[intolerablexsacrifice, for Thomas, post-reunion] 😬 Snarl/show teeth at my muse [ probably while trembling with suppressed Upset Emotions because g-D THESE TWO ]

“Is that it?” Sarcasm dripped from his lips as surely as frustration rattled at the corners of McGraw’s, bringing a notable twitch to those damnable whiskers – a tic that cast his mind afield of this argument for but an instant – a flicker of memory as fast as the initial shift that caused the recollection.

“Is this the best that you can muster – or am I meant to be so beholden to you that you don’t feel the fucking need to try? Am I supposed to beg, my dear lieutenant,” Like venom, the words spat from behind his teeth with all the force of violence necessary to cripple – words that had once been so meaningful, so adoring, now laced with only the most poignant contempt. “How dare you.”

@intolerablexsacrifice

🥪 Set a plate/tray/bowl of food down for my muse | TF’s Joji for Thomas H

{ Nonverbal Starters }

“Please – “ A deep, shuddering breath racks through him, and it is all he can do not to lose what little he has retained upon the plate so kindly offered him, “Don’t help.”

The last thing he wanted was for these men to think that he was weak. He understood that he had a very great deal to prove to Captain Vane, regardless of the kindness inherent in the quartermaster’s offer. Seasickness he was sure was understandable to some measure – but it had been two weeks at sea with no sign of issue from Thomas until now.

He was not ill – not in the sense of having eaten something wrong, or having been turned up by the sea – but in the mind, in ways that could not be seen. This morning’s breakfast – the consistency of it – had damn near broken him, and now it was all he could do to maintain dignity, and pray that he could overcome this before it marked him as a detriment.

@tidefated

[intolerablexsacrifice, for Thomas, pick a verse any verse] 😴 Stand by the bed to see if my muse will let you under the covers with them

{ Nonverbal Starters }

Thomas stiffened, glancing over at James sharply as he just stood there – and if it weren’t for that fucking expression on his face he might have torn a strip from him for hovering like that – but as it was, he just snapped his tongue irritably.

Some habits never died.

Flipping the covers back, he remarked bluntly, “Typically speaking when a man lurks above a bed like that it doesn’t mean good things. Use your words next time.” Though he managed to keep it from being as visceral as he’d initially intended, it was still harsher than he now wanted. So in a softer, more entreating tone, he added, “Please.”

@intolerablexsacrifice

[intolerablexsacrifice, for Thomas, pick a verse any verse] 💖 Lean in to give my muse a sweet/chaste kiss

{ Nonverbal Starters }

Oh Heavens, look. The dear thing thought himself clever. Thomas maintained an uninterested expression – his focus seemingly on the sea, and the horizon it reached to. When James was just close enough he couldn’t escape, he turned what had likely been meant as a sweet kiss on the cheek into something a little more – intense.

They had plenty of time, of course – with the night settling in, there was little to be done but rest. Leaning away, Thomas gave his dear lieutenant – ah, captain, – a wink before patting his chest and moving to step past him. Admittedly expecting him to be frozen enough not to react just yet – but, then, it had been ten years….

Who knew what else might have changed, aside from a simple surname.

@intolerablexsacrifice

🌸 Put a flower in my muse’s hair | TF’s Joji to Thomas H

{ Nonverbal Starters }

As a general rule, Thomas had made it clear that he did not like having anyone get near his hair. Having been forced to shave it so often, forced to maintain the appearance of servitude and submission, he had taken to the freedom of expression known best to pirates by growing it out.

He might have thought it obnoxious a decade ago, pulling it back every day, but now it was all but an act of catharsis to run fingers through his hair and know that nobody could take this from him now. To tie it back and know that it was his choice to appear in such a manner held tremendous – if perhaps vain and foolish – meaning to him.

Not even James had been permitted to touch his hair without express permission thus far, and though Thomas felt the same coil of distaste he always did at first, noting who it was, and what was being done, soothed his alarm before he could even begin to wonder why it didn’t bother him.

“Where in Heaven’s name did you manage to find this?” He wondered, fingers lifting up to brush against the delicate petals of the orange tropical flower now fixed behind his ear. It had been days since they left shore – how had the man even managed to preserve it for so long?

Fascinated, he could not help but smile, “You truly are quite the wonder, aren’t you?”

@tidefated

🤙 Bump into my muse | William to Thomas H- poor man is always in a goddamn HURRY

{ Nonverbal Starters }

“Excuse you,” The haughty tone was not at all retracted after Thomas had taken note of the man who so rudely crashed into him – an officer of His Majesty’s Navy ought to be a great deal more aware of his surroundings, and in fact the man’s uniform only served to make matters more acerbic. “Has war been declared whilst the lords have enjoyed their afternoon tea?”

@tidefated

💥@thomas in the miranda lives too au

{ Nonverbal Starters }

This was it, of course. The moment he had known was inevitable, as inescapable as any other fact of life. As sure as death itself, this loss had been perceived from the very moment of its birth, for no joy could mask sorrows that tracked so deep as this for long, without turning to bitter ash upon one’s tongue.

It was all he could do, to contain within himself every ounce of his rage, to restrain behind his teeth the venom that pooled upon his tongue like the forgotten taste of sweet and perfumed wines. He would remember this moment for years to come – with the same cacophony of frustrations echoing inside of himself as he recalled so many more, but for the singular difference of pride.

Too long had he been haunted by the times in which he had been helpless against those who wronged him. Terrorized by the sensation of being dragged to his knees screaming by the force of all that which stood against him – figurative and real alike. And in this moment, when the power rested solely in his hands – he refused to sound as he did then.

He would not be the animal hauled howling into its confinement, but rather the man who would – with every ounce of dignity remaining to him – wash his hands of it. The chains that bound him to the past had been lifted – and he would be damned if he let his wife and his lover tangle him back up, until at last he was strangled by the suffocating weight of what they claimed had been done in his name.

Drawing his hand away from the wall it braced itself upon, he faced her one last time. Allowed for her to see his resolve – the stubbornness she claimed to have fallen in love with, and the ferocity that lay behind it. When he spoke, it was not in fury but rather, in the natural finality of what he knew must be said between them.

He had loved her, once. In his own way, he had found the very stars to guide himself in her smile. Her laughter had been incentive enough, at times, to carry on when it felt as though it might be wise, just this once, to not pick up the fight. She had soothed his storms for years, as surely as she had fuelled them. He would do what he could to preserve that between them – it was the last of the promises he owed her. For better or worse indeed – just as death, surely, had parted them.

The death of the life they had once shared together. Of the man he had once been, and the woman who had loved that man. Whomsoever stood before him now – this Miss Barlow – was no more his wife than James Flint was his lover.

“Goodbye, Miranda.”

“Thank you – for all the times you sent me reassurance when I needed it most.” | TF’s Cutler to Derek- probably very stiffly cause he doesn’t know wtf to do with himself

{ Soulmates }

Derek had not known what to expect of the person on the other side of all that numbness. There were times when he had genuinely wondered if there would be anyone to find at the core of something so shattered, but he had been prepared from the start to help them find a means of piecing themselves back together.

If he was completely honest with himself though, with all he’d heard and come to understand about what happened to men like himself who were not careful – he’d believed the person on the other side would be more like him, than like those who had raised him to be cautious of what men like this were capable of.

“That’s what this thing is all about – isn’t it?” From his understanding at any rate, it wasn’t about the romantic things a lot of stories spoke of – he’d heard those tales too, and while they certainly made sense, what stood out among them were the same truths that stood out among brothers – when one was unsteady, it was on the strength of the other that he could lean.

Whoever stood on the opposite end of his spirit was the one who needed strength – he’d recognized that from the start. He registered, based on the class difference between them, that there was strength for him to find as well – but it wasn’t the sort of power that he wanted. He had no issue dismissing the luxury such a match offered – what mattered to him was that the other knew he had support, regardless of the fact he had nothing to offer Derek in return for it.

“I’m glad it helped. You know if you ever need to talk about any of it – I’m here to listen, right?”

@tidefated

⛈ Find my muse after some kind of trauma | Cutler for Julia cause u right it doesn’t have to be your muse’s trauma so I hope she accepts this smol (bitter)bean delivered by the ocean

{ Nonverbal Starters }

The cry of overboard caught her attention too quickly – the sea had been all calm waters and gentle breezes, meaning anyone over the Song’s edge had gotten there due to a fight amid the crew ( unlikely among her own, and even less likely to occur unheard and without a splash ) or was victim to the terrible clash of powers that had occurred most recently between the EITC and the Brethren Court.

Or perhaps more truthfully, between the lady Calypso and her old lover, Davy Jones.

Julia knew better than to get involved in the affairs of the eldritch, at least without invitation – and had spent the better majority of her time on islands the EITC would not think to find, and Jones would not deign to mention. Those who held his heart, after all, did not therefore retain his loyalty. Generally it was the opposite, in fact.

“Andrews, lower a boat – see if that poor soul yet lives,” Her order came even as she reached the balustrade, hands gripping the sides to observe matters and attempt to discern from a distance if the prone form belonged to man, or corpse.

By the time the man was brought aboard, she had arranged for either – unable to tell, even with a spyglass, which the answer would prove to be. The man was impossibly pale beneath the burns gifted him by the sun, and his breath was so scant it barely shifted his breast. “Get him below. He’ll need the surgeon, and water.”

As Andrews made to do so, one of the newer men sang out, “That’s Cutler Beckett himself, that is! I told him cap’n, but he said he weren’t goin’ ta leave ‘im on account of it!”

Julia raised her brows, glancing at Andrews. The two held silent conference before she met the expressions of those now paying much keener attention to the rescue party. “And right he was to not! We do not question the sea her choices – to do so is arrogant and foolish, and I will have neither aboard my ship. We will see in time what worth he brings us – “

“Naught but trouble – damned and cursed that man is!” There was a hum of agreement indeed – the man was a scourge to piracy, as surely as he was to those who might once have called him ally. There was nowhere for him to go, and so the sea had brought him here. Briefly, Julia wondered for but a moment what might happen if she ignored the hint, just this once. As it was –

“And yet he lives! He who challenged a goddess.” Silence. There, that had their attention. “If any of you have concerns, I suggest you raise them with Andrews after our guest has been tended to. Until then, I want you back to work – immediately.”

That seemed to get them stirring, at any rate. She could not fault them for being frustrated. In truth even she was displeased by the notion, but it was what it was. As the man was taken to the surgeon, Julia motioned for the harker to come forth. Once he was near enough she informed him frankly, “I do not take well to men who seek to stir up trouble on my ship, mister – “

“Dawson, ma’am.”

Not entirely unintelligent then. “Mister Dawson,” She tilted her head toward him, “Your information is valuable – I would prefer, in the future, if you would bring valuable information to me directly, rather than to shout it out as you just did.”

“Crew deserve’n t’know that,” He argued, furry brow plucking close in consternation, seeming to believe himself drawn forth into a conspiracy of some sort.

Ridiculous, of course. She’d never trust someone so dimwitted.

“Indeed they do – if,” Julia pointed out quietly, but sharply, “You happen to be correct.”

His eyes widened, and it seemed for all his dimness, the dear mister Dawson was quite aware of that implication. And of how easily it might spread.

“You see why I would rather you come to me – it spares us all a great deal of awkwardness, don’t you think?”

He looked downright mutinous. Her brow arched, and he seemed to rethink his position. “Aye, marm.” Barely respectable, but he did try. She had to give him that, if nothing else. Smiling, she dismissed him – her own expression pinching once his back was turned. He would not last beyond the next port, of that, she was quite certain. All she needed to do now was have an eye on him, and any he summoned to his end would be similarly dismissed. She had no use for men who considered themselves above the laws of the Song – or for those who would try and stir trouble amid her loyal crew!

Now – all that was left was for Andrews and their dear doctor Mandoon to determine just who the sea had brought them. For if indeed it was Cutler Beckett – well, that would be quite the adventure in irony indeed!

@tidefated

😊 Sit down next to my muse | Joji to Julia- possibly on land somewhere?

{ Nonverbal Starters }

“Well hello there, handsome,” There was little hesitation in her greeting – to encounter a man so impressively tall and regal in feature was uncommon enough to warrant it, though her attention immediately flicked to the katana at his hip once she registered him as a man of the Orient. She’d never seen one so tall, and wondered briefly if she’d encountered one of their gods.

Surely she hadn’t angered any – she was always respectful in those waters, knowing how many spirits they harbored.

“You’re not here to cause me any trouble, are you darling? With so few beautiful men in this world, it would be a shame to have to fight one when I could be buying him a drink instead.”

@tidefated