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look-at-the-soul · 6 months

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Every little thing you do- Part 4

Series master list

Tommy Shelby x reader

Better late than never! I hope you like this! The drama continues for a while, no warning is needed just Lizzie being a (b)witch.

Word count: 2,923

Lizzie rolled her eyes subtly as Y/N walked past her with a blinder following her steps with a box full of papers. Surprisingly Tommy hired his best friend as his assistant and now everywhere Lizzie looked, she found Y/N.

“Thank you James!” She heard Y/N.

“Any time, just let me know if you need anything.” The blinder tipped his peaky cap towards her and walked away.

Lizzie found Y/N the most irritating person, always smiling, always charming everyone, always so fucking close to Tommy. And now she had to work at the company too?!

“Now that Scott is missing, are you going to start flirting with James too?” Lizzie asked with sarcasm.

Nobody knew where Scott was, he simply faded away one day and Y/N didn’t seem to care.

Y/N wasn’t in the mood to deal with Lizzie’s bullshit that day, she had been giving herself away to work, eager to payoff Tommy’s kindness. But no matter what, Lizzie had been showing a bitchy attitude towards her without a valid reason since the beginning.

“Why? Are you jealous?” Y/N retorted immediately and pretended to focus on the folders with the licenses information, she needed to organize those.

“You think you’re so smart and with that innocent look you can blind men.”

“That’s what you think hmm? Well, even if that was the case… it’s none of your business.”

“And whose next? Tommy?” Lizzie placed her hand on her hip, twisting her lower lip down.

Y/N felt like actually having a little fun. Polly told her Tommy had sex with Lizzie occasionally, not like an official thing, but apparently Lizzie’s feelings got in the way at some point.

“Oh… wait you don’t know the latest gossip darling?” Y/N fixed her eyes on Lizzie’s paled expression. “I’m living in his house… Arrow House, it’s a fucking palace if you ask me.”

Y/N’s statement was a direct punch into Lizzie’s gut, anger and discomfort was so evident in her expression.

“Are you Tommy’s new whore?” Lizzie asked loudly not realizing that Tommy was behind her.

“Elizabeth Stark!” His voice resonated around, making Lizzie jump.

His jaw clenched and he threw his secretary a death stare that could turn her into stone. Y/N knew of his bad temper and his violent reactions -never towards her of course-, but deep down she felt bad for Lizzie.

Pacing between them, Tommy took a few more steps until he stood next to Y/N.

“I want everyone around.” He rubbed the cigarette over his lips, but refrained from lightning it because he remembered it made Y/N sick. “RIGHT NOW!”

As he saw other secretaries and blinders gathered around, as well as his family, he took a deep breath.

“I haven’t got the chance to properly introduce Y/N… she’s my assistant now.” He explained with a serious tone. “But if anyone…” Tommy then fixed his eyes on Lizzie, “dares to say anything bad to her, point a fucking finger, question her integrity or whatever the fuck you do. In that very moment, you’re fired. And I’m no joking.”

The people gave him a few nods and nervous stares.

“Are we clear?” He shouted then, to make his point valid.

A chorus of yes was heard around as people started to move.

“This is a warning.” He explained to Lizzie directly. “Next time you cross the line, and you’re out.”

Lizzie stood there petrified, not knowing what to say or do.

Then, when he turned around to face Y/N, his expression went completely soft again. The difference was evident.

“Y/N your grandma is waiting in my car, I’m taking you two somewhere.” He explained holding out her coat.

“Oh!” She rushed excited, leaving Lizzie fuming.

“Jealousy will take you nowhere.” Polly pointed at Lizzie, lighting a cigarette.

“I’m just so done with her, I can’t stand her!” She exploded clenching her jaw.

Polly studied her, then leaning against the desk, she finally asked; “what’s your problem? Y/N hasn’t done anything to you.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes and scoffed in discomfort. Y/N was always in the middle, always got Tommy’s attention, she made him smile, he looked after her all the fucking time!

Shaking the ash from her cigarette, Lizzie picked some folders from her desk.

“I don’t like her, alright?”

“You’re jealous.” It wasn’t a question.

Lizzie took a few seconds to answer the Shelby matriarch.

“I keep him satisfied… isn’t that enough?”

For an instant, Polly felt pity for Lizzie. “Believe it or not… that’s not all that Thomas is looking for.”

The green-eyed woman stared at her confused. So Polly continued.

“He had always dreamed big, he always wanted what he didn’t have growing up… he wants his own family, wants to make things right.” She explained.

“So there’s something going on between them?” Lizzie asked, the air escaping her body.

Polly stopped walking and slowly turned around to look at the secretary. “What? Of course not, they’re like brother and sister.”

Lizzie blinked a few times, confused. “I don’t understand.”

With a sigh, Polly told her it wasn’t her place to say anything and left. Y/N would decide if she wanted to share the news of her pregnancy and with whom she chose to do it.

“What did you tell Mum?” Y/N asked in the vehicle after greeting her grandmother with a tight and comforting hug.

She winked at her granddaughter from the front seat. “That I was going to the market.”

Tommy grinned listening to their talk, a moment later they arrived to the Garrison and he guided them to the private booth, so they would be able to talk freely.

“Harry would you prepare the kettle? Y/N and her grandma will need some tea.”

“Right away Mr. Shelby.”

Y/N’s grandma looked around, she had never been in a place like this, where men went to have a drink.

“You look pale my darling,” she stated giving her granddaughter’s hand a squeeze. “Is she eating well Mr. Shelby?”

“Oh, yes… you know, she’s a bit stubborn at times.” He chuckled. “You’re more than welcome in my house you know that, right?”

Y/N’s grandma touched his arm in gratitude. “God will pay you back in blessings.”

“Yes, Tommy won’t let me lift a finger, he got maids, someone that cooks and a driver. Can you believe that grandma?”

Her grandma looked at him in shock. It sounded like Tommy belonged to an upper status now.

“If you want to see Y/N, just ask any of my men to take you.”

Y/N looked at him with her eyes full of gratitude.

“Grandma…” Y/N stared at the cup of tea Harry brought, then she gave Tommy a quick glance.

“I’ll be checking the numbers of the pub. Alright?” Tommy offered to give them space.

“Thank you.” She saw him disappear, the noise from the pub filled momentarily the room.

“How are you feeling my dear?” Y/N’s grandma asked, worry installed in her eyes.

“As good as I can be,” she looked down, “the Shelby family had been looking after me and the doctor says everything is fine with the baby.”

“Oh that’s wonderful news.” The elderly woman celebrated. “But the sadness is still there, in your eyes.”

“I’m trying to be strong, but I can’t help but think I shouldn’t have been so naive, I thought Scott loved me.”

“I’m not going to lie to you dear, I always thought you’d end up falling in love with someone else.” The hint of a smile decorated her lips.

Y/N frowned.

“What do you mean?”

Her grandma shuddered. “Someone better, with a bright future.” She explained but kept the rest of her thoughts to herself. When she turned around, Y/N saw Tommy pouring some beer through the small window.

“But now it’s too late to think of that, I’ve to focus on this baby first.” Y/N murmured absently.

Y/N could feel the weight of the world on her shoulders. Part of her wanted to be optimistic and the other part needed to be realistic. Things would be different now.

“Can you ask Tommy if he knows a good lawyer?” Her grandma’s words caught her attention, but before she could ask if everything was alright, she spoke again. “I’m going to change my house under your name, but I don’t want anyone to learn this.”

The gesture touched every fiber of Y/N’s body and her eyes watered immediately.

“Oh grandma…”

“No, don’t thank me.” She warned. “When the time is right, you’ll need something to be yours.”

Dabbing the corner of her eyes with a napkin, Y/N stood up to give her grandmother a hug. “I don’t want you to worry anymore.” She added.

Y/N allowed her grandma to comfort her, feeling her heart full at the moment. And then she started sharing how good she felt now working at the Shelby business. Before they realized, time had passed and they thought it’d be better to take her grandma back home before it got dark.

“I’ll get Tommy.” Y/N informed standing up.

“Wait… I got something else for you.” Y/N’s grandma stated solemnly, producing a cloth from her handbag.

When Y/N opened it, she shook her head. “I can’t take it, it’s your money.”

“My darling… you will need it for the baby.”

“Don’t worry about it, thankfully I’ve the salary the Shelby family is paying me.”

Her grandmother shook her head profusely. “Either way, keep it in case you need it.”

“Thank you gran… it means the world to me.” Y/N stood to round the table and give her grandmother a tight hug. “You’re not mad?”

The elderly woman frowned and asked what she meant.

“Well you know… that I didn’t save myself until marriage?” She asked ashamed of her actions.

“Sweetheart, I’ve seen worse. It’s not my place to judge you.” Her grandmother caressed the side of her face. “What is it darling?” Worry was evident in her gaze.

Y/N was t able to hold it together any longer, tears started rolling down her cheeks.

“I feel like I failed my parents, you… I-I’m sorry.”

Y/N’s grandma wiped the tears away.

“Stop thinking that. A baby is always a blessing.”

“But grandma what will I do?”

“Whatever you need to do for this baby, it’s something you’ll only discover once the baby is born, a strength unknown will keep you above the water.” She stated wisely.

A few days later a sudden sound startled Y/N. When she looked up, she found Polly staring down at her.

“What are you bloody doing down there?”

“I’m organizing the races licenses.” She replied from the floor, papers scattered all around her.

“And the desk isn’t big enough?” Polly arched her eyebrows. “Don’t answer that.” She added after taking a look at the folders.

Lizzie took a turn but stopped abruptly when she found Polly talking with Y/N.

“Uhmm Tommy left these papers, said it was important for you to sign them.”

“Oh I forgot!” While she was signing the papers, she had some news to share. “Make sure to finish this, because you and I are going shopping this afternoon.”

“Polly you know I can’t, I’m trying to save money.” Y/N blushed in embarrassment.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not saying you’ll be spending money.” When she saw the face Y/N made, she interrupted her raising a hand. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

And with that, she clicked her heels to go into her office in the opposite hall.

Y/N stared at her, Polly was glamorous, she oozed personality and had a charming character. A light blood as Esme called her.

Lizzie looked at Y/N up and down, there was no way she could afford the clothes she was wearing. Taking a sip of her tea, she thought of what to say. She needed to be careful because Tommy had already give her a warning, but she couldn’t miss an opportunity to annoy her, poor little helpless Y/N… but Lizzie also knew she wasn’t going to run to him and tell him every time they talked.

“So you’re living with Tommy huh? That’s new… do the maids have to call you Mrs. Shelby?” Dabbing the lipstick she just applied, she gave her another look. “He can be generous when he wants, but seriously I don’t understand what kind of relationship you have if you’re living together but you aren’t a couple?” She spat bitterly.

“No offense Lizzie, but honestly? You’re the last woman I’d go after for an advice.” Y/N felt a bit tired, some nights it was impossible to sleep, worry and uncertainty was keeping her up.

“Well, you’re missing out then… because between us? You’ll never guess who’s taking me for a date.”

Y/N wanted to laugh at her words. A man dating Lizzie Stark. But a voice deep inside her made her shut up, because well… she was pregnant without being married. So she decided to play her game.

“Really? Enlighten me.”

Lizzie raised an eyebrow and gave Y/N a wicked smile.

“You know what? I don’t want you to ruin this for me.” She shook her head.

Y/N frowned, why would she ruin her date? She didn’t even care. Lizzie playing the mysterious woman was the most boring thing in the world and if she thought that would make her ask anything else or beg her to say her new lover’s name, Lizzie didn’t knew her at all. Y/N had enough at the moment to stick her nose in someone else’s business.

Lizzie rolled her eyes when Y/N didn’t commented anything further and walked with the folders to the safe.

She wanted to rub in her face that she was dating Angel Changretta. Whatever dating means, they were having wild sex, and Angel had said a few times that he didn’t care about her past. He took her out in his car and drove her back home, not like Tommy he only took her against the desk and didn’t even dare to take her clothes off, he just used her and lately he didn’t even looked at her.

Angel was her ticket to a better life.

Y/N locked the safe and returning to her desk, she found Tommy leaning against the window.

“What are you doing here?”

Y/N gave him a confused look. “I work here?”

That earned a laugh from Tommy. “Thought you we’re heading out, shopping.”

“Yes but later, once I finish my shift.”

Pointing at the hall, he let her walk first. “I need to ask you for a favor.”

That caught her attention and she looked at him intensely. “Anything.”

“Do you remember all those times we talked back then about how we dreamed of doing something together to turn everything around?”

Y/N nodded. “Because life was never fair.”

“How we were always missing opportunities because everything was so damn hard?” Tommy continued, his mind going back in time to a day when they didn’t allowed them in school because his old uniform had a hole in one of the knees and Y/N’s mother couldn’t afford the new books, so they skipped classes and went to the river to swim.

“You always said if it was up to you, you’d do everything completely different.” Y/N remembered all too well.

“I’m planning to open an institution for the kids in need.”

Her eyes sparkled with admiration. Tommy’s generosity didn’t know limits and it spoke volumes about the real man he was.

“How can I help?” She jumped in right away.

“That attitude will make you conquer anything.” Tommy pointed at his friend with a smile. “Whenever it’s possible I need you to lead this project. It’s ambitious but I’ll give you all the people you will need to materialize it.”

“Yes! Of course!” She oozed the excitement. “Education it’s the key for a better future.”

Tommy pouted, letting her words sink in. “You’ll need to make that the slogan.” He chuckled.

“I can scout the children who lost their fathers by the war, they probably were forced to drop school to start working.”

Tommy relaxed his shoulders, pleased with the way Y/N understood what he wanted.

She then continued, now pacing around.

“And the boys and girls whose fathers work at the factories, long hours they’re probably left at home by themselves… what about a program after school? We could offer them tutoring or different courses like knitting for girls and carpentry for the boys.

“Free tuition and uniforms.” Tommy added.

“We could add a jar by the bets table so people can donate here too.”

“Lizzie had some properties already, I’ll tell her to give you everything, check them out and tell me which one you think would work better.”

“Tommy this will make a huge difference, you can’t even imagine the impact.”

“Excellent, now… leave that.” Tommy tipped his head towards the papers. “Find Polly and go already,” he instructed and then produced something from his pocket.

“Tommy I can’t accept this.” She was shocked by the amount of money he was handling her.

“You can, and you will because it’s a gift for the baby. Now go, because I need to smoke.”

One of the secretaries walked past them, it wasn’t her original plan, but she heard their conversation accidentally.

Part 5

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#that’s what Cill said #tommy shelby x fem!reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #thomas shelby fluff #thomas shelby fanfiction

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recycledmoviecostumes · 8 months

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This purple coat with leather collar was created for Lily James to wear as Elizabeth Bennet in the 2016 adaptation of the Seth Grahame-Smith novel Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. The coat was seen again in the 2019 eighth season of Horrible Histories, where it appeared on Jessica Ransom as Mary Shelley in The Romantic Poets Song. Finally in 2022 it was spotted in the second season of Sanditon, where it was worn by worn by Charlotte Spencer as Esther Denham.

Costume Credit: Anne81

Follow: Website | Twitter | Facebook | Pinterest | Instagram

#pride & prejudice & zombies #sanditon #horrible histories #lily james #esther denham #costume drama #period drama

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thatliminal-wanderer · 3 months

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Fluttershy (MLP:FIM) ID Pack

Requested by Anon

Names

Adam, Albert, Alberta, Alfred, Alice, Alistair, Alvin, Amaranth, Ambrose, Andrea, Archie, Arthur, Audrey, August, Autumn, Ayala, Baker, Bear, Belle, Benedict, Benjamin, Bertha, Beryl, Bianca, Birdie, Bjorn, Blaise, Blu, Buck, Bunny, Carmela, Carnation, Cat, Cecilia, Chiffon, Christian, Chuck, Claudette, Conan, Cosette, Coye, Daisy, Darby, Dawn, Delilah, Deryn, Doreen, Doris, Dorothy, Dudley, Earl, Edith, Edna, Edward, Elizabeth, Finch, Finn, Fiona, Flora, Florence, Florian, Fox, Franklin, Fred, Frieda, George, Greta, Griffin, Hannah, Hattie, Ian, Ida, Irene, Jack, James, Jay, John, Juliette, Katherine, Kitty, Kiyoshi, Laqueta, Larry, Lemon, Leo, Liam, Lillian, Lily, LouAnne, Lynx, Mabel, Marcus, Margaret, Marian, Marvin, Mel, Miller, Mimi, Modesta, Molly, Nesara, Odette, Orchid, Pearl, Petunia, Phoenix, Placido, Prakriti, Praneeth, Raven, Robin, Rose, Rosemary, Saundrine, Sethuramani, Sylvie, Thomas, Tivona, Vaishant, Vera, Vern, Verna, Vernon, Walter, Willa, Wren

Pronouns

bloom/blooms, bun/buns, butter/butterfly/butterflies, calf/calfs, cozy/cozies, dan/dandelion/dandelions, farm/farms, fir/firs, flower/flowers, flutter/flutters, fur/furs, green/greens, hush/hushs, leaf/leafs, meadow/meadows, nature/natures, pink/pinks, rose/roses, rural/rurals, shy/hyr, tea/teas, yellow/yellows, ☁️/☁️s, 🐇/🐇s, 🦋/🦋s, 🪶/🪶s, 🪽/🪽s

Titles

A Pegasus of Shy Demeanors, An Animal Loving Pegasus, Animal Lover, The Animal Communicator, The Calm Party Goer, The Fallen Pegasus, The Fluttering Pony, The One Who Speaks in a Whisper, The One Who Takes Care of Animals, The Pegasus Scared of Flying, The Pony Who Hosts Tea Parties, The Shy Pony, The Soft Spoken Pony, The Yellow-coated Pegasus, [prn] Who Can Speak to Animals, [prn] Who Loves Animals, [prn] Who Loves Tea

Genders

Cottagecorimasc/Cottagecorifem, Eilumescian, Flushymarcenic, Flutterosboyic, Fluttershycharic, Fluttershycutecorian, Forestembodiment, Lipinkyelquoise, Natureserenic, Naturogender, Plétoile, Quiwilliyn, Shentatic, Shygender, Swetear, Teagender, Teaherbal, Teapartyic

Other mogai

Cabincoreaestelic, Cottagecoralius, Cottagecoreperspesque, Fluttershyvior, Foresthearthic, Inviglasstrawberrypot, Planturbahearthic, Teavior

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random-of-random · 5 months

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The Pirate Queen

Chapter 6 - A Prisoner

Author’s Note: Thank you so much to every single person who reads this, who likes this, who comments on this story. You are wonderful! I hope it makes you smile!

It was as if something came over James Norrington. He grabbed one arm and then the other desperately looking for any brand she might have.

“What, exactly, are you hoping to find?” She asked and he didn’t looked up. His eyes just went over the same skin, trying to ignore how soft her arms felt. “The elusive ‘P’ that should be burned about here?” She pointed to her wrist. Finally he looked up at her. “No such luck, I’ve never been caught.”

“Well, you have now.” James said as he took a few steps back.

Alice clenched her jaw before speaking. “James we don’t have time for this, you need-“

“You will call me Commodore Norrington, ma’am.”

“James, Elizabeth has been taken.”

“What?” His jaw went slack as it seemed as if the air had been sucked out of the room.

“That’s why I ran down to the fort. I saw two of the men carry her away from her house.” James immediately started writing. “I didn’t see them take her in the ship but it’s the only explanation.”

“Wait here.” He said coldly as he walked out of his office. She distinctly heard the key click in the lock.

It was only about five minutes later when James walked back in. He closed the door behind him. The anger was coming off him in waves.

“Did you have anything to do with this?” He looked away from her and toward his desk, his voice calculated.

“Are you kidding me?” At that he turned quickly around. “James.. Commodore Norrington, I would never hurt Elizabeth.”

“I’m not in the habit of believing pirates.” He practically spit the word at her like venom.

“Well, I’m still the same woman who saved your life out there! The same one who told you about Elizabeth. The same woman you kissed.” It wasn’t the right thing to say, the hatred she saw in his eyes practically broke her heart on the spot. Well, what she thought was hatred. James didn’t have words for how he was feeling.

“I can not believe it’s a coincidence that you are here and another pirate ship shows up and attacks.”

“I was only here to find out what you know about me, my ships, and the people I care most about.”

It was if a spark ignited in his brain. “The red bow, the red dress…” it had look so familiar to him at the party, sticking out in such a particular way. The color was rarely, if ever, worn unless the party specifically called for it. “Sam Bellamy was known for wearing a red bandana and coat.”

Alice nodded. “He was my Captain.” She confirmed and James swore he felt his heart break further. “The first person I sailed under. That bow was made from that bandana. You can arrest me if you want, Commodore. String me up with the other bodies of pirates you have swinging.” As if thrown in the ocean, his fire cooled immediately. The thought of her hanging. His mind couldn’t even fathom it. “But if you want to catch up with the Pearl? You’ll need the entire Navy. Because it will take that many just to find them.”

A multitude of thoughts ran through his mind in an instant, but only one made sense. “Leave.”

“What?”

“Consider this me repaying you for saving me. Now go.” There was a million things she wanted to say, but nothing would come out. As she turned to go she heard him ask a question. “Was any of it real?”

“Most of it was real.” She answered truthfully. When she looked at him, he was staring down at his desk. “Every glance, every smile, every touch… Just the accent and the name were fake.” She didn’t wait for a response, she just left. She would never forget his look of betrayal or how cold he sounded when he spoke to her.

———————————-

Alice walked slowly back to the place she and her crew had been calling home. It was hours before dawn, but all of Port Royal was awake. They were checking on their neighbors and businesses, moving their dead, picking up the pieces of their homes. No one even seemed to glance twice at her as she walked though. Just as well, she thought.

She was almost to the door when it opened and Charlie walked out. He pulled Alice into his arms.

“We were worried about you, Captain.”

Alice pulled back. “I’m alright. How’s Edward?”

“He needs to rest, but the wound wasn’t deep. We should get him to the ship sooner rather than later, get him to the doc.” They walked into the house and Charlie let her to a sitting room where Edward was laid out on a couch. Giles was in a seat next to him.

“Good to see you, Captain.” He said with a tired grin.

“Rest, Edward.” She put her hand on his forehead and was relieved to see no fever had yet set in. “We will be leaving as early as we can.”

“What’s wrong?” Giles asked.

“Norrington knows who I am.” Edward tried to sit, but Alice kept her hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright. He let me leave. Payback for saving his life. Charlie, Giles tell the men to sleep and eat. We will leave shortly after dawn for the docks.”

“Aye, Captain.” Giles affirmed before he and Charlie headed back toward the study and the dining room.

“You get as much sleep as you can.” Alice said as she pulled a blanket halfway up Edward’s chest. “We’ll be back on the ship in no time.”

“Did you tell Norrington?” Edward asked.

“Tell him what?”

“That you’re in love with him.”

Alice let out a small laugh. “The second James Norrington found out I was a pirate was the same second he felt nothing but hatred for me.”

“I don’t believe that.” Edward refuted. “I saw the way he looked at you.”

“Maybe…” Alice sighed. “He used up the goodwill anything before tonight brought me by letting me go. He will try to chase is down soon enough.” She stood. “Now, get some sleep. We will wake you last thing before we go. You’ll need your strength for the journey.”

“Good night, Alice.”

“Good night, Edward.”

—————————

The docks were busy, to say the least, and the sun was high in the sky by the time they were ready to go. Though everything had gone without a hitch, getting all of their stuff down to the ship that would sail them to Tortuga. Everything was loaded, the men were on the ship. It was just Alice and Charlie still waiting to board. No one seemed to recognize Alice, not that she was expecting them to. In men’s clothes, that included Edward’s dark brown coat, and her hair down - no one would have guessed all of Port Royal was fawning over her as a noble less than two days before.

“Captain!” Edward called and he pointed up the docks. James Norrington along with his Lieutenant Groves and two soldiers Alice had not seen were walking toward them with a purpose.

“Stay on the ship, Edward.” Alice called immediately.

“Captain…” Charlie’s voice was low. “There aren’t any other soldiers around, we can fight our way out of this.”

“No.” Alice said quickly. “Keep yours hands visible and just stay calm.” As the men moved closer the two soldiers she didn’t know stayed behind as Norrington and Groves came within five feet of her.

“Lady Somers?” Groves asked after a moment.

“That’s not her name.” Norrington answered him before she could. His voice was almost emotionless. “She has been masquerading as a noble. She is actually… a pirate. An infamous one at that.” Groves looked from his Commodore back to Alice before his hand moved carefully to the hilt of his sword. “Alice the Enchantress is what they call her.”

“I always preferred Mad Alice.”

“My God, it can’t be true.” Groves said quietly, his eyes wide.

“Afraid it is.” Alice responded. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

“You’re coming with us.” Norrington commanded and there was a shift in the tension around them.

“Is that so?” She asked as she raised her eyebrows.

“To help find Elizabeth.” Norrington added. “It’s either you come with us, or we will take you all to jail.” Charlie took a half a step forward. Norrington and Groves pulled their swords a small way out of their sheaths, and Alice put her hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

“Commodore, I don’t know what help you think I can be to you.”

“You’re a pirate.”

“Not all pirates think the same.” She explained, and James rolled his eyes. “Not only have I never met Captain Barbosa, but last night was the first time I ever saw the Black Pearl. If you want a pirate who can help you ask Jack Sparrow.”

“Jack Sparrow escaped.” Groves said quickly. “With Turner.”

“Who is ‘Turner’?” Alice asked.

“William Turner. He is the blacksmith’s apprentice.” Groves answered. Something in her brain pinged on the name, but she didn’t have time to analyze it. At that very moment all she knew was the safety of her crew was at stake. With that there was only one conclusion.

“Fine, I’ll go with you - on one condition.”

“You’re not in a place to be making demands of us.” Norrington reminded her.

“Captain, don’t do this.” Edward pleaded. “You can’t trust them.”

“Then trust me.” Alice said loudly to her men before turning to Norrington. “Just let my crew go. They are going to sail out on this ship, they are never coming back. Please.” Norrington took a moment to think it over before giving her a nod and she quickly turned to Charlie. “Get Edward to a doctor, take care of the man.” She ignored the protests from her crew already on the ship, “And tell Callahan to be careful with my ships.” They shared a nod before he joined the crew. They all took their hats off, bowing to their Captain. Alice bowed back before taking her place in between Norrington and Groves as they walked her toward the Fort.

“It’s funny…” Norrington said as they walked. “Pirates, for a moment, almost seemed civil.”

“They are.” Alice replied, looking straight ahead. “Much more so than the Royal Navy.”

—————————-

When they got to the Fort she was surprised when they locked her, once again, in Norrington’s office.

This time she didn’t bother to remain standing, she didn’t bother to pace, she sat down in the extra chair and just waited. Her thoughts drifted to her men. If they had gotten out of Port Royal safely. If Callahan was already waiting for her in Tortuga. She hoped Edward made it to a doctor in short time.

She couldn’t have known that Norrington had spent the night pacing in his office. His worry for Elizabeth Swann only surpassed by his anger and hurt at what Frances - no, Alice - had done. In his mind, she had used him, used all of them, to get her hands on the Navy’s own documents.

Another part of him was angry at himself for just how much he wanted to go after her, and not to arrest her. She had told him it was real, but could he even trust a pirate. He paced until Governor Swann barged into his office demanding answers.

When the door opened, Alice felt a jump of anxiety as Norrington walked in followed by Governor Swann.

“Governor Swann.” She acknowledged, but he acted as if she hadn’t said anything. The Governor seemed to be refusing to even look at her.

“You will be locked in quarters on the ship as we sail.” Norrington said, catching her attention. He was looking down at his desk, also refusing to make eye contact. “The men know you will be aboard, but they do not know why. They have been ordered not to speak to you. In fact the only ones you will speak to are Lieutenant Groves and myself.”

“So, I am your prisoner.” She remarked.

“As it should be!” Governor Swann finally spoke. His face was red and his eyes angry. “You are a pirate! You should not be given any leeway. Were it completely up to me you would be locked below deck!”

After his outburst the room seemed almost painfully quiet. Alice recognized his frustration and fear for his daughter, but his hatred for her seemed to almost outweigh it.

“Well, Governor, then I believe when they drop me from the gallows you should be the one to do it.” Her voice was calm and controlled and, by contrast, the Governor looked absolutely scandalized. “Might I remind the both of you that I have been nothing but kind. I held parties for you, fed you. Both of you, more so you - Governor - were fawning all over me.”

His voice raised. “That was before we knew you were a criminal!”

“I am less a criminal than those who trade in human beings - and they’re being paid by the Crown.”

Swann scoffed and immediately left the room without another word, slamming the door as he went.

Once again the silence hung thick, only stopped by the occasional scratching of the quill Norrington was using. Alice was normally good with silence. Now? She felt as if she would absolutely go mad if one of them didn’t speak shortly.

“Maybe you should wear a dress. Keep - keep up appearances.”

Alice stood. “Commodore, I’m going to be sequestered a room the entire time. Well, until the Navy and the Governor see fit to hang me. I think you could do the courtesy of not torturing me more?”

James’ eyes focused on her for a moment and she almost wanted to smirk, but she pushed it as far down as he could.

“Do you know anything about where the Pearl most often makes land.”

“Only a legend.”

“A legend?” Norrington asked annoyed.

“Listen, I warned you I had never seen that ship before. Most haven’t. The few who have are usually survivors. The legend is about an island. Isla De Muerta. No one knows where it is, and supposedly you can only get there if you have already been there. I haven’t.”

Norrington let out a breath he had been holding. “Someone will be along shortly to escort you to the ship.” Without another word he left and she heard another click of the lock. Sitting back down she put her head in her hands. Alice had no idea how she would even begin to get herself out of this situation.

#james norrington x ofc #james norrington x reader #pirates of the caribbean #james norrington imagines #James Norrington #jack davenport

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justafairytailofinnocence · 2 years

Note

Hello! I would like to request hc with James norrington x m! or gn!y/n.

I personally feel like James wouldn't be much of a drinker. BUT! What if he somehow ended up suuuppeerr drunk?? Perhaps he felt a bit down? Perhaps it was a rare occasion of celebration?

But how would he act with y/n? Like, what kind of drunk would he be? Giddy? Tired? Flirtatious?! Emotional?! And what would he say? Blabbering gibberish, drunk, nonsense or maybe, a confession?? 👀👀

(I'm sorry if this is a lot, there are just so many possibilities!! No need to write it all.)

Love your writing!💞✨

Hello dear 💖, thanks for your request.

What James norrington would be like drunk 🥴

You travelled with Elizabeth to Tortuga to find Jack a new crew.

As you entered the faithful bride, you spotted a certain British, ex-naval officer.

You couldn't tell at first but his wig was in a mess and he had a filthier face.

You wore a pair of breeches and a long coat with buckled, flat shoes.

He was drinking heavily and started muttering to himself.

You approached him with a smile, you hadn't seen the commodore since his departure from Port Royal.

"Admiral" you smiled.

The commodore looked up but, he seemed different, not like the proud man he once was.

"Oh, bloody hell, it's you" he slurred in an aggressive tone.

"Come to mock me have you, go on, speak your petty mind about how I couldn't capture a pirate" he slurred again.

You were confused "what, admiral, it's me, it's y/n, your friend".

"I have no bloody friend, I haven't got but one who deems themselves to like me" he argued.

You were shocked that he was behaving like an ungentlemanly man.

"Elizabeth's here James" you spoke.

"Elizabeth?" He perked up "why in the hell would she be in a pigsty like this, she's probably living in a happily ever after with Mr Turner".

"We're looking for a crew for Jack Sparrow" you placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Sparrow, as in Jack Sparrow," his expression soon turned to one of madness.

Suddenly he stood up and shouted, "Captain Jack Sparrow, the man who's ruined my life, came here to bid his greetings to an old friend".

"Come here and form an orderly line, so I can take you on, one by one" he commanded drunkenly as if he were still the admiral.

"Come on, who wants some!" he held his fists in the air.

Elizabeth looked up and saw James, she thought to herself "oh James, what has the world done to you".

The admiral started punching and beating the other sailors and pirates.

They all ganged on him until Elizabeth smacked him over the head with a rum bottle.

He was knocked out and then hoisted into the muddy pig pen.

Y/n felt sorry for him and placed a hand on his back "I've never forgotten you".

He looked up as his expression turned softly, feeling guilty you were the one person who stood by him.

James being drunk would be rather ugly; as in he would be angry and slightly emotional.

He may be the opposite of what he has been but with y/n, he may feel guilty of leaving you and ashamed you saw him in that state.

As long as you guide him and have a strong mind; not minding some insults thrown at you.

He'll be sober and feel apologetic since he never had a true person who cared for him.

Anyways that's all I have for now:

Ta Ta ✨️

#pirates of the caribbean #james norrington headcanon #james norrington x male reader #james norrington x reader #james norrington #potc #james norrington x gn reader

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antaxzantax · 3 months

Text

Umbrella Pharmaceuticals - Chapter 49

Summary: Alfred Ashford starts secondary school. Alexia Ashford receives psychiatric treatment after attacking her psychologist. Alexander Ashford reveals the CODE: Veronica project to his mother.

The pinnacle towered above a complex of stone and brick encircled by a high, thick stone wall. The wall bordered the only road connecting the estate to the London suburbs. A bronze plaque embedded in the stone announced the entrance to King Jacob II College.

Elizabeth bade him farewell on the threshold of the main building. Ailing with age, she barely leaned back to kiss Alfred on the cheek and had to leave after greeting headmaster Leslie Campbell and housemaster James McNamara-Douglas, both members of Jacob's Circle and attached to the respective clans. From that moment on, both men would be responsible for Alfred's care and education for the next five years.

The headmaster led him to his office to explain the social and educational dynamics of the institution. Alfred, now dressed in his frock coat and stiff collar, carried his bulky leather suitcase without complaint and with the housemaster on his back. King Jacob II College, the headmaster began, was part of the Jacobean educational project designed by Veronica Ashford and Rupert Campbell to ensure the political and economic influence of the remnant Stuart lineages in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and imperial possessions. King Jacob II was founded in the late 19th century as the boys' boarding school for the recruitment of the English and foreign elite concentrated in London. At the same time, Queen Anne College was erected as its female counterpart. Due to the success of the project, King Charles I and Queen Mary I colleges were opened in Edinburgh for the Scottish and Irish elite. Because of the geographical division, the funding and governance of the Scottish boarding schools remained in the hands of the Campbells, while the Ashfords took over the governance of the English pair. This separation also had to be respected by the families, which is why Alfred was compulsorily transferred to King Jacob II after preparatory school. And, unsurprisingly, the administration of the four schools rested exclusively with Jacob's Circle. There was no one, not one teacher, who was not an associate or member of the Circle. On the contrary, most of the student body came from a diversity of social and cultural backgrounds, with a handful of foreigners, and a small Jacobin minority. This Jacobin minority was concentrated in King's House, and it was these boys who always served as prefects. Alfred would be housed in a single dormitory in King's House, where he would share residence and communal life with thirty other boys. Finally, because he was Ashford, custom dictated that he was entitled to a couple of exclusive dormitory privileges. Alfred chose a television with VHS and the Atari 2600. He would get the movies and video games.

The course began with the one hundred and fifty students gathering in the auditorium to listen to the headmaster's speech. A giant painting of Veronica Ashford and another of Rupert Campbell hung on the wall, and Alfred felt the pressure. He broke out in a sweat and disguised the movement of his nervous hands by pretending to adjust his trousers. The painting of Veronica Ashford anticipated reading the biography of illustrious pupils like his great-great-grandfather, great-great-grandfather and grandfather, who contributed so much to the civilisational development of Britain. And, ultimately, in an adjoining room for the assembly of the student body with the faculty and school authorities, Alfred read the name inscribed on the wooden panels of Stanley Ashford, Thomas Ashford, Arthur Ashford, Edward Ashford, and Alexander Ashford. His name would be engraved after his father's just as his future son's name would be placed after his own. Alfred felt a knot in his stomach. Victory or death.

As in prep school, a first week of grace was granted for the freshmen to settle in. However, the week took an unexpected turn when the group of five prefects from his house bowed to him and invited him to join their group. Alfred accepted without a second thought. The prefects passed his test on his knowledge of the school and the staff and promised him their selfless protection. Alfred heartily welcomed the initiative as a qualitative improvement on his bitter and lonely experience at Watford. However, he soon discovered that his relationship with the gang was not peer-to-peer, but primus inter pares. He discovered this when Roderick, one of the five boys, brought him another boy to be his fag. Technically, the school had banned fagging last year, but Alfred could enjoy the approval of the prefects to dispose of one secretly. He ordered the boy called Henry to take care of the cleaning of his dormitory and to serve him tea for nothing, because it was Roderick who managed this service. In this way, no one disturbed him with trifles. But there was a second matter. An unexpected and disturbing fact that captured Alfred's imagination and all his attention.

The punishments. A month after the first day of school, Harvey, another prefect, invited him to come to the garret of the house. Alfred followed Harvey to the trapdoor. Before opening the lid, he held out a black Halloween mask simulating a rabbit's head to Alfred.

“Put it on.”

In the garret there were three children, two thirteen years old and one fourteen. The children were frightened by the sight of the monstrous rabbit. The five prefects rounded them up in a circle, and one of them asked the rabbit:

“How do we punish them?”

The rabbit called to one of the prefects to whisper the verdict in his ear. The prefect understood the rabbit's words and carried out his will. Three prefects held the victims while the other two wielded belts.

They knew where and how to strike so as not to leave marks or draw blood. Harvey put the rabbit mask in a hidden box and congratulated the prince on his creativity.

“See you next time.”

At first, he distracted himself by daydreaming and sketching children and prefects in a notebook. One of the teachers caught him but ignored the scene Alfred had drawn: a detailed and realistic depiction of the five prefects beating the three boys with their belts. He got bored with the belts and reimagined the scene from other angles and with other tools. First, he designed simple tools such as scissors, pruning shears, sticks and ropes. Secondly, he traced the shape of bladed weapons and instruments of torture such as the iron lady. And thirdly, he included new victims in the scene. He secretly made a quick sketch of his classmates and housemates and then introduced them into the scene, which constantly changed location and furnishings. In a catacomb, in his room at Ashford Hall, in a cemetery, in a shopping centre or in a laboratory with the Umbrella logo printed on the wall. As the number of locations and their difficulty increased, so did the definition of the bodies, their postures and expressions. He wanted it to be realistic and so he signed up for painting classes instead of marching with the cadets[1]. The painting classes improved his skill, as well as supplanting his abstinence for punishment. He once painted a picture in which he framed the reason he clung to the memory of the first punishment: power of influence, desire for importance and, above all, mitigation of emotional emptiness. The positive emotions of the punishment outweighed the negative emotions of family abandonment and parental absence. If he thought about the punishment, he forgot about other thoughts such as whether his father loved him or whether he was disappointed in him. Alfred wanted to prove his worth to him, but locked up in the boarding school he could think of no way to prove his manhood to him other than by wearing a kilt and killing Englishmen. Fortunately, the anguish didn't last more than two months. Harvey reappeared in his room with the rabbit mask stuffed in a sports bag.

“Let's go.”

Under his guidance, the punishments increased in variety, but habit drove him to seek more and be more reckless. To his face, he insulted fellow housemates for being lower class, was racist towards the only pair of Indians in King's House, beat up a middle-class boy who got too smart with the Stuart, shoved a boy's head down the toilet and forced a pair of freshmen to skinny-dip in the stream that ran through the estate. They lashed out with conservative slogans at the only leftist in the building while burning a picture of Fidel Castro with a lighter. At this point, Alfred's existence was limited to studying and inventing new outrages with which to reaffirm his status and evade the uncomfortable questions raised by the emotional void. A reign of terror in which he gave free rein to his limitless brutality.

In December 1982 Alfred made out with Henry. He had masturbated to a porn magazine that Roderick had smuggled into the study room he shared with him and Harvey. There weren't any girls at his school, so he went to try whoever was closest to hand. The two kissed roughly out of inexperience and without excitement on Alfred's part. In any case, Henry's warmth did him good and he threatened his subordinate to keep their relationship a secret.

“You're an asshole,” Henry replied.

In January 1983 Alfred showed up at the headmaster's office. He left with two letters and a reprimand for having been caught smuggling in a couple of VHS movies and a video game. He had to be subtle if he didn't want to lose his privileges. The Exorcist and Invasion of the Body Snatchers. He watched them with Henry and loved them. Unfortunately, Henry was a lout with Atari’s Adventure.

The first letter was signed by his grandmother. She wrote that his father and sister were well in Antarctica and that she missed him very much. She wanted to hug her grandson again and go on a picnic with him. The second letter was signed George Frederick Benjamin Stanley Owen Ashford-Campbell-Douglas-Stuart from the Soviet Union. He knew who he was: his grandfather's younger brother Edward Ashford. Spurred by morbidity and surprise, he read the second letter.

Dear Alfred,

Perhaps you know who I am. We have never met in person, and never will, though you may have seen me in some picture my father forgot to tear up or burn. I will be brief and to the point. I am your great-uncle George and I feel an obligation to warn you about our family and about your future. What you do with this warning, and even with this letter, I leave up to you, but I want to tell you in writing what I know and have experienced.

You were born in 1971, three years after my older brother's death and more than ten years after my father's death. I imagine that Alexander must have spoken highly of both of them, as it is a moral imperative for a son to speak well of his father and grandfather, who nurtured and educated him. But my father and brother were not good people. They pretended to be, but inside them there was always an unparalleled penchant for contempt for human life. However, it is unfair to blame only the two of them. After all, we all share origin and responsibility for the lifestyle that our great-great-grandmother Veronica adopted and that we have uncritically cultivated because, as has already become evident, class, status and privilege suffocate the heart of humanity. Veronica and Rupert were no exception.

Do you know what lurks beneath the factory floors that Veronica ruled with an iron fist? But what can I tell you about her that you don't already know? A prodigy daughter of capital and empire. Thief, traitor and genocidal, just like her brother Rupert. Out of cowardice I missed my only chance to cremate her remains. Given her background, it did not strike me as odd that her only offspring, Stanley, was a friend of Aleister Crowley. I recall that in his later years he believed he was a messenger of Lucifer. He made Ouija boards to communicate with his mother's mummy and spent a fortune acquiring a huge secret collection of books, statuettes and esoteric artefacts. If you're curious, Stanley's secret basement is hidden behind one of the library's bookshelves. The book entitled De Vermis Mysteriis activates the opening mechanism. See with your own eyes the horrors from beyond the grave that he collected, for the horrors he perpetrated in the factories and in the colonies were destroyed so that no evidence would remain.

Grandfather Stanley had a pair of twins: Thomas and Arthur. Thomas was an alcoholic whoremonger with a taste for human flesh and my father, well, what can I tell you about my father. A staunch anti-communist, champion of the monarchy and conservative arrow, my father designed the propaganda that convinced British youth to get involved in the two world wars, built that undignified prison in Colorado and worked with the CIA on MK-Ultra, mistreating those poor teenagers in Florida.

When you are a child and naive, you tend to glorify the sins of the father, and idolatry blinds the masses. I was made aware of my mistake through my older brother. As the main heir, I thought Edward was taking it seriously to please our father. But I was wrong. Underneath his handsome and hearty facade, lurked a twisted and ruthless man who instigated and supported civil wars and coups in Latin America and Asia for the imperialist cause. It was he who was enraptured by the effects of the atomic bomb on civilian populations and who always advocated servility and starvation as the means to pacify a society as terrifying as ours. It was Edward who arranged for Alexander to travel at the age of sixteen to Indonesia to participate in the government's eugenics programs against the civilian and indigenous population.

I still wonder how a man capable of being so good to his family could finance the execution of such acts against the human species. The last I heard of him, he had founded a pharmaceutical company with an Englishman. My brother always had a very unique worldview: war and compassion, paternalism and authoritarianism. My brother, like my father, wanted to see the dream of a world once again ruled by the élites for the élites, as was the absolutist Stuart monarchy. My father and brother believed that we would return to this old order once the Bolshevik fever had passed.

That's why I left. For this reason, my father expelled me from Ashford Hall and deprived me of inheritance and family. The only thing I retain from my former life as an aristocrat is the name and surname, the accent and manners. I don't miss home, yet I am nostalgic for my lost innocence, when everything was vibrant and pure, devoid of danger and worry.

Tired of suffering, I fled to the Soviet Union alone and without a passport. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I did not die and rebuilt my life in Moscow after the Great Patriotic War. Sometimes I regret my decision; at other times I bask in my natural compassion for the unfortunate souls who were not born like us. There is no place on earth that is free from human shortcomings, but I intend to resist and not falter in my destiny to help others and to let myself be helped.

That is why, Alfred, I wanted to write this letter as a warning about the family you were born into. I last saw Alexander when he was twenty-three years old. So is the father, so will be the son. His determination for the old order is as strong as his father's was.

I know you have a twin sister, Alexia. After this warning, all I can say to you is to love each other so that you will not allow either of you to fall into empty illusions.

I wish you a happy life.

Your great uncle,

George Ashford

III

It was as if she wasn't there; she felt her body, but not her person. Sleepy, paused, on the verge of falling to the floor if it weren't for the fact that she had been tied to the chair by the abdomen with a belt. On her right wrist was an identification bracelet and to her left was a barred window. A table and a vacant chair with rounded edges made up the only furniture in the aseptic room.

The door opened. A dark-haired, bearded man sat in the chair. He carried a folder with him, the contents of which he arranged on the table. The bearded man was dressed in a doctor's coat with no logo or identification. He read each paper carefully.

The bearded man took out a blank sheet of paper from the folder and a pen. He wrote at the top of the sheet.

“I am Aaron Green, clinical psychologist and psychiatrist.” He smiled sympathetically. “Do you mind if we start with some basic questions to get to know each other better?”

Motionless. Aaron jotted down on the sheet of paper.

“If you don't feel like talking, you can nod or shake your head. We can still talk this way. Might you like to?”

Nodded.

“Your name is Alexia Ashford?”

Nodded.

“Alexia is a very beautiful and unusual name. Is it of Greek origin?

Nodded.

“I've read the rest of your names, but I prefer to stick with Alexia. Agreed?”

Nodded.

“You were born on January 24th, 1971?”

Nodded.

“Do you have siblings?”

Nodded.

“An older sibling? Younger?”

Denied.

“Twin?”

Nodded.

“Is it a boy?”

Nodded.

“And what's his name?”

Silence. Aaron consulted his papers.

“Alfred? Like Alfred Hitchcock and Alfred the Great?”

Nodded.

“Alfred is also an interesting name. Germanic. Its literal meaning is ‘advised by the elves’. Curious.”

Silence.

“Your father's name is Alexander Ashford?”

He nodded.

“Like Alexander the Great, I suppose.”

Quiet.

“Do you know where you are? The place, not the room.”

Denied.

“The Margaret Ashford Institute. The social engineering institute your great-grandfather Arthur founded.”

Silence.

“Why are you here?”

Silence.

“I'm going to do one thing. I'm going to try to reconstruct what happened and you nod or deny depending on whether you remember, okay?”

Nodded.

January 12th, 1983. She was working. An alarm suddenly went off. A female voice boomed in the room: ‘The self-destruct system has been activated. Please all personnel must evacuate immediately’. Her first reaction was to run to the laboratory attached to the study room. A disproportionately large ant was fiddling with its antennae on the glass of the tube. She stood in front of the insect, blank. Behind her, monitors displayed the data of an unfinished investigation. She approached the excited ant as the alarm massacred her eardrums. She touched the glass with a trembling hand. She was going to cry.

A door slammed. Alexander. There was blood on his face, but no wounds. He hugged Alexia so tightly that he choked her. He lifted her off the floor and carried her out of the study room. The ant stayed. The research stayed.

Alexander ran as if possessed, and at no point did he let his daughter touch the floor. They ascended to the lobby, where Martin and Jonathan greeted them armed. Alexander left his daughter by the elevator doors and grabbed the shotgun Martin handed him. The three men shouted at each other. Alexander bent down to talk to her. She didn't hear his words, only that his gaze radiated hatred. Martin and Jonathan led the way, Martin with an assault rifle and Jonathan with a shotgun. Alexander protected his daughter in the rear.

They walked out into the hall. Alexander caught her hand and forced her up the stairs at full speed. Her shoulder ached. Martin and Jonathan followed behind them.

Five minutes until detonation.

Alexander shot a man in the head. The impact of the pellets scattered the grey matter across the concrete and steel corridor.

In the helicopter, she looked at her hands. Bloodied.

Blank.

January 17th, 1983. Session with Dr Sarah Charleigh. She hadn't spoken since the incident. She seemed catatonic.

“What is the T-Veronica?”

She had written that name on the board they had given her to communicate with them. The T-Veronica was...

She stuck a pair of sewing scissors into Charleigh's thigh. All the way in. She slapped her across the face. According to Aaron's testimony, she was screaming at the top of her lungs. She broke furniture and various objects. She saw her face in the mirror and smashed her head against the glass. She drew blood on her forehead. Completely out of her mind, she had to be restrained by four. Aaron and his team sedated her and transported her by ambulance to the Institute. She was drugged and strapped to a stretcher, then in a single bedroom and now in an interrogation.

What is the T-Veronica?” Aaron repeated.

Anger. Sadness. Fear. Joy. Surprise. She didn't understand her emotions. She shifted in her seat. In front of her, she had a disproportionately large ant. Her first discovery and research project. But there was something else. She was a queen. A queen that was hers. Alone, confined in a cage and chained to an existence subject to the will of others who did not want to understand her, who considered her a fairground attraction. A queen who had learned to coexist with her affliction and to keep at bay the dilemma of whether or not to continue living; because in that cage she had contemplated herself and had concluded that she hated herself.

She hated herself for trusting her family.

She hated herself for hating her family.

She hated herself for loving her family.

She hated herself for allowing others to impose their dreams on her.

She hated herself for taking on those dreams as her own.

She hated herself for allowing others to laugh at her.

She hated herself for having smiled at those who laughed at her.

She hated herself for her conformity.

She hated herself for her emotional weakness.

She hated herself for loving Alfred.

She hated herself for loving.

She hated herself for not imposing her will.

That was the T-Veronica: her will. Her will be done on earth as it was in heaven. Her will to live and to transform her being into something else.

Into the queen. A nasty queen. That she would not feel that she would not suffer, that she would only be pure volition. To cease to exist to exist again. She no longer wanted to be Alexia.

The T-Veronica disintegrated in the explosion. The queen died. Alexia stayed.

What is the T-Veronica: she went mad because she remembered that she had lost it forever.

Forever.

Aaron finished filling out the sheet.

“Alexia.”

Alexia didn't raise her head. She didn't have the strength.

“We're going to help you. Trust us.”

The Queen is dead, long live the Queen.[2]

Elizabeth hardened her words.

“You're a fool.”

Alexander didn't fight back. He had told her. He couldn't take it any longer and told her. The CODE project: Veronica. The incident at the Antarctic base.

He was depressed and did not know how to carry on his father's and his mother's legacy. Elizabeth insulted him for meddling in this absurd conspiracy. His father approved the project, and he went ahead believing that it would satisfy him; that this was what he had to do as a son. A father-son pact to go straight ahead, as he had always been told to do. Edward had loved his son, but he had always been accustomed to prioritising ends over means. Edward took advantage of Alexander so that he would carry out the wishes of the former one even after the death, as Elizabeth said with the utmost sincerity.

Elizabeth stroked his hand. Alexander began to cry. For decades, he had sought ways to positively influence his son to avoid disasters such as those described. However, fighting Arthur on his home turf was virtually impossible. Taking advantage of the fact that she was a foreigner, a Protestant and a non-conformist, Arthur manipulated the family to cast Elizabeth as an ignorant outsider and to focus Alexander's education on Edward. Elizabeth had to adopt a passive, complementary role to her husband's in order for the marriage to survive and thus retain custody of their son. But the results were nil. Arthur and Edward guided Alexander to be exactly like them, and they succeeded.

The Antarctic base exploded to kill the employees who had rebelled against Alexander's tyranny. The son's excuses for this decision were pitiful and absurd, and he could not fool his mother: he killed them out of hatred.

But she could not loathe her son. She would not do it for her last chance: Alfred and Alexia. He said to Alexander: I forbid Alexia to work until she comes of age, and I forbid you to see your children until I decide. Alexander bowed his head tearfully.

“But I want to see them,” he protested, sobbing.

“Who?”

“My children.”

“You only get one chance,” Elizabeth burst into tears.

They hugged each other.

“You only have one chance...”

[1] Combined Cadet Force (CCF).

[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_king_is_dead,_long_live_the_king!

#resident evil #resident evil code veronica #alexia ashford #alfred ashford #alexander ashford

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world-of-wales · 11 months

Text

CATHERINE'S STYLE FILES - 2023

12 NOVEMBER 2023 || The Princess of Wales attended the Remembrance Sunday Service of Remembrance at the Cenotaph on Whitehall along with Prince William and other of the Royal Family.

Catherine opted for -

↬ Bespoke Military-Inspired Coat-Dress in 'Black' by Catherine Walker

↬ Bespoke Hat in 'Black' by Philip Treacy

↬ Queen Elizabeth II's Diamond and Pearl Leaf Earrings

↬ Paper Poppy Pin by Royal British Legion

↬ Fleet Air Arm Insignia Pin

↬ 'Beatrice' Pure Wool Glove in 'Black' by Corinelia James

↬ 'Le 8' Gold Buckle in 'Black Suede' by Jennifer Chamandi

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esta-elavaris · 6 months

Text

Part Seventeen [3,977 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen - *Part Seventeen*

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @teawithshakespeare @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm

!! Not a new chapter -- I'm just stupidly late in posting this one here.

With the adrenaline and the shock coursing through her, it was impossible to feel the impact of James landing atop her. Yes, she was aware of the shoulder that drove into her chest, and the elbow that dug into her ribs, but there was no pain. Only impact, and breathlessness.

He recovered quickly, rolling off of her to the left, but then he lay as she did, flat on the ground, face tilted up to the heavens, breathing heavily.

Reality came back in gradually, but not yet fully – dripping in with small details, here and there. The stone beneath her, digging into her back and her tailbone. A slow, persistent throbbing sinking into her ribs where his elbow had landed, thrumming in time with her racing heartbeat. And the cold. It was so, so cold. She hadn't been this cold since she was last at home.

Sitting up was a challenge in itself. Her limbs impossible to feel and refusing to comply. The last time Theo lacked control over her body to this extent, Elizabeth found her washed up and fried to a crisp on the beach. Arms trembled and vibrated as she pushed herself up to sit, her lungs worked overtime regardless of the fact that it felt like she wasn't actually getting any of that air at all, and speaking was up there with flying in terms of feasibility. Even her legs, splayed before her, trembled and twitched like she'd just ran a marathon.

One of James' hands clasped hers – gently at first, and then when he seemed happy enough that the tremors were just that, and not an attempt to shake him off, his hold became firmer. She hadn't even noticed he'd sat up, too, until then. His hair fell about his face in dark wet curtains that he watched her intently through, bringing her palm to the sodden chest of his shirt.

"Breathe with me," he instructed.

She would. She'd have to, if she didn't want to pass out. But there was something more pressing first.

"Y-y-y-you…" she had to pause then, gasping for breath and stealing herself to force out the other two words. "…ju…you j-j-jumped…in."

At that, his expression changed – more unguarded than she'd ever seen it, his eyes painfully vulnerable as he sucked in a breath of his own, one that she felt stutter beneath her hand, before he finally responded.

"Of course I did."

Even if she'd been capable of speaking properly, she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to find the words to respond to that. The fact that she trembled hard enough to trigger earthquakes saved her from having to try.

When he began to move, it took all of her willpower to stop herself from clinging to him, not yet wanting to be alone for even a single fleeting second. Instead, though, she forcibly loosened her numb hands, and let him draw back, fixing her gaze upon her knees. The water had rendered her nightgown transparent, she realised, and were it not for her modern clothing beneath, she'd be entirely on display now.

Rather than standing up, as she'd expected, or leaving, as she'd feared, James pulled away just enough to reach for the coat he'd discarded before diving in. Dragging it towards them, he pulled it about her shoulders, eyes fixed firmly on the ground behind her while he did so, until she was covered. Despite that, though, she detected no trace of embarrassment on his face. His refusal to look at her was out of respect, rather than his own discomfort.

Once it was about her shoulders, he dipped his fingers beneath the collar, under her hair, and dragged it out from beneath the coat so that it wouldn't remain dripping down her back. As he did so, his own hands twitched against the back of her neck, proving he wasn't so calm as he might appear.

"Y-you should…it's your c-c-coat-"

One firm look silenced her suggestion. Then, however, his features softened, and he took one of her hands in his once more. When it trembled in his grasp, but she didn't pull away, he paused. She expected him to return to their little guided breathing exercise, but instead he lingered a moment, smoothing his thumb across her knuckles. Then, before she could react, he brought it back to his chest, and they breathed.

They stayed out there on their cliff for what felt like mere minutes, as well as an eternity. But soon, as their ability to piece thoughts together in a coherent manner, it became obvious that they had to move if they didn't want to be seen – because being seen would lead to having to answer questions. Theo got the sense that he was in as much of a mood as she was for an interrogation.

As he retrieved her Docs from the beach, she slowly and shakily rose to her feet, pulling the coat tightly around herself and trying to stop her teeth from chattering. When he returned, they walked in a silence that was more dazed than uncomfortable, although he did frequently turn his head to take stock of her, visibly fighting back any offers he might've been tempted to make that would see him carrying her back to Elizabeth's home.

Only when they reached a garden path that was very much not the gates to the Swanns' mansion did she pause, no longer mindlessly following him.

"Your house," she said, her throat dry and words raspy.

"I cannot send you back to sit, alone, in the Governor's mansion after this."

The fact that he knew her well enough to know she'd return and do just that – sit alone, refusing to wake anybody or discuss what had happened – sent a pang through her. Although a pang of what, she couldn't quite place. So she nodded silently, and followed him into his house.

Something about stepping into a house, any house, made everything real. Or, at least, it brought reality back, making all that had occurred that night feel like a strange nightmare that she was now in the process of waking up from.

And that made way for something she didn't expect. Awkwardness.

Evidently, she wasn't the only one feeling it, either. Beside her, James scraped his still-wet hair back from his face, appearing to find the first few steps of the staircase fascinating for a few moments, before he cleared his throat.

"Clothes."

"What?"

"Clothes. Dry ones. I shall…I shall find something for you to change into. If you would wait in the sitting room, the fire should not have died out – in fact…"

Had she not been warring with approximately five-hundred-and-seventy-four of her own emotions, she might've found it funny. How endearingly awkward he suddenly found himself being. Instead, she was just left finding it, well, endearing. She followed him into the sitting room, her boots dangling from one hand and his coat still hanging about her shoulders, and watched as he quickly and efficiently built the fire up enough to last them through to the year of her actual birth.

Then he left the room with all of the speed of someone being hunted for sport. Looking about her, she decided not to risk spoiling his furniture and huddled on the floor by the hearth instead, after depositing her boots in the corner.

Her brain still rebelled against most coherent thought, exhausted by what had happened while still feeling painfully on edge. As she sat, she brought her knees beneath her chin and curled her arms around her legs, almost as if she feared that the shark had decided to follow them onto dry land, and her limbs were still at risk.

When he returned, it was with a white bundle and a blanket, and he blinked when he found her on the floor.

"I didn't want to spoil the furniture," she said quietly.

Whether it was the responding look on his face that had her realising how ridiculous it sounded, or just hearing it out loud, she flushed and looked away.

"Hattie is abed, so I could not ask if she would lend you some of her clothing…"

She was relieved at that. He was doing a good job at pretending what had just happened wasn't as horrifying as it truly was, but she suspected his maid – or anybody else for that matter – would not achieve that feat so easily. If she had to speak to someone who appeared shocked or appalled by the whole thing just now, she'd risk losing her own composure.

"…so I had to select some of my own clothing. It's hardly ideal, but you should at least be warm and, er, decent…"

Theo nodded slowly, wishing she had any idea what to say. Even Miss Manners herself would've been hard-pressed to write down what the exact etiquette for circumstances like these were.

"Thank you," she said – and that would have to do.

"It's no matter. I can…I can fetch us tea. While you change. After I've done so myself."

"I'm all right, thanks."

It appeared the offer was as much to give himself something to do as anything else, seeing as he winced and then replied.

"Whisky?"

"God, yes. Please."

That did a little to break the ice. He smiled tiredly, nodded, and took his leave. Theo rose shakily to her feet, and then paused for a few seconds – mostly to make sure she'd be able to remain standing. She felt a little lightheaded, but her knees held up. And she could at least be grateful that she was too shaken to feel the full brunt of the awkwardness just yet.

After closing the curtains – because the last thing either of them needed were rumours of her kicking about his sitting room in nothing but wide doe-eyes – she turned to what he'd brought. A nightshirt, and a thick blanket. The latter to offer her something resembling modesty rather than warmth, she suspected.

She peeled off the nightgown, and then her sports bra and denim shorts, breathing a sigh at the latter, because denim soaked in seawater was incredibly unforgiving. Parts of her thighs were already rubbed red raw and angry, but given the injuries she'd escaped on this night, she didn't really have it in her to sit and cry over something as minor as that.

Her saviour's height was a double-edged sword as far as the nightshirt was concerned – for while it fell well down to her shins, but this only meant that the chest fell scandalously low, having her looking like something out of a tediously racy period drama before she tightened up and tied the drawstrings there as much as possible. That took her a minute, too, her fingers clumsy and uncooperative.

By the time James returned, she was back on the floor, her clothing folded and set aside. He regarded the bundle with a flush; if she'd had her wits about her, she'd have hidden the shorts and bra underneath the nightgown. Still, the blanket was big enough for only her head and her hands to be visible, as well as her hair, which tumbled in damp waves down her back. Back home, this was the sort of look she'd go for if she was ready for a Netflix binge. But there was a strange sort of comfort to being in this state now. There were few comforts from home she had access to now, and while she doubted he was about to whip out a laptop and ask if she'd prefer Gilmore girls or Downton Abbey, it was something.

Then he presented the bottle of whisky, along with two glasses, and she decided she liked that far better than Netflix anyway.

He'd changed into a dry shirt and breeches, but his hair was still down, combed back from his face in a rather marvellous homage to the wet look. The whisky bottle and the glasses sat atop a tray, which also boasted a roll of bread with a thick golden crust, and a jar of what looked like jam.

At her confused blink, he explained.

"The sugar in the tea would have helped. This is…improvisation."

"You don't have to do this, you know."

"I want to do this," he said firmly.

"…Thank you."

"Please stop thanking me."

The weight of the request was lessened in how he kept up a swift pace of activity as he gave it. Carefully lowering himself to the patch on the floor opposite her, he set the tray between them, then opened the jar of jam, before turning his attention to the bottle.

He poured her glass first, and then one for himself. Theo downed hers in one, only realising he was doing the same when she set her empty one down again. He caught her eye, coming to the same realisation, and there was a moment where – god help them – they snickered. He didn't even lock up afterwards, as she'd expected. Instead, he poured them another helping each.

This time, she made no move to take up the glass again. The only way this night could get more mortifying would be if he had to carry her back to the Swann's mansion because she got too pissed to walk. Instead, she cleared her throat, lowering her gaze.

"I thought they only hunted at dusk and dawn," she explained weakly.

"I believe your knowledge refers primarily to great whites. The one we encountered tonight looked to be a tiger shark. They swim inland at night, in order to hunt."

There was no reproach in his voice. Merely factual observation.

"…Oh."

The one we encountered. At this point, she was fairly certain she'd feel less shit about the whole situation if he'd stood on the shore and shouted encouragement at the shark. The only thing she knew about tiger sharks was that they were one of the most deadly, too. Her face paled further – her nose going numb for how quickly she could feel the blood rushing from her features.

"I'm…" she had to stop and clear her throat. "Captain Norrington, I'm so sorry."

"You're sorry?"

"My stupidity had you jumping between me and a tiger shark on the hunt tonight, obviously I'm sorry!"

"You did not ask me to jump into the water."

"I know-"

"In fact, I recall you rather vehemently insisting that I should not."

"But it didn't stop you!"

"Nothing could have stopped me, Theodora."

For a few seconds, Theo did nothing but stare at him. And he did nothing but stare back. Then, finally, she spoke.

"Of course you did."

Judging by his expression, there was no need for her to clarify that she was echoing his earlier words. Instead, he watched her. Intently.

"Of course you did," she repeated again, "because…because I live here, and you would do the same for any resident of Port Royal? As…as a duty…sort of…thing?"

Nobody could ever accuse her of being eloquent. As she spoke, James lowered his gaze to his lap, fiddling with the blanket he'd brought. Had she ever seen him fiddle before? Silence hung between them, and even though he wasn't looking at her, she could see the response formulating in his face. But then he did look at her, and it all fell away, leaving just one word.

"No."

Part of her – the part that didn't dare trust what was directly in front of her…along with the part that insisted this, every single bit of it, was a terrible idea – was tempted to start searching for more reasons why he might've done what he did. That he was a fan of grand gestures when it came to winning over the pals of the woman he actually was into. That he was practising for his Jackass audition a few centuries early. That he had a fetish for tiger sharks that hadn't made the final cut of any of the movies…although it would've made his stint on the Dutchman a more exciting time for him, if true.

All of those theories died when she saw, when she really saw, how he was looking at her. That was explanation enough.

"That you should sit here thinking it is you that owes me an apology…" he breathed a tired, humourless laugh, shaking his head.

"You saved my life tonight. I'm not exactly in a position to give you the cold shoulder."

"I don't wish for your forgiveness."

"…Oh."

God, but he was the most confusing bastard in this hemisphere and century both-

"No," he rushed to clarify. "I mean, I do wish for your forgiveness. I…I wish for it very much. But not on those terms. Not if it might only be bestowed because you think my actions tonight mean that I am owed it."

"Don't they?"

"They do not. The only reward I sought for what I did was your wellbeing. Your life. Had I been able to sleep tonight…had I not chosen to go walking…" he shook his head as if he hoped that doing so would shake him free of all of those perilous what ifs, "…I will not sit here and offer excuses and justifications for my behaviour that night, not least because you're hardly in much of a state to listen to them, but you must know that my intention was never to embarrass you."

It took Theo less time than he'd probably expected to accept that much from him.

"All right."

"All right?" he echoed disbelievingly.

"Petty crap like that never seemed like your kind of thing."

Which was partly why the move had sent her reeling to begin with. Too bone-tired to dress up her words in eighteenth century speak, she expected them to draw in at least an eyebrow raise, uncouth as her phrasing had been. Instead he huffed a laugh, smoothing a hand tiredly over his face.

"I'm not sure I deserve even that shred of good faith."

Feeling charitable – and mostly not having any heart for an argument – she stayed silent. He took that silence as an opportunity.

"Conversations such as this are hardly within my realm of comfort…" he admitted slowly.

"Crack a joke and avoid the situation, it works glowingly for me," she mumbled, taking a sip of her drink.

Apparently he wasn't content to give that a whirl.

"I am sorry, Theodora. Truly. For the pain and embarrassment that I caused you that night, and…"

He faltered then, pausing to clear his throat, the glow of the fire making it difficult to tell whether he was flushing or if it was just a trick of the light. Theo set her glass down on the tray between them – which he then slid aside, finally meeting her eye again.

"…and for giving you the impression that I do not enjoy your company. Greatly," as he spoke, she knew she already looked like she was doing her best owl impression, but he wasn't done. "If you wish to leave Port Royal, I will do all in my power to see it done…however, unfair as it might be for me to say…I have no desire to see you go."

Something that felt very much like adrenaline returned to her, pushing through the fatigue, but doing nothing to clear the fuzzy static from Theo's head as she stared at him in disbelief. Only after ten solid seconds of that staring did she accept that she really had heard him properly. And that she wasn't reading too far into his words. Because she'd given ample time for him to cough and clarify 'because if you don't, Elizabeth will be pissed off at me' or something along those lines.

When those ten seconds threatened to stretch into thirty, he bowed his head and took a swig of his own drink, having to reach for the tray where he'd pushed it aside. It was that sudden bashfulness that had Theo plucking up the courage to make a confession of her own.

"I've spent the last few weeks trying to rid myself of any feelings I had for you, and all the time beforehand denying completely that they even existed."

"Had?" he echoed, his face only just betraying a hint of downcast as he returned his glass to his tray.

"Does it matter?"

The weakness in her voice gave away that her use of the past tense hadn't been entirely accurate. Despite her best efforts, these last few weeks. Even before that, really, for every very good reason she'd listed to Elizabeth as to why she should not and could not get attached.

"Why would it not?" he asked.

"Because of the very beautiful, clever, brilliant, societally-approved woman up the hill who you'll soon be proposing to," she pointed out drily, before adding belatedly. "Or so I'd guess."

"That guess is mistaken," he replied, voice gentle.

When she stared at him then, he returned the gaze evenly…and softly…and hopefully.

Logic screamed at her to be dismayed. Because this changed everything. Not just on a personal level, but on a grand-scheme-of-things, world-ending, the plans-of-ancient-sea-goddesses scale. And that couldn't be good. Could it?

But Christ, she was tired. And scared. As well as lonely. And she was hearing that the man she had feelings for actually returned them – despite everything she'd been telling herself since her own feelings started to grow. It was difficult to know whether to laugh or cry. Ordinarily she'd have flat out refused to do either, but in her present state (and much to her own horror) she didn't have much say in the matter. So she did both.

A small mercy came in the fact that it wasn't extreme. She wasn't pissing herself with laughter while also sobbing herself into a fit of hyperventilation. No, her eyes misted up, and she breathed a few disbelieving laughs, but they were cut short when faced with the heart-rending sincerity on his face.

"Are you mad?" she asked. "Surely this is…this is what just happened talking, or…or…"

"I am thinking more clearly, as far as this matter is concerned, than I have in months," he insisted.

As he spoke, he leaned forward and clasped one of her hands in his, squeezing gently. The increased proximity that brought about seemed to dawn on him at the same time it did her, and he shifted as if tempted to back up – worried, maybe, that her decision to name him a madman had been a rejection.

But then Theo squeezed his hand back, and he shifted forward rather than back. At first he moved painstakingly slowly, as if to erase any doubt of his intention and leave her time to put an end to it. Instead, her eyes instinctively fluttered shut, one tear slipping down her face thanks to her earlier flurry of emotion, and then his lips were on hers.

By modern standards, the kiss was tame. His lips slotted over hers, one thumb coming up to wipe away the tear that had just fallen, but he did not deepen it – nor did he try to cop a feel, or move the kisses downwards, towards her jaw and neck. None of that surprised her. The way that it knocked her off her feet (or would have, if she'd been on them) did. A sign of the times or of the man, she didn't know, but the way she melted when he drew back a little, only to lose composure and kiss her again - like he was powerless but to do so - could not be ignored.

For it was so very, very dangerous. And she couldn't bring herself to care about that fact.

#ctw #catch the wind #ftt #fallen through time esta-elavaris #james/theodora #james x theodora #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #potcfic #james norrington fanfiction #james norrington fanfic #james norrington x oc #james norrington/oc

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boltlightning · 2 months

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weekend wip exposure club ✨

rules: post 7 sentences/a snippet of an unfinished work

tagged by the distinguished @tortoisesshells, thank you bud!!

tagging: @johnbly @graysongraysoff @audreycritter if you're feelin it :)

It is overcast this night, heavy and quick-moving clouds crowding the moonlight. The wind and dark make the perfect conditions for a pirate raid, Norrington notes to himself, and tucks his tail of hair into the back of his coat so it does not whip in the wind. He looks around for Elizabeth, and sees not her, but a ladder propped against the inn. Footsteps clatter lightly on the tile, and from above, Elizabeth says, “James, anything you need, Estrella can get.” She stands on the edge of the roof haloed by the moon, hands on her hips. Norrington sets a hand on the nearest rung. “I shall ask when I have need, but if you are spotting the raiders, I would like to help.” She stares down at him for a long moment, foot tapping, and finally she crouches and extends a hand.

#this one has hit 'i wish i was done writing this so i can stop thinking and just read it' levels #alas...onward we trek #thanks again tortie my beloved <3 #tag game #shrike hunt

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tortoisesshells · 1 year

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five sentence game: "slowly" for james/elizabeth? please and thanks!! :')

DMC, but with a pinch more gothic horror this time around:

Truthfully, she never expected to see James Norrington again, and in some ways Elizabeth is not sure she has: there is a man in a hammock who answers to that name, who has a captain’s coat, and the same sharp-tongued disdain for what irritates him – but (and here, when she has thought on it, she has struggled) either there is some familiar thing missing, or some unfamiliar thing at home. Awake, he speaks familiarly, insultingly. Traces of the old, slow, methodical coolness remain, but only in the same way that the ribs of an old wreck reach out of sandbars. Some part of her thought he was dead – dead, or (thinking of the pale-faced revenant that had deposited James Norrington's sword in her father's office and bowed to her wordlessly, those months ago) as good as. In the old stories, it was never a good thing when the dead returned.

Send me character(s)/a ship and a one word prompt, and I will write a five sentence fic about it.

#also this is very tentatively connected to ' slowly ' for which i do apologize!#anyway i love that this series flirts with the concept of coming back wrong. wish they committed to it. made out with it a little. in a way #does this even count as shippy? i am so sorry bolt.#fic #my fic #pirates of the caribbean #potc:dmc #elizabeth swann #james norrington

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pbandjesse · 27 days

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It was so stupid humid and hot today. I was not thrilled. I tried my best to stay cool but the office never cooled down. And it made me very very uncomfortable. All I wanted was to leave i was so uncomfortable. But I stayed and did a lot of stuff. It was nice to accomplish things.

I did not sleep well though. I was up ever other hour. My brain wouldn't turn off. I had fallen asleep at like 930 and would wake up at 130, 330, and 530. So I let myself stay in bed until 730. I wasn't in a rush to get to camp.

James was laying on the floor when I got up. We hugged for a minute. James told me today would be good but I wasn't so sure. I wasn't in the best place.

But it would be a pretty good day overall. I got dressed and I thought I would be cool enough in my fashion sack dress but I would end up very hot. It was frustrating.

James made me cinnamon bread with the loaf they baked yesterday that came out very nice. They were going to go bike to the harbor and kayak for a little before coming home and getting washed before working evening hours tonight. I was glad they were going to have fun.

I drove to camp. I listened to music. When I got to camp I went immediately to Yukon to work on folding all the blankets and sheets. So many!! It would take about an hour to sort and fold and put everything away. I couldn't fit all the pillows we were keeping but I would put the last of them in a trash bag and would let the office know we needed another box.

I went to the office and was going to get to work on painting but then I couldn't open the door?? My key didn't open the door. I thought the handle was locked. But Heather and Elizabeth said that wasn't possible, that we didn't have a key for that. So I would just wait outside until someone else came in.

I would take apart my water bottle lid to wipe it down. And while I was sitting there a parent came by to pick up some lost and found items. She wished me luck getting into the building.

When Elizabeth got here it turned out the door was just jammed. The lock had only half unlocked and she was able to get it open. I felt a little dumb but it's fine.

I got my stuff inside. Found the rest of my feild trip materials has been delivered. Excellent. And I would let Elizabeth know I was going to go check about paint at the museum to paint the bathroom doors.

But when I got over there Bonnie was cleaning. And she asked if I could please come back at 1130. So I had almost two hours to waste.

I was very anxious about calling the park to talk to Kirk about the stone axes. But I would suck it up and call. And of course my phone kept dropping the call. So I had to call again!! On the landline!!! Terrifying.

But you would be very proud. I spoke clearly. I got the right person on the phone. I communicated the need and was able to coordinate him sending a ranger to camp tomorrow to pick up the box with the axe handles and stones to assess. And I left the conversation feeling really good about it! Even if calling makes me so anxious. The actual phone calls are always fine. It's the actual calling I hate.

It was just about time for me to go and paint. I drove up to art to drop off my field trip stuff. And got a paint brush. And drove to the lodge.

Bonnie was done cleaning and the floor was dry so I got to work. The paint is like a silicone and peels super easy once it's scratched. And the kids had peeled two layers of paint off. So it was pretty bad looking. I would try and build up the paint thick so the shape of the peeling/tearing doesn't show still. I think we may still need a second coat. But it was fun to paint.

I was using a stupidly small brush. Like a 2 inch little guy. But I think I did a good job. Only dripped on the floor a bit and cleaned it up right away.

While I waited for it to dry a bit I would text with my dad. Who is on the mend I think. It was nice to chat with him. I miss him dearly. And I hope we can drive up this labor day just to see them for a little bit.

The afternoon was a little harder for me. By 130 I ran out of my computer tasks. And the office was so hot. Lou brought in peach cake and I wanted to eat it so bad. Alexi would convince me to try a small piece and I would pull it apart and eat it in small pieces and it was really nice.

Eventually I asked for something to do please. I started to look into our vendor list to start making a preferred/recommend list. And eventually would stop that to work on collecting addresses and writing out letters to our counselors of the session and write out others for international staff's pay cards that came in late. It was fun to have a specific task and I had to do some research into writing addresses for Hungry and Turkey. And I finished right around 3.

And it was time for me to go. I was hot. And ready to go. So I said goodbye. And I'll be back next week. Wednesday actually. I have a lot of stuff going on the next week.

I decided I wanted to go to whole foods. I wanted pasta salad. And juice.

I would treat myself. I got three kinds of pasta salad. A mozzarella penne, a tortilla, and an orzo. I would also get a slice of pizza. And a strawberry apple juice. A sweet bread. And some yogurt. And some fall scented soaps. I was having a great time.

I ate my pizza in the car. The first half of it was so good. But then the second half felt to greasy and I felt sick again. Which made us mad. But I sipped my water and just focused on going home.

I listened to my podcast about weird little guys. And when I got home I made sure I parked on the right side of the street so I don't need to stress in the morning since I don't have to leave until 930.

I got inside and was happy to see Sweetp. I decided to take a shower first. Washed my hair. Scrub scrub scrub. It wasn't a cure all but it helped.

I would put away my groceries. Made a little bowl with all three pasta salads. The penne one is great. A classic. The tortellini is also very good. Probably my favorite but needed less olives and more feta. The orzo would be good but I don't like the texture of the pine nuts. They texturally felt like undercooked pasta. But the flavor was nice.

Between that and the juice it helped me feel better. And I've been hanging out in bed. Watching videos. Reading. Enjoying my evening. Texting with James. I hope they are having fun. It's apparently a very busy night and it's nice to hear that it's such a successful event. Love that.

Now though I am just going to chill. I am tired after not sleeping amazing last night. But hopefully tonight will be better.

Tomorrow I have a meeting at the flag house about a commission. Pretty excited about that. I hope it's a good day. I hope you all have a good day. I love you all. Goodnight!

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lootsofathousandsworld · 1 year

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Escaping: Billy past Life

As promised here’s ,my first short story about Billy past! XDD Warning some cussing and blood. Hope you all enjoy it and sorry if grammers were wonky.

It was a foggy night with a hint of dim lamppost shining through a blanket cloud. An old turtle alien female was running down the dark street in a cloak She stops in the ally way to catch her breath. Making sure she wasn’t followed she looks back and scans the streets for any intruder that follows secretly.

After a few seconds, seeing it was all clear, she hurries on, gripping a dirty blanket in her arms. The alien turtle made her way to the bridge and looks ahead to find an open longboat available.

Then with nobody looking, she slowly uncovers a blanket that reveals a tiny baby alien turtle face, sleeping peacefully.

The old turtle made a gentle smile at her grandson and uses one of her claws to stroke his face tiny cheek without waking him.

Don’t worry little one,” She whispered.” You’ll be safe once we leave this city.” The baby made a soft sound and the old turtle female sooth him softly to quiet him.

After a few moments of break, she starts running across the bridge. But stops dead in her tracks when she sees a dark figure up ahead.

She thought her blood froze when she heard a familiar voice that dreaded her for so long.

“My Regina, midnight wakin I see?” The old turtle, whose name is Regina, grips the blanket close and watches the figure slowly come out who was the same species as her only it was a male with a beak-like mouth. He wore a dark trench coat with a pirate hat.

And he was old as her but three years than her. But this man, who shes married to and thought was her love, turns out to be a monster. A monster who hired men to hunt and kill her three sons and their family.

Her grandson, who she was holding, is one of her three sons that survived the massacre. And now she’s doing all she can to keep him alive.

When her husband took one step, she held the baby close and watches him stop. He gives her an amusing smile.

“Why so tense love? It’s only your husband,"

“I thought you be gone long voyage,” Regina spoke lowly, feeling disgusted the way he calls her that. After much abuse, she receives from him ever since right after their wedding. There was no love from him and she should've known better before marrying him.

Regina did her best not to make herself look frightened. So he won't get suspicious of what she was carrying.

Her husband made a lazy shrug."My mission was delayed darling.."

"Dont call me darling," Regina interrupted coldly. "I know what you had done,"

To her shock, he gives her his gruesome proud smile.

"Oh, ye did?" He chuckled darkly." My never knew the news can be spread like wildfire,"

"James they're your sons!" She spat. "How..how could you murder your own children and theirs?!"

James only gives her a snort. “Ye know why. They do not have my resemble feature to take my place as a pirate lord.”

“Your daughter does..”She reminds him but flinches when he screams at her.

“She’s no daughter of mine! Once she joined those damn navy she betrayed me.”

“She made a choice!” Regina protested. She watches him clinch his teeth in irritation and grunts.

“No matter, she’ll be joining her brothers soon once my men hunt her down." Regina couldn't help to take out her cutlass with her right arm and points a sharp edge at him, hearing about her only child still living.

"You will NOT have your men assassin her." She threatened. Even though Regina fears for her daughter's safety, she knows Elizabeth is a tough woman. And heard many rumors from pirates who encounter her and feared her greatly.

And deep down, Regina was relieved her daughter was still alive thanks to him mentioning her but not knowing how long she'll survive with her father breathing.

James makes a playful laugh, not taking her seriously, and gently uses his claw tip to move her cutlass away an inch. "Aw, what are ye going to do? Arrest yer dear husband? Calling my mission off?"

Regina didnt speak, knowing no matter how much she tries to get him to guilt. She's no match against the law of the pirate code that was written down hundred years ago. Then her eyes widen when she felt her grandson make a slight move.

This caught James's eyes and saw her acting differently. "Hmm, yer hidin' something from me dear?" Regina begins to panic but kept her cutlass still and prayed her grandson didn't make any noise.

All Regina could think now is run and when she saw him taking a few steps she bolted the other way. But she stops when a pirate appears out of nowhere. When she turns her head, her husband was right in her face.

And before she could make a getaway, James snatched the blanket out of her arm.

No!" Regina cried and tried to restrain him from taking the blanket, dropping her cutlass. James growls and use his claws to swipe her face to make her let go. The alien turtle female screams in pain, holding her right eye.

This commotion caused the baby to wake up and cry in the blanket. James was taken by surprise to hear an infant.

"A baby?" Curiously, he slowly unwraps the blanket while the baby keeps crying. Once he saw the small face, his eyes flared. Regina froze with fear, with blood dripping from her forehead.

After a few moments of silence, James spoke darkly, "So my son lied. He told me this egg was already dead." The alien turtle female gasped softly. Her son, William saved his life by telling him the egg was a dud.

All of a sudden she caught a glimpse of him looking at the bridge and knowing what he was going to do. Right when she was about to get up. A pirate who stopped her was on her level with a dagger on her neck, preventing her to move.

She watches helplessly on James walking over with the baby toward the edge of the bridge. Once he got there, he hung the infant over with his claws, ready to drop him down the streets below.

Right before he lets go of the blanket, Regina cries.

"James please!" She begged. "He's just a child, please I beg of you!" Her tears formed in her eyes. "I'll do anything please don't kill my grandson,"

He chuckles at her begging him on her knees all because of an infant who does not resemble his facial. James gets the idea of making this scenery more amusing to him.

"I'll tell ye what. How about we name our grandson and give him a proper burial? Will that please ye wife?" Regina looks at him with much despair, which gets him to laugh.

"And I know just a name to give, William the second! Cause this brat looks exactly like our son. " He grins his wrinkled mouth and glances at the baby holding him up still.

"Or even better, Billy. The nickname you enjoy calling our dead son. Billy Bones!" He laughs harshly while Regina grits her teeth in anger with tears still running down her face. James made a cough quieting his laughter and looks at his wife again.

"Time to say goodbye to Billy, he'll be in a better place with his own family once I send him to the stars,"

"How about I send ye to hell!"

"Wha?..." James turns to an unexpected voice and was greeted with a punch in the face. An old dinosaur alien with a strange bald head with bones around made a sudden appearance and ambushed him while everyone wasn't looking.

With such a punch, James lets go of the cloth and the dinosaur alien catches the baby before he lets it hit the ground.

Regina was shocked to find Hector, her secret lover coming to rescue her grandson. While James was distracted, he took the baby away to safety and shushed him to quiet his crying.

Seeing this was a chance after feeling the blade away from her neck. Regina grabs a stone nearby and smashes her captor's face. As the pirate was knocked out, she gets up fast and runs to him.

"Hector," Regina gasped and the old dinosaur didn't hesitate to hug her close with her grandbaby.

"Sorry, I'm late love,"

"My grandson.." He lets her take him and Regina sobbed, hugging him tightly for almost losing him. She kisses him all over his tiny head and glance up at him tearfully.

She quivered. "Thank you,"

Hector smiles at her softly and uses his hand to wipe her tears away from her old wrinkled cheek.

"Come on, let's hurry to the longboat." They both took off without hesitation, making their way to freedom.

--------------------------------- James, after gaining consciousness from a sudden punch. Looks up sharply and sees his wife and Hector already gone. He growled lowly and glance at his secret police still knocked out cold. With much anger, he took out his pistol and shot him dead.

He then looks ahead and yells out.

"You can run Regina! I will find ye and kill ye and your fuckin grandson! Ye hear me?! I will not rest until I see blood in my claws! "He gets up, baring his teeth, and muttered lowly.

"I will kill ye all. That's a promise I'll be keepin."

#my short fanfiction #treasure planet #Billy Bones #treasure planet ocs #regina #David #James #yeah Billy had a trouble baby life before growing up to be fearsome pirate along Flint #and no worries James is dead in later future giving Billy a chance of living.#again hope you like it Lad/Lassies! :D

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charlotte-of-wales · 1 year

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An endless list of my favorite outfits worn by the Princess of Wales (81/∞):

At Windsor Castle for the final stop of the mini-tour aboard the Royal Train, on December 8th 2020, wearing:

Catherine Walker coat

Troy London ‘Faux Fur Lapel Collar’ in ‘forest green’

Alexander McQueen clutch

Cornelia James ‘Alice’ merino wool pair

Amaia Kids ‘Katie and Millie’ print mask by Amaia Kids

Queen Elizabeth II’s Diamond Frame Earrings

#favorite pow outfits #catherine #princess of wales #catherine walker #troy london #alexander mcqueen #cornelia james #amaia kids

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valentinesdaydate98 · 4 months

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Sunshine Boy II

Word count: 1.7k

Fandom: Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing: William James Moriarty x Reader, (slight) Louis James Moriarty x Reader

“What do you want to be when you grow up, Elizabeth?”

“Me? Oh, I don’t know if I can get a profession, William.” Elizabeth said as she focused back on her drawing. It was a chilly evening, and both were in Elizabeth’s room as they returned from their classes. The homework they received from their last class is a breeze, yet crucial. They have to answer that question and report their answer to their teacher. A simple question, yet Elizabeth didn’t have hope for her future.

“Why is that?” William asked.

Elizabeth ignored his question and continued her drawing.

“Is it because you don’t have a clue what you want to study?” William asked, although he noticed the pencil Elizabeth was drawing with was louder. He figured out what the issue was. “Or are you still anxious about what the future may hold?” The pencil snapped.

Elizabeth mockingly chuckled. “What’s the point of asking me questions if you know the answer?”

“It’s best to ask someone either way,” William said as he shrugged his shoulders. “So, you’re afraid of the future?”

“It’s not only that. I mean, what professional field can I study? I’m nowhere near as intelligent as you or your brothers,” Elizabeth said as she turned her chair around to face him.

“You are already intelligent, Elizabeth. Quite talented as well.” He added as he pointed towards the drawing of sunflowers. “You add so much detail and beautiful shading.”

She squealed as she attempted to explain how the drawing was a present for him and Louis, but ended up spewing nonsense.

“I’m flattered by your drawing, and I’m certain Louis will be, too.” William chuckled softly. “No worries, Elizabeth. We can all teach you everything you need to become a successful individual. We will continue our reading and writing lessons until you’re at a proficient level. Albert can train you to fight, if you like. Louis can help you with the housework. We’re here to support you, Elizabeth. Always.” He declared this as he held her hand, squeezing it gently with a warm smile.

“That’s comforting to hear, William. Thank you. Wait, Louis likes me?” Elizabeth asked in shock.

“Of course he does. Why do you believe he doesn’t?” William asked as his eyes widened by her question.

“Well, Louis has been quiet around me. Granted, he’s always been quiet and reserved. However, when I’m around him, he’s almost silent. I didn’t say anything wrong, did I?”

“No need to worry, Elizabeth. He likes you just as much as I do, maybe more,” William said with a wink.

“More than you do? What do you mean by that?” Elizabeth asked. Unfortunately, Albert knocked on the door to announce that dinner was ready. “We can discuss this matter later. Right now, I’m starving.” Elizabeth said as she gently dragged William down to the dinner table. Before they sat at the table, William pulled her into a hug. In a tight and close embrace, Elizabeth heard his quiet heartbeat and felt his warm skin.

“Thank you, Elizabeth.”

“You are an idiot, William,” Elizabeth said as she held on to her love with all her might. If she wasn’t careful, the sun would rise, but with grim, dull lights.

“Liam, take my hand. Everything will be alright. You’ll find another way to repent your sins, and we will do it together,” Sherlock said with much anticipation.

Elizabeth can only pray William takes his friend’s hand. Unfortunately, her prayers went unanswered. Despite the hopeful look in William’s eyes, he only stared at his friends as their pleadings increased.

“Forgive me, my dear, but this needs to be done,” William said as he took his hidden sword from his coat and slashed Elizabeth‘s arm. A loud hiss from her lips made William drown in guilt. He hurt her. A promise he has kept to himself since childhood. His hands were now the deepest shade of scarlet red. Despite the sharp pain, she never loosened her grip on him. The cut can heal, even if it develops into a scar — anything to prevent the death of her precious sunshine boy.

“I admire your strength, Elizabeth, but I’m not worthy of your tears. I must repent for my sins, dear. Please, promise me one thing, Elizabeth. Find happiness with someone else,” William said as he graced her with his smile.

“What the devil are you talking about, William?” She asked as she took everything to not tear up.

William chuckled. He knew; he always knew. She loved him, and he loved her. Despite reciprocating her feelings, it wasn’t the right thing to do. His plan for starting a revolution always ends with him dying. He can’t give her the life she deserves. They wasn’t meant to be. He would never provide for them, as he would burden them both with his title as the Lord of Crime. A plague on the Moriarty family.

“Promise me you will grow old with someone who will love you. For your gentle heart, for your intelligence and your love of learning, and for your empathy. Do whatever brings you the most joy. Have a beautiful wedding, surrounded by your loved ones. Have as many beautiful and adorable children as you want. Go to university like you always wanted. Become a successful woman. Away from the simple, everyday household chores, and welcome exciting opportunities. Whatever you want, you deserve happiness, my dear. You are an angel, Elizabeth, and I am forever grateful. Goodbye.” William said his farewell with a bright smile before letting go of Elizabeth’s hand.

In a panic, she leans forward to grab his arm with both of Elizabeth’s hands. Her worries faded away as she felt Sherlock’s arms wrapped around Elizabeth’s waist, making them stay in place. Despite their differences, Sherlock and Elizabeth share a mutual respect for one another. For Elizabeth, it was his intelligence and humorous wits. For Sherlock, it was her kindness and hard-working attitude. Mere differences settled aside to save William. This is their last chance.

“Don’t say such words, William. Do you think I will be happy with some other gentleman? You make me laugh,” Elizabeth said mockingly as her tears dripped down his face, surprising William as he faced a new side of Elizabeth. “You are foolish if you believe I will be happy with another man. My heart skips only for you. William, you have blessed me with your mere existence, and you’re just going to throw away everything we’ve been through? William, you will never be alone here—your brothers, your little organization, and me. We’re all guilty. We all have blood on our hands. If you feel guilty, then please live. Live, and we can repent. I will be by your side, no matter what happens. Please live; I can’t hold on much longer,” Elizabeth begged as her cheeks stained a fiery red blush and her tears dripped down and hit Williams’s face and hair. Time was running out.

Her words blessed William’s heart. However, it won’t be fair to her. Even if William is safe, the awful guilt of his crimes will haunt him and Elizabeth. If he wanted to caress her soft cheeks, he’d stain them with his victim’s blood, no matter how many times he washed his hands. He ruined her innocence and her purity. His guilt would worsen as he witnessed Elizabeth’s blood staining her dress at an alarming time. Her tears, her blood, and the frightened expression on her face. It was all too much for him.

“I’m sorry, Elizabeth.” The sound of a large bell ringing blurred his soft whisper. And he slipped away.

As she watched William fall from the bridge, her heart stung. She failed him; she failed William. She couldn’t do anything but watch him fall into what her clouded mind saw—the fiery pits of hell. Adding insult to injury, William smiled back at her and his dear friend, Sherlock.

“William,” Elizabeth whimpered.

“As if that would stop me!” Sherlock said this before jumping off the bridge to catch William. The sight of Sherlock falling left Elizabeth breathless. How can a man have the courage to jump after William despite the fatal end of their fall? How did he jump without any hesitation? Was she not good enough for him?

As they both fell, she felt her soul ripped off of her body. The cold shivered as the sun rose, and the bile built up in her throat. She cried for Sherlock; she sobbed for William until she screamed William’s name. Her scream penetrated the ears of millions and echoed across the country. Rumors spread that the Queen heard Elizabeth’s scream as well. The Lord of Crime is gone; her sunshine boy is dead.

Time skip

If William broke his promise, then Elizabeth was a hypocrite for calling him out. It’s been three years since the disappearance of William and Sherlock. It’s safe to assume they both perished and their bodies were lost. Or perhaps they ran away. Elizabeth wasn’t sure which one was worse. In the years since their disappearance, vast changes have occurred for everyone, especially Elizabeth. The most important thing was her relationship with another man. She tried to find someone else, but every date she attended felt sour. However, being pressured by society to get married made her conflicted. On the one hand, she doesn’t want society to pressure her into an arranged marriage. On the other hand, she’s already the victim of harassment thanks to her affiliation with the Lord of Crime, despite the court finding her innocent. She supposes that finding a husband will inspire the public to leave her alone. Or maybe that’s her naivety shining through. Either way, she wants to settle down and have a simple life again. She needs something to take her mind off of William once and for all.

Some say that people can hear Elizabeth’s shouts and cries on every anniversary of William’s passing all across the country. As if her tortured and lonesome soul haunted the people the night of his death, still looking for William.

However, tonight was the night Elizabeth would break the hidden promise she made that night. As she put on her make-up, she heard a light knock on her bedroom door.

“The door is open, Louis.” She said this as she fixed her nightgown and make-up and waited for Louis to enter her bedroom.

#anime and manga #moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #william james moriarty #William James Moriarty x reader #mtp x reader #ynm x reader

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