#time to put up the crossbones flag and set sail

[cherry-purple]

Question for Sims 4 players:

Do you guys know of Sims 4 mods that reduce unsanitary gameplay stuff as much as possible?

Like I hate that I can see literal cat poop in litter boxes or seeing the piles of shit horses crap all over the place.

Also hate the pee moodlets with the yellow-stained underwear and the diaper messages that have icons showing diapers overflowing with literal shit.

Any way to make those sorts of unsanitary things less explicit? Previous Sims games weren’t this overt with that stuff so I’d be happy if I could make Sims 4 more like Sims 2 or 3.

[fairy-writes]

MY JOLLY SAILOR BOLD

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

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Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): William James Moriarty x Gender Neutral!Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Pirate AU

Notes: This is unintentionally sort of like Pirates of the Caribbean, but we’re rolling with it anyway, lol

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Your first meeting with pirate William James Moriarty was less than favorable. 

Mainly because one of his crewmates kidnapped you and brought you aboard their ship: “The Nobleman’s Anchor.”

It had been late at night when you were awoken by the sounds of screams from your maid. You bolted from your bed and nearly threw open the door when you heard the sound of a gunshot. Immediately, you backpedal and go to the walk-in closet, flinging it open and stuffing yourself inside just as your doors are quite literally blasted off the hinges by cannon fire. There are men’s shouts of surprise. 

Was it unintentional?

The ammunition creates a splintered hole in the wall, and you flinch, shoving your hand over your mouth to swallow your screams. 

You hid amongst your clothes, backing up until you tripped and smacked your head against the wall. 

The sound was almost deafening in the silence. 

All voices outside the closet quieted, and you heard footsteps stomping their way to the door. The footsteps were heavy, a faint jingling noise coming that signified that there was a coin pouch somewhere on this person’s… well… person.

Your breath came in short quick gasps that you kept quiet by keeping your hand over your mouth. 

Were you going to die here?

The door is torn open, and you come face to face with a very tall man. 

His hair and eyes are dark, and he’s dressed in a shirt that’s unbuttoned a few buttons and shows off his bare chest. The shirt is tucked into a pair of loose trousers, and his boots look to be made of leather. He has a pistol clutched in one hand, a finger hovering over the trigger but not pulling it just yet. 

A head peeks over his shoulder. Blond hair, blue eyes, and a mole on his right cheek.

Another pirate. 

You recoil as the taller man reaches into the closet and yanks you out by your ankle. You shriek, and he winces at the sound, pointing the barrel of his pistol in your face. That shuts you up real quick.

“What do we have here?” He asks. You don’t answer. The blond man puts a hand on the other pirate’s shoulder.

“Now, now, Moran. No need to frighten them.” He says, and “Moran” shrugs his hand off.

“Bugger off. I do what I want.” He snaps and yelps when you bring your foot up swiftly between his legs. He doubles over with a wheeze, and you spring to your feet, dashing toward the door. 

Almost there. 

Just as your fingers brush the edge of the door, you being intent on slamming it shut, a hand catches your wrist, and you are spun around. 

Moran looks furious, his cheeks flushed red, and his teeth bared. 

“You’ll die for that.” He snarls, and again, the blond pulls him away, obviously hiding a laugh.

“Why don’t we take them to William? He can decide what to do with them.” He says, and Moran mulls it over before nodding.

“Fine.”

The Nobleman’s Anchor is grand—with three soaring masts and sails that billow in the nighttime wind. The Jolly Roger flag flaps in the wind, and you shudder at the sight of the skull and crossbones. You can see the cannons and barely have time to count before you are hauled aboard. You spotted at least fifteen or twenty just on one side. 

How big was this ship?

Moran nearly shoves you down the multiple sets of stairs until you are thrown into a jail cell. It slams shut with a resounding ‘boom.’

“You can stay in the brig until the Captain gets back.” He says gruffly, and the blond man shrugs apologetically before waving and trotting back up the stairs. The trap door shuts, and you are plunged into darkness with a single candle lighting the room. 

Normally you’d be terrified, but not now. Not when your life depends on not being killed by pirates. 

So you reach into the pocket of your sleeping trousers and miraculously find a hairpin left by your younger sister. Her hair had always been long, and she commonly used pins to keep it out of her face. But, unfortunately, she also had a terrible habit of leaving them everywhere. 

She might have just saved your life. 

You had never picked a lock before, but it couldn’t be that hard, could it? You had read plenty of books about it in dashing chases and the like. But you found out very quickly that it was quite hard. 

But you weren’t one to give up, so you persevered. 

Eventually, the lock ‘clicked’ and swung open. The hinges squealed, but when no one came running, you crept from the cell and up the stairs. You made it almost entirely through the ship and into the hold before you heard footsteps. 

Ducking behind some barrels of gunpowder, you peeked out between the barrels. You watched as an unfamiliar man made his way down the stairs. 

Golden blond hair, brilliant red eyes, a handsome face. Dressed in a crimson coat with a white shirt tucked into black trousers and boots.

Who was this man?

Was he the captain?

It was almost as if he could sense your staring because just as he was walking by the powder barrels, he abruptly stopped, crouched, and looked you directly in the eye. 

“Well, well, looks like our little prisoner escaped.” He said. His accent was beautiful. The soft British lilt almost making you relax. 

Almost. 

“How did you find me?” You whispered, eyeing the pistol on his belt. It glints in the candlelight that illuminates the hold. The man hums before reaching between the barrels to brush his fingers against your necklace that hung at the hollow of your throat. The silver medallion. It had been a gift from your older brother. You never took it off. 

Just as your sister had saved your life, your brother was your downfall. 

You weren’t taken off the ship. With the crew raising the anchor and setting sail before you had any chance to do anything. You were searched and thrown back in the brig until the man would “find something to do with you.” 

Part of you wondered if they were going to kill you. 

A full day passes before you see anyone again. 

The golden-haired pirate came down to your cell, a tray in hand with bread and a flask of water. It didn’t look like much. But after a day of not eating, you were starving. The pirate didn’t say a word as he slid the tray under the bars, and it slid across the wood until it bumped against your sitting form. 

You don’t touch it.

“Do you surrender?” He asks, leaning against a cane he had previously tucked under his arm. 

“Are you going to kill me if I do?” You say, voice cracking with misuse and dehydration. The man shrugs, 

“No. Now, governor’s child, what do you know about Lord Lucius Aldridge?” 

After you tell the man—who you learned is the famed pirate William James Moriarty—everything you know about Lord Aldridge, you are let out of the cell and allowed to come up on deck.

The open ocean is absolutely stunning. 

Your breath is taken away, and you rush to the ship’s rail and lean over as the wind carries the massive vessel through the waters, the boat's bow cutting through the open sea like a knife. 

“If you are done looking, I’d like to introduce you to the crew.” Came William’s voice, and you whip around, confusion coloring your features. 

“Are you not going to take me home?” 

He shakes his head. 

“You have valuable information on lords and ladies. We need that. And you are going to help us.” He replies, and before you can say a word, Moran butts in.

“What are they doing up here?!” He demands, and you can tell he still hasn’t let your first encounter go. But, of course, you probably wouldn’t either. 

“They are helping us take down Lord Aldridge,” William says simply, and you can see Moran clench his fists. You swallow. 

Should you sleep with a weapon under your pillow? 

Was he the type to kill over a grudge?

Soon, you are introduced to the crew. 

There’s Albert Moriarty, the quartermaster and second in command. He has a kind face, if not a bit stern-looking. He does what William asks without complaint. Which is a common theme amongst the rest of the ship members. His emerald green eyes bore into yours, but his handshake was not unkind. 

Then there’s Louis Moriarty. The boatswain, the man in charge of keeping the ship in tip-top condition. He watches you with scrutiny, his eyes a shade darker than William’s. 

You already knew Sebastian Moran, but you discover he’s the master gunman and in charge of the forty or so cannons aboard the ship. You are quickly introduced to the blond, who you figure out is nicknamed “Bonde.” He doesn’t say his role aboard the ship, but he’s kind nonetheless. 

“The name’s Bonde. James Bonde.” He says with a wink. 

Fred Porlock is the last to be introduced. He’s the navigator and map expert of the ship. He’s quiet and a bit shy. His fingers are littered with papercuts from handling maps and documents. 

“Welcome aboard the Nobleman’s Anchor,” William says with a grin that makes a shiver run down your spine.

Days turn to weeks, to months, until suddenly, you’ve been aboard and part of the Moriarty crew for nearly a year. 

And strangely enough, you don’t regret a moment of it. 

You learn all kinds of things. Moran teaches you Poker and Liar’s Dice. Fred teaches you how to read maps properly. Bonde teaches you how to shoot a gun. Louis and Albert both teach you how to keep up with ship maintenance. 

And then there’s William.

What about him?

Well… you found yourself having a crush on the pirate captain. 

Initially, you denied your feelings. Because, of course, you did. That would be inappropriate, wouldn’t it? A captain and a crew member in a relationship.

Hah.

That was laughable. 

Until… it was almost like he loved you back. 

He taught you to steer the boat, his hand at your back and his other pointing to things like shoals, coral reefs, or whales breaching the water’s surface. 

His hand was warm on the small of your back, unexpectedly gentle as he leaned in close to speak in your ear. You always shivered when his lips would brush the rim of your ear. But it wasn’t in an uncomfortable way. And he knew that, his smile turning smug whenever you’d cough and move away. 

It seemed he fully took advantage of that because he started doing it more often. 

When you would sit together for meals, usually after everyone went to bed because you hated people watching you eat—but never minded when it came to him. 

When you would use old glass bottles as target practice, and he would correct your stance, hand always at your back and his head near your shoulder. 

And when it was just the two of you alone one night. You had volunteered to guide the ship through calm waters while everyone else slumbered below deck. Your eyes watched the stars and horizon, occasionally glancing at your compass and maps to make sure you would make it to port safely and on time. 

“Having fun?” Came William’s voice, and you jumped, turning slightly to where he was ascending the stairs toward the helm of the boat. He had shed his crimson coat, leaving him in his trousers and shirt. His boot buckles jangled with every step until he stood at your side and slightly behind. His hand comes up to rest at the small of your back. 

“Of course I am. Nothing like being alone on the open ocean. And in the middle of the night, no less.” You say, and he lets out a quiet laugh. The puff of air causes the telltale shiver to run down your back. You swallow thickly and take a step away. 

At least you try. His grip slips around your waist and pulls you close, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. 

“Why do you move away?” He whispers, ignoring your previous comment, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

“It’s inappropriate.” You try, and he chuckles again.

“When have you ever cared about what’s appropriate?” You shrug, jostling his chin, and he straightens, his hand leaving your waist. 

You almost regret making him move.

“Ever since you’re the captain, I’m just a lowly crew member.” You say, almost bitterly. You love him. You had long come to terms with it. You loved him so much it made your heart ache and thunder in your chest. 

Suddenly, William spins you around and looks you in the eyes. They’re dark crimson with an emotion you can’t quite define. 

“You are much more than a crew member.” He says seriously, and you let out a nervous laugh,

“I was just kidding.” You say. He raises an eyebrow, and eventually, you sigh. 

“It’s all I am. Really. I’ve not been much of a pirate. I’ve been on this boat for barely a year.” You continue, and he presses a finger to your lips, effectively shutting you up. 

“It’s enough for me to fall in love with you.”

Your brain stalls. Caput. Poof. 

In love?

William notices your confusion and lets out a deep sigh. 

“Surely you realized?” He says hopefully, and you have to think back on it before nodding.

“I suppose I just didn’t want to believe you’d actually love me.” You say timidly. He tilts his head as if to say, “really?” before leaning his forehead against yours. 

Then, he tilts his head and kisses you. 

He tastes like the vast open sea below you.

[ducktracy]

178. i wanna be a sailor (1937)

release date: september 25th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: robert winkler (peter parrot), elvia allman (mother parrot), mel blanc (duck), berneice hansell (patrick parrot, patricia parrot), billy bletcher (father parrot)

though porky was established as a star by this point, his stardom was a lonely one indeed. gabby goat had come and gone as a failed experiment, petunia only had a handful of shorts left, and daffy wouldn’t be established as a sidekick until a year or two later. aside from the pig himself, warner bros. didn’t have a vast repertoire of characters to boast. but that didn’t stop them anyway.

perhaps “boast” is a bit too hyperbolic, but there’s a rather fascinating trend in the late ‘30’s of warner bros. advertising characters who ranged from minuscule to down right obscure. porky, petunia, gabby, and the early prototype of daffy are all reasonable characters to tote, but it got to the point where one-off characters such as petunia’s dog fluffnums, “sammy sparrow”, and peter parrot where toted around as well. this marks the debut of peter parrot who, despite only starring in this short, found his way onto ice cream packaging, publicity sheets, and even wall hangers.

so, what’s all the hubbub with this little parrot? the short, an unofficial sequel to i love to singa, chronicles peter’s wishes to follow in his footsteps and become a sailor, despite his mother’s pleas against him. peter sets off for shore anyhow, but quickly realizes that it isn’t a captain‘s life for him.

the short begins with mama parrot (voiced by the great elvia allman) teaching her children how to talk. specifically, how to cite the ever-appropriate “polly want a cracker.” berneice hansell voices the first two siblings, patrick and patricia, who both fumble over the sentence in cute, giggly, slow voices. avery loved to put hansell’s squeaky voice to use, specifically to test our patience to see how annoying and how long he could drag it out. both children manage to spit out the magic words, much to the approval of mama. the underscore of “we’re working our way through college” is a nice touch--one of my favorites!

in the averyverse, it’s common knowledge that the third attempt at a gag results in a mix-up, and here is no exception. mama drills our star, peter, (named patrick on his various mediums of advertisement) but to no avail. instead, he resists, robert winkler (who was one of the voices for scrappy over at the columbia studio) providing his vocals as he grovels “i don’t wanna cracker, see? i wanna be a sailor like me pop, see?”

pan over to reveal a framed portrait of dear old dad, clad in a sailor suit, bulging popeye arms and all. mama does not agree, and is quick to launch into a rant. “huh. like your pop! why, that sea-bearin’ homewrecker, that high-seas hitchhiker... a fine father he’s been, the sea-goin’ sob!” her rant segues into a flashback sequence, animated by the great irv spence. the layout and background of the newly-weds’ new abode in the canary islands is very pretty indeed, great contrast with the blues and the yellows of the moon/light from inside.

elvia allman’s deliveries are great as always--she doesn’t get nearly the same amount of buzz as the other female stars of warner bros. such as berneice hansell, sara berner, bea benaderet, and of course june foray. the fond trip down memory lane includes warm memories of the new mother feeding her infants, the atmosphere warm... and then we pan over to the father, allman’s narration now acidic and vitriolic as she hurls insults in conjunction with the animation--the “rum-soaked old seagull” is surrounded by a wall of empty bottles, pouring himself a hearty dosage of shots. 

irv spence’s animation of the father’s lumbering, drunken exit out of the house is great--i especially love the extra details such as the swirls and stars. just as allman mentions the father’s venture to hawaii (on account that he could never stay in one place), we get a moment of avery genius as pa shoves his face back in the door to interrupt the narration (voiced by billy bletcher): “no, ma, it was catalina!” allman’s bite that was so harsh earlier is completely absent as she corrects herself. “oh... oh, yes. set sail for catalina.”  

another great avery gag that would be reused in the smash hit red hot riding hood, another avery piece: ma fondly remembers how she would “burn a little light in the window.” cue a giant spotlight beaming out the window, sweeping the entire island. 

mama parrot tearfully ends her lecture, asking her son “now you don’t wanna be a sailor, do you?” wonderful comedic timing as a tearful, mournful peter wipes his eyes. after a few seconds of sniveling, he responds with a warbled “...yes!” 

“WHAAAAT!?” so taken aback by her son’s reaction, mama parrot faints, literally hanging by her toes from the bird cage as she dangles unconscious. thus provides the perfect escape for peter, who opts to take matters into his own hands. cue the similarities to i love to singa: estranged bird children leave their over-protective parents in order to pursue their dreams. 

there’s a wonderfully smooth transition between multi-plane pans here: close-up to peter haughtily stalking off, footsteps tinkering to the beat. the surroundings of his household melt away to reveal a pan of the outside, the momentum never halting, no breaks in the walk-cycle, just perfectly timed. VERY impressive! i’m always a fan of the multi-plane pans to begin with, but this in particular is very well executed. in the midst of peter’s angsty stewing, he bumps right into a spare barrel. suddenly, an idea hatches, and he lifts the barrel (cartoon physics!) as we fade out. 

fade back in to another multi-plane pan, this time of a pond. i love the lush, painterly look of the backgrounds in the late ‘30′s and early ‘40′s--daffy duck and egghead in particular has some divine color styling. this pan reminds me quite a bit of the backgrounds in that one, as we’ll explore relatively soon (8 more to go!)

peter has successfully crafted a makeshift ship out of his barrel, the perfect size for such a pint-sized parrot. cue the introduction of the archetypal annoying blabbermouth--warner bros. loved their blabbermouth characters. dizzy duck, a blabbermouth facsimile to a certain disney-owned duck, would be porky’s sidekick for a whopping two cartoons. friz freleng would play around with the trope in his little blabbermouse, and even chuck jones would refine his sweet, mellow character sniffles into a bonafide chatterbox. 

here, it’s a little yellow duck (who looks awfully similar to daffy’s next appearance in daffy duck and egghead), barraging peter with a number of questions. peter is quick to shut the duck up, closing his beak as he snarls “well, see, i’m buildin’ a boat, see!” his explanation, reused from egghead rides again, is “because, because, because... today, i am a man!”, a take of the same line used in bar mitzvahs. while there may be a disconnect between the catchphrase and audiences today, one can at least appreciate the vocal talents ingrained in the line--specifically, the squeaky, prepubescent “i am a man!” provided by mel blanc here. little duck is eager to tag along. peter agrees, but not before clamping a spare clothespin down on the duckling’s beak to shut him up. 

cue the song sequence, which is more talk-song-y than anything. irv spence provides some nice animation as the two climb onto deck, peter shoving a mop into the curious duckling’s grip (”all aboard! c’mon, by heck! your job will be to scrub the deck!”) while the song continues, peter peels a skull and crossbones off of a spare poison bottle (how safe!), using it as a flag. the up shot of the flag being raised is nice and dynamic, even if the timing is a little bloated.

the ship has set sail. after glowing at his makeshift sail (a pair of long underwear), peter directly addresses the audience, a nice reminder that tex avery is directing the short. “this picture’s kinda like mutiny on the county, [actually titled mutiny on the bounty] dont’cha think?” he pauses for a few beats before turning back to the audience, now with a glower: "or dont’cha?”

to assert his dominance and strong masculinity, peter pulls out a stick of licorice from his pocket, tearing off a bite as a makeshift glob of tobacco. the animation of him chewing (and thusly spitting) the tobacco has a nice sense of weight to it--the push and pull is strong. he hocks it up over the side of the ship, and, like all spitting gags, the piece of “tobacco” traverses through the bottom of the water and lands perfectly in a submerged spittoon.

self-satisfied, peter now opts to scale the crow’s nest, using his beak and feet to guide him along the way (woodblocks doing a nice job of synchronizing animation and music). suddenly, he does a take to something offscreen. a storm’s a-brewin’, as indicated by the lightning that literally spells out “BAM!” as it streaks past. experimenting with typography is always refreshing to see in the shorts, especially when the words themselves form works of art. 

just as quick as he was to leave the family, peter drops his tough-guy demeanor, panicking and running around his ducky first-mate, who’s still dutifully swabbing the poop deck. peter snaps the clothespin off of the duck’s mouth, ordering him to do something. cue rambling duck: “what for? i like the rain. i like the water.” as he rambles on, borderline incomprehensibly, avery strikes again to remind us of what he’s capable as the duck interjects to the audience (in an adult voice), “ain’t i the talkingest little guy?” even better is that he wastes no time launching back into his hyperactive rant about swimming in the water and splashing around.

to make matters worse, the button flap of the long underwear sail unbuttons, rendering the sail useless. the combination of the rain, music (william tell’s “the storm”, of course), and sound effects all blend together nicely. the “ocean” currents, now forming ferocious waves, look hilariously cartoonish and not at all believable, but what’s the fun if the waves were drawn with precise accuracy?

peter wrestles with the ship’s wheel, which is out of control. his efforts are futile—he ends up twirling around the wheel. elsewhere, we get another gag that would be reused time and time again: a bucket of paint spilling and pouring back into itself due to the rocking of the ship. the timing holds on just longer than it needs to for it to warrant any laughs, though i’m sure it was much more amusing to an audience in 1937 than now, especially if you’ve seen the gag over and over again like i have.

speaking of reused gags: the blabbermouth duck is just reveling in the rain, not at all bothered by the catastrophic events unfolding. this gag is taken from one of tex’s last cartoons from his previous job, making the walter lantz oswald cartoons at universal. more specifically, his 1933 picture five and dime (about the 1:33 mark.) nevertheless, back to warner bros., the little motif of “september in the rain” adds another layer to aid in appreciating the gag. 

in an attempt to haul an anchor, peter’s plan fails: instead, half of the ship is yanked off with the anchor, sending the ship down. the little duck is beside himself, willfully diving into the current to soak up those sweet white caps. peter does not share his ecstasy, nor his courage. instead, he cries for help, crying for his mother... which, miraculously, she hears. seems he wasn’t that far off from shore after all! the extra touch of peter lowering his voice to bellow “calling all cars, calling all cars!” (also used in i love to singa) is a great little humoristic touch. 

despite her previous harshness, a mother’s love prevails, and mama parrot takes off after her son. cue another great joke, one that’d probably be even more uproarious during a time when the song was popular: mama dashes through the rain, reassuring her son “I’M COMIN’! I’M COMIN’!” and, in an instant, she drops her panic to sing a few lines of "old black joe” to the audience. wonderful timing--tex’s fourth wall breaks in this one are definitely satisfying. 

peter continues to cry for help, even in the tune of “shave and a haircut” at one point, much to the disgust and contempt of the duck, who goes as far as to give him a black eye. clearly, he doesn’t think highly of his captain. maybe this is more like mutiny on the bounty than we thought! 

and, with that, the duck easily tosses peter ashore, snarling “ya big sissy!” before frolicking in the rain once more. while some of the ship scenes dragged in momentum, tex does create a strong suspension of disbelief: remember, they were in a pond, not a treacherous ocean!

mama reunites with her baby boy, swaddling him and cooing all the way. “now... you don’t want to be a sailor, do you?” if you believe we’re about to learn some sort of moral, remember what you’re watching here. peter sniffles, wiping his eyes, giving a few sobs before answering in a direct parallel to the beginning, “...yeeeeees!”

it’s two iris out gags in a row for tex. like the beginning, mama shrieks another “WHAAAAAT!?” and passes out from the shock, iris closing in on her. just then, the iris widens back up as mama pulls herself up to face the audience. she heaves a sigh, her tone surprisingly gentle as she asks “now what would you do with a child like that?” iris out for good.

thus puts an end to tex’s 1937 dry spell. tex was no stranger to the vices of burnout (been there!), and i suspect he may have suffered a bit of burnout throughout mid-1937, or, at the very least, have been at a crossroads in terms of where to go and who to please. he had some great momentum going—porky’s duck hunt would, of course, become monumental in animation significance, birthing daffy and a whole genre of characters with it (and you could argue it’s why we have bugs, too). and, despite the nastiness of the short (which is inexcusable), viewing the technicalities, uncle tom’s bungalow was rife with energy and wit as well. but, for awhile after, tex floundered: shorts like a sunbonnet blue completely lack the avery wit and charm. egghead rides again was enjoyable, porky’s garden tolerable, but none carried the momentum that these shorts once had. thankfully, this dry spell comes to an end after this short.

so, moving on: this is a short i’m neutral on. it still lacks the fervor and conviction of previous tex entries, but it isn’t dismal. it has some bits of greatness that could constitute a watch: elvia allman does a wonderful job as the mother—the “burning a light in the window” gag with the giant spotlight was great, as were the various fourth wall breaks. those in itself constitute a watch, but other than that, this short remains largely unremarkable, at least to me. some of the scenes drag in pacing, but that’s an easy verdict to make when you constantly compare to the speed of forthcoming avery cartoons (especially at mgm), where you miss an entire gag if you blink.

ultimately, i think you could go either way. watch it if you’re more devoted to animation like i am, or at least snoop around for some of the high points. however, you won’t be missing too much if you skip it for now. thankfully, better cartoons are ahead!

link! (pardon the title, it’s fake, but the print is good enough quality.)

[stahlop]

CS January Joy Day 23: Permission Granted

Summary: And Emma had been on her share of bad dates: the guy who couldn’t remember her name and kept calling her Enya, the guy that had to pull over before they even made it to the restaurant to puke on the side of the road, the guy that talked about his ex the entire evening and then called said ex numerous times and asked Emma how he could get her back. But Walsh, he was something else entirely.

Notes: This was inspired by one of those lists you can find on social media. This one dealt with people who thought they were better than someone else , and then were put in their place. When I read this story, I immediately thought of Walsh trying to pull this crap with Emma to impress her.

Thank you @profdanglaisstuff​ for being my beta and helping me get the story back on track.

Rated: G

Ao3

Emma knew within two minutes that this was going to be a bad date. Emma can’t believe that Ruby, of all people, set her up with the worst guy in the world. Mary Margaret she would have expected it from, but apparently Ruby was in the happy love bubble now that she was dating Liam, and since Mary Margaret and David had their little newborn bundle of joy, Ruby apparently took up the ‘setting up Emma on blind dates’ mantle.

And Emma had been on her share of bad dates: the guy who couldn’t remember her name and kept calling her Enya, the guy that had to pull over before they even made it to the restaurant to puke on the side of the road, the guy that talked about his ex the entire evening and then called said ex numerous times and asked Emma how he could get her back. But Walsh, he was something else entirely.

Emma had learned her lesson about blind dates picking her up. She always met them where the date was going to happen, that way she had her own mode of transportation to get out if the date went sour. The restaurant Walsh wanted to meet at was a pretty swanky place, and happened to be a five minute walk from her apartment. Emma wore a cute pair of black wedge booties with her dress instead of heels since she would be walking. Walsh frowned about the shoes right off the bat. He didn’t think they looked classy enough with her dress; a white dress that came to right above her knees and was sheer black on the top and sleeves. Then he told her how dangerous it was for a woman like her to be walking around town and he would have just picked her up if he’d known she was planning on walking. When Emma tried to interject that she worked in bail bonds and knew how to take care of herself, he went on a tirade about the criminal justice system, because owning an antique furniture store apparently made him not only a prick, but an expert in law as well.

And then Walsh insisted on showing Emma his boat. Now Emma had to admit she was intrigued. She loved the water and had always wanted to go sailing. She only knew one person with a boat and that was Ruby’s boyfriend’s brother, Killian. Emma had only met Killian a handful of times, not enough to ask to be invited onto his boat. She had seen it docked down at the marina, knew it was called the Jolly Roger, and knew that he thought it was hilarious because he too had a hook for a hand just like the literary owner (though Killian’s was the mechanical kind that could grasp items and not one that was sharp and needed only for pirating). Oh, and Walsh was a big ol’ fat liar, because they were definitely standing in front of Killian’s J olly Roger right now and not any boat belonging to Walsh.

“So you like Peter Pan then?” Emma said once she could actually get a word in edgewise (that was yet another mark in the ever expanding negative column, Walsh talked non-stop, and mainly about himself).

“What?” Walsh said, surprised that he’d been interrupted.

“Your boat. It’s called the Jolly Roger . I just figured you were a big Peter Pan fan. Or, I guess, more a Captain Hook fan,” Emma said, stating the obvious.

“Well,” he started, as if he were giving a lecture and not talking to a date, “the Jolly Roger is actually the name for the flag pirates flew on their ships with the skull and crossbones.”

“So you like pirates?” Emma asked, getting tired of this whole charade.

“Do you like pirates?” Walsh said taking a step forward. With any other guy it might have been a sexy move, with Walsh it was just creepy. Emma took a step back to distance herself from him. Walsh didn’t seem to notice, he kept creeping into her space.

“Hey, buddy, back up, please!” Emma said making her voice loud and firm so there was no way he could misunderstand the tone. She also put her hand out so he couldn’t come any closer.

“Oh, come on Emma,” he said with a sly smile that made him seem slimy and not seductive in the least. “I bought you a nice meal, we’ve had a nice conversation, you like my boat. We both know where this is heading.” Walsh fingered a piece of Emma’s hair and moved it to behind her shoulder. Emma’s skin crawled at that. She was going to kill Ruby, and she was going to do it slowly and torturously so she knew exactly how Emma was feeling right in this moment.

“I think the lady said to back off, mate.” A voice came from behind Walsh’s shoulder. Emma instantly relaxed. She recognized that accent. It belonged to the true owner of the boat, Killian.

But Walsh was not going to be deterred from whatever scenario he had concocted in his head about how this night was going to end.

“How about you back off?” he said, turning to Killian. “You’re not supposed to be here unless you own a boat.” His eyes flicked to Killian’s ragged looking jeans, white t-shirt, flannel shirt, flip flops, and messenger bag, instantly deeming him unworthy of possibly owning a boat on this dock.

“True, true,” Killian said, his cerulean eyes immediately looking at Emma as if to say ‘what is wrong with this idiot’ .

“Well,” he paused for dramatic effect, “it’s a good thing I own this boat then.” Killian grinned swinging up the ladder. Walsh’s jaw dropped. He had obviously thought he’d get away with the boat ruse and had not expected the actual owner to show up and out him in front of his date.

Walsh tried to recover. He grabbed Emma’s hand and mumbled, “Let’s go,” but Emma didn’t budge. She snatched her hand away.

“Do you really think I’m going to go anywhere with you after that stunt you just tried to pull?” Emma asked, incensed that he actually thought she would want to continue the date, especially since she’d already been asking him to back off before Killian interrupted.

Walsh looked pissed that his plans had been derailed and stomped off down the dock. Emma let out a sigh of relief. She really hadn’t wanted to kick his ass.

“Everything okay down there, Swan?” came Killian’s voice from the boat. He had a look of concern on his face.

“Just peachy,” Emma said, smoothing out her dress. She had two options: head home, get into comfy clothes and watch Netflix, or see if she could finally get onto Killian’s boat.

“Permission to come aboard?” she asked, tilting her head and giving a lop-sided smile. Killian’s face went from concern to surprise at her request.

“Permission granted,” he said, coming over to the ladder and reaching out his hand to help her aboard. Emma was never more glad for wearing her comfortable booties than in that moment.

Killian’s hand was warm when she placed hers in his. Emma scrambled up the ladder as gracefully as she could, but eventually just ended up clambering over the top of the boat in an effort to not show off what was underneath her dress.  She straightened up once she was on the deck, pulling down her dress that had ridden up and trying to tame her blonde curls from the whole endeavor.

“Hi,” Emma said softly once she had righted herself.

“Hi,” Killian said, chuckling a bit. “You want to tell me what was with the wanker you were with down there?” he asked.

Emma blushed and then groaned. “Blame Ruby. Apparently because she’s so happy with your brother she feels the need to embrace her inner Mary Margaret and try to make everyone else happy as well. She set me up with that ‘wanker’.” She said doing a poor imitation of Killian’s accent. Killian raised an eyebrow.

“I would have thought Ruby had better taste than that, considering she’s dating my brother.”

“Right?” Emma said, wondering how Ruby ever thought this date was a good idea. And then she asked curiously, “What are you doing out here at 10 o’clock on a Friday night? I’d think you’d be out with the guys or out with a girl or something.” She tried to sound casual about it. They’d only met a few times, but Emma had not failed to notice how good looking Killian was, what with his artfully looking bed head, neatly trimmed scruff, and piercingly blue eyes. He was also very considerate, always one to help out a friend when they were in a bind.

“Liam’s taking Ruby out on the boat tomorrow and needed some things set up, and since they are also out tonight, I offered to do it for him.” He scratched his hair right behind his ear, a cute nervous gesture that Emma had seen him do a few times.  “Would you like to help since you’re here?” he asked scratching behind his ear. The bravado he’d had when getting rid of Walsh now seemed to be replaced with nerves. Was he nervous around her?

“Sure,” Emma said. She followed him down the ladder to the boat’s interior.

“Let me give you the tour.” He grinned as she landed next to him. “This is the kitchen where I’m placing food for Liam and Ruby’s picnic date tomorrow.”  Killian said pulling out some wine bottles from the messenger bag, placing the white in the fridge, and putting the red one in a wine rack built into the kitchen area. “There is the dinette table they will be eating at for their date,” He placed a piece of crusty bread on it, “the couch they will most likely be making out on, and the queen-sized bed that I’m sure they will take advantage of,” he finished, grabbing the last of the food from his bag (what looked like deli meats, cheeses, and fruit) and placing them on the kitchen counter. Emma gave a slight grimace, even though she knew it was probably all true.

“Looks like Liam’s got quite the date planned,” Emma said, “Why are you setting this up and not him?”

“Because Liam and Ruby are in a new relationship and can’t keep away from each other long enough for Liam to go to the store and set things up himself.” Killian rolled his eyes. “And, also, I’m a good brother and had nothing better to do tonight. And since it is my boat, I thought I’d be nice and make sure everything was in working order.” Emma nodded understanding. How many times had she helped out some of her girlfriends by doing the same thing? She was about to say as much when her stomach let out a huge grumble. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“Let me guess, Swan,” Killian stated, coming over to her. “Wanker took you to some high priced restaurant where you pay $50 for two slices of meat and they call that a steak dinner?” Emma laughed.

“It was three pieces, and a carrot cut in two halves, and a dollop of mashed potatoes with sour cream and chives drizzled artfully on top. I’m starving,” she said, smiling at him.

“Well, darling, take a seat and we can dig into some of this delicious food that Liam and Ruby were supposed to dine on tomorrow.” Killian immediately grabbed two plates from the kitchen cabinets, placing the items from the counter on therm, along with two wine glasses, and placed them on the dinette.

“But, then Ruby and Liam won’t have anything to eat.” Emma said now feeling awkward as Killian pulled out a chair for her.

Killian grabbed the red wine and a corkscrew and opened the wine. He poured some into his own glass and then gestured to Emma’s. She nodded as he poured her some. “Being the wonderful younger brother that I am, I will replenish whatever stores we consume tonight. Besides, I can’t let you go hungry, that’s just bad form.” He held up his wine glass toward her. Emma brought hers up to clink with his.

“What a gentleman.”

“I’m always a gentleman, love.”

They made little sandwiches and Emma and Killian both playfully tried throwing grapes in each others mouths (try being the operative word, they both missed each others mouths spectacularly), while having one of the best get to know you conversations Emma had ever had in her life (“By the way, I really like your shoes,” he said at one point. “Thank you!”).

“I’m sorry this is how our first dinner ended up happening,” he said smiling that killer smile. “I really would have rather asked you out properly instead of rescuing you from a bad date.”

“You thought about asking me out to dinner?” she asked. Killian’s eyebrows practically rose into his hair, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“Um… yes?” he said, now running his fingers through his hair, and Emma could see that he was worried he had overstepped. She almost laughed at how nervous he was. It was really sweet. Emma grabbed his hand and hook and took them in her own from across the table.

“Good,” she said, maintaining eye contact and smiling back at him. “I’ve thought about it too.” Killian let out a breath as if he’d been holding it, just waiting for her reaction. He rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand, drawing nonsensical patterns on it.

“Can I ask permission to call this our first date then, love?” The boldness in his voice was back.

“Permission granted.”

This is the dress Emma’s dress is based on for her date.

Please leave comments and reblog! Also, let me know if you want to be tagged in future stories

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @kmomof4​ @superchocovian​ @lfh1226-linda​ @csjanuaryjoy​

[gem-quest]

[QUEST o2. - E N T H R O N E D]

(written by @bebemoon)

mentions: @ayzrules @elissastillstands & @armadasneon​

. . . Quest 2 .

A few days passed without word from Inferna, and Neddy was beginning to think she'd been forgotten.

A pair of players were marrying in the gardens the week following the meadow fair. And Neddy made an appearance out of sheer curiosity-

The ceremony was within a tumble of pale pink blossoms beneath a flowering tree, and the fae—and even all who were stuck on the level—were in attendance, surrounding the couple of Moonstone players. Neddy recognised the groom as the gleaming Moonstone jouster from the fair. The bride was a tiny Healer with hair matching the blossoms overhead and a veil of glimmering chain mail set with white crystals. They seemed blissful- so much so that Neddy wondered about them.    

Besides, was this a binding union in the real world? Probably not since Finvarra was the one to marry them, and Neddy rather doubted the Prince was ordained for such an affair. He wasn't even real.

Maybe it didn't matter to them- at any moment, any of them could be skewered with a sword and die at once in two worlds. Might as well live happily and love when possible.  

Neddy shook her head. What an outlandish situation they all found themselves in . . .

-

There was a celebration afterwards, but in Yue City. Understandably, the happy couple wanted to be able to eat together as well as remain free of the fae.

Neddy stayed behind to put her feet up on the feast table alongside some of Finvarra's tittering wives to watch the dancing for a while. The feeling of isolation began to creep up on her once again.

Suddenly, there was a familiar trilling from her rucksack at her feet, barely audible over the fairy music. It was the sound the Plexus' messaging function made when a new message was received.

Excitedly, Neddy dug into the rucksack and drew the Plexus out. She swiped the screen, and the new message appeared. It was from Inferna- "Jack's Girlfriend" [fire emoji] in the Plexus.

The message read: WYD ???

Neddy replied with a long message detailing the wedding she'd just witnessed, overseen by the Prince himself.

To which the redhead pithily replied, "Bruh xD".

Neddy grinned at her screen.

Inferna went on to ask Neddy if she was ready to take on Aydina, and when Neddy indicated that she was "ready as she would ever be", the other girl sent back:

“Btw I invited 2 other ppl to join us for dodgeball- Morningstar and Balestra if u wanted to look them up! Hope that’s okay 💖💖💖 say hi to jack 4 me!!!!”

Attached to this was a selfie of the candy-redhead eating the apricot tartlets Neddy had paid her with.

Morningstar wasn't a name that Neddy recognised- but Balestra, she knew immediately. She was another Moonstone player- a celestial knight- with a griffin mount. If Neddy wasn't very much mistaken, the griffin ate some of the garden's fae NPCs. And Finvarra still recounted the incident like some sort of disastrous Biblical tale.

Maybe it would be good to have someone like that on her side? If Balestra's griffin ate Aydina, would that be an automatic win?

Neddy replied simply to Inferna with a thumbs-up emoji, but she couldn't help feeling a twinge of doubt.

-

I C T U I U M . to . M E R M A I D . C O V E .

Inferna and her two companions were already waiting in the level 30 foyer—a wide glass room looking into the beachy landscape beyond with huge, flat screens showing players already in action on the level—when Neddy blinked in.

Seeing the sparkling sea spread out to her left, Neddy's first inclination was to start singing “La mer”.

Inferna's disappointment that Neddy had shown up sans Jack was instantly perceptible. The redhead pushed her lip out and raised one hand to her hip.

“Where’s Jack?” she said, pouting dramatically. “I even brought him a huge thing of sugar cubes! And a fresh batch of sauce.”

Neddy pulled an apologetic face. "Sorry, he's been M.I.A. for a couple of days," she told her. "He does that, I'm finding."

A slip of a girl with a crown of curls and a longsword on her hip was leaned up against one of the glass walls. She nodded at Neddy by way of a greeting.

Inferna jerked her chin at her. "That's Balestra," she said, grinning. "Moonstone rider like yourself. Maybe you know her?"

Neddy didn't want to bring up the gardens fiasco in case it was a sore spot with Balestra, and so she lied. "Oh, er, no- I-I don't believe we've met, actually," she stammered. "I'm Neddy. I swear I'm a real rider- my mount is just . . . I don't think he'd be much good at dodgeball anyway."

Three pairs of eyes regarded Neddy. She didn't know why she was so nervous, but she knew everyone could tell that she was.

At least Inferna seemed to be enjoying herself, as usual. She snorted in the silence. "And that's Morningstar over there," she said, thumbing the other player in the foyer.  

The third pair of eyes were almost too haunting to properly look into. They belonged to a ribbon of white slashed with violent red- a crown of berries, Neddy realised. Intimidatingly, a crystal scythe lay across her shoulders and her arms were draped over either side of the polearm. She looked a bit crucified.

The phantom made no move to acknowledge Neddy. However, her strange golden eyes stayed pinned to her.

Neddy merely raised her hand in a meek wave. "Hello."

Morningstar said nothing.

Inferna clapped her hands to break the bizarre tension between the four of them. "Well, let's go kick some ass!" she declared and punched the air. “I just confirmed with the other seven people who agreed to join our party. Three Ammolite, two Obsidian, two Moonstone.”

Neddy was impressed. Inferna was certainly on top of things. Perhaps more apricot tartlets were in order.

Inferna flashed them a cheeky grin. “Let’s go down to the beach?”

-

Neddy considered herself fortunate to have gotten some intimidating figures on her side for this dodgeball match- especially considering the others Inferna had rounded up. Not an inspiring bunch. But Inferna had only been looking to fill out the team.

Mermaid Cove was beautiful. The beach was blush and the sky was bright. The harbour was bustling at one end of the shore and magnificent pirate ships bobbed in the offing. Up the beach, giant pink conch shells were set upright in the sand and hollowed out into stalls that sold necessities like medi-elixirs, pep potions, and replacement gear. An old one-eyed woman with a blue parrot on her shoulder was selling fried octopus tentacles in shell-shaped baskets. A length of fishing net was draped over the market area and all manner of scavenged sea treasures and seashells were strung up, dangling over the customers as they browsed.

Neddy wanted to roam the market area for a while, but Inferna was all business. 

Inferna led them through the intro ordeal, having one of the other players activate the in-game event with the NPC shopkeeper, since Inferna herself had already completed the level and therefore could not activate it again. 

Inferna tapped her foot impatiently as the NPC ran through her whole sob story about how the mermaids had created Angel’s Breath to revive drowned humans, how the pirate queen Aydina and her eleven crew members had killed off all the mermaids to keep Angel’s Breath for herself-

Finally, the NPC said, “If you get the pirates to leave the town, I’ll show you where the last Angel’s Breath is hidden.”

“Great, let’s go,” said Inferna, then she directed the rest of the group to the shoreline.

As they stood on the beach, she threw her finger in the direction of the sea where a massive dome was rising slowly out of the water.

"Look, look!" Inferna shouted. "There it is!"

The others crowded around to watch in awe as the dome continued to surface, throwing off water and a terrible mechanical noise that scraped the ears.

"We're going into that thing?" Neddy asked, her stomach flipping.

Meanwhile, a pirate ship-complete with a skull and crossbone flag-sailed into view. Inferna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, in a sec,” she replied. “Aydina has some dialogue that we have to sit through. God fucking damn, but the NPC shit in this game gets so tedious.”

It wasn’t much longer before Aydina, the pirate queen, sauntered up over to them, her crew right behind her. With an unruly mane of fiery red curls, fierce eyes, and dressed in sheer black chiffon that billowed dramatically in the breeze, with lacy black gloves that went up to her elbows and a pair of badass black boots to match. 

Inferna cut to the chase. Apparently, sometimes you could skip the intro dialogue if you talked faster than the NPCs. “Yo, Aydina! Get the fuck out of here.”

The NPC gave Inferna a disparaging look. “How are you going to make me?”

“I challenge you to a dodgeball game,” she replied tightly, and Aydina nodded her agreement.

“Time to go!” Inferna crowed, evidently pleased that she’d successfully gotten Aydina to skip through most of the annoying dialogue. 

A narrow walkway of roped-together driftwood began to rise out of the sea. It did not look the least bit steady, and Neddy was ready to forego the whole thing just at the sight of it.

The sea is beautiful, yes. But it is also crushing and fathomless. And Neddy had always had a fear of it. The prospect of going beneath the ocean's surface was almost debilitatingly frightening. 

She hated herself for wishing Callum was there to hold her hand.

But no sooner had the thought of him crossed her mind that Inferna was taking her hand and pulling her towards the rickety walkway. 

“Come on, move your ass,” Inferna said, shooting her a playful look as she tugged her along. “Be careful during the actual game, though. Aydina can randomly let water into the court and drain it out whenever she wants. It’s the biggest pain ever.”

Neddy wanted to sink inside herself at that, but- it felt almost as if Inferna was passing some of her chaotic strength through her fingers into Neddy’s. And her feet moved to follow after the redhead. 

-

They marched into the dome, and the door sealed off behind them, metal clanging as the dome sank back under the sea to rest on the sea floor. The dome itself was made out of some kind of transparent material, allowing them to see the various sea creatures and coral formations surrounding the place. 

Inferna paused, causing Neddy to pause too. The redhead seemed to have noticed a throng of excited players making their way back to the foyer, where they’d be able to watch the game on the screens. 

“What?” Neddy wondered, dividing a look between the Inferna’s face and the other players. 

“If we win-” Inferna cut herself off and then winked at Neddy. “When we win, those players will be swarming all over us the second we get back to land- for the Angel’s Breath. Best to have a few ictuium potions on hand.” 

Inferna said as much to Balestra and Morningstar as well. Then, Aydina was explaining the rules of the game to them.

“If the ball-” and here she summoned the “dodgeball” out of thin air, which was an enchanted turtle shell- “hits you, and then hits the ground, you’re out. If you catch the ball, you’re safe. If the ball bounces off of you and one of your teammates catches it, you’re both safe. But, if the ball bounces off of you and someone on the other team catches it, you’re out.”

Inferna cast Neddy a sideways glance. “Don’t get hit,” she advised. “That thing packs a punch on its own, but depending on her mood, Aydina can make it stab you with barnacles, shock you, or spray disgusting gross poisonous stuff that’ll kill you before the time is up.”

Aydina rolled the ball over to where Inferna was standing. “I’ll let you guys have the first go,” she said, smirking confidently at them, looking directly at Inferna. “Since I feel sorry for you. How many brain cells do you have, to be wearing such an atrocious hat?”

“Fuck you!” Inferna shot back as she picked up the ball. “You’re such a fucking cunt.”

The pissed-off redhead gave the other eleven people a questioning look. “Well, should I go for it? Or do one of you guys want to do the honors?”

-

[ You can pick up here or back up a bit or do as you like if you end up taking this quest up ! No instructions for Neddy (but keep in mind she’s not a strong player), just do as you like and make sure they win ! ^^ And, if you need any help at all, just ask either Ayz or me~ ] 

[tatooine92]

Homeward, ch. 4 (POTC OC)

Synopsis: Eleven years ago, Adonia Barbossa was abandoned as a child by her father for no discernible reason. Now a pirate captain in her own right, she seeks him to finally demand answers.

Rating: T for language and any various and sundry innuendoes.

A/N: I will have you know that writing chapter 3 made me cry at work (because I was writing it at my desk, shhh). Usual shout-outs to @soulventure91 and @and-will-nice-hat because Reasons.

Present day.

Adonia stepped out of her cabin with the sun's rising, twisting her auburn hair into a thick braid. Tortuga had grown quiet as its population of carousing scallywags slept the day away, though a few people had begun to mill about. For her, it felt later than it already was. She had already been up for hours, plotting their course and mapping their heading. Soon, soon they would be underway. Thom had already come back from socializing and was climbing the lines, inspecting them and hard at work at his bosun duties. He whistled as he climbed; not a man for words most days, that one, but he did love a good song. Adonia had never been raised to sing aboard a ship (though she’d picked up songs along the way), but she figured Thom could do what he liked as long as he got his work done.

Footsteps on the ladder up from the lower decks made Adonia turn in time to see Jim emerge. He gave her a nod and an easy smirk as he stretched in the sunlight.

"Men are stirrin', mon capitaine," he told her. "We'll be ready to cast off soon."

"Good. I'm more'n ready to be away from this pestilent cesspit."

"And how d'you really feel about it, eh?"

Adonia arched an eyebrow at him and turned for the hatch leading belowdecks. She could hear the men moving about, but she whistled sharply.

"On deck, you pack of insolent wastrels!" she yelled at them. "We were to be away an hour ago!"

Immediately, her crew stepped to, scrabbling up onto the main deck and to work. Jim quirked a brow at his captain, amused.

"An hour ago?" he said.  

Adonia just smirked and said nothing, turning to go up to the wheel and pulling her hat down low over her brow to shade her face. Jim faced the men and paced the deck, calling orders for castoff. Before much longer they were underway, and Adonia hummed a tavern tune under her breath as she turned the massive wheel and guided her Lass out to open sea. She couldn't help the broadening smile on her lips as the sails filled with wind and the keel sliced through the waves, seafoam hissing up the side of the hull like steam. Like any captain worth his salt, she knew her heading and set her course for Cuba. Ship and captain moved together as if the rudder chain joined their souls, as if the seawater splashed along the hull and, in doing so, splashed into Adonia's veins. Days like this, maybe she hadn't been born with a line in her hand so much as the ship's wheel itself.

The thought raised an interesting question, though. Would she even be here, boots solidly planted on the deck, undaunted by the crest and fall of the waves, if her father hadn't abandoned her? She couldn't honestly tell herself it was worth it, not right now. Would she have been happier aboard the Pearl with him than on the Lass? Was the courage and ambition she had developed worth the clawing, lonely silence at night? She glanced down at her compass to check the heading even though she didn't need to, cupping her hand around the engraved gold. When she closed her eyes, the metal almost felt warm with her father's body heat it had absorbed in his pocket before he pressed it into her tiny, shaking hands. But she knew that wasn't so.

Adonia opened her eyes and looked out across the sea. The wind grabbed her braid and tugged like a child holding his mother's hand. I'm a fool, she thought, hauling my crew across the tides for my own resolution. But she would not turn back, not this time. This time, she wasn't jumping off a dock into open sea. She had a ship. She could catch the Pearl.

Around twelve hours later, maybe an hour or so out from sundown, Jim yelled to her to announce land in sight. There lay Cuba, and Adonia's brows furrowed. Cuba was a large island with a lot of open water. She'd known that, of course, but it suddenly dawned on her that she had not bothered to ask Avery where in Cuba her father had been seen. Damn it. That scared and lost little girl living in her psyche had got the better of her. Shit.

To all outside eyes, nothing was wrong. Adonia twisted her lips as she adjusted course to sail northward along the coast to Havana. But Jim knew. He came up to the wheel and saw her lips pursed and her shoulders tensed. She didn't look at him, save the briefest glance from the corner of her eye, as Jim waited in silent question.

"We're not like to make Havana by nightfall," she said. "Best find a place to drop anchor somewhere along the coast."

"He's in Havana?" Jim murmured within only her earshot. Adonia let out a slow, tense exhale.

"I have no earthly idea. Keep a lookout, aye? It's a black galleon with black sails. Won't be hard to spot."

"C'est ça, but this is a big ocean."

"...and I suppose he could've already come and gone."

Or was never here. Uncertainty froze in her gut as the Lass continued more northerly. Her mind raced, and everything she looked at seemed sharper, clearer somehow. Aye, Avery had only said Cuba. He hadn't specified where. Maybe he hadn't received that information himself. Or maybe he'd withheld it. But why would Avery keep that from her? It didn't make sense. What could he possibly hope to gain by sending her up here with no real leads—by preying on her need for answers? Unless—

"Cap'n!" Thom, her bosun, yelled up to her from the main deck in his heavy brogue. "Ship approachin', starboard aft!"

Adonia whirled. For a split second her eyes widened with the hope of seeing black sails and her father's skull-and-crossbones flag, but no—white sails and—oh God. When she saw the colors of the East India Trading Company floating on the wind, her gut dropped into her boots. She'd almost prefer the Royal Navy. At least they'd be polite about her hanging.

"Company ship!" she yelled. She threw her whole body into a sharp spin of the wheel to head more northeast, away from the coast and out to open ocean. "All hands to battle stations, guns at the ready! Step to, you verminous inbreds—we'll not be dyin' today!"

Her crew leaped to action, scrambling for the guns as Jim and Thom barked orders to them. Adonia spun back for a quick look at the pursuing ship, eyes scanning it. Ship of the line. Big, heavy, slow. They'd outrun it. Didn't have to run far, just beyond the reach of its guns. But her swift little brig, lightened from its last cargo haul, would make it. She had to. She wouldn't be—

The crack of cannonfire, rumbling like a distant thunderclap, put ice and fire both in her blood.

"God dammit, Jim, load the stern chasers, return fire!" she screamed down. "Buy us time!"

Jim yelled back either assent or complaint in such stressed, rapid-fire French that Adonia had no idea what he said and frankly didn't care. All she knew was he'd shifted a couple sailors back to the chase guns to try to keep the Company vessel at bay.

Too slow, though. A split second after Adonia ordered fire returned, the shot from the other vessel careened through the air over her head. She recognized it by its end-over-end spiraling. Chain shot. With a dull thunk and a sharp crack, the chain wrapped around the mainmast, the balls at either end of the chain clanking together. The mast didn't crack entirely, but it listed slightly, making her throat turn to cotton.

"Brace the mast!" Thom yelled below her, rushing forward with hastily collected equipment. "We'll not let this lassie down!"

He was scrabbling up the ratlines to reach the damage when a second cannon shot shattered the air. Adonia sucked in a sharp breath as she muscled the wheel back to port, trying to dodge it. But her spirited and spritely Lass was not that quick on her feet. The second chain shot collided with the mainmast, and this time the crack was much deeper and more sickening.

"Mother of God," Adonia breathed as the mast wobbled. Then the split in the wood widened, cracking like a felled tree. "Thom, get down, get down, damn ya, she's comin' down!"

Thom leaped down from the ratlines right as the mast split. Adonia's eyes widened and her grip froze on the wheel as the mast toppled, lines splitting and sails fluttering like the feathers of a bird spiraling into the ground. Sailors leaped out of the way as it crashed through the deck rail and into the water. Adonia's heart pounded so fiercely she couldn't hear anything but its tempo. She realized a moment or two later that Jim was standing next to her, yelling at her.

"Orders!" he barked.  

Think, Addie, think, damn you!

"We'll not abandon this ship!" she yelled back as the Lass floundered, crippled without her mainmast. "Whether or not we do, they'll be upon us, so we will not. We stand our ground!"

Unable to do much else, she stormed down to the main deck, sharp blue eyes a fevered fury of hate and steel. Her gaze swept over her crew, huddled at their various battle stations but watching her, their eyes alight with fear, all fixed on her. Adonia drew a deep breath. She was their captain, and she had yet to let them down. She heaved herself onto the fallen mainmast as the Lass drifted. Jaw set, she drew her cutlass and pointed it at the closing Company ship.  

"The bastards aboard that ship want to ensure the likes of ye are wiped from the seas! Now, I've been your captain for three years; have I ever once let ye fall into such ravening clutches?"

"No, cap'n!" her crew called up to her, a little weaker than she'd hoped. Then again, fear was the most powerful paralytic.  

"Aye, and I'll not see that happen today! So I ask ye all—who is your captain?"

Her crew cried out a cacophony of "You are!" and "Adonia Barbossa!" and her favorite, "Naught but you!"

"And which ship do ye call your home?"

"Dainty Lass!" they bellowed.

"And not a one of you would be here if I didn't think you had balls enough to stand and fight for her, or for me, or for your own lives! So when Beckett's bastards come aboard this lovely Lass, I'd best see ye fight like the devil himself was at the end of your blade!"

Drawing arms, her crew roared assent, and Adonia turned with a fiendish grin toward the Company ship as it pulled alongside the Lass. No, she would not sit at home with a fight to be had, not today.

[figsofmyimagination]

Coldflash PotC AU - Prologue

I really had an intense need to read a Coldflash Pirates of the Caribbean AU and I didn't find much on AO3 (and I didn't look elsewhere, so I apologize now if someone has done something similar). So I guess I'm writing it. Prepare yourself for historical inaccuracies, half-assed attempts to research boat, nautical, and clothing terms from the 1700s, and shameless dialogue stealing from PotC: Curse of the Black Pearl.

I finished writing the prologue before I realized there is a waiting list to sign up for an AO3 account, so I'm posting to Tumblr in the meantime. Enjoy and please share if you like it!

Prologue:

The fog lay thick on the ocean so that a teenaged Iris West couldn’t see beyond the bowsprit. Many deckhands referred to it as a pirate’s mist. It was the type of fog that pirate ships materialized from, looting ships, and disappearing just as quick. Like magic. The crew had been antsy all morning as a result.

Iris quite liked the atmosphere. She had always wanted to meet a pirate, go on an adventure, and never take another etiquette lesson again. But that was the life a governor’s daughter.

“Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate’s life for me,” she sang softly, imagining herself as the pirate captain of her own ship and waiting quietly in the mist to attack an unsuspecting trade ship. “We extort, we pilfer, we sack. Drink up-”

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and Iris gasped in surprise. “Quiet, missy!” said the man Iris recognized as the first mate. She found him odd with his bald head and mutton chops, constantly muttering about various superstitions under his breath. He always smelled of fire too. “Cursed pirates sail these waters. You don’t want to bring them down on us, now do ya?”

“Mr. Rory, that will do,” snapped Lieutenant Eddie Thawne. Iris sighed in relief when she caught sight of her father, Governor Joseph West, following right behind the young lieutenant.

“She was singing about pirates!” Mr. Rory said, pointing accusingly at Iris. “It’s bad luck to be singing about pirates while we are stuck in this unnatural fog. Mark my words!”

“Consider them marked,” Lieutenant Thawne drawled. “On your way.”

“Aye, Lieutenant,” Mr. Rory said with a short nod. As he walked away, he mumbled, “It’s bad luck to have a woman on board, even a miniature one.”

“I think it would be rather exciting to meet a pirate,” Iris whispered conspiratorially. She watched Mr. Rory took a deep swig from his flask of rum.

Lieutenant Thawne smiled indulgently at Iris. “Think again, Miss West. Vile and dissolute creatures, the lot of them. I intend to see to it that any man who sails under a pirate flag or wears a pirate brand gets what he deserves: a short drop and a sudden stop.”

“What?” Iris asked. She looked over to Mr. Rory who pantomimed being hung by his neck handkerchief, tongue poking out. Iris gasped in disgust.

“Lieutenant Thawne,” said Governor West, stepping in to disrupt the conversation, “I appreciate your fervor, but I’m, uh, I’m concerned about the effect this subject will have upon my daughter.”

“My apologies, Governor West,” Lieutenant Thawne said. “I’ll go check on the crew.”

“Actually,” Iris said, “I find it all fascinating.”

“Yes, that what concerns me,” said Governor West. “No more singing about pirates, please. No need to antagonize Mr. Rory or the crew.” Iris pouted at her father’s back as he walked away. They would probably never see eye-to-eye on the whole pirate thing. Governor West very much believed in doing what was right 100% of the time. As a governor, he had to set an example for his people, he reminded her constantly.

Iris turned back toward the front of the boat, watching the ocean water slip beneath the keel. She smiled faintly as a lady’s parasol drifted past. How had it gotten all the way out here? She wondered. She imagined the lady wearing a white, multi-layered dress. Maybe it had been her wedding day. She had gotten married on the sea and lost her parasol in a strong gust of wind.

As the parasol bobbed away, she caught sight of something else in the water, square-ish in shape. “Look! A boy!” she shouted when the square sharpened into a wooden raft with an unmoving passenger. “There’s a boy in the water!”

Lieutenant Thawne and the deckhands rushed to the edge of the boat. “Man overboard!” Lieutenant Thawne shouted, rousing the others into action. “Man the ropes! Fetch a hook! Haul him aboard!”

Iris scooted toward the edge while the soldiers rushed about to fulfill the lieutenant’s orders. Ropes with hooks were thrown over the railing, then slowly dragged back up heavy with the weight of the boy and his impromptu raft. She watched as Mr. Rory laid the boy on the deck, his heading lolling in unconsciousness and his clothes dripping wet.

“He’s still breathing,” Lieutenant Thawne said when he leaned down to examine the boy.

“Mary, Mother of God!” Mr. Rory swore. As the rest of the crew put away the ropes and hook used to drag the boy in or leaned over to examine their new passenger, Mr. Rory had the misfortune of being the first to see the ominous sight appearing from the mist next: a ship broken in half and burning as it sunk into the ocean. It must have been where the boy came from!

“What happened here?” Governor West asked, brows furrowed in confusion and concern.

“It was most likely the powder magazine,” Lieutenant Thawne explained. “Merchant vessels run heavily armed.” The mast of the burning ship buckled and fell into the ocean.

“Lotta good it did them,” Mr. Rory said. Lieutenant Thawne gave him a disapproving glare. “Everybody’s thinkin’ it. I’m just sayin’ it: pirates!”

Governor West chuckled nervously. “There’s no proof of that!” But he was worried. He did not want his daughter aboard a ship during a pirate attack. “It was probably an accident,” he said aloud, largely to reassure himself.

As the crew, Lieutenant Thawne, and her father were distracted discussing the burning ship, Iris approached the boy. She didn’t get more than a glimpse before Lieutenant Thawne was barking orders again, “Rouse the captain immediately! Heave to and take in sail! Launch the boats!”

A crew member picked up the boy, moving him out of the way of the rushing deckhands. Her father leaned over her shoulder, saying, “Iris, I want you to accompany the boy. He’ll be in your charge. Take care of him!” Iris nodded and followed after the man.

The boy was placed on a flat area of the quarterdeck, a less crowded area toward the back of the ship. Iris settled beside him uncaring of the grimy wood staining her dress. She reached to tuck some of his hair behind his ear, when the boy awoke with a gasp, latching onto Iris’ wrist and immediately alert.

“It’s okay,” she said. “My name’s Iris West.”

“Bartholomew Allen,” the boy said, still panting in fright. “I go by Barry, though.”

She smiled softly at him. “I’m watching over you, Barry.” He blinked several times at her, clearly fighting exhaustion, before dropping his head and allowing himself to drift back to sleep. That’s when Iris noticed the gold chain around his neck. Leaning forward, she tugged the chain out from beneath his shirt line to find a golden medallion.

“You’re a pirate!” she exclaimed as she traced her fingers over the skull-and-crossbones design minted into the metal.

“Has he said anything?” Lieutenant Thawne asked. Iris ripped the medallion from around his neck, hiding it behind her back as she stood up and turned to face the lieutenant.

“His name’s Bartholomew Allen,” she said. “That’s all I found out.”

“Take him below,” Lieutenant Thawne ordered two soldiers standing at the ready. “Have the doctor look him over.”

Iris remained on the quarterdeck. She checked over her shoulder before holding up the medallion to get a closer look. The gold glinted in the weak morning light. Concentric circles radiated around the skull containing curved and angular symbols alike. The skull grinned menacingly back at her.

A black mass drifting across the ocean caught Iris’ attention while she examined the pendant. Frowning, she lowered the medallion and focused on the object. Her eyes widened in surprise. It was massive black ship sailing soundlessly away. It had wide black sails which were riddled with holes and from the top of the main mast flew a small black flag adorned with a skull and two crossed blades.

Iris rubbed her eyes unsure if the ghostly ship was real or a figment of her imagination. When she opened them again, the ship had dissolved back into the mist.

Disclaimer: I obviously don't  own any characters or plot-related things from The Flash or Pirates of the Caribbean. This has been written entirely for my own amusement.

[saturdaynightgaming]

Session 4 - Contracts

The assignment was quite an easy task. We were to sail to the northern continent to meet with an ally. Our client entrusted this task to his two most trusted Knights and also the Clerics of Kothophed. I, Captain Reed, decided to take this assignment for a quick journey to and from the other continent. For an exploratory reason of course. Also, the client paid well and the dangers were minimal. At least that is what my own reasoning was upon taking this assignment. However, what I witnessed during the voyage I could only have believed by being there in that moment.

The beginning of the journey went well. Supplies were abundant, the weather was calm and for the first few months, we were greeted by beautiful scenery. That changed as we reached Cape Doom, located in the northwestern portion of the southern continent. Stories had begun to grow recently of strange things happening in the waters in this region. I dismissed them at first as just ghost tales. Other sailors trying to scare off the competition. I soon found these accusations to be true indeed.

As we rounded the cape, a strange fog began to appear in the distance. The sun was at its highest point in the sky and as I looked out in the distance, the light seemed to become swallowed by the fog. Whatever this fog may be, it was not natural. As we continued our course, the fog seemed to shift as well. Its course was headed towards our own. Not only was it unnatural, worse yet, it began to pick up speed. Its current course put it as intercepting our own.

“All hands on deck!!!” I called out to my crew.

I looked over at the knights and clerics and said

“Prepare for the worst my friends. We don't know what may lurk within that fog.”

They each nodded in agreement and took up their arms and equipment, preparing for what was to come. We continued our course into the fog, however, we never made it. The fog shifted alongside the ship on both sides, staying a steady pace with us. Before we knew it, two ships arose from within the fog. These were not just any ships. They bore black flags with skull and crossbones. Their ship was a full crew, readied men with cutlass and scimitars were drawn and at the ready. There were too many of them for us to handle. For every man I had, there were ten of theirs. The odds were against us but I would not let my ship go down without a fight.

“Prepare to be boarded, men!!!” I shouted across the decks.The knights and clerics each stared at the opposition. Even with their training and strength, the numbers were just too many. The knights drew their weapons and prepared themselves for an attack while the clerics began to trace magic in the air. Preparing a spell no less. If they think a simple spell is going to save this ship, then they were dead wrong. Before long a ghostly image appeared in front of them. It was Trizzt, their apparent leader. He nodded and told them he would bargain with Kothophed. When they asked for a sign, he told them that they would know when the time came. With that, the image disappeared and the clerics prepared for battle.

I couldn’t help but think what consequences this would ensue. I knew of Trizzt and his background as a priest. He turned from those ways and decided to follow the path of darkness as well. Bargaining with a demon? There is always a payment when doing so. They never do things for sake of goodwill. The ships began to near even closer, they were nearly within boarding distance. The crew was armed and ready to be boarded. This is how it ends, I thought. Best to go down with my ship, I thought. Within moments, the ships were traveling alongside my own. I stared at the grinning faces of those with greed, eager to take what is mine.As I blinked for what I thought would be my last time, a piercing wail reached my ears and everything went dark in almost an instant. I could not see. I felt around to make sure I was still alive and yet I was. I heard voices from all around me, panicking from the darkness. “Captain?” I heard a few of them say.

“Its alright lads, I am here.” said I with shaky confidence.

Many voices of desperation could be heard through the darkness. As it seems, we could all hear but none could see. It was impossible to even tell what direction we were going. The confusion began to set in when the crew began their own speculations. Witchcraft, The Mother, even Merfolk came out as an explanation. The crew desperately attempted to understand what they could not. This would be our entertainment for some time as we waited for the darkness to clear.

An unknown amount of time had passed when the darkness finally faded. It began to degrade slowly, allowing more and more light in until it fully dissipated. Sunlight reached the decks shining brightly. It appears our course had shifted slightly and the attacking ships were there no more. Looking around confused, all of my crew members sounded off one by one. They were each accounted for. As I was placing the pieces together in my mind, something caught my attention. A body laid on the ground. It was one of the clerics. Each of the crew rang out a cheer of victory as we had escaped the clutches of death. The cleric performed some rite over his slain ally while the two knights paid their respects. However, a chill ran down my spine as I connected the dots.

The darkness was the work of the demon. He aided our escape for whatever nefarious personal means. The wail I heard was the cleric dying a horrible death as I gazed upon what was once his body. Some would call this a sacrifice to save the lives of many. I call it a deal with the devil. There is always a price to pay. Those words rang through my head as if they were my own thoughts. Contracts with a demon were costly. It may have saved his ship and his crew but at what cost? What did he get himself into? These thoughts and more, he would ponder for the remainder of the voyage.

Artwork: http://maxpixel.freegreatpicture.com/Fog-Nautical-Vessel-Sea-Ocean-Water-Ship-Boat-1706318