💨 catch my muse in a lie | Edward to Hume

A genuine chill crept down Graham’s spine when Captain Pellew abruptly dismissed his excuse – there was no urgent business to attend at this time, not under the admiralty. Propriety would not think of it outside of the most terrible of circumstances, and a man senior in his command would surely be more involved than a newly minted captain.

Straightening his spine and praying he could clear away any suspicion toward the lieutenant whose bed he had just left, he attempted again with a simple and curt, “It was of a personal nature, sir. Forgive me – I had not meant to insinuate otherwise.”

💨 catch my muse in a lie | Cutler to Jack

{ Random Acts }

“I will shoot!” Jack insisted hotly, even knowing he was caught out. He kept his pistol level for a moment more, staring into those wide eyes and trying not to feel disconcerted by how unaffected they were. There was no fear in that gaze, but it didn’t come from Beckett’s certainty that Jack was harmless. Rather, it came from the sort of deadness only the truly shattered could properly achieve, and it was an eerie sight on a man who was so fucking sure of himself.

Clicking the safety back in place, Jack lowered his weapon with an irate growl. “Oh – bugger off,” He stepped back, not wanting to be any closer than he had to be to the man. “Crew’s ordered not to touch you,” He reminded him gruffly, “So get out of my sight, if you please.”

❝ Sorry. I don’t always listen when you talk. ❞ | BILLY TO HUME

{ Galavant Starters }

“So I gathered, Mister Bones,” Graham intoned with no small measure of exasperation. Yes, he had done his reconnaissance on this man now, stubborn creature that he was. He had already asked if the man believed – truly – that the men he was presently so determined to protect would ever do the same for him. That if granted the opportunity to return to their old lives, to flourish underneath legitimacy, they would not turn on their fellows in a minute.

What had been curious about this was the fact the man seemed rather unbothered by the reality of the fact that many would do that. It seemed that Billy “Bones” – there was no way that was actually his surname – was not harboring any illusions that his “brothers” would all invariably do the same. Rather, he seemed determined to hold true and steady for those who held the same belief in the flag of rebellious equality as he did, and that was good enough.

He was loyal, of that there was no doubt. Yet surely, a man as doggedly protective as this one had something he would rather fight for than men who would betray him as soon as it became convenient to do so. The trick was finding it – if he could do that, it would be better than breaking him. A man willing would always be better than a man shattered – and frankly, Graham preferred to avoid torture unless there was absolutely no option through civil means left.

“I think I am beginning to understand you, all the same,” He announced then, taking a seat across from the chair his prisoner was presently chained upon, “I think the reason you are so determined to stand true to these people is because you have nothing else to be loyal to – no home left behind that you feel can be regained, no life that can be returned to. So you hold to what you know – to who you know, even if it means they betray you in the end, because without them you don’t know how to define yourself or where to direct that protective nature of yours.”

Sighing – because he knew if he said too much he would lose the man again – Graham leaned forward and set the trap. “I think you could benefit from protecting those who would do the same for you – and I also think that those you are especially determined to protect would accept pardons if you were the one to present them. Would it not be better to legitimize your friends and start doing something with your life that doesn’t leave you and yours at constant risk of the noose? Or does your loyalty only extend so far – does it not account for the quality in which they live, but only the mitigation of how they may die?”

When you’re small, you don’t have very far to fall. | Cutler to Jack in tentverse v2

{ Little Dark Age }

Looking down at the man before him, Jack cannot help but feel – responsible for the state of him. Without his wig, he had sprouted a halo of soft near-curls that were strangely cherubic on his porcelain features. It presented an innocence he knew for a fact this man did not possess a whit of, but there was no denying that he looked small here.

Divested of his riches and his grandeur, Cutler Beckett was but a delicate man in a world too rough for him to navigate without dent or damage – and while he may not be innocent, there was no denying that he was vulnerable. Which – despite all that had come to pass – Jack found to be a distasteful outcome.

Perhaps if he had held on to some of that customary arrogance, it would have been easier to accept, but as it was Jack found himself glancing around and taking in the tiny empire this man had built for himself with naught but a tent in the sand. There was no questioning how he was getting by, that much was certain – but Jack did not think for one moment that the means of survival was the source of the humility before him now.

After a moment of consideration, Jack offered out his arm. “They say misery loves company,” He offered, sporting a charming grin a moment, then, “Last I was here, I may have caused a bit of a situation.” That was one way to word sacking an entire city without firing a single shot, alright. “Folks won’t cause me any trouble, but they also won’t be making very good company. I could use some entertainment about as much as you could stomach a meal, I wager.”

It wasn’t that Jack wasn’t used to paying for company – so much as it wasn’t so much the company he tended to be shelling out for. In this case, however, he felt it fair to make a small exception.

❝ All you need to be pirates is a dark heart and a wicked disregard for other people’s lives. ❞ | Cutler to Jack slkjf oh dear

{ Galavant Starters }

“You’re talkin’ rogues, mate,” Eyes narrowed as surely as his voice had taken grasp of a darker cadence, Jack considered detailing precisely what it took to be a pirate, but in the end he opted to step in close and sway forward, pitching his words low to better ensure that Becket clung upon every word. “And you best be thanking whatever it is a grubby little monkey like you prays to that it be pirates were the ones to fish your rotten flesh out of those waters, mark me.”

He leaned back then, his arm raising up sudden and sharp, as if to slap – but he turned it, stopping shortly before Cutler’s very nose with the hideous rise of flesh in the shape of a P bared between them. “In my experience,” A false brightness, a dangerous sort of pleasantness seeping into his tone now, charming as a snake, “All it takes is a man with a dark heart and a wicked disregard for people’s lives to make a pirate.”

🖤 for a kiss on a wound (bruise, scar, etc.) | Joji to Abigail

{ Random Acts }

The early morning sun was streaming in through the window, the curtains still open from the night before to invite in the cool air after a day so hot it had felt as if every motion created sweat and weariness in its wake. Some time after midnight, it had chilled to the point Abigail had woken up pressed up tightly against Joji and shivering just a little beneath the blanket she realized he must have dragged over her while she slept.

Now, she found herself lazing in the sun and enjoying the warmth as it spread along her shoulders, watching her lover as he pressed kisses against the marks that had tormented her so deeply, before his gaze had found them. She saw them differently now – covered as they were in his touch, healed again and again by the certainty of his kisses.

It was hard to hate anything he could love so steadily – and there was never a doubt in her, about his feelings toward them. That they were a part of the whole of her made them as worthy of his affections as anything else that made up who she was – and he didn’t have to tell her for her to learn and accept that to be true. He showed her, each and every day, ways to see the world through his eyes – and the more she looked, the more she found she could find the truth and the lies.

His hair brushed over her knee then, and a soft laugh escaped her at the sensation – ticklish as ever – as she reached down and gripped his shoulder, encouraging him to join her at the top of the bed. She had work soon enough, and she wanted to spend as much of her early morning in his arms as she could get away with.

‘ don’t you dare. ’ | Cutler to Jack – IDK ABOUT CONTEXT BUT HE ABSOLUTELY SQUEAKED

{ Devotion Of Suspect X }

“You’re in no position to negotiate, mate,” Jack waved his hand, and in an instant, Ragetti and Pintel had Beckett’s arms pinned to his sides. There was a nasty grin on Pintel’s face that left Jack more than a little uneasy – the man was still too much Barbossa’s for comfort – the sooner the Pearl was docked with Greene’s fleet, the better he would be for it. An honest crew would be quite the sore and welcome thing after so much of this mutiny business.

“You want us to gut ‘im for ya, boss?” Pintel inquired, all too eager with the idea of spilling guts across the deck of the Pearl. Jack wrinkled his nose at him, “What? No! Deck’s just been swabbed,” He pointed out as reason enough, “Toss him over – he’s gotten a bit ripe.”

As if uncertain, Ragetti leaned in and sniffed at Beckett, rearing back with a look that was comically startled. “See?” Jack’s tone was pleased, warm from amusement and vindication. “And you know what I think of that, don’t you lads?”

Ragetti started to chuckle, knowing where this was going, and Pintel stared, his face twisted in an impression set to make a gargoyle cry. Jack rose his brows, leading the older of the two to groan, “You don’t mean for us to go with him, do you captain?” Suddenly it didn’t sound as fun as it had a moment ago.

In answer, Jack made a shooing motion, and Ragetti began pulling Beckett toward the edge. “Its a good day for a swim,” The musing was remarkably good natured, and Jack smiled a little – though he was certain to Beckett, it brought absolutely no comfort to see paired with a little wave as Pintel hauled as well to get the reluctant man on the edge of the ship.

“Have fun!” He chimed, just as the deck rocked in the wake of a wave, and all three of them tumbled in. Judging from the yowl of outrage, Pintel had not been at all ready for it. Jack looked around, before waving over Moriarty, who was kind enough to bring the bucket containing cloths and a small chunk of soap and lower it, too, over the edge of the ship.

tbh I’m going crosseyed reading memes so please just take this extremely sleepy Cutler I’m dumping on Jack’s bed and do with it what you will.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” It was about as effective as talking to a jailhouse dog. Beckett was not only tired, he was feverish and too beyond himself to consider being afraid, let alone obedient.

Jack was of the mind to stick him on the floor regardless, and just stuff more blankets around him so he could sweat out the fever without being troublesome about it. Still, considering the man’s constitution that was as like to kill him off as not, and far be it from he to kill a man through something so impersonal as negligence. He supposed it served him right for ignoring the signs of symptoms up until now, anyway.

Huffing irately, Jack stepped over and grabbed the smaller man, lifting him up and tossing him over one shoulder like a sack of grain. Tearing all his own blankets off the bed, he unceremoniously dropped the man back onto it, before stomping off to shove his bedding onto the chair behind his desk. That done, he grabbed the pillows off the floor and started chucking them with a vague sense of amusement and malice at the tired man, considering it a right treat each time there was a satisfactory plap to Beckett’s face.

That done, he picked up the blankets and drew them over, tossing them across the small fellow and tucking him in so tightly it would be a wonder if he could move. “I’ll check on you later,” He grumped, turning with every intention of transforming his desk into a bed for the night.

What is Freedom Without You?

tidefated‌:

~

Cutler’s smile was somehow sad and bewildered, as if he still could not believe she was really here before him, holding his hands in hers, and as if he didn’t understand how she could not see why he’d wanted the change, before. He bowed until he could press his forehead against his sister’s hands, eyes shut a moment as he tried to find the words he wanted.

“I’ve only just found you- before this… before this, certainly, I had freedom, but what did it matter? Was it even worth it, without you at my side?” He lifted his head, smiling, now, despite the wetness in his eyes. “A world without you in it was not a world worth anything, sister- but now that you are here I see nothing worth changing.”

Jane smiled softly, wanting to turn her hands and cup her brother’s face in them so that he might look at her – but in the end, there was no need to do so. His words were a familiar wound in her as well – a concern she had shared for many years and in moments when it was rather out of place to be so grief stricken.

She could remember all too clearly the terrible, yawning pain inside of her when she first held each of her children, knowing that the most important person in her life before them would never have the chance to meet them. Unlike Cutler, she had people in her life – people who had loved her, had cared for her and believed in her. Yet even still she had been pained for the loss of him – so it made sense, in a terrible way, that he would see so little in the world worth anything without having even that much kindness in his life without her.

“No more of this,” She decided softly, but firmly. “The world shall continue on as it is – and you and I shall master together our corner of it, and be content. For we have everything we could need now.” She gave his hands a squeeze before making the most daring of requests, “Would you come with me, Cutler? If I asked you to leave this war behind, and sail with me to France instead?”

Dream Tonic

tidefated‌:

~

Cutler Beckett was not a nervous man, but he did stand nervously now, waiting for the doctor to acknowledge him. He felt like a bloody school boy with the way he had to control his breathing, and the tightness in his chest. The dreams had become worse, with time, and he’d begun to wonder if, somehow, this was Jones’s doing. Even if it was, he needed it to stop- he hadn’t slept in days, at this point, not without constant interruption.

He stepped into the dim room, and took up the tonic which was to prevent seasickness- running his fingers over the small bottle as he spoke up. “I can see you’re very busy,” he said, and rather than the acerbic tone he had hoped, it came out rather placating, “However I had hoped you might be willing to make another tonic for me. Sleep has come less easily, of late.”

Severus did not need to look up to know he did not have enough stock to achieve what Beckett required. He knew his stores and the valerian root was running low – he had enough to either make the tonic this man needed or brew one more batch of the fever combatant that had been keeping this crew running ever since their last port stay. In a choice between one man’s undisturbed sleep and the welfare of the crew as a whole – there was simply no question which he would choose.

Despite this, he lowered his knife and looked over at his employer mildly. The truth was Severus had very little to fear from Cutler Beckett – his skills made him just irreplaceable enough that pressing him was widely considered unwise. Everyone needed good doctors on their ships – from the EITC and the Navy, to the utterly unscrupled. Nevertheless, his refusal was delicate in the awareness that he could still be accused of insubordination regardless of how stupid it would be to do so – it was, admittedly, Severus’ opinion that men like Beckett were not particularly in possession of the most logical wits.

“I am afraid that is not possible at present, my lord. The ingredients required for your tonic have run dry. While I would be happy to comply once we have time to restock – at present I am afraid there is nothing I can do.” He paused, then, “Short of ensuring you sleep for a week, that is. And something tells me that would not be particularly favorable either.”