#brazen buccaneer

[aurelion-solar]

Legends of Runeterra: Glory in Navori - Samira Followers Elegant Edge - Dashing Dandy - Inferna - Dame the Despoiler - Brazen Buccaneer - Father Fury - Dashing Demolisher - Adroit Artificer

[incorrect-mtg]

Flavor Text Highlights - Rivals of Ixalan

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Cool - Negate

“As one, nature lifts its voice to tell you this: ‘No.’”

Funny - Buccaneer's Bravado

Never underestimate the power of panache.

Worldbuilding - This nameless flavor text cycle

For the Legion of Dusk, the Immortal Sun is a source of eternal life. When they reclaim it, they will no longer be forced to subsist on the blood of the wicked.

For the River Heralds, the Immortal Sun is an object of terror and devastation. The idea that anyone would retrieve it for their own use is utterly abhorrent.

For the Sun Empire, the Immortal Sun is a symbol of national identity. When they reclaim it, the Empire will flourish once more.

No ancient lore ties the pirates of the Brazen Coalition to the Immortal Sun. But it’s a powerful ancient artifact in a city of gold—what’s not to covet?

Emotional - Gleaming Barrier

“Gold without freedom might as well be lead.” —Angrath

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[blueiscoool]

Murderous 1600s Pirate Henry Every Hid Out in US Colonies

One tarnished silver coin at a time, the ground is yielding new evidence that in the late 1600s, one of the world's most ruthless pirates wandered the American colonies with impunity.

Newly surfaced documents also strengthen the case that English buccaneer Henry Every — the target of the first worldwide manhunt — hid out in New England before sailing for Ireland and vanishing into the wind.

“At this point, the amount of evidence is overwhelming and indisputable,” historian and metal detectorist Jim Bailey, who's devoted years to solving the mystery, told The Associated Press. “Every was undoubtedly on the run in the colonies.”

In 2014, after unearthing an unusual coin engraved with an Arabic inscription at a pick-your-own-fruit orchard in Middletown, Rhode Island, Bailey began retracing Every’s steps.

Research confirmed that the exotic coin was minted in 1693 in Yemen. Bailey then discovered that it was consistent with millions of dollars’ worth of coins and other valuables seized by Every and his men in their brazen Sept. 7, 1695, sacking of the Ganj-i-Sawai, an armed royal vessel owned by Indian emperor Aurangzeb.

Historical accounts say Every's band tortured and killed passengers aboard the Indian ship and raped many of the women before escaping to the Bahamas, a haven for pirates. But word quickly spread of their crimes, and English King William III — under enormous pressure from a scandalized India and the influential East India Company trading giant — put a large bounty on their heads.

Detectorists and archaeologists have since located 26 similar coins stretching from Maine to the Carolinas. All but three coins turned up in New England, and none can be dated later than when the Indian ship was captured.

“When I first heard about it, I thought, ‘Wait a minute, this can’t be true,’” said Steve Album, a rare coin specialist based in Santa Rosa, California, who helped identify all of the silver Arabic coins found in New England.

“But these coins have been found legitimately and in a few instances archaeologically, and every single one predates the sacking of the ship," said Album, who has lived in Iran and has traveled widely in the Middle East.

Detectorists have also unearthed a gold nugget weighing 3 grams (a tenth of an ounce) — slightly heavier than a U.S. penny — from a potato field perched on a hilltop in seaside Little Compton, Rhode Island.

There’s no documented evidence that naturally occurring gold has ever been found in the state. Bailey and other experts believe that the nugget likely originated somewhere along Africa's Gold Coast, a center for the slave trade in the late 17th and early 18th centuries. Adding to the intrigue, two silver Arabic coins were recovered not far from the nugget, and Every is known to have seized a considerable amount of gold while sailing off the coast of West Africa.

The latest evidence putting Every on American soil isn't just metallic — it includes paper and pixels.

Bailey had already found records showing that the Sea Flower, a ship used by Every and his men after they ditched the vessel they'd used in their murderous raid, arrived in 1696 in Newport, Rhode Island. He's since surfaced documents that show that the pirate captain was accompanied by three Rhode Islanders he took aboard from another pirate vessel when he fled India. All three came ashore with Every in the Bahamas on March 30, 1696, and Bailey said that they essentially served as getaway drivers in exchange for plunder.

Captured pirates William Phillips and Edward Savill testified on Aug. 27, 1696, that one of two ships that left the Bahamas went to Virginia and New England before reaching Ireland. Critically, Bailey said, the records clarify a muddy timeline that long has been misinterpreted by historians to suggest Every lingered two months on the Caribbean island — something he'd never have done as a fugitive.

“There's no way he stayed in the Bahamas to sit on the beach and work on his tan while waiting to be captured,” Bailey said. “Indeed, Every was in New England for over a month weighing his options for starting his life anew in the colonies or going back home to England.”

Every’s exploits have inspired Steven Johnson's book “Enemy of All Mankind,” and the final installment of PlayStation’s popular “Uncharted” video game franchise. Earlier this year, Sony Pictures released a movie adaptation starring Tom Holland, Mark Wahlberg and Antonio Banderas.

Bailey’s next challenge: figuring out what happened to Every after the trail ran cold following his arrival in Ireland on June 20, 1696. It's the mystery's elusive final chapter — one he hopes to detail in a forthcoming book about the cold case.

“We’re chasing down the lost history behind one of the greatest crimes of the 17th century,” he said.

By William J. Koal.

[danco110]

“Damn the cannons, mates. Charge!”

Even with their captain’s orders, Beckett Brass’s crew were hesitant to board the other ship. Meanwhile, the enemy had no qualms about firing broadside after broadside into their vessel. And so, the would-be boarding party balked at the cannons, eliciting an enraged shout from their captain.

“I said charge!” Beckett shouted.

“But cap’n,” muttered an enormous orc, as he awkwardly drummed his fingers against a portable naval cannon slung over his shoulder, “we’ll be shot to pieces before we can even swing over!”

“I SAID-”

A terrified goblin took the lead, shrieking to drown out the fearful cries of her fellow crewmates. The cannon-wielding orc followed suit, as did the rest of the boarding party. Sure enough, as soon as the pirates began preparing their ropes for the jump to the other ship, the enemy craft loosed a furious barrage at the pirates.

The buccaneers screamed, bracing for an impact that never came. When the cannon smoke cleared, sounds of confusion rose up from both ships as Beckett was revealed to have interposed herself between her crew and the enemy salvo. Her hands glowed a bright blue, but the aura faded away as she turned to berate her crew.

“What, did you think I was just saying ‘run into cannon fire for me’?”

The boarding party nervously nodded in unison. Beckett heaved a tired sigh.

“I don’t care what fleet, captain, or mother you came from, but it does not work like that around here! Petty squabbles, arguing and fighting over treasure…heh, well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t also participate. But! Come life-or-death matters, we’re all in this together. So, I say again…Damn the cannons, mates! Charge!”

The boarding party loosed a furious shout, and leapt across to the other ship with newfound courage.

[No one would ever tell you outright, but it’s a badly-kept secret among the Brazen Coalition that Beckett Brass acts surprisingly motherly to the ships and crew she’s commandeered into her fleet over the years. Also, despite Admiral’s Order being a counterspell, it really does sound like she’s asking her guys to just run in and get blown to pieces.]

[cowtale-utau]

I did fantasy races, I was planning on picking specific d&d 3.5 classes buuuut. That wasn’t working for me. So these are pulled from several d&d editions as well as Pathfinder.

Undertale Sans/Ace – Vexing Dodger (Rogue Archetype)

Undertale Papyrus/Lief – High Guardian (Fighter Archetype)

Underfell Sans/Chisel – Battle Smith (Artificer Subtype)

Underfell Papyrus/Spur – Noble Fencer (Swashbuckler (Fighter/Gunslinger Hybrid) Archetype)

Underswap Sans/Scout – Arcane Trickster (Rogue/Sorcerer Prestige)

Underswap Papyrus/Piper – Negotiator (Bard Archetype)

Swapfell(Red) Sans/Whip – Pit Fighter (Fighter/Barbarian Prestige)

Swapfell(Red) Papyrus/Coyote - Hunter (Druid/Ranger Hybrid)

Horrortale Sans/Tender - Circle of the Shepard (Druid)

Horrortale Papyrus/Cook – Alchemical Trapper (Alchemist Subtype)

Swapfell(Purple) Sans/Doc – Sword Binder (Wizard Archetype)

Swapfell(Purple) Papyrus/Flint – Concoctor (Alchemist Subtype)

Fellswap Gold Sans/Haze – Warmind (Psychic Warrior)

Fellswap Gold Papyrus/Cirrus – Imperial Agent (Vigilante Archetype)

Underlust Sans/Shine – Brazen Deceiver (Bard Archetype)

Underlust Papyrus/Calico -Voyeuristic Seer (Cleric Prestige)

Dancetale Sans/Shuffle – Street Performer (Bard Archetype)

Dancetale Papyrus/Foxtrot – Celebrity (Bard Archetype)

Outertale Sans/Saturn – Maverick (Artificer Subtype)

Outertale Papyrus/Mercury – Archivist (Artificer Subtype)

Farmtale Sans/Sage – Oathbreaker (Paladin Subtype)

Farmtale Papyrus/Thyme – Stalwart Defender (Fighter Prestige)

G!Sans/Aurum – Shadowdancer (Rogue/Beguiler Prestige)

G!Papyrus/Viridis – Horizon Walker (Ranger/Wizard Prestige)

Bermudatale Sans/Archi – Coastal Pirate (Rogue Prestige)

Bermudatale Papyrus/Pelago – Buccaneer (Bard Archetype)

...

If anyone wants to hunt down the race post, and then try to merge these two to make an actual character, I would love to see it.

https://www.d20pfsrd.com/ was immensely helpful for this post

I still don’t understand the difference between Archetype and Subtype XD

For the ‘prestige’ classes, the ones listed are not necessarily the only way to reach that prestige, just how the skele in question did so.

I do think a case could be made for one of the Divine classes (Cleric, Paladin, Inquisitor, etc) for any of the Judges.

[mtg-cards-hourly]

Brazen Buccaneers

Artist: Joseph Meehan TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

[menofcolorinfantasyart]

Brazen Buccaneers by Joseph Meehan

[blitheringmcgonagall]

Hello! Love your works, if its not too much trouble, how about a Mia x Monty Hogwarts Fluff?

Ah thank you @richerthannoir I’m loving writing about Mia and Monty Potter (Minty) at the moment, so enjoy some Minty Hogwarts fluff!! As this is to celebrate a We Can Be Heroes  reader milestone on ff.net, it’s a reminder that in that story, I did say I would do a backstory get-together fic for Mia and Monty and I will do it at some stage soon!!

How Many Detentions Will it Take?

“Hullo, Mia.”

“Hullo, Potter.”

“Well past curfew, you know, old thing,” Fleamont Potter said, leaning against the wall in a relaxed manner.

“Oh, I’m well aware, Potter.”

Mia’s hazel eyes twinkled and he shook his head and grinned back.

“What?” she said.

“Nothing,” he said.

There was something about him, about his kind smile, his casual confidence and quiet positivity, that made her feel safe and excited, all at once.

“Are you not going to ask me what I’m doing out and about at this hour, Potter?” she smiled.

It was after midnight.

“Do I look like I want to know?” he said.

Mia laughed, her dimples showing.

“I’m willing to bet you and your fellow Buccaneers are up to something,” Monty said, idly twirling his wand.

“Oh never doubt that, Potter, The Five Buccaneers are always up to mischief,” she said. “You can take that as a given.”

“I’d rather not know the details,” Fleamont laughed quietly.

“Why’s that?” Mia asked, walking closer to him.

Their hands were practically touching. Mia’s strong, thick hair, cut in a bob (purposely, a muggle hair do, to cause outrage) shimmered gold against the torch light. Fleamont’s spectacles glinted, or perhaps it was his eyes shining, she couldn’t tell.

“I don’t want to have to give you detention,” he said.

“That’s cute, Potter,” she said, still smiling. “You gave me five detentions last month.”

He snorted and shook his head at her.

“That’s ‘cause you gave me no choice,” he said. “Almost like you wanted me to catch you red-handed.”

“Almost like I wanted you to catch me,” Mia repeated, her eyebrows raising theatrically. “Who knew?”

He didn’t say anything this time, just ran his teeth over his lower lip and laughed. She was quite sure she had managed to rile him up a little bit. But it was so hard to know, he was uncommonly good at appearing unperturbed. In fact, even now, she wasn’t sure he was even remotely interested.

“You Hufflepuffs are a menace,” he said eventually, running his index finger along the groove of the stonework. “Others always underestimate you.”

“You underestimate us at your peril, Potter,” Mia said, with a brazen wink at the tall, dark-haired chap.

He looked away as he smiled, bashful, just for a split second, and when he looked back at her there was something so pleased, so adoring, in his gaze, that her hopes rose. Maybe he wasn’t quite as nonchalant as he wanted her to think.

“I said others,” he replied.

His voice had dropped, lower, warmer.

“You’d think you’d have learnt your lesson by now, seeing as I’m always beating you on the Quidditch field,” Mia added.

She was almost embarrassed by her outrageously blatant teasing, her outright flirting. Almost. She did not do embarrassment. It wasn’t in her vocabulary.

His face took on a more confident grin, this was their usual banter, during inter-house games.

“You wish,” he said lightly.

“Gryffindor Seeker and Head Boy. Not bad, Potter,” she said, beaming up at him.

He was so much taller than her.

“Hufflepuff Captain and Rogue Buccaneer,” replied Fleamont, leaning his foot against the stone wall. “Not bad yourself.”

“Ha!” she grinned mischievously. “Pity my parents don’t think so.”

His smile dropped.

“Do they not?” he said.

He sounded astonished. But then again, his parents weren’t obsessed with pureblood nobility and the likes. Sure, the Potters were purebloods, but they didn’t appear to give a toss about such drivel as Sacred Twenty-Eights and other daft nonsense. Everyone knew it. In fact, despite being a very old and reasonably well-off family, they managed to remain on the outer fringes of respectability and quite outside pureblood elite circles. Lucky bastard. She was quite sure she had heard her father talking about what a disappointing, pathetic man Fleamont’s father was. It made her like Monty all the more. Just like she loved that he never called her by her surname.

“No. Hufflepuff was literally the worst House I could have chosen,” she said, determined to keep a light tone. “My parents think it’s the losers’ House. They were mortified. They said if I had been in Ravenclaw, they’d have accepted it, if Slytherin wasn’t an option. Gryffindor would have infuriated them, but there’s plenty of purebloods in your House. Mine is where most misfits, as my parents would call it, end up. You know – muggleborns and the likes.”

She rolled her eyes derisively.

“I’m sorry,” Fleamont said, genuine concern in his tone.

“Yeah, so am I,” Mia said.

She looked away pretending to fasten her cloak so he couldn’t see she was a bit upset. Only a bit.

“Anyway,” she said, after a pause, hoping he didn’t notice the tremor in her voice. “I don’t care. My father and I have never really gotten on. It doesn’t bother me what he thinks.”

Fleamont had been looking at her, tentatively, both feet back on the ground, one hand now scratching the back of his neck.

“I think my mum is proud of my Quidditch skills, but she’d never say it to me. The only time I hear from them is when I’ve gotten into trouble with the Professors. A Howler from my father. You’ve probably heard them.”

She wrinkled her nose and made a disgusted face, her laugh coming out all watery.

“A lot of them,” he said, smiling back.

“They don’t seem to deter me from getting into mischief.”

“I’m glad,” he said.

She smiled and looked away again, her wand tracing haphazard patterns in the air.

“My father has already decided who I’m going to marry, you know…”

“Oh?” he raised his eyebrows marginally.

“Yeah, some creep called Casper Carrow, a committed pureblood, a Ministry of Magic official,” she said. “He’s nearly ten years older than us.”

She knew he had seen her shiver.

“Dad says I better change if I know what’s good for me, or the Carrows may decide to pull out of the agreement,” she said.

This time she looked at him, really looked at him, and he could see worry and resistance in her eyes. He stepped closer to her.

“I hope you never change, Mia, not like that,” Fleamont said.

He looked so sure, his grey eyes were burning, and she felt so much better when he was close to her.

“So, you like me, Monty?” she said, biting her lip, hoping she looked as confident and debonair as ever, that he couldn’t see the vulnerability hidden behind it.

He continued gazing into her eyes, steadfast, and brought his two hands to rest lightly on her shoulders.

“Of course I like you, Mia, you daft thing. I like you, an awful lot,” he said quietly.

“You do?” she whispered, standing on her tiptoes and wrapping her hands around his neck, pulling his face down closer.

“I do,” he said, his whole face lighting up now.

“Oh thank Merlin, I was resigning myself to daily detentions for the rest of the year, hoping you might get the gist,” she grinned, all traces of sadness disappearing.

“What gist is that?” he asked, teasing, his lips practically touching hers.

“That I like you back, an awful lot,” she said, radiant and triumphant.

They kissed, long and slow and full of hope, under the dim torchlight, bursts of tiny stars shooting from the tips of their giddy wands.

(Hope you liked it!)

Arranged marriage?   Minty   Minty fluff    Mia & Monty Potter Hogwarts fluff

[aaluminiumas]

Millstones

Shanks openly relished the pirate life: he could name one hundred reasons to become a buccaneer, and that oh-so-proverbial One Piece every rookie dreamt about wouldn’t be listed among the first thirty. This man loved listening to waves rustling; he could spend hours admiring the landscape while holding the ship’s wheel and staring into nowhere – but with the same zeal he threw himself into battle standing up for his friends and crewmates. And a good fight is sure to be celebrated by a downpour of sake, a loud burst of laughter and a couple of brazen jokes around the campfire somewhere far away. Isn’t it what happiness is all about?

He long forgot the place he called home. Was it a little windswept archipelago somewhere in the middle of the Grand Line? Or, perhaps, a bustling city that never sleeps? Or, probably, a tiny village on the outskirts of the Goa Kingdom where he tended to return in attempt to remember the good old times and to order a mug of sake while singing a song unanimously with other frequenters?..

Red-haired Shanks grunted under his breath and turned the ship to the left. Out of the corner of the eye the man caught the glimpse of a sea king coming to the surface. Oddly enough, this one didn’t pay the slightest attention to them: the creature had either managed to devour another crew chasing Gol D. Roger’s treasure, or simply took no notice of the vessel. Making sure the ruthless animal swam away, the pirate consulted his log pose – and in a couple of seconds he spotted the familiar sky-line of the Goa Kingdom: a city surrounded by a thick wall with a swarm of windmills in the distance. They moved in the same fashion, clockwise, peacefully and steadily, filling the air with quiet and mollifying creaking everybody was accustomed to. Even the fragrance of this wonderful place was unique: clear, slightly salty and dusty as if abundant in flour that never trickled out of the millstones completely.

Long time ago – a whole eternity ago! – he saved Luffy from a sea king and lost his arm in the process. A ridiculous price for a funny kid who managed to create problems whenever he went naively smiling all the way. Shanks couldn’t put his finger on his behavior: how dared this child roughly as tall as his leg challenge someone much stronger! But despite his obvious paternal affection for the brave boy, there was definitely something else that attracted him to the tavern not far from the biggest windmill.

Although Shanks didn’t have his own kids, he as well as his crew enjoyed talking to Luffy days on end telling unbelievable stories about their adventures. The lad whose eyes were beaming with anticipation caught every word evincing sheer awe and reverence. Listening to the pirates, he imagined himself to be one, and didn’t even doubt he would be lucky enough to get into a bit of a scrape to fight back any offender.

But Luffy wasn’t the only one who delighted pirate tales. The hostess of the tavern, calm and light-hearted Makino, dwelled on every word spoken as if she herself were a little girl. She knew she wouldn’t exchange her settled life for the fierce and unpredictable ocean but the exciting fables soon interwove into her daily routine turning into a significant part of the world she lived in. Every evening Shanks dropped in at the tavern, ordered a whole barrel of sake for his crew – and laughed, recalling the most mind-blowing events that took everybody’s breath away. These were miraculous days, weren’t they?

The red-haired man grinned to himself recollecting the night when Makino, who just started wiping off plates, ventured to ask an odd question – he needed a solid minute to ponder over it and give her a decent reply.

“Shanks-san,” she called him quietly and put the plates on a shelf feeling sheepish, “Aren’t you…” the woman raised her eyes to audaciously look at him, “Aren’t you afraid? Aren’t you scared at all?”

He thought for a second, sipped on his drink and adjusted the straw hat that hadn’t yet made its way to Luffy. “Afraid,” he finally deduced and pushed his mug aside, “But not for myself.”

Shanks turned his head in the direction of his friends stuffing themselves with meat and arguing about mermaids. Someone began to sing – slightly out of tune, –and the rest cheerfully took up, though not unanimously at all. The woman got perplexed for a moment or two – and, amazed to a fault, kept staring at the visitor in the straw hat not fully comprehending what he meant by this.

The man laughed, “Just imagine what kind of mess Luffy can make when we sails away! He’s ready to challenge a sea king to prove his strength and audacity,” Shanks bestowed a broad smile on her folding his hands on the table, “But I believe one day he’ll become more cauti–”

At this very moment, ‘the cautious kid’ caused a huge knife to fall. Luffy was about to yell at the top of his lungs – but immediately noticed the heaven-sent hand of the red-haired man and closed his cry-contorted mouth. His orbs sparkled – the boy got charmed again.

However, it wasn’t the only time Makino asked bizarre questions: she was genuinely enthralled by his lifestyle even though she never wanted to be a pirate. He liked that disclosed interest, curiosity to the foreign world of his, and bit by bit such discussions created a tight bond of friendship between them which somewhat impelled the crewmates to shamelessly tease their captain – not unkindly, of course. His comrades didn’t mean anything bad – they simply relished the sight of the normally collected hostess who now smiled meekly and blushed slightly. Taking it as a certain sign, the captain cut the jokes short with a loud laugh and another mug of sake.

Thing ran their course.

It’s been quite some time since then… Ace died almost two years ago, Luffy is already up in arms, and the millstones are working just as steadily, turning wheat into flour. When did he visit the place last time?.. It was simply indecent on his part considering the amount of time he spent there. Is the mayor just as grumpy and meticulous as he used to be? And what about that bandit, Dadan, Luffy told so much about? Is she doing fine? And the tavern where he hung out so often with his crew, is it in the same place?..

For a moment the red-haired man yielded to a vague feeling of nostalgia: the reminiscences goaded him to squeeze out a lopsided grin, and the decision he’d recently made, got its shape: the yonko was absolutely sure of the actions he was about to perform.

“Welcome to the Goa Kingdom!” he declared in a stentorian voice turning to face his boatswain ready to comply with the ensuing command. “Time to have some fun, guys!”

This order was met by a loud explosion of shenanigans: they’d just savored a good fight, and now they were eager to live it up.

*** “Makino been at ‘ome fo’ a week already,” a sprightly old lady reported to Shanks while giving hearty slaps to presumptuous pirates. “’er boy got ill. But drop in at ‘er place anyway, she’ll be ‘appy to see ya. It isn’t too fa’ from ‘ere… Bah! Where ya goin’ bone’ead?!” the old crone quacked and hit someone with a beer mug she was holding. “So, just ‘ound the corne’… those gates. Damn you, Satan!”

The red-haired pirate grinned at the educational methods that old woman employed, gave her a golden coin and left the tavern. His feet brought him directly to the neat small house with huge flower beds in front. The man didn’t get what the bartender meant by ‘her boy got ill’ but the galvanic yearning for the past demanded new memories and Makino indeed was an integral part of the time he spent here and needed so desperately. Shanks automatically noticed that he became the center of attention: those who didn’t know he used to visit the village raked their brains as to why one of the yonkos decided to come while his friends, along with the mayor, were genuinely joyous to see him and greeted the man asking for how long he planned to stay. There were others, suspicious ones, who revealed their growing displeasure and apprehension – but they tended to avoid any eye-contact with the guest.

Makino’s cottage looked even smaller when he approached it: the house reminded him of the tiny huts he saw at the Pigmy Island but seemed solid enough to handle a powerful hurricane. Shanks couldn’t recollect whether he ever paid visits to his friends: there was no point doing it as they met at the tavern every evening to discuss recent local news And now… he felt almost embarrassed.

He knocked – and heard a clear voice.

“Wait a minute!” Makino was certainly busy, “I’m ̶ Shanks-san?!”

Opening the door, Makino froze at the sight of the man at the threshold: the young woman was holding a hefty bundle with a sniffing baby – with the free hand, she tried to do her hair.

“Are you here for long..?” she attempted to atone, her lips smiling irresolutely.

“No… I dunno.”

She adjusted her son to hold him comfortably, pushed the door open and stepped aside letting the guest in. Despite their common past where no one hid anything from the other, currently both of them felt perplexed and confused: Shanks realized he came amiss, and Makino simply didn’t expect to see the man she used to read about emerging in her tiny cottage. Since he became a yonko, she stopped waiting for his loud visits: a man of importance like him – even if a pirate, – probably had more significant affairs to deal with than singing songs somewhere in a godforsaken village.

Closing the door behind him, the young woman unswathed the parcel and made sure the baby felt better. In a moment, she placed him on the floor and gave him his favorite toy – a plush parrot which was immediately seized by a viselike grip of two chubby hands.

“How you doing?” the pirate asked nonchalantly perusing the modest, spick and span room and finally swiveling his eyes to look at the roly poly tyke crawling around. “What a swashbuckling lady replaced you,” he mentioned with a short laugh. “She’s a real smasher. Can kick anyone out of the pub!”

“Oh… Kagurumi-san… she has her own approach to problem clients,” Makino gave out a small but nonetheless genuine smile bit by bit getting accustomed to his company and his manners that didn’t change at all. “What about you? Have you seen Luffy? I’ve read something in a newspaper but… since he… since… that day I heard a number of things but I am not sure what exactly should be trusted.”

“Luffy’s fine. He’s coped with Ace’s death and is ready to make a scoop and win all front pages,” Shanks said firmly instantly getting the facts straight and calling it the way he saw it – he had to be the reasonable one even though Makino had a hard time speaking about the situation. “Don’t worry about him: he’s already striving to get in trouble.” The yonko broke into a smile, sat down on the sofa and pointed to the boy with a subtle nod of his head: the kid had been playing with the dark cloth of Shanks’ coat probably considering it a better toy. “What’s his name?” “Kenta. Kenta, don’t touch it.” Her delicate hand tenderly brushed across the plump fingers. “No.”

“Why not?” the man’s smile grew even broader, and he sat the boy in his lap. “How old ‘re ye, pal?”

“Not… too much.”

The conversation dragged. Makino clearly felt reluctant to discuss her personal life: she was either afraid of mocking and misunderstanding, or instinctively realized she had fallen in love with the man who kept her company during those long nights at the tavern filled with stories about other islands and seas. She loved his tales and his smile; she adored his laugh and sonorous voice – she even found herself enchanted by his manners sufficiently graceful for a pirate. But the woman never thought it could go further anytime soon. Don’t friends see each other as beautiful, kind people? Don’t they acknowledge the best in one another? Don’t they admire each other?..

The woman sat there, motionless and calm, but it was obvious she couldn’t ease the tension even though she tried to seem friendly.

“If I’m unwanted here, I’ll go,” Shanks spotted her nervousness and adjusted the collar of his coat, evidently about to stand up. “We happened to be around, so of course everyone was eager to remember the best moments of the past… to have a look at good ol’ Windmill. I’m sorry if I meddled in.” he said in the same light-hearted voice not holding any grudge against her.

She replied by a tender, smooth gesture – the woman put her hand onto his shoulder. Kenta, not paying attention to his mother’s agitation, examined the stranger awkwardly standing up and trying to reach the flaming red hair. The man looked so extraordinary – he never met anyone like this among his mom’s guests.

“We all were shocked when… this happened,” the smile faded away for a second, and the eyes got hazy. “I mean, Ace and Whitebeard's death. When Garp came, even Dadan wasn’t her usual self – you remember, that mountain bandit who raised Luffy and… the rest.” She didn’t dare call Ace by the name the second time. “But bit by bit everything’s falling into place, and… if Luffy did it, we will succeed too.” The woman stated in the voice laced with confidence, her bright eyes staring at Shanks. “The whole world is reconstructing, and we are not an exception, fortunately or unfortunately. We have to adapt as well. Thankfully, Goa isn’t the place every single pirate darts to conquer, so everything’s more or less quiet here.” Makino eventually managed to get rid of stiffness. “What about you? How are you, Shanks-san?..”

“Whitebeard’s death is definitely a tragedy for everyone,” he drawled pensively automatically playing with Makino’s son. “And it did multiply the number of problems to deal with. But we’re still trying to live the same way and to do whatever we did before the new era: to have fun, to fight and to drink.” He let out another laughter and brought Kenta up to his shoulder. “Look, what a rider you have here!”

The boy giggled and hugged the pirate by the neck.

Makino slightly blushed. “He… likes you. He doesn’t normally trust people so easily but you seem to make a good impression. I’m afraid he’s going to chase you just like Luffy!” she shook her head in a histrionic reproach.

“So Windmill is going to have a pirate dynasty? Our future Pirate King will be happy to know there’s someone to inherit the skills!”

All of a sudden the mood lightened by itself: Makino released herself and relaxed, cheerfully laughing at the crass jokes he always spilled. The balance restored into the universe: the woman no longer shied away from the guest and honestly replied to his simple questions; she even mentioned what she used to be doing before his visit to the village. He listened to her carefully catching every word, japed and reminisced on certain occasions that came to his mind. Sometimes, making Kenta participate in the confabulation, Shanks questioned him as well just to hear a short ‘yea’ or displeased sniff.

The day was declining, but even after lulling her son to sleep, Makino didn’t intend to part ways with the man who returned just to say hello and to check up on her.

“Have you… rented anything?” she requested quietly, taking off her bandanna protecting her head from the burning sun. “If not, you can stay over. Of course if you don’t mind.” She hurried to add wondering whether she’d gone too far.

Shanks quirked his eyebrows and scratched the tip of his nose. “Why not?.. If anything I should pay a little bit more attention to my closest friend. In fact, I was kinda scared I frightened you.” He noticed undoing the laces of his coat.

She emitted a soft laugh grabbing the outerwear off his hand and hanging it on a peg. “I’m not afraid of you, I’m afraid of the changes you’re bringing along,” she answered simply. “But now I understand that we are… protected. We have nothing to be scared of with a friend like you,” Makino said in whisper, in a barely audible tone. Not switching on the lights, she dared give the guest a bear hug – even though it was evanescent and ephemeral, she managed to express her emotions the best way she could – with innate modesty and chastity. “Thank you. If only had I known how to thank you properly…”

Shanks caught her fingers and pressed the narrow pale hand to his lips. “You have provided a shelter. A pirate wouldn’t even dream about a bigger thing.” He let go off her hand and pulled away from her, his smile friendly and cordial and yet exposing some unknown fatigue Makino had never come across before. 

“Good night, Makino. I am glad to know we are friends regardless our long separation. You know, it’s so disrespectful of us to keep each other in the dark. But we didn’t have a choice!” he made a helpless gesture with his hand and disappeared in the room she had prepared for him to immediately fall into deep slumber.

And the hostess after putting her son’s toys in the box, shook her head and covered Shanks with a blanket: the nights may grow cold, and he certainly had enough of chilling wind on board. He deserved the comfort of the settled life he willingly rejected – he would never get used to that anyway…

[silyabeeodess]

FusionFall Headcanons: Jelly’s Candies

Mr. Jelly may have given the brand a bit of a sour taste after becoming Knightbrace, but his family’s company has been around long enough that they were able to recover from the bad publicity--partly thanks as well to Dr. Teef’s and his brother-in-law’s support after “Operation T.E.E.T.H.”  You’d think the war with Fuse would hamper their business once again as it has so many others; however, with the KND and other young Fusion Fighters making up a large chunk of their customer base, it looks like they’ll survive just fine.

Jelly’s Candies may have several branches, but the company has stayed within the family for generations.  Besides Knightbrace, it’s a matter of pride to them.  Their family also doesn’t have a problem with kids enjoying sweets either, with even Dr. Teef mostly just wishing for children to find a good balance between those sugary cravings and good hygiene.

While members of the KND may be cautious toward adults like Dr. Teef, they find his brother-in-law to be a pretty laid back, cool guy--which helped Sector V put in a good word for the company after Knightbrace was dealt with and they were able to get candy without worry once again. This and the company’s already well-known reputation helped prevent the KND from greatly holding any reservations against them for Knightbrace’s actions.  As a result, when the war began, the KND selected Jelly’s Candies as one of their main snack suppliers. They usually deliver to bases with greater numbers of KND operatives or younger soldiers like the Urban Rangers.

You’ll find different, local sweets depending on their location just as much as you will find standard brands across all of their stores.  For example, the Jelly’s Candies in Habitat Homes has several sweets made for animal consumption rather than for humans due to there being a greater population of sentient, anthropomorphic creatures living there.  Not that it stops brave and foolish people alike from trying some of those treats anyway...

Similar to Burger Frenzy, they’ve also taken advantage of the war by offering fusion themed goodies.  A big hit with young children are lime gumballs that look like fusion spawns and marshmallow candy buccaneers. This way, even someone a little too young for the KND can “fight” against Fuse’s monsters.  

To avoid Fuse potentially targeting Jelly’s Candies along with other businesses that directly supply goods to the Fusion Fighters, soldiers will often meet with suppliers in disclosed locations or handle the deliveries themselves.  Even still, a few managers have learned to pick up a weapon themselves should the worst happen.  They’re probably safe since Fuse wouldn’t normally recognize them as anything more than a kind of “luxury” shop without actually observing the large shipments; however, it’s better to be careful and some of them have had to learn to fight anyway due to raids from overly brazen Candy Pirates in the past.

Overall, the Jelly family is pretty cool, and often will freely spare extra pieces of candy for soldiers.  This goes for nanos as well, since those who have them tend to make bigger purchases as a result.     

[flourchildwrites]

Seconds

Call their predicament fate or karma; blame it on the moonlight or the romantic music playing during the movie's wedding scene. Whatever forces were at work, the opportunity was there for Rebecca and Jean, ready and ripe for the taking. The only question that remained was if she was hungry enough for seconds in spite of the complications.

It was going to be a very interesting vacation.

Written for @fmasecretsanta2019 for @areyousanta

Fandom:  Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types  

Relationship/Pairing:  Rebecca Catalina/Jean Havoc, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang, Lan Fan/Ling Yao

Genre:  Modern AU, Cruise Ship Vacation, Night After the One Night Stand

Rating:  Teen And Up Audiences (contains suggestive sexual references)

Word Count:  2,288 words

Read on AO3

Carnival’s newest attraction, the Mardi Gras, was a ridiculous boat, at least in the opinion of one, Rebecca Catalina.

The cruise ship’s towering atrium featured floor to ceiling windows that courted nearly panoramic waterway views.  Numerous restaurants dotted the ship map; their descriptions were laced with four dollar words such as “fragrant,” “authentic” or “sumptuous” that made Rebecca’s mouth water.  And if the ginormous pool on the lido deck was not enough, there was always the wonderland dubbed the “Ultimate Playground” stuck awkwardly on the back of the ship to consider.  The colorful tracks of the world’s first rollercoaster at sea cut through the thick, humid breeze, and on the first day of the cruise, the line to ride the attraction stretched around the deck.

The atmosphere oozed excess. It was just the sort of laissez-faire ambiance that Riza Hawkeye shied away from.  It was the precise brand of absurdity that her wealthy grandfather would choose to celebrate her college graduation.  Not that he had been invited, and in this respect, Riza and Rebecca’s vacation mimicked Riza’s upbringing.  George Grumman generously financed it, but ever-faithful Becca was left to weather the changeable tides alongside her best friend.

Not all waters had been as navigable as those of the murky Mississippi River.  

“Enjoying the view?”

Rebecca startled at the sound of Riza’s voice.  She grounded her thoughts in the here and now, honing in on the small talk circulating around the dinner table.  Her dark, wing-lined eyes darted away from the windows of the formal dining room and toward the beaming face of her best friend.  Riza Hawkeye looked happy; if not for the three-course meal they’d just devoured, for the new company at their table — her long-distance boyfriend, Roy Mustang and his tagalong pal, Jean Havoc.

But where Jean was concerned, Rebecca had her reasons for reticence.  Reasons she was not apt to share with Riza during this vacation, a trip that was supposed to be all about her best friend and not Becca’s bedroom faux pas.

She simply wouldn’t think about how she had foolishly spent the night with Jean before they’d remet as travel companions of Roy and Riza that morning.  Rebecca wouldn’t think about the lip-biting set of abs hiding underneath his well-pressed button-down.  She tried not to notice the way she caught Jean’s baby-blue eyes darting away from her over dinner.  By all accounts, their night together had been meant as a fun, casual encounter, but the next day’s harsh revelation had complicated matters.

He’d said he was on a business trip when He caught her eye in the hotel bar the night before departure, and Rebecca had not questioned him further.  Not when his sweet talk was so saccharine and the rough stubble on his chin had felt so good on her-

“Are you feeling alright, Rebecca?” Riza asked; her lightly penciled eyebrows were knit with concern underneath stylish round glasses.

“Yes, sorry!’ Rebecca replied happily.  Too happily, perhaps. “I’m absolutely fine. Wonderful even.”

She was not fine, let alone wonderful.  She was scared shit-less of being called out by the elephant at their dinner table.  A very attractive, extremely capable elephant with who had played her body like a fiddle. His brash melody was stuck on a loop in her mind.

Rebecca watched as Jean licked a bit of chocolate mousse from his spoon, and she suppressed an indignant eye-roll.  The least he could do was be less like sex appeal on a stick.  He could pretend not to know that he tied her stomach into knots, courtesy of their shared secret.  But given the way those baby-blues bore into her, nevermind that she refused to meet his gaze, Rebecca realized that they’d have to talk about it.

The sooner, the better.

God, she hated being 23 sometimes.  Young enough to take some disastrous missteps in good faith but too old to run away from her problems.

“So Catalina, how about we take a walk to clear your mind,” Jean purred. “Get to know each other a little better while these two catch up.  What do you say?”

A sinking feeling settled into the pit of Rebecca’s stomach, and it turned over on itself when she spied Riza’s hopeful expression.

The things she did for the love of a friend.

“Sounds like a great idea,” Rebecca uttered; her words sounded stiff as they slipped through her burgundy lips. “I’m gonna make a stop by the bar before we leave.”

She rose from their table with her room key clutched firmly in the palm of her hand.  Even as her gaze lingered upon Roy and Riza’s intertwined fingers, she bid them good evening and walked across the dining room to the mahogany bar at the far end of the large room.  Through a stilted smile, Rebecca ordered another glass of cabernet sauvignon, urging the bartender to be generous as the long shadow of Jean Havoc crept over her shoulder.

If the previous night had taught Rebecca anything, it was that Havoc was a livewire, energetic and unpredictable when he allowed his passions to overpower his common sense.  But the chilly night air on the lido deck appeared to temper Jean’s demeanor.  Quietly, he sat back against the sturdy frame of a ship deck chair with the top three buttons of his shirt undone and his hands leisurely placed on the back of his head.  The spiky ends of his hair caught the humid breeze as he stared back at Rebecca with a lazy, contemplative smile.  His patience offered no inroad, but neither did it discourage a conversation.

Rebecca got the message loud and clear — she would have to bring it up, or they would simply sit outside for the remainder of the evening watching Crazy Rich Ishvalans play across a large screen over the pool.

She took yet another sip of wine and placed the stemmed glass on the table between their lawn chairs.  After adjusting the hem of her green maxi dress, Rebecca swung her sandal-clad feet upon the lower slats of her deck chair.  A long, slow sigh escaped her throat, and she, ever brazen, decided to jump headfirst into uncharted territory.

“I think it goes without saying that we should not mention what happened last night to Riza or Roy,” she announced. “Still, I think it would be beneficial for us to talk privately since I have some questions.”

“Don’t worry, Catalina.  I don’t kiss and tell,” he said with an amused air. “But now that you mention it, I might have some questions too.  Ladies first.”

Rebecca attempted to organize her thoughts by level of importance.  But her wounded pride, a part of her that resented she’d been lied to, spoke up first.

“You said you were in New Orleans on business,” she stressed. “This cruise doesn’t seem like business to me.”

Jean shrugged his shoulders, turning his head to look at her.

“I thought work provided a better excuse to make a clean break, and honestly, I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

His tone shifted, tending toward a playful vibe. “I know we agreed to keep it casual, but who’s to say you wouldn’t have fallen madly in love with me and tried to follow me onto the ship if you had known.”

Rebecca’s left eyebrow arched incredulously even as her lips quirked with suppressed laughter.

“Does that happen to you often?” She quipped.

“No,” Jean chuckled. “I don’t do that sort of thing anymore.  Not since I got injured three years ago. Consider last night an exception.”

“That’s right,” Rebecca hummed, “you used to be a Marine.  Jealous boyfriend catch up to you and made you change your ways?”

“Nah,” he said, still in good humor, “it was a bullet.  But enough about me; my turn.  Do you do one night stands often, Catalina?  Am I just another person in a long line of notches on your bedpost?”

She tipped the glass of wine to her lips and drank, mindful that Jean was giving as good as he had gotten. “I don’t think we’ve had near enough alcohol for that question.”

And this, she meant wholeheartedly.

“But, to give you a direct answer, no,” Rebecca admitted. “I’ve been too busy with my MBA program to go out, much less date.  Last night was…”

She didn’t want to parrot his words, though certainly, their time together had been ‘an exception.’ Phrases swam in her wine-drenched mind; none were suitable.  Last night had been many things, satisfying and unexpected, to say the least.  But to sum it up in a single word...

“Needed,” Jean added. His eyes stayed fixed on a dark point in the distance, between the blanket of stars and the cloak of dark water. “For both of us, I think.”

It was impossible to get a read on him.  Rebecca was left to marvel at the way Jean had coaxed the answer straight from her subconscious.  Speechless, she could only nod and hum her agreement as her fingers fidgeted with the straps of her sandals.  She scanned the lido deck, looking for some sight to redirect a conversation that had gone too far, too fast for her liking.

Small groups and couples, not unlike Jean and herself, dotted the layout.  Some watched the movie, transfixed by the hilarity of a makeover montage featuring the film’s gruffest character, Buccaneer.  Others simply sat engrossed in quiet conversation and after dinner drinks.

A pair of young Xingese kids, probably high school-aged, caught Rebecca’s eye. They sat on the edge of the deck with their legs dangling into a large pool at the center.  A boy with slender, slanting eyes reached down into the water and brought his hand up, playfully splashing the girl next to him.  She laughed in response, running a prosthetic hand through her hair and clearing the water from her heart-shaped face.  And in the blink of an eye, she pulled him into the water.

The scene read like young love and are Becca watched as a childhood crush matured into something meaningful right before her eyes.  The teens chased each other through the pool and moved as if they were two halves of the same whole, different as could be and complementary down to their core.  When finally the girl caught the boy, she pinned her arms around him against the side of the deck. He laughed, brushing her bangs from her face.  The apples of her cheeks turned cherry red.

“Do you see them?” Rebecca asked, nodding subtly in the direction of the pair. “What I wouldn’t give to go back to that age knowing what I know now.”

“And what would you do differently?” Jean asked.

She told herself that he was only indulging her to be polite, but still, Rebecca answered.  Sour memories of her high school regrets were slow to be forgotten, and the question was quickly answered.

“I cared too much about what others thought,” she explained. “Spent hours trying to make my hair straighter or attempting to do my makeup the same way.  I swapped band for cheerleading and junk food for gym classes.  The only thing I never compromised on was having Riza as a best friend, and sometimes I’m afraid that the pressure I put on myself to conform rubbed off on her during difficult times.”

So much for keeping the conversation light.

“I used to be like that,” Jean admitted.

“You cared too much about what other people thought?”

“No, I regretted past stuff so much that I forgot to live in the present.”

Rebecca was surprised by his candor, and she turned to face him, unsure if she should end the conversation or listen to further insights.  Before she could give her course of action a second thought, Jean sat up, and, to Rebecca’s continued shock, he pulled at his side of his shirt.  The action revealed a patch of puckered skin, red and raised, in the shape of a crater.  Jean pointed to the modest scar on his side.

“It looks small, doesn’t it?” he said. “But that bullet nearly cost me everything.  Took me a year to walk again, and the doctors say my long term prognosis involves a wheelchair, but I can’t dwell on any of the what-ifs.  I have to take the good stuff life offers me while I can seize it.”

Rebecca couldn’t help herself.  She had to ask, needed to know why this theory of his, contrived as it might be, struck a chord.

“And what is life offering you right now?”

The question might have been bait — this much Rebecca was willing to admit.  Call their predicament fate or karma; blame it on the moonlight or the romantic music playing during the wedding scene of the movie.  Whatever forces were at work, the opportunity was there, ready and ripe for the taking.

All they had to do was seize it.  Bottle the spark that cracked between them if only for a handful of nights at sea.

Jean leaned in and tucked a lock of curly hair behind Rebecca’s ear.

“I know we agreed not to let it happen again, but I get the feeling life is offering me a second helping of what I had last night.”

It was her turn to flash a knowing grin.

“I never said the first time was the last.  I just don’t think we should let it complicate Riza and Roy’s vacation.”

“Well then,” Jean whispered.  His hot breath curled around the curve of her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “Are you hungry for seconds?”

For the second time in as many days, Rebecca/SelfRestraint.exe failed to run properly.  Fortunately, Rebecca/ThinkingTooMuch.exe was also compromised.

“Starving,” she replied.

A/N:  Surprise, @areyousanta! I am your back up gift giver for the FMA Secret Santa 2019.  I heard you like Havolina, Royai and Lingfan, so I tried to tie those ships into this modern AU. However, I admit, this one-shot is primarily fluffy (and suggestive) Havolina. The struggle to keep this fic PG-13 was real, and I'm not sure that flourchildwrites/goodjudgment.exe was functioning properly, lol. As always, I really appreciate all the kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, comments, likes and reblogs my readers generously provide. Don't be a stranger and check out my tumblr, @flourchildwrites. Send me questions, comments or whatever else may be on your mind.

[snowbellewells]

“A Long Forgotten Song”

(A CS family fluff fic for @whimsicallyenchantedrose‘s belated birthday gift!)

by: @snowbellewells

This little fic was meant to be for Jennifer (@whimsicallyenchantedrose‘s) birthday, but that was more than a week ago now.  I’m hoping this bit of fluff and CS family feels will still be an enjoyable gift for her in appreciation for her friendship, writing encouragement, and just being a helpful, amazing, gifted and kind member of the fandom.  This isn’t necessarily divergent from canon, but it’s certainly future headcanon, in which Hope is five or six and I have imagined Killian and Emma might have adopted a child as well.  (That doesn’t really come into the fic, I just think they would adopt with their histories, and Killian is mentioned as being a father of three at one point. )  

Before it gets any more belated….

“A Long Forgotten Song”

It had been a rather long day at the station - somewhat tedious and dreary - and so Killian Jones had been more than happy to volunteer for picking up their daughter from her voice lessons at five-thirty and escaping the mundane parade of dwarves accusing one another of some brazen act of malfeasance, complaints about leaky cellars and roofs due to the recent spate of rainy days, and the pleas to go out on search patrol for missing house pets possibly lost in the downpour. Certainly he would take these common small town grievances over dangerous new villains swooping in and raining down chaos of which his Sheriff wife and fellow deputy father-in-law would heedlessly throw themselves in the way, regardless of the risk to their own lives and limbs. Still, one could only try to decipher Dopey’s flying hand gestures accusing Leroy of once again stealing the extra bacon slice Granny fondly slipped onto his breakfast plate at the diner so many times before having to get out of the office for a breather.

The sky was still a heavy grey full of low-hanging clouds that threatened even more rain as he parked the cruiser at the curb of the pretty blue house with a wide front porch, just down the street from the convent where the nuns - well, the fairies, technically - made their home in Storybrooke. He could already hear Hope’s high, chattering voice as soon as he opened the door, and he shook his head in amusement as her light words prattled along, hardly pausing for breath, added to only occasionally by a calmer, more sedate, adult chuckle at the proper moments in his little girl’s story.

Glancing up the walk, Killian could see his daughter and her music teacher both seated on the woman’s large, cushioned front porch swing, Hope’s tiny powder-keg of a form bouncing in excitement as she continued her narrative, and her ever-patient instructor nodding along with fittingly wide eyes as if she had never heard a more gripping tale in her life. Of course, once he had stepped out of the car, the sound of its door closing caused Hope’s head of riotously curling dark hair to whip around at the noise and a squeal to leave her upon catching sight of him.

“Papa!” she called, leaping to her feet and up from the swing as if she thought she could fly - startling both his and her teacher’s hearts into their throats until she landed safely on the porch floorboards. Running down the steps to grip him around the knees, Hope then took his hook in both of her little hands and tugged him back the way she had come, still exclaiming, “Wait until you hear what I learned today! It’s so pretty!!  And Ms. D. says a pirate lady might have sung it on her ship during watch late at night.”

Killian Jones couldn’t help the raised, curious eyebrow and smirk he shot toward the other adult on the porch at her proclamation, anymore than he could staunch the swell of emotion that nearly overcame him every single time his daughter grasped his metal appendage as easily and as simply as if it were a hand of flesh and bone, not troubled in the least by its presence, or the surge of pride he somehow felt - as retired as he might be - at Hope’s constant interest in pirates and the sea. To his chagrin, and Emma’s perpetual amusement, Hope was more than a bit piratical in her bearing and the mischief she could concoct as well, so the very suggestion that the song she had learned in her day’s lesson might have been sung at sea had surely made her a quite willing pupil. “Is that so, Love?” he asked mildly, holding back his mirth in the hope of avoiding the sort of stubborn temper one could flare in her if not careful.

“Sorry if I’m a bit late,” he added for her teacher’s benefit. Jennifer was her name, though Killian did not feel quite familiar enough to address her that informally, though he knew Emma often did. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

He rarely used most of his former flirtatious feminine nicknames with women about town either, not once he and Emma had been married and since he had become a father of three. Not that he felt there had been anything wrong with such playful appellations, and he still pulled out the fanciful “Milady Snow” for Emma’s mother and occasionally flushed Granny’s cheeks with a pleased blush upon calling her “Lass” as if she were twenty years old once more.  But it had only taken catching the tense, worried look of fear on Emma’s face (which she tried to deny when he asked) one time to make plying his charms with anyone other than his wife lose all appeal. It had appeared as if she still thought someone could actually beguile him or lure him away from her, and he could only shake his head in stunned disbelief at the very idea. So when Aurora smiled at him thankfully as he caught her runaway second son at the T-ball diamond, or when Tink giggled merrily and laid her hand on his forearm while  he joked with her at the market, Killian was friendly and kind, but also quick to gently disentangle himself as clearly as possible without any of his old quips to play up the moment.

Jennifer smiled back at him, her expression open and genuine, with an indulgent sparkle in her eyes as they flicked back to Hope beside him. “Of course not. It just seemed like such a lovely evening. Hope and I thought we’d come outside to wait until you arrived.”

Killian figured that was quite probably mostly Hope’s idea. His little buccaneer would never willingly stay indoors if given the choice, and her teacher was plainly just one more friend and neighbor who could not withstand her natural charm.

“Papa, come on!” Hope urged impatiently, practically wriggling at his side. “Don’t you want to hear the song we learned? It’s a sea shanty.”

“Aye, little love, of course I do,” he nodded, ceasing his conversation and wandering thought and turning full attention back to her.

Nodding sagely, as if she would have expected nothing else from her doting papa, Hope’s tiny fingers, still wrapped around his shining metal appendage pulled him behind her as Ms. D. led them back into her foyer and through to the sunroom where she kept her piano. Hope proudly led him to the settee on one wall, under a large window, urging him to sit where he could enjoy her performance; her teacher all the while merely watching with a gentle smile on her face.  

When Jennifer saw that the Captain was settled and ready for them to begin, she seated herself at the piano, much as she had been during Hope’s vocal lesson earlier, and the child came to stand practically at her elbow, beaming and nodding that she was indeed ready when asked.  Her teacher held in a chuckle at her pupil’s enthusiasm, the Jones’ daughter puffing her little chest out with pride at having something new to show her father, and her bright green eyes sparkling with joy and excitement.  Turning to place her hands on the keys, she gave Hope a count to prepare her, and then launched into the first notes of the piece they had been practicing that afternoon.

As often happened, especially when she had a willing compatriot to get swept along with her, Jennifer lost herself in the words and the notes, letting the tune she had found for Hope’s newest song carry her along on its soothing melody. So carried away they both were in fact, that she didn’t really come back to herself until she played the last note, Hope stopped singing, and they both looked over to find their former pirate audience with misty eyes, shaking himself as if from a dream, before quickly straightening up and slapping his hand on his thigh in applauding approval.  “That was beautiful, ladies!  Truly quite magnificent!” Killian Jones praised sincerely.

She wasn’t going to call him on the fact that his voice sounded hoarse with some unspoken and hastily covered emotion. His daughter, however, showed no such restraint.  Rushing forward, Hope threw herself into his lap, her arms wrapping around her father’s neck and squeezing until he unwound them slightly to breathe properly again. “Oh no, Papa, what’s wrong?  Didn’t you like it?  Ms. D. looked up a special song just for me.  We thought it was really pretty.”

Killian Jones seemed to master himself, and whatever melancholy had gripped him momentarily was gone from his face as he shook his head, quickly moving to reassure his child. He also seemed to be shooting an apologetic look Jennifer’s way over Hope’s curls, though she was hardly offended (if admittedly a bit curious). “No, no, I liked it very much….it’s...nothing like that.”  His voice trailed off for a moment as he gathered Hope more securely on his knee.  “I just… that melody...I hadn’t heard it for many years. It seemed to be coming out of a dream when you started it.  My mother used to sing that to me…. A long time ago….”

Now, Jennifer knew enough of the reformed Captain Hook’s story to know just how long ago that truly might have been, but she wasn’t going to pry, and she wasn’t going to confuse a six-year-old if all of that realm-hopping, time-stands-still in Neverland confusion hadn’t been explained to Hope. She knew for herself the power of a song to take a person back to another place in time. While that power was a gift, it could bring bittersweet memories as well as purely happy ones.

Gentleman to the core though, Killian Jones seemed determined to see that they both knew he found their performance lovely.  “Thank you, both of you.  I would not have thought to ever hear that chorus again.  It was captivating.”

Jennifer merely nodded, letting him know he was more than welcome.  Hope, looking relieved, merely hugged her papa tightly, then slid down to the floor, her fleeting attention no longer content to be still.  “Yes, thank you Ms. D! See you next week!” And then she was skipping back out of the room to the door.

Captain Jones remained just a moment longer, his voice quiet, still a bit awesd and touched as he added, “Thank you, Milady...truly. It was wonderful to hear my mother’s lullaby again.”  With a little bow to her, he followed his daughter down the porch steps and back to the car, leaving Jennifer infinitely glad she she had picked that particular song of the many that she had uncovered in her research.  She would have never expected Hope’s father to listen to it as if they had been giving him the best treasure ever unearthed in his long and storied career.

~ Notes: I was going to include lyrics to a sea shanty (I looked up several) for Hope to be singing, but I decided to leave that open to interpretation. The one I was leaning toward, with lyrics like: “Yo! Ho, how we go!

Oh how the winds blow!

White Wings, they never grow weary

Night comes I long for my dearie

I’ll spread out my white wings

And sail home to thee…” ended up being too fast paced to sound like a lullaby once I looked up a recording of it.  I considered some others, “Endearing Young Charms”, “Cliffs of Doneen”, and others (Including “She Moved Through the Fair”), but in the end I liked them all and couldn’t really settle on one for sure.  If you know of an Irish sea shanty you particularly like, just pretend it’s that one Hope’s singing! :)

[jackz-of-trade]

“Who is the most brazen, bold, and brilliant buccaneer who ever sailed the briny blue?”

Much to my surprise, Captain Hook is fairly easy and very fun to draw!  Expect to see more of this scurvy captain in the future!

Do not repost without permission

[jester-of-genocide]

Buccaneers of Buffoonery!

@bloominghands

    The tumultuous time at sea was upon the United Nations’ military as one of its many patrol boats had captured an evading international criminal. They had finally cornered the femme fatale and she had no way out. Her journey was over, or so she would think.     A merry band of swashbuckling felons were in search of Nico Robin, too. They would come to the damsel’s rescue shortly after she was captured. Matter of fact, it was mere hours after she was brought on board the patrol ship. Her rescue was nearing.     The USS Jester was the ship that was in pursuit of the patrol boat. ❝ Onward, mateys! We’ve a dame to rescue! Hahahaha! ❞ Joker shouted, standing upon the front of his ship while wearing a personalized pirate costume. It was the most bizarre rescue the troops had ever seen.     The Brazen Buffoon and his bandits swung over on ropes, landing atop the patrol boat. All of them were dressed like stylized pirates. It’s as if Robin had entered another world. In some way, she had… it was the insane realm of the Joker where logic meant nothing, where your humanity would soon be done away with.

    The Clown Prince of Crime held his sword to the throat of the military officer, ❝ Alright, wise guy, we’ll be taking it from here! Me and my buoyant buccaneers are here to take our rightful booty! ❞

[guncelkal]

Tom Brady must elevate Buccaneers teammates to survive Rams’ challenge

Tom Brady must elevate Buccaneers teammates to survive Rams’ challenge

The Bucs will turn their lonely eyes to you, Tom Brady, and ask you to figure out a way to win as only you can, against a swaggerlicious Rams team brazen enough to butt them all into next season.