Carewyn’s head as he leaned his forehead against hers so that their noses touched.

“Carewyn...what Beckett did to me was make it so that I’m no longer able to live a normal life. What he did to me was make it so that the only life I can lead is that of a pirate -- a creature of few friends, adrift on an unfriendly sea. However much I’ve been able to find independence and camaraderie on the high seas, that doesn’t mean I’ve ever been truly free. For I was never free to stop being a pirate. I was never free to stop running. I was never free...to return to the island where I first met the girl who would flit in and out of my dreams, like a songbird on the wing...see if she was happy...see if...she even still remembered me...”

Carewyn’s eyes widened.

“When I met you, I was an orphan with no name or home to call my own,” murmured Orion. “Although I’ve since crafted a name for myself...thanks to Beckett, I can never have the second. And even if I somehow ever could...that home would not be complete without you.”

His lips spread into a smile as his dark eyes slowly flooded with tears too.

“The freedom I want more than anything,” he said, “is the freedom to stay. Perhaps this choice wasn’t one we ever wanted to make, and perhaps it will be one we’ll have to live with longer than either of us envisioned, but...please...will you let me stay with you?”

Carewyn choked, trying to hold in the storm of emotions beating at the inside of her chest. She covered her face in both hands in a vain attempt to obscure the pain. She could feel Orion’s hand on the back of her head tense slightly, but he made no move to comfort her -- the pirate wasn’t entirely sure how, and he didn’t know if he should, since he knew he’d unloaded a lot onto her.

At last, Carewyn finally tore her hands away and threw her arms around Orion’s neck, burying her tear-stained face into his chest.

“Yes,” she whispered against his neck. “...Yes...”

She placed a feathery kiss to his collarbone.

“...Orion, I’m...I’m so sorry...”

Orion mirrored her, bringing his lips into the crook of her neck.

“Don’t be,” he said seriously, “for I am not.”

Carewyn looked up at him, prepared to speak -- but she stilled when her ear caught the sound of a pistol being cocked.

“GET DOWN!”

In an instant, she’d thrown herself against Orion, knocking him down to the floor just as the bullet whizzed overhead with a loud BANG, just barely missing the barrels of black gunpowder and instead colliding with one of the columns.

Carewyn and Orion both shot up, to find Cutler Beckett standing at the base of the stairs, his stony eyes set ablaze with a kind of hatred Carewyn had never seen.

At the exact same time, the Revolution and the Flying Dutchman were hotly engaged in battle on the rockier, more tempestuous sea. Jules had been firm in not having anyone swing over to the Dutchman until their ship had the upper hand, since she knew her mortal men would be outmatched by men who were already technically dead -- but Jacob, it seemed, had no intention of following her direction. Jones was still aboard the Flying Dutchman, and he had a score to settle with Jones. And so he swung over to the ship of the damned himself to confront its captain.

“Ah, Captain Roberts,” sneered Jones. “Welcome aboard.”

“Where is she!?” he snarled.

Jones’s dark eyes narrowed coldly. “If you mean the Admiral, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place. Her enlistment isn’t set to begin for another month or so.”

With a roar of fury, Jacob lunged at Jones, hacking at him with his cutlass. The shorter man was very talented with a blade -- it was fortunate, considering he was hotly engaged in battle with someone who couldn’t be killed through ordinary means.

“Don’t know what you’re intending to do, Jacob Roberts!” spat Jones. “The contract is not one I can break either! The Admiral will be in my crew, no matter what she or anyone else thinks of the matter -- ”

Jacob slashed at Jones’s beard, slashing off several tentacles. Jones cried out in pain and frustration and when Jacob tried to attack again, Jones seized his arm in his claw, snapping down on it really hard.

“AUGH!”

Jones lifted the smaller man up off the deck by his arm so that he dangled off his feet.

“She only has her brother to blame for her misfortune,” the captain of the damned said lowly. “Yet she somehow has enough grace to not do so.”

Jacob’s face blanched and his slit-like pupils flared with hatred as he fought against Jones’ grip.

“You -- argh!”

Jones’s claw twisted Jacob’s arm painfully, making him drop his sword.

“Were I not a heartless wretch, I would feel remorse, knowing I have to condemn so decent a person,” said Jones.

All of a sudden, out of nowhere, Jones cried out in surprise as a sword was plunged through his back.

It was Bill.

The eldest Weasley knew that the wound wouldn’t really hurt Jones (and he was correct), but it was the proper distraction for Jules to jump in from the other side and bring her sword down on Jones’s claw with enough leverage that he dropped Jacob. The curly-haired pirate captain fell onto the deck, clutching his arm, as Bill yanked his sword back out of Jones’s back.

“That is for Carey,” he snarled at Jones.

Jones whirled on Bill with his own cutlass, hacking away at him. Jules rushed to help Bill, while Ashe ran over to Jacob’s side to help him up.

“Jack, you’re bleeding -- ”

“I’ll be fine,” croaked Jacob as he clutched his wounded arm.

Jones fought both Bill and Jules singlehandedly, his cutlass slashing at Bill as his claw snapped at the air sweeping through Jules’s dark hair.

“Tell me, William and Juliette Weasley,” he crowed, “do you fear death?”

“Do you?”

Jones froze. Everybody else on the deck froze. Then, as if as a unit, they slowly turned, to look at Rakepick standing at the foot of the stairs.

The privateer-turned-pirate-hunter had shed her red jacket, leaving her in her blood-stained, high-necked and long-sleeved white undershirt, and her ginger-red hair had come loose of its bun and flapped in the gusting wind like a flag. In her hand was the throbbing, pulsating heart of Davy Jones.

Both Jacob and Bill lunged forward, but Rakepick moved before either of them could. Her dark blue eyes flaring with pure, undiluted hatred upon Jones, she yanked her loaded pistol out of its holster, thrust Jones’s heart down hard onto the deck, and fired at point-blank range.

BANG.

Jones lurched forward as if he'd been shot in the chest. He choked, his dark eyes going very wide as he struggled to breathe -- then he swayed, suddenly finding himself unable to stand, as his claw shakily clutched the railing of his ship.

Rakepick’s eyes held no compassion whatsoever as she bore down upon the crumpled-up Jones.

“The Chest’ll be doing its work soon enough,” she said very softly. “As it’s said...‘the Dutchman must have a captain.’”

Jacob suddenly felt like his hand was on fire. Ripping off the bandages, he stared in disbelief as the Black Spot Jones had given him so long ago seemed to shrink and disappear, leaving his palm completely unscarred.

For the deal Jacob had made was only in effect as long as both he and Jones lived.

Jones gasped for air as Rakepick seized him by the collar.

“I would ask if you wished to serve under me -- but I don’t want scum like you on my crew. So I’ll instead be kind...and send you to meet your dear Calypso.”

In a heartless move Jacob only knew too well, Rakepick shoved Jones overboard, right off of the Dutchman into the rushing waves.

“No!” hissed Jacob.

Rakepick turned to Jacob, a cold smirk spreading onto her face. “You know what this means, then, Black Jack? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised!”

Out of nowhere, Rakepick lurched forward, clutching at her chest, which pulsated with demented, sickly sea-green light. She shrieked in agonizing, hellish pain as her chest ripped itself apart, her own heart molting out of her skin -- the Dead Man’s Chest appeared out of nowhere in a flare of light at her feet -- and it swallowed up the heart that had ripped itself out of her chest before snapping shut.

“What -- ” gasped Bill, “what is -- ?”

“The one who stabs the Heart,” said Ashe, his face very pale with fury and anxiety, “must replace it with their own.”

“And become the immortal Captain of the Flying Dutchman.”

Rakepick clutched her chest with one hand, her long ginger hair in her face. She breathed heavily as her lips spread little by little into a broad smirk. When she pulled her hand away, the wounds in her chest and in her shoulder had completely sealed up. Even the blood had dissipated.

“Incredible,” she whispered. “I can feel the Dutchman -- the sea -- the creatures of the deep, all responding to my every whim...”

She flung out her arm. In an instant, Jones’s fallen barnacle-encrusted blade soared into her open hand, and she raised her head, her dark blue eyes devoid of human light or mercy upon Bill, Jacob, Jules, and Ashe as her loosely flying ginger hair seemed to smack the air like tentacles.

“Now I finally have the power I need,” she whispered triumphantly, “the power to destroy all of you and Cutler Beckett, in one fell swoop!”

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thewatermelloncat · 4 years

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Bad Places

A/N: I was inspired to write this after reading a post on Buzzfeed about sexual harassment females have endured in their workplaces. One example hit me deep and I decided to write this in response to it. I wanted to spiel off about how this shouldn’t have a warning because it is unfortunately reflective of the world we live in today. But I have included one because it’s a rough subject to deal with. So, read at your own discretion.

Warnings: Sexual harassment (verbal)

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The sky of the Isle was beginning to be lit by the first few stars poking through the clouds, as you worked with Harry on the deck of the Lost Revenge. Of course, you hadn’t meant to be working under the light of the stars and the lanterns that glowed from the wharf, but such as the nature of having many things to complete in a day, sometimes things ran later than expected. So here you and Harry were, finishing the day’s tasks before the light of dawn.

The ship was peaceful while you worked without the rush of crew members on the deck. You and Harry didn’t talk much - aside from discussing the task at hand - you didn’t really know each other well seeing as you’d only joined the crew the previous month. He was also much higher than you in rank, and it seemed inappropriate for you to try and make conversation with him. But it was nice to work in silence sometimes.

If only it could have stayed that way.

At the first sound of a wolf whistle you didn’t think much of it. Boys and men on the Isle weren’t the most considerate when it came to manners, and unfortunately you were used to it. You kept your head down and remained focused on rethreading the sail laid out on the deck. Though your lack of attention seemed to annoy the group, which one of them notified you of in yelling, “Bitch!”

At his words you look up to see a group of four or so young men up on the wharf, looking down at you from the railing. You say nothing, giving them nothing more than a glare before tending back to the sail.

“Come on baby, I could rock your world better than that ship!”

The words call your attention back up to the wharf, where if you’re not mistaken a sexual gesture is being made. In disgust you turn away. With your eyes back on the ship you see Harry stopped where he is working, looking up at them with an annoyed glint in his eyes. But before you can think about that further you instinctively put your head back down and get back to work.

And with the lack of your attention, the young men on the wharf move away.

The sound of your hammer pounding at the loose nails on the deck had become rhythmic by the time you were disturbed again. It had maybe been an hour since your encounter with the young men, and you’d been stupid to hope it would be the last of the night as a group of middle-aged pirates stumble across the wharf. You can hear them conversing lowly to themselves as you feel their eyes on you.

“What you doing a man’s work for, gorgeous?” one of them calls out leaning on the railing, his friends stopping behind him.

It was clear to you that they’re drunk but it doesn’t make it any better as you feel uncomfortable in your own skin. You don’t dare to look up at them, not wanting to see a group of men over twice your age gawking at you. If you’re honest, you’re expecting them to yell something else out at you, but it’s Harry’s voice that surprises you.

“I’m incredibly flattered, but I am a man” he calls back to them from the other side of the deck from you, stacking boxes.

You can’t help but snicker under your breath at his quick and effortless reply. You’d only seen Harry as a serious figure in the dynamic of the crew, and for him use a sense of humour to deflect a comment off of you without missing a beat filled you with a sense of gratitude.

And it seemed to have its effect as the group of pirates continue to stumble off from the wharf.

When the next chorus of wolf whistles sounded, you and Harry were working together inspecting the state of the ropes and checking the pully systems on the masts. You tried your best to tune them out and the resulting comments that followed. Harry also seemed to be watching them out of the corner of his eye as you both remained about doing your work. It wasn’t until you both moved to the mizzen that they caught your eye as you walked past them.

“When you get off you should come back to my place and get me off, if you know what I mean?” one called to you before you could avert your eyes. Following their comment, the group around them joined into a performance of sexual noises and inappropriate movements.

At the post of the mizzen you turn away from them but the sound follows you. You keep your head down with your eyes lowered to the ground as your hands mechanically go about checking the tension of the ropes.

Eventually with the lack of reaction the group move along, but still you don’t look up. It isn’t until you hear Harry’s voice that you raise your eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly. Somehow the surprisingly caring tone of his voice makes you feel worse.

You nod, though you know he can see through it. You were supposed to be fine. The Isle doesn’t allow for you to be anything else; nothing was supposed to faze you. Men were supposed to behave in that way, it was normal. You had to be strong, you had to be fine. You were fine.

It was a relief for you to finally be sweeping the deck, it meant your work was almost over. Soon you would be able to return home to rest up before the next day. A smile started to spread on your face at the thought of going to sleep, only for it to drop when you hear a rowdy group of boys parading along the wharf.

You close your eyes in the hope that they’ll pass you by without an incident, surely three in a night was enough. Daringly you hold your breath as if it would help you to maintain hope, only to sigh in despair when it doesn’t work.

“You’re wearing too many clothes. Take them off!” the apparent leader of the group calls out.

Instinctively you hug your coat tighter around your body, wishing that you were suddenly wearing more layers. Just them looking at you, knowing that they were wishing you were baring everything for them to see, made you feel violated.

At your reaction one of the men guffaws and turns to the man who spoke. “Wonder if she’s a virgin” he says hitting his friend on the arm.

You gasp and spin around to the other side of the mainmast post, hiding from their view. The rope tied around it presses into your back uncomfortably as you lean against it, but you don’t care as you push yourself further into the post, wanting to be swallowed up by it. Your world goes fuzzy as the words echo around in your mind, and you’re vaguely aware of panicked breaths expanding in your lungs.

Out of the corner of your eye you half watch as Harry storms to the gangplank holding his hook in a tight grip, but you miss the words he yells at the group before they slink away. The only sound you can hear is the beating of your own heart.

You come to as Harry stands in front of you placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Come on, I’m gonna walk you home.”

At his words you want to protest and remind him that you both still have work to do, but you don’t trust yourself to speak. You want to stay to complete your tasks, showing dedication to the crew, but your drive for survival has kicked in and you just want to get out. So, you hesitate before you nod your head.

The streets are nearly empty aside from the homeless and those passed out drunk outside of the taverns, as you and Harry walk through the streets of the Isle. He hadn’t said a word since you’d both left the ship, but you hadn’t either. Though you felt his eyes watching over you as you walked.

Nearing the end of the market you step away from the glow of the lanterns on the main street and into the darkness of the alleys. The sudden absence of light doesn’t bother you; you’d walked these alleys plenty of times before. It isn’t until you hear a group of men laughing that you subconsciously step closer to Harry, who reaches over and puts a protective arm around you.

“It’s alright, I got you” he calms, looking down at you.

Although you can’t see the men your heart still pounds in your chest, and without meaning to you shrink into his touch, comforted by the warmth of his arm around you. For the rest of the walk to your home you’re scared that it might leave you, but it never does.

When you reach the stairs before your rickety loft you expect Harry to leave you there and then, but instead he continues forward guiding you up the steps. And still at the top of the stairs he waits while you fish your key out of your pocket and unlock the door.

“You alright?” he checks again once you’ve stepped through the doorway.

You nod to him with a small smile. “Thanks for walking me home.”

He makes a dismissal noise and shakes his head. “Not a problem. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow” you agree as you begin to close the door, but you hesitate before it shuts. “Harry?” you ask pushing it back open.

“Yeah?” he says turning around from facing the staircase.

“Uhm” you hesitate again before getting your words together. “Why were you so nice about this? Most guys wouldn’t care, they’d probably join in.”

“I have two sisters” he begins, leaning against the railing. “One older, one younger. I know Harriet has to deal with it already, and it seems like she takes it all in ‘er stride, but I see how it affects her.” he stops, sighing slightly. “I don’t even wanna think about CJ having to go through it when she gets older.”

“Well, at least she’ll have someone like you to protect her through it” you tell him.

“She will” he agrees, a small smile spreading on his face as he looks away from you.

“Good night Harry” you say, drawing the conversation to a close.

Harry nods a goodbye to you before making his way down the stairs and disappearing into an alley. Even long after he’s gone, you look out across the Isle watching the lanterns shining like stars in the streets past the alleys where you live, thinking that maybe the Isle isn’t such a bad place.

#disney descendants #disney descendants fanfiction #harry hook fanfiction #harry hook x reader #harry hook #isle of the lost

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years

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When We Collide (Part 2)

Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Part 1. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everybody! So first and foremost, thank you all so much for your responses to the first chapter of this fic. It has been exciting to wade into new waters, and this AU is exactly that for me. As promised last time, this chapter represents a jump into the future, and many of you might think to yourselves, wow, Emily, you really skipped a lot of stuff here. No worries, there will be some flashbacks and plenty of explanations going forward. I just don’t love angst so much, and wanted to get us to a better place before we relive some of the earlier parts of this CS love story. Anyway, thanks to you all for tuning back in and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Three Months Later

Packing up the last of his things in this shithole apartment, Killian was struck by how easy it was to say goodbye to a place he’d lived for months on end.

It was no hardship to close this chapter and to bid farewell to this hollow and lifeless space. Oh it had flair and style, and many would see it and acknowledge that by New York City standards this flat was a castle in the sky, with clean white lines and ample room considering the density of the city. But it would never be his style. His home – his real home - was nothing like this. It was free and open and warm. It was removed from the hustle and bustle, nestled away in a place of calm. Not like this place.

From the jump, Killian made sure to keep nothing of value stowed away here. There were furnishings included when he signed the lease, ones that spoke to his higher status in the syndicate, and which gave the right air of self-importance, should anyone ever come to check up on him. Yet there were no traces of him at all, despite the privacy and protection the place provided. He brought no remnants of his past or his real life to New York. There were no pictures, no mementos, nothing that he looked at and saw any real value in. Everything here was part of a façade designed to keep up with the lies he told to stay alive, and even that was kept to a bare minimum. Lies were easier to manage when there were less of them to own, and to an outsider, this place looked exactly like what it was – the crash pad of a man with very little time and little attention to decorative details. That never bothered Killian though, as this place was not important; it was merely a means to an end.

That end was grounded in one goal: kill the man they called the Crocodile. It was the only reason he’d ever come to New York, the reason he’d started this descent into the underbelly of society. It had driven him for years, the need to get revenge on a beast so sinister he couldn’t even be called a man. Slowly but surely, Killian had ingratiated himself into the world of this monster, climbing up the ranks of the man’s operation, earning tiny morsels of Gold’s trust, and getting ever closer to a moment where he could kill his enemy, ridding the world of one of its darkest beings. But then something unexpected happened – in the midst of total darkness, he’d found an angel, the only one capable of pulling him into the light. Emma.

Emma Swan was a rare gem in the midst of soot and ash. In the New York underworld, where Killian had been operating for over a year, he had never run into anyone like her, but three months back, when he was returning from a run, he’d encountered her for the first time. It was all a matter of chance really. He had only just arrived from his assignment monitoring a shipment of guns from the Irish to the Crocodile. His job was to survey the transaction, to make sure the Irish held up their end, and to ensure the guns made it from point a to point b. Then, right as he was reporting back for duty, another member of the crew was busted for skimming profits by Gold. Gold’s normal enforcer was tied up with a cartel issue, necessitating Killian’s retrieval abilities to be used for the first time. It was at first a sign from a higher power that he was moving up the ranks, and Killian appreciated that movement if it meant justice would come sooner. But then he saw Emma, and in the sight of such a heavenly gift, his whole world shifted. He hardly deserved her, stained as he was from the choices he had made and the things that he’d done, but from the moment they met, he was dead set on trying to be better for her and for the sake of their future.

Closing his eyes even now, he remembered that night so clearly. Emma was dressed in the bar’s uniform of a short black skirt and a revealing gold top. It was barely decent, designed to be leered at by patrons, and certainly not made for the long, grueling hours that she worked. But as he watched her strut about the place in those matching black heels no woman should be able to maneuver, Killian felt the pierce of cupid’s arrow at his breast. Her long blonde hair hung loose around her in cascading curls that tempted his fingers. He wanted to run his hand through it and see if it felt as silky smooth as those golden strands appeared. His eyes trailed down her body and he’d taken in her mix of slender curves and undeniable allure. Then he looked back to her face again, struck by its charm and classic beauty.

Just the sight of her was enough to leave him breathless, but when she looked at him and he watched her cheeks flush and her lip catch between her teeth, he was gone. She didn’t seem aware in the slightest of the situation she was causing just by existing. Maybe she thought she was attractive, she must, given the ogling eyes that emanated from every corner of the Lair, but the truth was Emma was temptation made flesh. It was like a star made of hope and possibility had come down from heaven and graced this dismal place with one of its own. Though the bar was dark, every light seemed to find its way to her and the rest of the world faded away. For a moment Killian had wondered if he were suffering from some kind of hallucination, but after blinking a few times Emma remained where she was. Thank Christ.

That first night, their meeting was too quick. They had no time to delve deeper or see if the spark of their first interaction was more than a moment, but Killian knew it was. The second he touched her, a thrill coursed through his veins, lighting him up in ways he’d never been before. At that moment, he realized he could never truly walk away from this woman. One subtle graze of skin on skin and he was hooked, addicted to her light and vibrancy. That made leaving her that night and every other night the past few months so damned regrettable, but now that was over. Tonight they’d be leaving New York, never to come back to this hell on earth, and for the rest of his days he’d stay with his Swan, protecting her, adoring her and loving her forever more.

Those thoughts of forever stayed with him as he double checked the apartment one last time. A final scan revealed what he expected – there was nothing of import to leave behind. His whole life fit in one small rucksack, and that was for the best. He didn’t want to prompt suspicion as he left, and his neighbors were used to seeing him with bags of this shape and size. It needed to look like any other night, and thanks to his carefully plotted attentions, it did.

Sitting behind the wheel of the vehicle he’d been using this past year, Killian started it up and heard the tell-tale purr of its sport ability. It was purposefully subtle, but anyone who knew cars knew this model was a beast on the road. Made for daring speeds and fast getaways, this car had been an accessory to a number of questionable moments, but none held the stakes he was facing tonight. He pulled out of the car park and drove, his awareness at an all-time high as he looked down at his watch. He had an hour to get somewhere twenty minutes away, but he used every minute to make sure he was safe and undetected.

Though no one was following him at any point of the drive, Killian made sure to take precautions. He took mostly side streets and alleyways that he’d studied now for weeks. Gold knew all the details of this car, and he was notorious for keeping track of his soldiers, so Killian had to be prepared. Gold had a connection to the police department and an all access pass to their street-search camera grid. More than 90% of the city was hooked into this means of surveillance, but Killian had studied that grid for weeks, and by now knew how to avoid nearly every camera.

When he finally arrived at the drop site, he was certain that no one had followed him and he was confident his movements were not noted. He then moved to the side of the dilapidated building he’d parked behind and took out his supplies. He had a crowbar to remove the license plates, and a blasting gun to cut out all trackable VIN numbers and different parts identifiers. He eroded those trackable features and then took the gasoline can he’d hidden in this building days ago and doused the car. He lit the fucker up, and watched the flames rise. With a blaze this high there was always a risk, but he knew this was out of the way and the burn would hurt nothing and no one. In ten minutes enough damage would be done to destroy any evidence, but even that wasn’t enough. His contact’s men would be here tomorrow to drag the wreckage to impound and have it compacted. There’d be no trace left of this car for anyone to find.

When enough time had passed for Killian to be certain the blaze would stay strong enough to work, he walked half a mile to the nearest bus stop. He traveled five stops rather quickly given the time of night, and then walked another quarter mile to the warehouse where he was set to meet the man who could get him out of here. By the time he walked up to the back door, the timer he’d set on his watch buzzed. He was exactly on time, but from what he could tell, he was the first to arrive.

Moving forward, Killian saw the shoddy looking tarp along the back wall and smiled. He moved to the object with purpose and pulled off the covering to reveal his bike. Damn he’d missed the old girl. He couldn’t keep any trace of this motorcycle while on his quest for revenge, but he couldn’t bear to give her up. Call him sentimental, but this machine was too beautiful and capable to abandon. It was the first splurge he’d allowed himself when he got out of the service, and the closest key to freedom a man could possess. For a long time, this bike had been his greatest love in life. But remembering that fact struck him in the gut. Now that he thought about it, that was pretty pathetic. He had never really understood love until Emma, and this moment made that all too clear.

“Is this the part where you tell me you’re having second thoughts?” a voice asked from behind Killian and without turning he knew it was Will Scarlet, his ticket out of what would otherwise be a sticky situation. Killian cursed at his lack of attentiveness. For Will to be able to walk in here without him knowing was not good, even if Will was a specialist at doing exactly that.

“Never,” Killian replied, finally meeting his friend’s gaze.

“Well, if you’re going to righteously piss off the most powerful man in New York, you might as well have conviction,” Will joked. Killian couldn’t join him in the lightheartedness, because he understood that under the teasing tone was all truth. The Crocodile would be pissed, but it didn’t matter. He’d be weighed down in a trap too strong to break out of, and while he wrangled with the crumbling of his empire, Killian and Emma would break away once and for all.

“You get the files?” Will asked, his face searching for good news. Killian laughed and produced the small flash drive Will had given him a month ago. He tossed it across the room to Will’s waiting hands.

“Have I ever failed you?”

“Not once,” Will said truthfully. “Makes me happy you changed your mind on all this. I know this wasn’t your first plan.”

Will was hinting at Killian’s original intention, which was to kill Gold, not turn his allegiances to the feds. Once upon a time a legal take down of this monster had been considered deeply unsatisfying. The only thing Killian thought he would ever accept was the knowledge that Gold was dead and by his hands, but that all changed with Emma. He couldn’t have his revenge like that and have her too, for a multitude of reasons. For one thing, logistically he’d never survive an assassination against the Crocodile. The man was highly guarded with too many fail safes in place for it to be a clean and easy kill. For another, he’d never be able to look his sweet Swan in the eyes again if he killed in cold blood. He’d taken lives before, but never in vengeance. It was always for honor, to protect the living, not avenge the dead.

“Plans change.”

“That they do, especially when there’s love involved.”

Killian didn’t even try to argue with that assessment from Will. He made no attempt to hide his feelings for Emma. In fact, he’d been candid from the start. When he reconnected with Will three months ago, a few days after meeting his Swan, he was honest from the start. He would help to bring Gold in, but his price was absolute.

“Did you hold up your end of the bargain?”

“You know I did,” Will said, producing papers that Killian looked over, knowing they’d be burned in a matter of minutes.

They said everything he needed to see – official signed approval from a judge that he had total and full immunity from all actions he’d taken as a member of Gold’s crew. An exemption of identification from the impending trial, and a promise that he and Emma would never be called to testify. Their names were so far out of this, the FBI had no server that held their names. Will had told exactly no one who they were except the judge, and the judge was clean and able to be trusted.

“It didn’t hurt when he saw your military record,” Will admitted, causing Killian to flinch. No one was supposed to see that. His work was always too classified for anyone to know. “But don’t worry, all history of that being accessed were completely erased. I used data protection NSA couldn’t crack.”

“And the reward money?”

“The funds have all been wired to the specified account. Emma is the only one with access, all of it under her new last name.”

Killian lit the pages on fire, trusting all of this to be above board. He didn’t dare to take them with him as they were traveling and he knew Will would have deposited needed copies somewhere they’d be safe. In the meantime, Will produced a pouch with new passports and IDs as well as a stack of cash. Killian raised a brow at the money and Will shrugged.

“I wasn’t sure how much you were taking with you, and that’s 3 months of CI pay I never gave you. Maybe you can stay in some half decent places. Treat your girl to something better than a Motel 6.”

Killian didn’t bother arguing with Will. He didn’t need the money, he’d brought plenty already, and he had more than enough stashed back home. But he accepted Will’s generosity and knew he’d use it to spend on Emma. God knew she deserved it, and he would find a way to make her happy, providing him the only reward he could ever want.

“What’s the temperature looking like this evening?” Will asked, and Killian took the question for what it was – Will wanted to know how much heat Gold and his men would be packing.

“Six Hungarians, two Russians, and the Irishmen. Anywhere from four to seven. Gold will be there, but not his son.”

“Neal fall out of favor again?” Will asked.

“He’s leaky,” Killian said, repeating Gold’s exact words.

The irony was not lost on him – it was only though Gold’s son that Killian had managed to get access to the server Gold kept hold of containing all of his extensive blackmail accounts for decades. Even with that though, there had been a need for hacking the system and Killian had needed Neal to get that done. Gold’s son was given just enough to think he mattered, but nothing near the whole scope of any issue. Still, the bust was going to focus primarily on the things Gold’s son did know, and subsequent prosecutions of Gold and his allies would be explained away as revelations that came from those initial breadcrumbs.

“Can’t deny that. His big mouth is the bedrock of this whole case. Well at least it was, until this. I owe you for this, Killian.”

“And I owe you. Without you I couldn’t have done this. For Emma and for me.”

“Well, the bust goes down in thirty more minutes. And you’ve got places to be. Wouldn’t want to keep the little missus waiting,” Will said, and though the words slammed into Killian, he had to push through. If he wanted to make that title a reality for Emma, not just on the papers they’d been given, they had to get out of here. The stakes were too high for them to mess around.

With a last goodbye to Will, Killian revved up his motorcycle and shot out into the night. He had one last spot to go to, and he just prayed that when he got there Emma would be there safe and sound. It was a risk, what he was asking her to do tonight, but she was so damn smart and savy, and above all, she was a survivor. He had to believe that she could do this and that it would all go exactly as it should.

What if she was discovered leaving? He thought, as he got closer to their hideout. What if the Crocodile has somehow discovered our plan? Hell, what if she’s changed her mind, or if she’s realized that she is worth so much more than a man who bears the scarring of a criminal?

These thoughts plagued him as he raced to the abandoned garment factory that was ten blocks from The Lair. It was way too close for comfort, but just outside of Gold’s highly surveilled radius. Ten blocks in New York at night was a worrying trek for anyone, but for Emma, a ‘ward’ of Gold’s who owed a debt, it was potentially fatal. The fear at what might happen if she was caught grabbed hold of his heart, and when his anxiety was about to take him over, he heard the soft echo of Emma’s knock on the wooden door. It was a sound pattern only the two of them knew and his heart leapt in relief as he moved to let her in. When he saw her there on the other side of the door, safe and looking like she could hardly wait to go, Killian felt like the luckiest man alive.

“You’re here,” he whispered, pulling her into him, his arms encircling her and pulling her close so he could breathe her in and convince himself he hadn’t dreamed her up.

“Of course, I’m here,” replied sincerely, her hand coming up to cup his cheek as her eyes searched his. Her smile was the most beautiful thing the world over, as was the soft laugh she let escape in the fact of his needless worry. “You promised me forever, Killian, and I intend to collect.”

Her words pushed him to action, and without thought to the fact that they needed to get going as soon as could be, Killian kissed her. It wasn’t a tame expression of his love either, but a scintillating symbol of his unyielding devotion to Emma and her pleasure. He would live every day of his hopefully long life worshiping her and trying to make her see how much he loved her. She was a miracle – his saving grace – and if he could make her feel even a fraction of the joy and happiness she brought into his life he would be happy. All of that promise he threw into this kiss, and when they finally broke apart, Emma’s responding expression told him she’d understood him completely and that she wanted him just as much.

“Forever isn’t enough,” Killian said honestly. “No amount of time could ever be enough with you, Swan.”

“I know,” Emma whispered before pressing one last soft kiss against his lips. “So let’s not wait any more. Let’s go home.”

Killian loved the sound of that, and though he had to keep his wits about him as they left the city, Killian couldn’t recall ever being so happy. With Emma’s hand in his, he felt like the king of the world, and when they both got on his bike, with her body pressed tightly against his back as they sped off in the night, he knew he was invincible and that he’d do whatever it took to get them out of this darkness and towards a life truly worthy of his love.

Post-Note: So there we have it. I know that these first two chapters have been shorter. I think there’s a very good chance that the chapters will get longer as the story develops. I just wanted to get us out of the darkness before I really delve in. Next chapter we will also go back to Emma’s POV and we will get her perspective of what freedom means to her, and what she wants in a life post-Gold. I am still really excited for this story, and I think it’s offsetting my muse well. Going back and forth between this and ‘Feels This Way’ which is like the opposite story line, is awesome, and I hope it keeps me on a good path writing wise. Anyway, I want to thank you all so much for reading. I would love to hear what you think, and as always, hope this chapter finds you well and enjoying your weekend!

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs angst #cs au #emma swan #killian jones #will scarlet #the whole storybrooke gang #ouat fic #cs mc au #cs mc #cs motorcycle club au #when we collide #when we collide au #when we collide 2

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krinsbez · 5 years

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GI Joe: Remixed, Grootslang

Grootslang (named after a monstrous serpent from South African folklore) is Cobra Commander’s elite personal goon squad. While technically members of the Crimson Guard, in reality. they answer only to CC and Croc Master (whom we have made CC’s chief of security, and one day I hope to do a post about him)

It comprises (note, everything that follows was created by Night_stalker, I am just porting it to tumblr)...

Name: Alexander Popov Codename: Apep DOB: August 12, 1987 Former Affiliation: Russian Spetsnaz, 45th Guards Independent Reconnaissance Battalion Specialty: Long Range Threat Neutralization Orientation: Hetero. Bio: Originally studying to be an art student, he joined the Army after times got rather tough, financially. Discovering a talent for sniping, he was slotted into Spetsnaz soon after joining. However, Popov was discharged after an op in Ukraine went South, involving considerable amounts of property damage and civilian casualties. More worrying for the Russians was the fact that apparently, some news crews caught the incident on TV, which is what really caused the tea cups to rattle in Moscow. As the highest ranked survivor of the incident, he was given a inquest, blamed, shown the door, and told to not come back. Intel suggests that the verdict was contested, heavily so, behind closed doors. Dissatisifed with the world, and lacking any family or friends, he wandered the globe, utilizing his sharpshooting skills to pay the bar tabs he racked up along the way. While passing through Eastern Europe, he was hired on for security at a party where The Baroness was attending. Apparently, she stormed off to one of the art galleries to distract herself, and they got to chatting about art. She offered him a spot in Cobra, and his skills, combined with her endorsement earned him a spot in the best of the best. Hobbies: Sharpshooting, Art collection/appreciation, Painting (Models and oil paintings).

Name: Carol Spencer Codename: Crotalus DOB: December 2, 1987 Former Affiliation: Central Intelligence Agency Special Activities Center, Special Operations Group Specialty: Counterintelligence Orientation: Bisexual Bio: Born as a Army brat bouncing around internationally, Carol picked up quite a few things. A knack for languages, a inability to take shit from anyone, friends all over the place, and most of all, a searing hatred for her abusive father. So naturally, on her 18th birthday, her idea of celebrating was a punch to his nose and a quick trip over to the Marine recruiter's office. Couple tours of duty later, Carol was all but ready to retire from being a jarhead, or at least ready to take some leave. Alas, a spook from the State Department disagreed, and naturally, pressed the matter. Shockingly, she fit right in there, a fact which shocked both her and her superiors. After awhile though, she started having ethical qualms about what they were doing. Too much red in her ledger, she felt. She wanted out, and was willing to go to the press over the matter. Alas, hindsight says you probably should sweep your house for bugs before making appointments with a reporter. She walked into that cafe a decorated hero, a scion of a long military family. She ran out of there a wanted criminal, with her former co-workers in hot pursuit. Shockingly, when you burn someone, they tend to want revenge. In this case, it meant Cobra. She'd only heard whispers about them, but that was reason enough for her to seek them out. Trading some of her evidence for a job, she parlayed her honed talents into a rapid ascension up the ranks. Hobbies: Learning new languages, Ham radio, Photography, Geocaching, and Acting.

Name: Eline Luiten Codename: Echinda DOB: January 14, 1983 Former Affiliation: Penose Specialty: Demolitions Orientation: Lesbian. Bio: Born into a family of criminals, Eline grew up not wishing to follow in her parents footsteps. Instead, she was interested in becoming a chemical engineer, and going straight. However, after she got her degree, the Recession happened, and being a recent hire, was let go. Desperate to pay off student loans, she went right back to her family, and was welcomed in with open arms. Turning her talents to more lucractive lines of work, she soon fell back into her old ways, manufacturing drugs and on occasion more exotic materials. Soon, her talents shifted from making ectasy and heroin into making RDX and other substances. This tied in nicely with her changing politics, leading her into more radical steps. This was a rather bad idea, as the Dutch police were closing in on her, and the family wasn't going to stick their necks out for a radical. So she was forced to flee, literally barely making it out the window of her workspace before a team of BSB operatives kicked down her front door. Now on the run with little to lose and a burning hatred of the government, she drifted, until Cobra gave her a chance at revenge. Hobbies: Political commentary, Urban Exploration, Parkour, and Debating.

Name: Lily Shen Codename: Lamia DOB: Redacted Former Affiliation: Section G, Division 4, Hong Kong Police Department Specialty: Close Protection Orientation: Hetero. Bio: Born to British ExPats in Hong Kong, Lily grew up in a orderly household. So naturally, she joined the police force as soon as she got old enough. There, she developed a hobby for martial arts, which suited her fiery temperament just fine, and helped earn her a transfer into the VIP Protection unit. People were whispering that she was on the fast track to being a captain, if not higher. However, those plans were derailed. A corruption scandal occurred, and some of her political opponents used it to force her out of the department. The fact that her attitude was rather fiery at best didn't help matters anyway. Left without a job, and feeling betrayed by the organization she'd worked at for years, she remembered a old contact she'd made over in Japan, and gave him a call. Storm Shadow was rather surprised to get a contact from Shen, but agreed to put her in contact with a recruiter, seeing the value in having a former police officer on the payroll. From there, she was rapidly promoted to the Crimson Guard, where she fit right on in. Hobbies: Meditation, Martial arts, Blackjack (Chinese and conventional), and Parkour.

Name: Filip Tadych Codename: Perun DOB: June 19th, 1983 Former Affiliation: JW GROM Specialty: General Combat Orientation: Het Bio: Filip was born back in the final days of the Polish People's Republic, which caused considerable gaps in his records to emerge. The first concrete records that Cobra has access to suggests he joined the Polish Army at the age of 18, and after a couple of years, was transferred into GROM where he excelled in the high stress environment. However, he soon wound up being shown the door, when some rather unsettling political ties were uncovered, mostly through friends and some distant family members. While he himself didn't actually express any of them, he was still asked to leave the army. Furious, he became a solider of fortune, wherein he made a few contacts, the most important of which was one Apep, who he wound up in a bar brawl with in Tunisa. Once the local police arrived though, they promptly joined up and proceeded to smack down the cops and flee. The resulting 9 hour drive to the border did actually make them fairly solid friends. Hobbies: Tennis, Baking, dart throwing, and rock stacking.

Name: Karena LesProux Codename: Orleans DOB: February 18th, 1979 Former Affiliation: 11th Parachute Brigade, French Army Specialty: Tactics Orientation: Formerly Het (Married, 2 children), currently Bi, dating Nina of Crimson Guard Bio: Karena had it all, a loving husband, a solid army career, and two wonderful children. However, that was all a sham, as her husband was an artist as he called himself, while Karena called him a drunken slob, as well as other, more insulting terms. This was usually about the time he attacked her, so as one can imagine, their relationship was not very solid. Karena endured it for two solid reasons. The first being that, as her drunken asshat of a husband was the son of a prominent politician, she would be subjected to quite a bit of harassment from him and his ilk. The second reason was her children, who she loved very much. So she endured the fists and occasional rolling pin thrown her way, bottling up her rage deep inside. One night, that all changed. Instead of going after her, he made a move towards the kids room, while still holding a rolling pin. According to her, she saw red, and next thing she knew, her husband was lying on the ground, dead, with a steak knife sticking out of his throat. While her first instinct was to call the police, something stopped her. Namely, that she was likely going to be convicted of murder, and sent away to prison, as well as separated from her beloved children. So instead, she made a call to a former coworker she had run into while serving in the French Army. Meanwhile, in a Terror-Dome near the Med, Turul's ringtone went off, as luck would have it, in the middle of a rather boring meeting. One rapid conversation later, he was booking a flight out to his homeland, and she was packing up the kids to go visit "Uncle Francois" in Nice for a few days. Surprisingly, she fit right in with Cobra, while her kids were off in a nice high quality daycare, she was in a environment she loved dearly. In fact, if anything, she loved it more, knowing she wasn't going to have to hold herself back in the field any more. Hobbies: Wine tasting, Clay Sculpting, The Werewolves of Millers Hollow, and Knitting.

(These were the first sets of OCs Night_stalker created for us, though the last two were edited in later, which is why they don’t quite fit and mention other OCs)

#GI Joe #GI Joe: Remixed #GI Joe Fanfic

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elliepassmore · 6 years

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Six of Crows Review

5/5 stars Recommended for people who like: fantasy, multiple POVs, heist stories, morally grey characters, diversity

Bardugo's writing has definitely improved between writing the Grisha Trilogy and this duology. There's more diversity of character, better plot continuity, and the stakes feel higher. Not to mention, the world building re: Kerch and Fjerda is amazing.

The novel starts being narrated by a young member of the city guard, and it's here we're introduced to the thing driving the plot: jurda parem. Parem can make Grisha--magic-users, for those who didn't read the Grisha trilogy first (you don't need to and I don't recommend it)--do fantastic, impossible things. Of course, this means the government wants Parem to be kept under wraps. Enter the Dregs, a street gang led by Kaz Brekker, the antihero (antivillian?) with a bum leg and a knack for getting out of tight spots. The Dregs are hired to break into the most secure place in the world, the Fjerdan Ice Court, and kidnap the scientist who invented Parem, bring him back to Ketterdam, and hand him over to the Council to keep him hidden. It's a fascinating set-up. A street-gang performing a high risk heist to kidnap a scientist? Sign me up. But beyond that, the plot opens up so many of the doors Bardugo utilizes for character-arcs and world-building.

Kaz Brekker is not a hero and he's definitely not the sort of person you'd want to run into...probably ever. In the slums of Ketterdam, referred to in the novel as the 'Barrel,' he's known as Dirtyhands. He's a master lock pick and practically leads the Dregs. Due to an accident a few years before the novel starts, he also walks with a cane and a perpetual limp. He's questionably moral, with the question more being 'does he have any?' more than 'you need to reevaluate that particular moral gap.' That's not to say he's necessarily a bad guy--albeit most of what he does is for money and revenge, but--he is one of the protagonists of the story, and he clearly cares for the members of his gang, even if he 1) doesn't show it, and 2) gets frustrated with them a lot. In the beginning of the story he definitely comes across as more uncaring than toward the end, and we sort of get to know why as the book progresses.

Inej Ghafa is a spy for the Dregs, contracted to them after Kaz got her out of a rough situation in one of the pleasure houses, which left some obvious trauma--this all occurs before the novel begins. She's one of the characters with the most straight morals. She's an ex-Suli acrobat who grew up in Ravka before she was kidnapped and brought to Ketterdam, and she uses those skills to scale walls, run across rooftops, and do otherwise gravity-defying tasks for the Dregs. Inej might be my favorite character of the bunch. She doesn't want to kill people, but she's unafraid to when it comes down to it, and has a collection of knives she named after Suli Saints. Her character growth in this book goes from 'not sure what I'll do with my life after this heist' (which will give each member $4 million) to following a Suli proverb "the heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true" (311) and deciding she wants to hunt slavers.

Jesper Fahey is a Zemeni sharpshooter for the Dregs and a notorious gambler more adept at losing than winning. As good as he is with guns, he gets the group into a bit of trouble with the latter bit. Jesper always feels the need to move and the feeling he gets shooting or gambling helps fulfill that need. Despite the trouble, Jesper also saves the group several times using his sharpshooting skills. He's also hilarious and has a pretty big heart, he worries and asks after each of the characters, and I really like his relationships with the others. Bardugo definitely wrote him caring about others well, showing that sometimes there are fault lines in that, such as how he cares so much about Kaz and what he thinks that it sometimes impacts how he feels about himself or when he's so worried about *SEMI-SPOILER* Inej *SEMI-SPOILER END* after they're shot he can barely stand to be in the same room until they're recovered almost completely. There's a secret Jesper is holding onto that largely drives his arc in this book. Admittedly, his arc is more static than the others in this book, it mainly sets up for the complete arc in the second one.

Nina Zenik is a Heartrender Grisha from Ravka who made some bad decisions that landed her working for the Dregs in Ketterdam. She's the most bubbly of the group and loves to eat. A lot of her actions are driven by either trying to right her wrongs or trying to protect her country and people; so she's not exactly moral but she's definitely righteous. She's also a really funny character and the only one who really continuously, blatantly challenges Kaz throughout the novel, though the other characters do so in more subtle ways. I feel that a lot of the success of the heist ties into Nina and her abilities. For one, she has to be able to use her abilities to break in/out of a prison, make Matthias look like someone else, to erase the identifying gang tattoos some of the group has, subdue prison guards, subdue regular guards, basically take out an entire army, and *SPOILER* disguise Wylan *SPOILER END*. She does most of it without complaint, though that's not to say she's a pushover, she's definitely strong willed and opinionated, which, as stated earlier, means she's not worried about challenging the different characters' opinions and actions. A lot of her arc also occurs in the second novel and not so much this one.

Wylan Van Eck is their Ketterdam-born demolitions expert and bargaining chip. He's also decent with drawing and coming up with ideas on the sly. Wylan is definitely the baby of the group in terms of experience, but he makes up for it in his quick-thinking and seeming infinite supply of explosive materials. Surprisingly, despite his lack of a criminal upbringing and being the newest to the group, he doesn't really have many qualms about a lot of what occurs, though when he does he raises a bit of a ruckus about it. That seems to be his main arc in this book, and it's relatively easy to track; in the beginning, he has quite a few issues with pick-pocketing, but later on he's the one to suggest to Jesper to wake up guards before they kill them if it'll make the other boy feel better about it. It's not so much a devolution of morals as much as a rearranging of morals, so to say.

Finally, Matthias Helvar the Fjerdan ex-drüskelle (Grisha hunter) and the crew's way to know Ice Court. Matthias maybe has the most character growth out of all of them. He goes from essentially being a ranked murderer to someone who understands Grisha aren't evil and that the hate spouted by the drüskellen order is wrong. He's another character who has a strong moral compass, though his comes off as more righteous and 'look down my nose' than Inej's does. He comes off as cruel in the beginning, but almost immediately it's obvious he has a heart and a conscience under the drüskellen mask--at least for anyone not Grisha.

The relationships between the characters are all complicated, which makes them feel real. The way they bump and sharpen each other's edges and then soothing them back down makes them feel very much like a family, even though some of them--Wylan and Matthias--are newer members. Each of the characters also has their own intricacies and tics. Each of them also offers great representation for readers--Jesper is black and has ADHD and is bi, Inej is portrayed as looking Arabic or Persian and has PTSD, Nina is fat and also likely bi, Wylan has dyslexia and gay, Kaz walks with a permanent limp and is touch-averse (likely has PTSD too), Matthias has to fight against the hate that was taught to him, and the semi-surprise character who comes in later is portrayed as being East Asian, likely Chinese or Korean--and it's all written as being normal.

Bardugo also did a good job of building Ketterdam and Fjerda as a world I could see and rules I could understand. The way the Barrel was described allowed me to really be in the moment with the characters when they were at the docks or the Slat (Dreg HQ), that I could feel the chill of the ice in Fjerda or the fear of being in the Ice Court prison. You can also tell, from the way Bardugo built the places and the languages, that she paid a lot of attention to history and real countries and languages when creating the world of SoC. Kerch, the language, is loosely based on an older form of Dutch, and Ketterdam is based on pre-/ante-Industrial Revolution trading cities of the Netherlands. Fjerda is likely based on the Nordic countries, though I couldn't begin to say which language Fjerdan resembles, maybe a mix of them. Anyway, the point is that the world feels real, as if you could really crack open a textbook and read about Kerch or Fjerda alongside countries like France and Germany.

The characters were obviously a driving point of the story, but that's not to say there isn't plenty of action, because there is. Likewise, the plot is well thought out and has plenty of twists and turns to keep readers interested and guessing, though you might guess some of the things that occur beforehand.

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queenofthecommunistcannibals · 8 years

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Wolf 359 Head Canons - Part V: Alexander Hilbert

My least favorite character, but I still have many thoughts

Part I: Daniel Jacobi, Part II: Alana Maxwell, Part III: Doug Eiffel, Part IV: Warren Kepler

Hilbert...

1) ...Had other siblings, but they died before he could properly form memories of them. The same is true for his parents. For most of his early life it was just him and Olga.

2) ...several years younger than Olga. He was nine when she died, she was 11.

3) ...Rarely left Olga’s bedside. He did not see the exact moment of her death, however. He had been asleep. He was still in the hospital but was sleeping next to the nurses’s station.

4) ...Was largely ignored by everyone but Olga. Olga tried to act as a replacement mother as well as sister after their parents died. But she was’t well enough to do so. Not even the doctors and people who ran the orphanage he was forced to live in actually paid much attention to him, there just weren’t the resources or the time to waste on a relatively healthy child.

5) ...Hasn’t had hair since he lost it from the radiation. He doesn’t have eyebrows as such, but sort of the thin outlines of them.

6) ...Is in his late 50s or early 60s, regardless of if he had survived this mission or not, regardless of whether or not Cutter had let him come home, this would have to be his last mission to space. It’s also at least his third. Before the Hephaestus he was on another station. He had a different name for every single mission. Like the other members of the Hephaestus and Urania crews Dimitri Vologin is dead, but he has been since 1990.

7) ...Has never had a sexual or romantic relationship, largely asexual and aromantic. However this is mostly by circumstance because he’s buried himself so deeply in his work and is so traumatized by losing his family.

8) ...Has had his own distorted romantic/sexual feelings for men. He was very attracted to his research partner, Viktor Stukov, which was why he let him in on his research at all. But it wasn’t something he ever properly understood, pursued, or in any way displayed. Stukov probably didn’t even realize he was Vologin’s friend. This was the only time he felt romantic attraction to anyone.

9) ...Showed his attraction (more sexual than romantic) more horrifically, later on. He did so in choosing, infecting, and caring for his Decima subjects (after Fisher died he chose Lambert and Hui, leaving Fourier out). He never realized doing it for any reason. To his own mind he was just picking victims.

(This is probably me delving WAAAY too deep into psychoanalysis. But hear me out, I used my Literary Theory skillz for this [and I bitch that my English degree isn’t useful]. So he injects this thing, this virus that is basically his terrible child, into someone so they can carry it and incubate it, as if it were a literal fetus/baby. Then Hilbert’s with them all the time as the subject sickens. He cares for them. He’s there at the moment of their deaths. It’s this weird creepy intimacy that he couldn’t explain to you if he tried. And as much as I dislike Heiffel they do have a connection, a creepy rapey connection that Hilbert created.)

10) ...Didn’t know about Jacobi and Maxwell because no one outside of SI-5 knows anyone in SI-5. Everyone knows SI-5 exists although everything they know about it is whispers and rumors.

11) ...Is low on the totem pole. He used to be held in much higher regard, but as the years went by and Decima failed to work Cutter lost patience and Hilbert sunk down the ranks.

12) ...’s best friend, the best friend he ever had, was Lovelace. Obviously all the murder ruined that. He desperately wants to rekindle that connection with her even though he knows it’s hopeless. Lovelace is only one of two people Hilbert let himself get close to after Olga’s death. Selberg and Lovelace were extremely close and how much she hates him now does cut him very deeply.

13) ...Sees a lot of himself in Lovelace, a him forty or so years ago, but a him none-the-less. Driven, passionate, hungry for revenge (on death in his case), and willing to do anything to get what he/she wants.

14) ...Doesn’t know exactly what Cutter wants to do with Decima.

15) ...Is around 5′7″ but has terrible posture from constantly leaning over lab tables, making him look even shorter.

16) ...Did use a high voice while pretending to be Alexander Hilbert, mad but benign scientist, dropped it when he showed his true colors. It was also a new idea, using it to separate his new identity from his older ones. He never used the high voice as Selberg. Ignoring that in “Memoria” Hera remembers him with the low voice during that first Thanksgiving.

#Alexander Hilbert #Wolf 359 #head canon #my posts

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decaymagic · 6 years

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THE DAUGHTER OF THE SEA.

NAME. cordelia vega. TITLES / OTHER. captain death. captain c/sea. that cruel bitch. death’s knife. the ocean’s wrath.

DATE OF BIRTH. unknown. she’s practically a myth at this point. PLACE OF BIRTH. the ocean.

SPECIES. half human, half qunari, however no one knows that besides her. she claims human, and looks human. however, her qunari blood does make her a more powerful mage than most humans. GENDER. gender neutral (she/they), they exclusively when referring to vengeance. SEXUALITY. aroflux bisexual.

LANGUAGE(S). common. antivian. rivaini. orlesian. very few words in qunlat, tevene and evlen.

HEIGHT. 6'1". HAIR. black, silky, EYES. golden yellow. if vengeance is in control, glowing white.

NOTABLE MARK(S). when sailing, she has a skull painted over her face. TATTOO(S). enchanted compass tattoo on the back of her left hand that helps her always know which direction is north, and where her ship is. an octopus on her chest. twin sea serpents climbing up her biceps. a line of ships, all different, with thirteen in total, circling around her thigh. some look like warships, trade ships, pirate ships, even a row boat.

CURRENT RESIDENCE. the open sea. LIVING CONDITIONS. her ship, the sea’s wrath. OCCUPATION. pirate.

OTHER. walks like a queen and with the grace of a snake.

FAMILY. captain marcus garcez, father, deceased. marianna garcez, mother, deceased. luke garcez, brother, deceased. sickra garcez, sister, deceased. jesus vega, husband, deceased.

THE STORYTELLER.

NAME. dee dee song. TITLES/OTHER. storyteller. bright eyes. dee.

LANGUAGE(S). common. antivian. riviani. orlesian. random words in other languages. jokingly boasts that she knows “water” in elven.

CIRCUMSTANCES OF JOINING THE INQUISITION. as inquisitor: she goes into the conclave posing as a prisoner of a band of mercenaries, complete with a cloak that covers most of her body, bloody, bound wrists and bruises from a beating she had her crew give her to make it convincing. she’s a good liar, and everyone believes her, especially after seeing her swollen, scabbed lip and black eye. as companion: meeting the inquisitor in the storm coast in the space between bull’s meeting and the blades of hessarian, hiding in one of the destroyed huts, shivering, cold and frightened. as before, she looks like she’s been a prisoner, and has taken a beating and is extremely cold when found. she joins as a storyteller rogue.

VENGEANCE.

NAME. vengeance. TITLES/OTHER. none.

LANGUAGES: common, antivian, riviani, orlesian, elven, tevene, qunlat, ancient languages that no one speaks anymore.

CIRCUMSTANCES OF JOINING WITH CORDELIA: after she is left chained to a rock to drown as high tide comes in, vengeance comes to her out of the depths of the fade to offer her salvation and revenge, as well as justice. joining together, they share control over her body, but cordelia has more power over vengeance than most possessed beings do. whenever vengeance assumes some power, it’s an even split down her body, vengeance’s power making half her body light up in runes and makes her eye glow with bright white light. vengeance amplifies her power over water, making it possible for her to summon large waves, control storms and cast much stronger spells in general, but especially lightning spells.

BACKSTORY.

born into one of the more vicious families of pirates on the sea, cordelia was practically sentenced to death from the day she was born. the product of an affair that her father suspected and her mother despised, since the man was a tal-vasoth qunari that she slept with when extremely intoxicated, nothing was easy from her first breath.

perhaps luckily, she never cried. from infancy into her days of learning to walk on a ship, a single tear was never shed. it was likely the only thing that kept either of her parents from bashing in her head.

she was an excellent student, learned faster than her two siblings, and with her worth established, her parents decided to keep her alive and use her. when she learned to speak effectively, her parents discovered she always knew which way they were going. always remembered which way they’d just come from, and where they had to go. she had magic, and they knew it. and she instantly became their best tool. briefly, they treated her better. fed her more. hit her less. hated her less. but of course, people take what they have for advantage. by the time she was eighteen, she was treated the worst of her siblings, but the most was expected of her. the crew was often sympathetic, as she was immensely charming and beautiful, despite her poor diet. she treated them well, when her parents and siblings were cruel. she made them laugh at meals when they weren’t looking, offered them quiet support when things were hard, and most of the crew loved her, but their pity and sympathy only went so far, as they never dared to act out. knowing her family, she didn’t expect them to. she only wanted their support.

she was nineteen when they were attacked by an enemy formidable enough to take them down. instead of sinking their ship, the captain and crew boarded, tied them all up and informed them they would be sold as slaves and their supplies were to be seized. her cordelia’s father, captain marcus, immediately began bargaining for their lives. nothing interested him, until cordelia was brought up, fighting, and her father’s eyes lit up. ’ her! ’ he shouted, indicating her with his head as much as he could with his eyes and ankles bound.

grinning wickedly, jesus looks suddenly interested. ’ i like her hair, ’ he declares, picking up a few silky locks between his fingers, letting is slide through when she fights against him and the two men trying to contain her.

’ she can nagivate! anywhere! and she has magic! lightning! storms! ‘

raising an eyebrow, his interest increases, leaning forward to try and look at her eyes. ’ is that so? ‘

both crews gasp when she rears back and slams her forehead into his face, his tooth cutting her forehead and knocking out one of his bottom teeth. jesus laughs, spitting his bloody tooth into his palm and pocketing it, as if planning to save it (he does). ’ feisty! and strong. magic, you said? prove it. ‘

’ girl, which way is north? ’ her father shouts.

immediately, answering without thinking out of nineteen years of habit, she looks north, eyes intently fixed on the horizon. ’ that way. ‘

’ ha! ’ jesus laughed, grabbing her face in his hands to try and keep her still. blowing air through her nose like a stubborn stallion trying to be tamed, he grins, spinning back to her father. ’ deal! ’

her mother nearly cries out in relief, and cordelia’s shoulders drop, breathing hard. ’ no. ’

her father’s eyes narrow, hissing. ’ yes. you’re just a fucking compass. we’ll be happy without you. ’

the crew looks torn, their loyalties suddenly pushed. a few, mostly younger members of the crew say they’ll join cordelia. her father practically screeches in outrage, but the four volunteers are immediately picked up and carried to jesus’ ship. intrigued further, jesus waves his men off to take them onto his ship. yelling and fighting like a mountain lion, it takes three more men to fully contain and carry her off. he watches her with an air of absolute curiosity and delight.

turning back to her father, jesus practically skips forward before kicking him in the face, stealing every jewel on him and stomping on his groin just for fun. his crew returns to his ship, leaving all of them tied up and shoots several holes into the hull.

brought to his ship, jesus has them set sail before he does anything else. pulling a knife, cordelia has to be held by multiple people as he tries to reassure her he’s not going to stab her, and gets her still long enough to cut her ropes. everyone immediately backs away as quickly as they can, and it’s only the sight of her crew mates being freed that makes her stop.

’ i’d love to make you all part of my crew, ’ jesus says, taking a seat on a barrel. and he does. brutal, unforgiving, and with enough charm to rival cordelia’s, he puts her into an odd space, using her as his navigator with full trust, and flirting continuously. he’s by no means good to her, or her crew mates, but better than her family was.

four months later, jesus “proposes” to cordelia. there’s no rejecting his proposal without getting thrown overboard or beaten, and she knows that if she doesn’t make her way higher into the ranks somehow, she’ll never have any power of her own. she agrees. the wedding is nothing special, done on the ship, and the paperwork that ties their livelihoods together is done the next time they dock. the paperwork is done to effectively bind cordelia to him forever. however, married to him, she instantly becomes second in command, their only reliable navigator, and mage. she helps keep storms less damaging than they would without her, and the crew and jesus begin to trust her with their lives.

he doesn’t anticipate that she’ll use their wedding binds to claim all of his property upon his death. the plan gains momentum over the next few months at sea with the crew, as her four allies get closer to her and she’s able to get to know and get several more crew members more on her side than jesus’.

backstory to be continued.

INTRODUCTORY.

GIVEN NAME. veronica sawyer.

TITLES / NICKNAMES / OTHER. ronnie.

AGE. 18 at times of musical events.

PLACE OF BIRTH. sherwood, ohio.

SPECIES. human.

GENDER. cis female ( she/her ).

SEXUALITY.

LANGUAGES. english. some where necromancy shit that she doesn’t know how she learned.

OCCUPATION. college student.

CURRENT RESIDENCE. traveling/college that fits the thread’s location.

LIVING CONDITIONS. suv that she lives within/dorm room.

FAMILY: living mother and father.

* OUTWARD.

HEIGHT. 5'1"

BODY TYPE. pair shaped. thick thighs and wide hips.

HAIR. wavy brown.

EYES. brown.

NOTABLE MARKS. faint burn scars on her legs and arms from where she shielded her face when the bomb went off.

OTHER.

* INWARD.

MENTAL HEALTH: severe ptsd. maybe something else, since she sees her dead best friend and the two guys she accidentally killed with her boyfriend.

* INTRODUCTORY.

GIVEN NAME. vanya hargreeves.

TITLES / OTHER. number seven. the white violin.

AGE. twenty - eight

PLACE OF BIRTH. october 1st, 1989.

SPECIES. human.

GENDER. cis female ( she/her ).

SEXUALITY. lesbian.

LANGUAGES. english. french. music.

OCCUPATION. violin tutor.

LIVING CONDITIONS. decent apartment.

FAMILY: sir reginald hargreeves, adoptive father, deceased. luther hargreeves, adoptive brother, alive. diego hargreeves, adoptive brother, alive. allison hargreeves, adoptive sister, alive. klaus hargreeves, adoptive brother, alive. number five, adoptive brother, alive. ben hargreeves, adoptive brother, deceased. claire, adoptive niece, alive.

* OUTWARD.

HEIGHT. 5'2".

HAIR. chest length, brown, wavy.

EYES. brown. white.

OTHER. occasionally taps fingers along to whatever song is stuck in her head. leg bounces when nervous or restless.

* INWARD.

MENTAL HEALTH: damaged. undiagnosed depression. medicated to keep her powers hidden.

GIVEN NAME. dominic lleene.

NICKNAMES. dom, nick, nicky, mini (only by john, usually), bear cub (nickname from his mother).

AGE. 40.

PLACE OF BIRTH. denver, colorado.

SPECIES. human.

GENDER. demiboy (he/them).

SEXUALITY. pansexual/romantic.

LANGUAGES. english. american sign language.

OCCUPATION. volunteers at a relatively nearby animal shelter until movement from hope county is cut off. sometimes plays gigs for fun more than money.

CURRENT RESIDENCE. hope county, montana.

LIVING CONDITIONS. three-room house on the edge of hope county.

FAMILY: deceased parents, no siblings.

* OUTWARD.

HEIGHT. 6'5.

BODY TYPE. mostly muscle, healthy and very in shape.

HAIR. dark brown into a lighter blonde shade. an inch or two past his shoulders.

EYES. blue.

NOTABLE MARKS. covered in tattoos. small, fading scars scattered on his face from the bomb that damaged his eyes.

OTHER. fully blind. scarred, callused hands. pierced ears. always with at least one of his four dogs. plays piano and sings.

* ANIMALS.

DOGS:

note: all of his dogs are trained to stay with him. they only run off or around when given permission, and run back to him directly upon seeing another person.

mabel/miss mabel, (7 years old, black lab, she/her) his seeing eye dog. definite alpha of the pack. leads erin to wherever dominic tells her to take them. the other dogs look to her for instruction and how to behave. calmest, and in charge of keeping the dogs in line.

jack, (5 years old, doberman shepard mix, he/him) a trained therapy dog for his ptsd and stress, as well as a help for those he knows. also very calm, but can the younger two can occasionally get him to play with them. the definite protector of the pack and dominic.

freya, (2 years old, welsh corgi, she/her) a stray dog that was abandoned when her owner moved out of the city. is shockingly fast for her size. hates being picked up by anyone that isn’t dominic. sometimes rides in a little pouch when they all go for a horse ride.

lady, (2 years old, baseji greyhound mix, she/her) got her when a neighbor’s dog had puppies and couldn’t take care of them all. raised her practically from birth with mabel’s help, who adopted her when dominic brought her home. still acts like a puppy. very excitable and very protective of dominic.

coco, (8 months old, german shepard mix, she/her) ran from her abusive home and ate the food on dominic’s porch until she became comfortable with him and stayed to live with him. extremely playful with the other dogs, like a puppy is, but very, very timid around strangers. mostly hides between/behind dom’s legs until she warms up to the person and feels comfortable.

CAT:

blessing, (10 years, black, she/her) has had her the longest or any of his animals. shortly after his first seeing eye dog died, she showed up at his house, asleep on top of the dog food bin. dom adopted her the third time she came around and meowed outside his window until he let her in. she loves being near him, and almost always is, either in his sweatshirt pocket, on his shoulder, around his neck, in a bag he carries specifically for her, or otherwise glued to him. doesn’t care much for other people, but loves kids and elderly.

HORSE:

erin (5 years old, dappled grey, he/him) since he can’t drive and there’s mostly dirt roads in hope county, dominic uses him primarily for when he has to go anywhere. he’s lead, always, by mabel, who knows where dominic wants to go based on which location he tells her.

* INWARD.

MENTAL HEALTH: ptsd, but fairly sound of mind.

* BACKSTORY

from a young age, dominic showed massive potential. from a young age, his parents surrounded him with music. his mother was a famous pianist, and his father had played guitar in a semi-famous band. both quit touring when dominic went into kindergarten, and only performed if he could come with them. he took to piano like a dog to a bone, having fallen in love with the instrument before he could talk. guitar was like a second language, learning it at the same time as english.

as he got older, dominic became more interested in sports. he played football from a young age, and by high school, he was already a star player. he had excellent grades. he was smart as hell. his college career was set up.

but when dominic was seventeen, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time when a car bomb was set off in the middle of a street, debris blinding him. forced to drop out of high school to recover and relearn how to navigate the world. from a rich family, he was able to get excellent blind therapy, cane and seeing eye dog.

determined, dominic took several years to relearn the world and braille. at twenty three and still learning braille, he got his high school degree with the help of his past teachers. a year of hard work later, he applied and got accepted into college, where he became roommates with john seed. not into his vices, dominic did enjoy his company greatly, and was often seen walking john back to their dorm, or carrying him over his shoulder if passed out.

college was enjoyable. he took several classes he didn’t need simply because his family could afford them and wanted him to study what he wanted. about two years into college and finished with the basic core classes, he found music again. he’d thought he’d have to give up music the same way he had to give up sports, but muscle memory, feeling and his hearing surprised him. he began taking more classes on music instead of sensible subjects, and his parents were not only supportive, but delighted. joy came back into dominic’s life in a big way, and he found he didn’t have to relearn guitar and piano the way he had to learn english. he began to learn how to read music through braille, and his good memory truly came in handy when he started having to remember pieces if he wanted to play them without having to stop and read them each time. dominic devoted all of his attention to one song until he could play it backwards and forwards from memory alone. then he’d move on to another song. on piano, he usually tried to learn songs that were more difficult, but guitar was a comfort, something that he could sing with and feel a little calmer and happier with. less pressure. he performed at parties at college, sometimes getting bigger gigs through his parents or from being spotted on his own. he didn’t need the money, but he loved performing, and the money he got helped him not rely on his parents, as well. there weren’t many people interested in hiring a blind giant of a man with a music degree in progress.

finishing college was a relief and a grief. he moved back home briefly until his first seeing eye dog, gold, died. everything he owned and house smelled like gold, and couldn’t stand having lost his best friend. months into the planning of moving to montana, blessing found him, and he found a comfort that wasn’t music once again.

his mother died a few weeks before he turned twenty eight, and his father a few days later. dominic believes that without his mother, his father died of a broken heart. inheriting all of their estate and money, dominic sold their home in colorado and finally fled to hope county.

he arrived two years before eden’s gate.

* INFO.

dominic’s house is an agreed untouchable zone for violence. both sides respect his space about half a mile away from the edge of john’s territory and a few miles from the beginning of faith’s territory.

lone before the collapse finally begins, it’s agreed that he’s to be left alone. the switzerland of hope county. neither the cult or the resistance tries to claim him, and both sides still come to his home to visit without harming each other if they come across each other on his property. no one really knows when this agreement came to be, but no one dares break it.

when things started to turn for the worst, people began to seek him out for protection. people harmed by the cult or the resistance with nowhere to turn, they would turn up on his doorstep, oftentimes injured and homeless. over time, he learned as much first aid as a blind man can provide and harbors people until they continue to flee from hope county. often, people take the air horn he kept to scare off various animals and uses it to alert him that someone’s being dropped at the edge of his property.

for the most part, dominic’s content to be the randomly met by lost souls and live off what he has left until the end.

* INTRODUCTORY.

GIVEN NAME. ( REDACTED ) “q” whitmore.

TITLES / OTHER. q, snake, demon of hope county.

AGE. 34.

PLACE OF BIRTH. bozeman, montana.

SPECIES. human.

GENDER. nonbinary. ( she/they. )

SEXUALITY. bisexual / aromantic.

LANGUAGES. english. american sign language.

OCCUPATION. junior deputy for the hope county sheriff’s department.

CURRENT RESIDENCE. hope county, montana.

LIVING CONDITIONS. shitty apartment somewhere in montana, or equally shitty hotel rooms.

FAMILY: deceased father, unknown living conditions of mother, twin sister joanna whitmore, living. ( inaday )

* OUTWARD.

HEIGHT. 5'9".

BODY TYPE. mostly muscle, but underweight from poor diet/not enough food.

HAIR. black. mid-back.

EYES. dark, dark brown. the longer she takes bliss, the more her eyes cloud and start to turn bliss green.

NOTABLE MARKS. “DO NOT RESUSCITATE” over her heart “WRATH” on the opposite side of her chest. a large splotch of skin discoloration on her torso and left hip.

OTHER. partially deaf. has a fake gold tooth. sharpened canines to frighten cult members. long fingers, short nails. borderline alcoholic.

* INWARD.

MENTAL HEALTH: extremely unsteady. severe anger issues that aren’t being healthily dealt with.

good luck learning anything that’s not alarming.

BACKSTORY in process of being written.

basic info.

rachel didn’t trust the father blindly.

yes, she had faith in him. yes, she believed him when he said he would transform her. yes, she trusted in god, and him, by extension.

but she didn’t trust him to keep her around.

when rachel disappeared, assumed taken or killed, she shocked everyone upon her emergence as faith. clothed in white, hair freshly cut and decorated with flowers, barefoot and — most importantly — clean, with no trace of drugs in her system, she was almost unrecognizable. and for the first time in years, she looked happy. she knew neither of her new brothers trusted her or shared any love for her, she knew intimately of the faiths that failed, and she knew that she was going to lose every trace of her former life. but she had exactly what she wanted: a new start. the chance to become someone that had control, who wouldn’t be hurt and put down as easily as rachel had, someone strong.

and thus faith seed was born. and she was determined to be the last faith. she knew that if her usefulness, or her popularity, or whatever it was that made the father raise his hand to the others, ran out, she would be tossed into the abyss with them. so she began.

what no one suspected is that she’d actually become death.

rachel wasn’t afraid of becoming the next faith. rather, the dead girls that can before her inspired her. shortly after being reborn, faith stood at the edge of what would become the angel’s grave, bare feet stinging from the climb and looking down. it smelled horrible, but she’d begun to already get used to the smell of dead bodies with how many she encountered. how, not too long ago, she might have become one of the bodies in the pit from taking too much of whatever she put in her body that day.

while she couldn’t pinpoint which body was the former faith, she felt determined as she breathed death. she had finally found the desire to live after so many years of misery, and she wasn’t going to become another nameless body in a pit. she wouldn’t be a failure. she watched the latest dead citizens or family members be thrown into the pit, and she stepped away with a smile.

she was going to make herself irreplaceable.

should she have gone to college, faith likely would have made a phenomenal chemist. even with self - medicating as she was, faith wasn’t able to numb herself enough to keep her mind from needing to do something. now, faith claims it was god pushing her towards what she needed to learn to develop the bliss. the truth may have been that she began attempting to make the drugs she had begun to depend upon so she would have a steady supply, if her parents ever did intervene or her supplier ever tried to cut her off. with desperation, interest and people who would tell her anything if she gave them enough money, rachel began to learn what would eventually lead to the bliss.

with the resources of eden’s gate, she was able to hire people that would help her develop it and perfect it. the bliss we all know and love took three years of complete devotion.

when it was completed, faith had the man be made into the first angels. now the only person who knew and could communicate the formula of the bliss, rachel had sealed her role as the longest - lasting and eternal faith. while she did explain everything to joseph, he didn’t have the eye for the drug that faith did, and left her to be in charge of it, and let her make as many angels as she needed. she’d gained his trust by that point, and knew that she was absolutely devoted to the project.

rumors began that perhaps faith had died long ago, and the woman people saw upon entering the bliss was simply just another part of the hallucination, or that she was catatonic somewhere, locked up with her angels and just as lost in the bliss as they are.

she shocked many upon being present for the breaking of the first seal. working behind the scenes for the seven years, very few have actually seen faith outside of the bliss. she’d been working with her brothers and the father, but hadn’t felt the need to be seen, rather enjoying becoming a mystery and myth. having become death itself, however, gave her several advantages.

upon the chaos of the seals being broken, faith took the time to root out the sin she found unacceptable. donning black, faith took a motorcycle as her steed, and began her ride as death over the county, cleansing the land in her free time. she never claims any of her kills, and is never seen as the rider. she is faith seed, she is pure and she is chosen.

* INTRODUCTORY.

GIVEN NAME. rachel jessop.

TITLES / OTHER. faith seed, the siren, death.

AGE. 24 as of far cry 5.

PLACE OF BIRTH. hope county, montana.

SPECIES. death, posing as a human.

GENDER. cis female.

SEXUALITY. lesbian.

LANGUAGES. english. latin. math.

OCCUPATION. head of bliss production.

CURRENT RESIDENCE. hope county, montana.

LIVING CONDITIONS. henbane river, montana.

FAMILY: deceased parents, joseph seed, john seed, jacob seed: brothers.

* OUTWARD.

HEIGHT. 5'1".

HAIR. chest length light brown hair.

EYES. blue green.

NOTABLE MARKS. none. she is one of the few in hope county who are unmarked and pure.

OTHER.

* THE RIDER.

NAME: ??????

TITLES/OTHER: the rider.

GENDER: ??????

SPECIES: assumed human.

APPEARANCE: head to toe black motorcycle riding leathers. completely black motorcycle helmet. black steel-toed boots intended to last and protect.

all in hope county assume, wrongly, that the rider is the deputy. none know that faith seed herself is under that dark helmet.

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