#topic: halloween is the superior holiday

[zedazone]

@promisinininining I hope you like this treat!

[vikenticomeshome]

The Cyberchase Homepage Through the Years: part 3 (March 20, 2007 through present day)

Alright, let me pick up where I left off. So, as of March 20, 2007, the main Cyberchase website looked like this.

However, there was also a non-flash version of the page. It was made for users who couldn't process the Flash content. Here's the first version of it, as captured on October 23rd, 2006.

Yeah, they put up a placeholder page before the real thing was ready. I just thought it was funny that the Wayback machine managed to capture it. Here's the final version of this page, captured on January 8th, 2007.

This basic version of the page is not animated. I don't know why they took a freeze-frame with Nezzie's arms stuck like that.

I like their choice of the "Featured Send It", which would have been an excerpt from a fan submitted story.

'Oh no!' Jackie yelled. Her and her friends were in another Cyberchase mission.

Classic Jackie.

Unfortunately, it seems that this basic version of the site was never updated beyond this point. It was just this one freeze-frame for its entire life, which lasted over four years. The basic version of the page was eventually removed when the Flash version of the site was overhauled in late October of 2011.

But what do we care about the non-Flash version when we have the superior Flash version? Well, some time after that March 20th screenshot, they changed how the Flash version of the site was loaded. This change broke the Wayback Machine's ability to archive is properly.

So, between March 20, 2007 until the October 25, 2011, the Wayback machine gives us two types of captures. We either get a failure to load the SWF file for the Flash content...

...Or we get the main SWF loading, but the rest of the content doesn't load.

So, if they did anything special between March 20, 2007 and October 25, 2011, that history is lost.

The overhaul on October 25, 2011 is pretty cool though. We get a view of Motherboard's hangar with a big screen to announce what is going on. This version of the website selected one of three Flash animations to play over the background.

Jackie is the star of the show in the first one. The kids have finally realized that they need to do something to stop The Hacker from accessing their clubhouse. So, we get an animation of the Hacker showing up at the slightly open door, and we get Jackie closing it on him. His bowtie gets stuck.

The second animation stars Buzz and Delete. Delete knocks on your screen and writes "wash me" on it. Then, Buzz sprays the message and delete.

The third animation also features Buzz and Delete. This time, Delete has some donuts, and buzz is made to dance to get one as a reward.

This version of the website also gave us new bios for the characters. However, they aren't as detailed or interesting as the old "Meet the Cybersquad" bios.

We also get a page called "Find it!", which was a directory to different math topics.

We also get revamped versions of the pages for Games, Videos and Activities.

They let The Hacker introduce a page, but they don't have Matt introducing any pages. How strange.

The homepage was supposed to have a banner called "Motherboard recommends over the big screen, but it wasn't capture properly at first. Here's a good capture.

This version of the site also contained polls, some of which have been preserved.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to find any special holiday editions for this version of the site. It is possible that they weren't captured. However, I don't think they did them.

To make up for that, here's a capture from October 1st, 2017, where the poll screen glitched out. It just says "What". Hell of a question.

And then, on July 27, 2018, we got another revamp.

This is more or less the framework for the site today. They will put different backgrounds out sometimes. I'm happy to report that they started doing holiday theming again.

Here's a capture from November 2, 2018 with their Halloween decorations still up.

Here's a capture from December 2, 2018 with a winter theming.

Here's the one for today.

And with that, we've gone through the full history of the homepage. This was fun.

[vwildmonk]

1, 9, 10, for Lin?

Oh fun ones- alright!

What is the character’s go-to drink order? (this one gets into how do they like to be publicly perceived, because there is always some level of theatricality to ordering drinks at a bar/restaurant)

Honestly? It’s been a while since she’s gone out somewhere and ordered a drink. Usually she makes at home and carries in a flask or thermos with her as she goes. Otherwise it’s taking a drink at a place of someone she cares about or that know her well so she has what they prepare and loves it. If and when she does go out to order- it’s a tea. Her favourite is of course Grave Tea- but for out and about it’s some sort of chai or the house special. Pop her little umbrella in it to ease the paranoia and enjoys it.

Alcohols is whatever works for the situation she’s in. Not enough to get hammered, she likes keeping her senses about her- but something she can use to intimidate or to nurse while listening in to intel.

She gets an itch for other drinks from time to time, but they pass quickly- dismissed. Her drinking tastes however are as diverse as her needs at the time- many layers and many fast peripheral thoughts go into it always.

9. What is their favorite holiday? (How do they relate to their culture/outside world. Also fun is least favorite holiday.) 

That’s a topic that’s changed over the years- she loves a LOT of holidays. Bonding day with Network and now Rai in the mix is one she holds close to heart and has to be held up above the others. Hands down the Best. Superior- that is Special. That is the Biggest favourite and cannot be replaced. That is key to her heart-and-hearth.

When she was very little it was the same as her Uncle Tort- April Fools. A time of shenanigans and joy and laughter and true fun chaos amongst them all. The fact she could have that fun with her mentor on this day when she met him kept it up in her love.

Stagehand reunions are the Best for the closeness and unity. But also Animas cos then she gets to do the Chilli run and show so many connections how much she cares and see so many beautiful mask. But also New Year is such a wonderful time to usher in all that will be. But also- Ha! It’s tough to pin one down… Halloween is now a stronger contender than April Fools though, the Stagehand’s don’t really celebrate Halloween so it’s been a relatively new one for her to properly explore… and it’s a major part of the town she calls home. It holds a new special fondness- the spooks and scares she's come to embrace. She loves it. Jus’ don’t go telling the old tortoise that, eh?

10. -answered in another ask

[a-personifiedchaosx]

anon asked: Meta topic: other fairy tale or holiday-centric beings that might exist in this universe.

send me something to meta about

There are so many beings that would exist in this universe, as there are millions of fairy tales or holidays/holiday figures from so many cultures around the world. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with ROTG and it’s universe, because there’s SO MUCH that can be done with it.

Of course, you got your four seasons. Jack is a given, but then you have Summer - Oceane -, Fall - Baize - and Spring - Aviva. All of them are just as important to their seasons as Jack is, and regulate the weather and temperatures around the world, and have been around longer than Jack has. He has the best relationship with Baize, due to their seasons being back to back and so intertwined; he loves causing mischief with her and teasing her by occasionally moving in a bit earlier in her season. ( Remember that snowstorm RIGHT after Halloween? A prank; and they both laughed at it in the aftermath. ) On the other end of the spectrum, Jack and Oceane ABSOULUTY do not get along. Their relationship borders antagonistic, and while they don’t have much reason to cross paths, when they do a lot of harsh words are usually exchanged. ( Oceane sees himself as above Jack; and loves to play on his feelings of superiority whenever he can. ) Fights even have broken out between them. Aviva is probably the only one Jack doesn’t have extreme feelings towards; they are civil with each other, but Jack is careful to not push her too much. ( Although sometimes he lingers WAY longer than he should. Nothing on her, but it’s hard to let his season go and accept his time is over. ) He’s received animosity from other spring-like spirits before, so he’s hesitate on approaching her. He doesn’t want another Oceane on his hands.

Rudolph the red nosed reindeer? He’s a good friend of Jack’s. Even when he wasn’t actively trying to break into North’s workshop he liked hanging around the North Pole, if only for the constant cold weather. Given that the reindeer aren’t humans and thus can see and talk to Jack, he’s able to communicate with them easily enough. And he has a soft spot for the outcasts, which Rudolph was. It was actually his idea to create the snowstorm that Christmas Eve; just because Jack has to deal with a shitty reputation and remain in the showers doesn’t mean that he has to. The Yetis and Reindeer... still have trouble forgiving him for that.

God and Goddesses are obviously a given; there’s so many that remain near their respective domains, although they do linger and father here and there. Greek Gods/Goddesses, Egyptian Gods/Goddesses, Norse Gods/Goddesses; they are all real. Due to the overlap in some of their titles - like those of the ocean, for example - they do tend to work together, but they mostly keep ‘to their own kind’. Jack does know of them and have interacted briefly with them, but he isn’t necessarily close.

.... And also--- Yes, Jack knows the Groundhog. If you ever saw the original Jack Frost claymation, then you’d know they have a little deal going on when it’s time for the Groundhog to ‘see his shadow or not’. That remains true.

[alwaysspeakshermind]

Top 5 Anti-Varchie Arguments & Why They Make No Sense

#3: “Varchie breaks up every other day/they’re so toxic.”

Yeah, so...to quote both Hamlet 3.3.87 and that one Bugs Bunny meme—NO. 

[Quick but serious question: is this whole “they break up all the time” thing a trying-to-be-cleverly-snarky exaggeration, or are people really just that unobservant? I want to believe it’s the first, but I see it so often now that I’m becoming horribly afraid it’s the latter.]

Over the course of three seasons and 57 episodes, Archie and Veronica break up three times—three!—and each of those times, the breakup is precipitated by outside events, no one is happy to be breaking up, and both parties make a concerted effort to remain friends while neither ever actually quits caring about the other.

Regarding the toxic argument: no they are quite obviously a safe and non-toxic ship. (Although they do appear to present the occasional choking hazard for children under the age of 13 who cannot seem to swallow Varchie’s happiness).  

“Toxic” is, however, a term I refuse to unpack and dissect at the length it deserves right now because I’m so incredibly sick of the misconceptions Tumblr and the rest of the internet perpetuates regarding toxic/abusive relationships that my exhausted frustration with this subject alone can fill pages and it’ll drag me off topic. So instead, I’m just going to point out that while none of Riverdale’s main ships is toxic (everyone’s just young; there is an actual difference), Varchie is the ship with the fewest elements the internet typically likes to designate as such (antagonism/aggression toward each other, childish/petty behavior designed to get under the other’s skin, resentment/bitterness directed at the other person following a breakup, etc.), so the frequency with which this argument is thrown around is extra-laughable. 

Especially considering how demonstrably willing both Archie and Veronica are to overcome their unfamiliarity with each other’s world, share each other’s concerns, support each other’s interests, and essentially serve as each other’s partner because they both consider all those things fundamental parts of being in a relationship (which they are).

**IMPORTANT NOTE: if you struggle to discern the difference between:

(1)  a healthy real-life relationship (which, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, will in fact include arguments because people are people and no human being who possesses a mind of their own agrees with another human being all the time)

(2)  a toxic real-life relationship (which can include arguments but doesn’t have to)

(3)  healthy and toxic fictional relationships (which are entirely different beasts, particularly in book or TV series as plot requirements frequently dictate that characters react in ways that no actual person would, because the narrative needs conflict or drama to function and publishers/networks still over-rely on relationships to provide that conflict or drama)

then you probably will believe Varchie is toxic, and you definitely need to do some research that goes a little deeper than Wikipedia/that one post with a bunch of notes that was written by a person who came out of their first college psychology class feeling like Sigmund Freud. Toxic relationships are no joke, and it’s a little frightening to see how many people on the internet are so confused as to what constitutes one in reality that they frequently interpret normal, healthy relationships portrayed in fiction as toxic, and borderline-toxic relationships in fiction as healthy. (Also, it doesn’t help that people who, for whatever reason, feel the need to paint their dislike of a certain pairing in homilectic terms, are in the habit of taking scenes that check off a few of the “toxic relationship” boxes and twisting them out of context so that they can pretend there’s an element of moral superiority to their prejudice.)

But, important reminder! Fiction and real life are not the same thing, so if you want to measure fiction by reality’s standards, you have to apply liberal amounts of common sense to your assessments of the goings-on in a fictional world and recognize that many developments are necessitated by things like plot advancement, network executives, deadlines, and your basic this-actor-got-sick or that-actor-is-going-leave-soon randomness. Playing judge, jury, and executioner on the toxicity of TV relationships is, if possible, even more complex than just judging the toxicity of real-life relationships because by arbitrary unwritten law, TV relationships must include some onscreen friction. 

In fact, one of the first things you’re taught about writing fiction is that no one wants to read/watch/hear about the thing that almost happened, so don’t waste valuable narrative time portraying that—yes, everyone likes to joke about how they would love to watch a show where the kids went to class everyday and everything happened normally, but it’s a joke. It’s not true. No one who’s done with high school really wants to go back again and listen to an hour of boring lectures week after week, and no one who’s still in school wants to come home and watch a show that’s a repeat of their entire day. TV shows (or books, or movies) expect you to understand that each episode/scene/chapter/whatever is a story they’re telling you about the time something did happen, and that expectation also extends to fictional relationships. Just because you happen to witness a couple’s every fight/argument/disagreement onscreen does not mean you’re expected to conclude that “OMG, this couple is so toxic! All they ever do is fight!” 

No.

That would be like concluding the only holidays in the town of Riverdale are Christmas and Labor Day because we haven’t seen them have Halloween or New Year’s yet. You’re expected to put two and two together and assume they’ve celebrated those holidays that logically must have preceded and followed Christmas, just like you’re expected to grasp the underlying implication that after weeks/months of happiness and fun and peace, these two characters who love each other are now squabbling/experiencing tension over something important that they disagree on. Archie and Veronica are shown working together, being happy, enjoying one another’s company etc. multiple times before conflict ever arises between them, and them figuring out how to navigate through that conflict is intended as a facet of the story’s plot and a developmental point in their character arcs, not a red flag denoting an unhealthy relationship.

But anyways.

Back to the “they break up all the time” argument and why its fallaciousness is so obvious that it needs to be retired with all possible speed. (And as a bonus, also back to its close relatives “they break up for stupid reasons and get back together in five minutes.”

The “Shouldn’t-Be-Necessary-But-Apparently-Is”Quick Guide To Varchie Breakups:

Breakup #1: The end of episode 2x08

Duration of breakup: Almost one whole episode (that spans the course of at least a couple days)

What leads to breakup: Archie, the comfortable-with-feelings person, drops the L-word and desperately wants to hear it back. Veronica, the uncomfortable-with-feelings person, isn’t sure she can say it back and doesn’t want to go on acting like it’s not a big deal when she can see how important it is to Archie.

The outcome: Neither Archie nor Veronica’s actual feelings change at all from the time of the breakup to the time of the reunion. (No, not even when Betty kisses Archie.) Veronica just finally realizes that what she feels for Archie is love, so she goes to see him and tells him face-to-face. Archie is happy to get back together right then and there, and they resume where they left off.

 “Breakup” #2: The end of episode 3x06

Duration of “breakup”: three +/- episodes (end of 3x06-beginning of 3x10)

What leads to “breakup”: Archie believes Hiram’s vendetta against him endangers everyone close to him, not just him, and decides running away is his only option.

The outcome: Once again, neither Archie nor Veronica’s actual feelings change. They both attempt to move on/forget (Archie with Farm Girl Whose Name Escapes Me, Veronica with Reggie), but don’t exactly succeed as evidenced by Veronica’s anger, Archie’s remorse, and how quickly they want to get back together when he returns to town. 

NOTE: This is the one I sarcastically refer to as “the breakup” because it was over the phone (which, as everyone who’s ever utilized this dodge knows, is the easiest way to keep yourself from going back on a hard decision you don’t want to make. It should be obvious to those with functioning sensibilities that Archie does it that way because he knows if he goes the in-person route he’ll have to see Veronica cry and won’t be able to handle it). Besides that, Archie tells Veronica that he loves her and she was “it” for him from the day he met her, and it clearly kills both them to say goodbye. So again, as any viewer with common sense can see, it’s a breakup in name only—their heads are forced to accept what their hearts can’t, and everything they think is resolved is really only postponed.

 Breakup #3: The end(ish) of episode 3x10

Duration of breakup: ALMOST TWELVE WHOLE EFFING EPISODES (end of 3x10-middleish of 3x22). COUNT THEM.

What leads to breakup: Archie has in no way recovered from his rough experiences over the past months, and is behaving erratically. Veronica observes his out-of-character behavior with a lot of concern, and Reggie (whether accidentally or on purpose) fuels the idea that Archie is no longer Archie, so when Hiram ends up shot the day of the PSATs, Veronica knee-jerk reacts due to all the stress, worries that Archie might be responsible for it, and doesn’t contradict Archie when he asks if they’re done.

The outcome: Once again (surprise, surprise!) neither Archie nor Veronica’s feelings for one another change. They again try to move on/forget each other by dating other people (Josie and Reggie), but it doesn’t work. They remain close, continue to look to each other for comfort/support, and as soon as they’re faced with a life-or-death scenario, they throw caution to the wind and tell each other the truth (“I love you. I don’t think I ever stopped loving you”/“My heart ached for you. Because I felt the same way.”)

 To recap: what do these breakups have in common?

(1) Each breakup is due to a legitimate concern involving the other person, i.e., they are breakups for mature reasons, not breakups for “How dare you not text me back within five minutes” or “I’m a free range pony that can’t be tamed” reasons (with all due respect to Fat Amy)

(2) Neither Archie nor Veronica wanted to break up

(3) Both Archie and Veronica continued to love each other

When you’re young, the un-fun truth is that you frequently make really bad decisions in love. (You also do it sometimes when you’re older, too.) Archie and Veronica breaking up because they mistakenly perceive certain issues as insurmountable, trying to move on with other people and then going back to each other to make things right and reaffirm the love they couldn’t pretend away the instant the opportunity arises isn’t them being fickle, or toxic—it’s just them being young and clueless and trying to recover from young and clueless mistakes as maturely as possible. 

And believe it or not, their relationship has been handled very well by Riverdale. There are few other TV couples who’ve been as steady as A&V, and none of them are teen couples (in fact, the only ones that even come to mind out of all the shows I’ve ever seen are married and/or background couples, not main couples, because main characters’ relationships are always put through more drama). It is basically unheard of for a teen show’s protagonist and their primary love interest (who, incidentally, is also another main character) to only go through three breakups in three seasons. It is rarer still for each of those breakups to have a justifiable concern at its core, and rarest of all for the characters to take the mature and difficult let’s-be-friends approach rather than the easy and childish let’s-personally-attack-the-other approach. 

That is not a back-and-forth and/or toxic relationship. That is a fictional teenage relationship handled more maturely than many a fictional adult relationship, and that is good. 

Postscript to the rant: 

Veronica does not break up with Archie in 1x01, because they are not yet together. 

Veronica does not break up with Archie in 1x11, because they are not yet together. 

Archie does not break up with Veronica in 2x01; he’s telling her he wants her to leave because he’s upset and lashing out. 

Archie does not break up with Veronica in 3x01, he just tries to soldier-heading-off-to-war her because he loves her too much to want her to waste her time waiting on him and Veronica refuses to agree to it because she loves him too much to back out because the going looks like it might get tough. 

I don’t know why all of these scenes are forever being cited as breakup scenes, but they are, and it’s so bafflingly incorrect that it makes me shudder. They’re not breakup scenes. End of story.

[washedupfae]

Story time! How Frail The Heart. TBC

This drabble, story, I have no idea what it will be yet since I just type and go, but this was inspired by @battlemaiden13 for a beautiful yet heart breaking reply to an ask. Please go check out their work, I promise you, it is well worth the read. Listening to Gregorian- My Heart Will go on.

Title: How Frail The Heart. Reader/Underfell Papyrus. Rating: TW: Character death, heart ache. WIP

The Great and Terrible Papyrus held many traits and talents, of which he would often boast.. rather loudly, to further proclaim his superior stance over the rabble he was forced to share the Underground with. Well, there had to be rabble after all, else how well would they know how great and terrible he was, after all? Someone must shine in the imprisoning dark, and Papyrus was more then willing to be this shining diamond in the rough.

This was a trait he thought that he alone carried, no one could hold a candle to his brilliance.. and yet, when the barrier was shattered, his eye lights were greeted to an entire new world. A world filled with people.. humans mostly, predominately. Any plans to over throw the human race, were swiftly abandoned. That war would have to wait, till the monsters had better odds in their favor.

Be it through sheer number, or through something their royal scientist and her team could concoct up. Resources no longer being so scarce, the later seemed more likely, at least within King Asgore's life time, the mad king had already held the throne for far more years then anyone had expected, and there were still rumors.. rumors that the Queen might yet arise from the ashes, the faded memory of her people, and over throw her former paramour.

These plans, these rumors however, were little concern to Papyrus as of late. With humanity holding the monster race at arm's length, granting only the barest of rights for now, there were more important matters at hand. Namely, uncovering just what secrets the human world held from him. If one is to defeat and enemy, one must know their enemy well. It was through this..devising, that he happened to met you. Out of all the people, monster and human alike.. the odds so stacked against him, he met you, his soul mate.

There stood a firm understanding among monster kind, to reveal as little to humanity on their knowledge of souls as possible. Soul mates being one of the more taboo topics to let slip, let alone actually having a human's soul resonate so strongly that it would fall into perfect harmony with but one other soul,  a monster's soul. It was unheard of! It was unprecedented and further more.. it was highly illegal to pursue on either party's behalf.

There were yet still humans who believed the tales of old, after all.. why had the term 'Monster' been used to describe the most vile, for so many centuries now? The old fables were beginning to resurface, and with those fears and stories, came hatred. The monsters were not innocent in this department neither, their own fears of humanity... of the souls' power and bodies that existed beyond death, these facts went against the grain, against everything the monsters had held to be true. Now faced with possible foes with every encounter, tensions were high , and tempers were short.

But you, you were a strange one. A small wisp of a human, flitting about as though your feet barely touched the ground. You passed him by, on one of the many evenings in which Sans had invoked his brother's ire. Having to retrieve Sans from yet another dive, had proven to be a daily struggle. The 'lesser' monster, at least in Papyrus' eye lights, had slipped so far from what he had once held as a not too lofty goal for his brother.

Sans had sunk into depression and drink once they hit the surface, and had not come up for air yet. So Papyrus took matters into his own hands, installing an app in his brother's phone, to keep track of him, and come curfew, if Sans had not yet returned home, he could be easily located. It was on one of these irritating ventures, that he happened to spot you.. well, less he saw you, and more of the fact he heard you.

The song of your soul. It had broken through the din and chaos of the busy streets to capture his attention, to enthrall his own soul in a yearning he had thought he had out grown many years ago. The Underground was only so vast, and as a youth, Papyrus had searched every inch of it that he could, searching for another whose soul would reach out for his own.. He had not uncovered one, and thusly had buried the hope of another soul as perfect as his own, existing and waiting for him.

Brother forgotten for but a few moments, Sans could spare the time after all, Papyrus had pushed through the throng of busy humans.. the streets were overcrowded as yet another one of their silly holidays was fast approaching. He had taken offense, at first, to the way his kind was mocked by this silly tradition, but in time had soften enough to even hand out a small offering of candy when the human whelps would show up at their door step. Two years now, two years he had to over look hanging, plastic skeletons, inflatable ghouls, and 'ghosts' hanging from his neighbor's trees another with a plethora of other decorations scattering their yards.

Another holiday, another chance he could have missed you, but somehow , through it all, your soul had finally found his. It sung out for him, in a melody that only his own could capture. As a moth to a candle, he was drawn to you. Across the streets, through the crowd, and into a convince store decked out with yet more of those cheap, plastic decorations.. it was there he saw you.

Small. You were so small, at least compared to his own stature. Your soul spiked and hummed with eager anticipation, something you might brush off as a shiver or just a touch of holiday spirit washing over you.. but to Papyrus, it was the confirmation he needed. His soul mate.. his perfect soul mate, was human. A lowly human at that. Kneeling on a tiled floor that he was most certain was filthy due to the heavy traffic of people who passed over it each day.. you were kneeling, unpacking a box of stars knows what.. he really had lost focus on anything but you, as you restocked the shelves before you.

A small tremor from your soul had him clutch at his ribs, he could not stop the shard of ice from striking his soul.. whatever that may have been, he would have to inquire about it later, for now.. he had to figure out what he was to do next. Of course what did he do? He made a bloody fool of himself! Snatching up the first item he could reach, he flipped the item over to read over its contents. Magic flooded through his bones, heating up his features with shame as he shoved the 'personal hygiene' item back onto the shelf..of course causing several more of the offending products to come raining down.. right beside you.

Of course he tried to cover up his shame, sweeping down at once to collect his mishap and show you just how grand of a monster he was. Silly, disgusting human products were not something to get so worked up over! He had to keep a cool head about him, keep his wits and not blow this first impression... annnnd you were laughing. A small, almost timid sound, the tinkle of a bell. Your laughter was light and sweet, unlike the sort he had known most of his life.

You said.. something, he could not quite recall, something begging his pardon as you quickly stepped in to assist him. Once again, your lips were moving, your soft voice filled his senses, his soul was in rapture to listen and yet not a word lingered with him. Somehow he managed to come up with an excuse why he had been standing near you.. this store, well thankfully had a bag of small chocolates not far from the shelf of his despair, ah a fine reason to be here, given the season after all.

The smile you gave him, was almost a little too knowing. You assisted him, picking out a bag which would do for the amount of trick or treaters he claimed to be expecting this holiday, not many of course, given the fact he had scared off most of the human children the first year.. why did he stumble over that story?

Throughout his babbling, something he never did mind you, you listened and chimed in at just the right moments. It was only later, as he stood outside the door of the store, plastic bag in one hand, and a small slip of paper with your name neatly scrawled over it, along with a series of numbers, that he realized what had just happened. He.. He had invited you over for a Halloween party?! He had not been planning such a thing and yet.. yet he had just invited you to one, one at his house.. a party he had to put together in three damn days!!

-TBC- Got to take a small break, but posting this so I can make myself return to it C_C..

[adamwatchesmovies]

Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984)

Silent Night, Deadly Night is not a good film. I still want to recommend it for the discussion(s) the film will generate. Why? Keep reading.

As a young boy, Billy Chapman (played by Jonathan Best, then Danny Wagner and finally Robert Brian Wilson) witnesses the brutal murders of his mother and father at the hands of a man in a Santa suit. Under the strict hand of Mother Superior (Lilyan Chauvin), his phobia of Santa Claus is not addressed and he is traumatized further. When, as an adult, Billy is asked to dress up as Santa for his job, he snaps and goes on a killing spree.

When Silent Night, Deadly Night was released in 1984, it sparked controversy. Massive controversy. Parents, teachers, even reputable critics blasted the film, calling it misogynist and tasteless. Much of the outrage arose from the advertisements, which showed Billy in his Santa Clause outfit with an ax. While the film was Rated R young children still saw these images and became upset. Many parents opposed the film's very concept. That was over 30 years ago. Now, the film’s been mostly forgotten except for hardcore horror aficionados but I think it has something to offer to you and your movie group. The question I pose to you is: Was the controversy worth it? Does the picture go too far? What about the advertisements? Unfortunately, you’ll have to find the trailer on YouTube (it is not included in the DVD release that I own) but if you have the 2012 Anchor Bay release, it comes with excerpts from reviews to give you an idea of how much people were talking about this picture in 1984. There are important and interesting discussions to be had about censorship, horror stories set during holidays, marketing, and what constitutes good taste. If those topics interest you, then I think Silent Night, Deadly Night should be viewed.

Unfortunately, the film you'll be viewing isn’t very good. I wonder if the protests would’ve been as incendiary as they were had the picture been tasteful or genuinely scary. The fact is, Silent Night, Deadly Night is a by-the-books slasher film. Billy dons a Santa suit and begins chopping away. Multiple characters are introduced just so they can be killed. There are 2 attempted rapes and most of the female cast members wind up topless before they are gutted. The film is simultaneously over- and under-written. Patches of dialogue and interactions mean nothing at all in the end and nobody in this picture has a personality. The acting isn’t particularly good, the killer teleports at a whim, the plot is predictable. It’s clear there wasn’t really a vision here; the filmmakers just realized how big of a phenomenon Friday the 13th and Halloween were so they thought they’d be shocking and controversial by twisting a beloved Holiday Icon.

Silent Night, Deadly Night is trash. A better holiday horror is Black Christmas, made a decade earlier. Legitimately scary and well made, the 1974 picture does not rely on sex, blood, shocking imagery to sell itself. Even if they didn’t like it, critics and audiences recognized that it had ambition. There is none in “Silent Night, Deadly Night”. Still, I did find myself entertained by it. I enjoyed predicting (accurately) what was going to happen and examining whether or not the people of 1984 were overreacting afterward. For the debate is reignites, I can give it a mild recommendation. (Unrated version on DVD, December 17, 2016)

[inkblotsandeggshells]

Me and my Shadow

Hey everyone,

Lee had encouraged me to talk about my experiences with shadow work. So I decided to do so here. It would be a long blog to describe how my shadow work process has gone, but I can give a few details as to how it helps me and what tools I use for the purpose.

I should probably give a little bit of a back story first.

I grew up in a religious family, so I had never been encouraged to dig deep into my shadow and my inner darkness until I became an adult and moved to Georgia for a job. Regardless, my shadow would show itself through different aspects of my personality, from my anxiety and over-sensitivity as a child  to my pride and judgmental attitude as a teenager.  I think it also came out in my fear of violence, gore, and the creepiness attached to the holiday Halloween.  As a kid, whenever my mom took me to a grocery store during October, I would cling to her side with my eyes closed so I wouldn’t have to look at the lines of masks in the aisles. If I looked at anything that scared me for too long, the images would get stuck in my head and it would lead to nightmares.

Even as an adult, I still don’t enjoy horror in any form of media, and although I enjoy action movies, the violence in dramas bothers me more than a superhero battle. I think this is because in dramas, the kind of violence displayed there can be more likely to occur in daily life. You’d be more likely to see people yelling and hitting each other than see a man smash through a brick wall with his bare hands.

However, when I moved to Georgia and met more women who have similar sensitivities, they taught me a few different ways of raising your vibration to maintain a healthier state of being. The topic of shadow work eventually came up. Here’s how I would define shadow work: it’s the process of recognizing and reconciling those unlikable parts of you, the parts that have been ignored or rejected for one reason or another. In my case, being a quiet, anxious girl who closes her eyes to scary pictures was somewhat unpopular. If I cried or walked away from a scene in a movie that distressed me, I’d get laughed at, because my mom and siblings saw it as me taking it too seriously. Additionally, I also had a judgmental streak and saw myself as being superior to other people who weren’t raised Christian, or who didn’t fit my definition of a Christian.

Shadow works helps me come face to face with those aspects of myself. While I am capable of doing so much incredible good, I am equally capable of doing evil. I’m not totally sure if I believe in past lives, but I do know that in this current one, I’ve both helped and hurt people, accidentally or on purpose.

During my education in magic and energetic vibrations, the women I met in Georgia taught me how certain crystals can help with shadow work.  For example, Lee encouraged me to use a selenite crystal to help bring some balance to my darker energies, so the nightmares would be less troubling.  I now have two, a rough one and a smooth one, and each night I put it under my pillow to help improve my sleep and give me better dreams.

Along with the selenite, I put at least one other crystal under my pillow. Most of the time, it’s a moonstone, because the energy is gentler and more soothing than previous crystals I’ve tried. For example, a gabbro or Mystic Merlinite would give me headaches if I kept it on me for too long. SO the moonstone has been a breath of fresh air.

However, for specific shadow work, I’ve also enjoyed using a black moonstone. I bought one when I was in Portland, and it has a darker coloring than a normal moonstone, hence the name. I’ve used it to meditate with on nights of the new moon to help me acknowledge where growth still needs to happen and what I may be ignoring about myself. As a dream crystal, it can be even more affective for dream recall than my normal moonstone, though that may be because it’s used less frequently.

Lastly but never least, if I really want to work on crap that needs to be addressed, I ask for help from guides.  I found out about one of them while I was in Sandy Springs, taking a free class on tarot and oracles cards. At the time, Lee has brought in a deck with heavy Celtic Druid influence that featured spirit animal guides. The other students and I got to flip through a few of these cards and the picture of the Boar stood out to me. I admit I was a little bummed that it wasn’t a more popular spirit animal, like a hawk or a wolf.  But the image of the Boar still fascinated me. When we meditated later during the class, that same animal appeared again in my daydream. This one was huge, standing as tall as my shoulder, and very dark, with what looked like a gold ring on its nose. After talking more with Lee about it, we deduced that he was specifically meant to guide me with my shadow self, to help me see who I really am when all the facades are removed. Sometimes those truths hurt to learn, and at other times they sound less impactful than they are, at first.  But the Boar gives me courage to face what scares me about me, and so much maturation has resulted from that, thanks to his help.

It’s been about a year since I started the journey, but I can’t say that I’m totally healed after working on my shadow self. For one thing, I still struggle to forgive people who shamelessly hurt me. I also tend to run painful memories through my head over and over again, filtering out the healthy moments shared with those who truly love me. I do like some darker books and movies, but I still have a limit with how much horror and eeriness I expose myself to.  It takes patience and courage to work on your shadow, and you may still have things to heal for years to come. But it’s still a part of you, and it needs to be acknowledged and loved, as much as any other part of you.

So how have you worked with your shadow over the years? What have you had to face about yourself? How have you begun to love those rejected parts of yourself?

[suggestionsofthecaribbean]

The Black Pearl: James and Elizabeth

The morning after Halloween, James and Elizabeth are moderately hungover.  The topic of sex, and sexual boundaries, comes up again.

CW: Carnal matters.  Pervasive and occasionally explicit.

The first thing James did on waking the morning after the shipboard Halloween festivities was stumble out of Elizabeth’s cabin as quickly as he could in search of the nearest unoccupied gun port into which he could be sick instead of onto the floor.

The second was to check the time. The third was to blog one single syllable of displeasure while ignoring the laughing of pirates who were probably no less sodden than he was at the moment but enjoyed getting to call out “You all right there, Commodore?” as he groped his way back toward the cabin, wincing.

Elizabeth waited for him there.

Sunglasses. Advil.

A sympathetic smirk.

“Hey, babe,” she said, peering above her own sunnies at him.  “Don’t be mad, but I let you sleep. I thought you may require it.”

“I am God’s own idiot,” he said, feeling around the bed in case he had left anything there that he needed to bring above deck, up to and including a pistol with which to shoot himself. “I can't even recall last night-”

“I can.”

“Oh, God,” James muttered.

“You were delicious, and so was the rum.”

“I- wait, what?”

James stopped where he was, sitting on the edge of the bed, and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I also partook,” she said delicately.

“You- oh God- did we-”

Elizabeth, who had been leaning back on the bed beside him, legs jauntily crossed, suddenly lost her air of smug superiority and flushed.

“If my memory serves- not for lack of trying.”

“Oh, God,” he repeated, leaning forward into his hands. “Were we the only ones-”

“Drinking? Of course not,” she laughed.

“Thank God,” he said. He accepted the Advil and swallowed them dry. “Elizabeth, I’m sorry-”

“For?”

“Making a fool of myself, as ever.”

“Stop panicking,” laugh Elizabeth, patting him on the thigh.  “You didn’t.”

“I know, I- wait.”

He tilted his head to look at her. “I didn't?”

“No!  You were very popular-”

“In what manner-”

“Charming, very funny - very devil-may-care - you won some money at a dice game. Do you not recall any of this?”

“I might when my head stops splitting.”

Elizabeth eased him back onto the bed, head in her lap, gently rubbing his temple and settling herself against a pillow against the headboard, contentedly. 

“I felt like that in the morning, but I’ve vanquished the worst of it,” she said brightly.  “Of course I think I had much less than you.”

“You're also not breaking several months of abstinence,” he muttered. “Please stop me next time. I shall try to do better as well, but please-”

“I was already tipsy when you started.”

James winced his eyes shut.

“Ah, he said. “That would explain it.”

He let her massage him for a moment longer before his eyes opened again in wide, startled surprise.

“Popular, though-”

“Center of attention, made everyone laugh. Course, we were all drunk, maybe you weren’t very funny-”  Her fingers in his hair grew slow and dreamy as she thought on it.  “...and you are a very flirty drunk, James, my lord.”

“With you, I hope-”

Elizabeth started laughing gaily.  “Of course with me!”

“Ah, good. With my record, I couldn't be certain-”

“Barbossa banished us here after we got a bit too frisky -” Here Elizabeth herself actually winced, biting her lip and disguising her snarl as another laugh. “That, I am afraid, everybody saw - everybody, and Will.”  She realized quickly how James would most likely take that. “...I don’t mean that anybody saw anything but kissing and general flirtation.  I doubt Barbossa could handle any more than that.”

“But we didn't… all right. I shall try to live with this.”

James closed his eyes again; even the dim light of the curtained cabin hurt. Elizabeth surreptitiously slid the pair of sunglasses onto his face, which made him frown a little and then relax again.

“I may have destroyed that goodwill by vomiting from a gunport,” he admitted.

“Pirates.”

“Lisbet, I know I'm not terribly popular hereabouts,” he said, slowly leaning his head into her hands, “and I don't expect that to change over one rash night of drinking.”

“Oh, I know. But first of all, the vomiting will change nothing. And second of all…”

She leaned over him to touch noses for a moment.

“...you’re mine and I don’t care.”

He would have kissed her if not for fear of smelling- and worse, tasting- foul. He reached up to caress her hair instead.

“You're a more patient woman than you credit yourself.”

“I’m not.  But I adore you.”

“You look well for someone in similar condition.”

“I’ve been awake longer. Had a lot of juice. And a lot of Advil.”

“I must look ghastly,” he said, with a weak laugh.

In truth, he didn't; with his eyes covered, it was impossible to see how bloodshot they were, which was the only real resemblance he bore to his former drunken squalor. His beard was trimmed and in good shape, and his hair, though a little sweat-dampened at the moment, had grown out enough to look intentional and maintained again at last.

“Don’t now and certainly didn’t last night.  I distinctly remember. You leaned on everything and flicked your hair out of your eyes with insouciance.  When we made it to the bed you had your knees wide apart. You were inviting.”

“...oh, my God,” he said, sounding mortified. “Only toward you, I hope-”

“Only me - James, you were more attentive to me than you are sober-”

“...ah,” he said, taking a moment to process this. “I'm… sorry?”

“I’m not!”

“I would kiss you,” he said, “but I've been sick-”

“Noted,” she said, wrinkling her nose and laughing again. In truth, her headache had not fully subsided - sitting in the dimmer cabin with sunglasses on sipping unsweetened tea was not what she regularly liked to do for fun - but James feeling worse made her feel better by comparison, and it was also, more favorably, a pleasant distraction to dote on him.  

“If you’ll give me a moment to brush my teeth, I will make up for that-”

“Also noted,” she said delightedly.

James pushed himself up- it took a couple of tries- and stretched, though he had to lean on the wall for a moment.

“Perhaps I don’t need to be as abstaining as I thought,” he said, “if this is the greeting I receive the following morning.”

“On holidays, anyway,” she said gamely.

“And ashore, perhaps,” said James. “When I needn’t be on-task-”

“Oh, perhaps - I can permit that. Less than you drank yesterday, of course-”

“How much did I drink?” His voice was muffled by the toothbrush.

“Enough not to remember today, apparently,” she laughed at him.  “Enough that last night, we couldn’t…”

“That’s for the best.”

“Indeed,” she laughed. “We were about to go full speed ahead, no quondam!”

James took a mouthful of water and then pried open the window to spit.

“Thank God for the carnal failures of drunken men. I doubt I could have sustained it to begin with.”

Elizabeth got to her feet slowly, adjusting her belt in a haughty, masculine gesture, before striding across the room towards him.  Her boots brought her there quickly.  It was such a small space - intimate, one might say.

“I believe I expressed an interest in proceeding otherwise before falling asleep.  Ah, well. I am sure I had very…pleasant dreams,” said Elizabeth, leaning her back against the wall beside him, the picture of innocent intent.

James took off the sunglasses and winced, but he needed to rub his eyes. He had to flick his hair back again to do so, and made a little noise of irritation at having to, but it was more flattering falling around his face whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“A drunken man is no good in bed,” James said as he tugged on the dusty curtain covering the window.

“Seems a drunken woman is very quick to go there, regardless,” said Elizabeth promptly, smoothing his wrinkled shirt.

“At least I now know that I am still capable of socially acceptable behavior while in my cups,” James muttered.

She smiled up at him distractedly. “Indeed.”

“You enjoyed this too much,” he said, faintly alarmed.

“It was enjoyable,” she said, a hint of shyness entering her manner.  From Elizabeth, shyness was a contradictory trait; even when she visibly felt it, it did not hinder her frankness.  In some contexts it even transformed itself into courage, but as far as James was concerned, it was generally precipitous of new boldness.  Sure enough, Elizabeth glanced him over, parted her lips and said, “And I may permit you to do it again, with supervision.”

“With supervision,” James repeated.

“My supervision.”

“Your very sober supervision.”

“...not really what I had in mind.”

“I may be fresh enough for that kiss now.”

“Indeed?” the Pirate King asked, and gave it to him.

“Mm-”

He was still a little unsteady on his feet, and had to cling more than he’d planned.  Elizabeth misinterpreted this, and pulled him closer to her with a little gasp. “Oh, James-”

He kissed her one last time and added, “At least now I have the comfort of getting drunk before you jab me with your little needle, I suppose-“

Elizabeth’s hands pushed themselves up his chest to clutch his lapel and haul him back down to kiss her again.

“You do -”

“Ah-”

He kissed her, hefting her up clumsily into his arms and then staggering just enough from his lingering dizziness to have to hold her up with one arm as he flung the other behind himself to brace with, flicking his hair back again unthinkingly. The waviness that had been visible in his low year was beginning to show again, though at this length it was more of a perpetual floppy tousle.

Unable to keep upright with her in his arms, James carried her toward the bed again and sat down with a thump.

“I shall have to let you cling more in trousers today, I think, if I am to keep you up-“

“Oh, really?” she asked softly, looking him dead in the eyes as she wrapped her legs around his waist and tightened them.

James opened his mouth to say something, looking a little startled, then paused.

“You've got a bit of-”

He tugged it away, to slight resistance, and held it up to show her. It was a little wisp of false hair that had still been stuck to her cheek.

She made a face.

“How drunk was I?” he asked, looking mildly alarmed. “I can’t even place what this is-“

“Drunker than I remember seeing you,” she said with a shrug.

“All right,” he concluded. “Never mind- I shouldn't do this again just-”

“James,” she said, urgently, tightening her arms around his shoulders to pull him closer.

“I’m bound to do something stupid eventually- I apologize for my laxness.”

“It was a party,” she said, not altogether displeased he didn’t remember her as Barbossa, but not altogether happy he didn’t remember curling his forefinger under her chin with an out-of-focus smirk as he kissed her in spite of that.

“I'm not losing myself in my thoughts now,” he said, trying to lean back to look at her, “if that's what you're worried about. I'm only… taking stock of things.”

“James. Come down here.”

“Yes?”

There wasn’t very much there to go down, but he did his best. Elizabeth enfolded him in her arms, pressing his face into her chest and sinking her fingers into his hair.

“Shut up.”

James groaned. “M’apologies.”

He laced his fingers into her hair from his awkward position below, realized his face was level with- pressed against!- her breasts, and quickly tried to lift himself away from them, but Elizabeth was having none of it.

“Stay here,” she said firmly.  “At least until your Advil’s kicked in.”

“Lisbet, this is a rather compromising position-”

“Hmm?” she asked wryly, scruffling his hair.

“My face is in your-”

She tilted his chin up with her fingertips.

“Better now?”

He looked a little dazed as he leaned his cheek on her shoulder instead.

“You don't have to stay here.”

“Low wind today, plus two other captains on board without hangovers.”  Elizabeth paused. “At least, I don’t think Teague’s hungover.  I know he drank last night, but - does it make any difference to him, at this point?  And you know how Barbossa is.  Well, the point is, I don’t have a lot else to do, and the sun is really bright.”

“Saving our strength for the cave. That's what we'll call it.”

She snorted.

“Everyone knows we’re hungover, Captain Norrington.”

“You as well?”

“Yeah?”

“I assumed you hid it around the rest of them, and didn't go running for a gunport for fear you couldn't open the window in time.”

“No, I didn’t make it to a gunport,” she grimaced.  “You slept right through it.  Cleaned it up myself, though.  I don’t try to make it out like I’m better’n anyone else is.”

“I could have helped you with that, if I were not so drunk myself,” he said. “Whatever you're doing with my hair, don't stop-”

Even in the midst of the hangover, the humidity, the headache, her heart melted.

“Oh, James,” she said breathlessly.

“Yes?” he asked, leaning into her touch. “I could hold you instead if you'd prefer-”

“No,” she said, helpless, “it’s just… you’re so…. not-you.”

“Hungover? Unfortunately, that's very me.”

She let it rest there.

“Regardless, I think I ought to hold you a little longer.”

“I'll permit it.”

He allowed himself to lean against her without holding himself back at last, with a sigh.  Elizabeth abruptly shifted, changing her mind- preferring to lean back on the bedspread again, with James resting against her that way.  But soon they had returned to a dreamy state of idleness, Elizabeth coddling him and smiling up at the ceiling half-wittedly.

“How is your ex-husband managing,” James asked softly.

“Sober and fairly well pleased with himself,” she said, more shortly than she meant to.

“Ah,” said James. “I hope he has not given you any trouble-?”

“No.”

“Ah. Good; we last spoke under… difficult terms.”

He paused.

“A running theme, it would seem. No matter; I'm glad enough knowing you're mine now.”

She smiled, perhaps a bit begrudgingly, but it helped her unwind nonetheless.  It was only then she realized how tense she’d become and let out a short bark of laughter.

“Forgive me, I’m… I wish he weren’t on this voyage,” she admitted.  “It’s difficult… knowing he’s here.”

“Presumably this will be the end of it. I do owe him some reconciliation with his father. I promised him that much, and I prefer keeping my word.”

“Yes, I know,” she said distantly.  

“My God,” he said distantly. “I was so far beyond hope that you would ever choose me over him, and yet…”

She ruffled his hair - perhaps a little bit sadly.

“Watching you,” James murmured, “in the heat- in your trousers, without a coat- without so much as jumps, at that-”

“What, sweating?” she said flatly.

“Perhaps a little,” he said. “It makes you glisten.”

“What about it?” she asked, mystified.

“It is intensely attractive.”

She laughed, startled, and then she sighed, loudly, fondly, his name.

“Your hair fanning behind you,” he added. “It reminds me of how fortunate I am.”

She’d been going to tease him about his preference for boys, real or imagined, before he said that.  Not only did she no longer have an opening for such a joke, she no longer had the heart for it.  Elizabeth rubbed the back of his neck.

Tenderly, she prompted, “Fortunate?”

“To be the man with whom you have chosen to spend your life,” he said. “To say nothing of having the privilege of watching you strut about the deck like that and knowing I may take you to bed later-”

“James!” she gasped, in delighted shock. “That’s very forward of you - I approve.”

“I can only imagine most men prefer their wives in skirts so as to avoid being unduly preoccupied by them otherwise,” James said dryly.

“And do you find yourself unduly preoccupied by me?” she asked, perhaps too giddy.

“Often,” said James. “Too often by far-”

She bit her lip and smirked up at the ceiling.

“You don't know the effect you can have on a man, Lisbet,” said James, in a faraway sort of tone. “Every inch of you. There was a moment some weeks ago when you had tucked your hair under your hat and I found myself held at a disadvantage by the back of your neck.”

That knocked the smirk off her face.  Instead of pride, she found her immediate reaction was disbelief.  And this from her dull suitor of only a few years ago - reconciling this confession with that was a bit much to overcome.

“My- really? My neck?” she asked, gracelessly.

“That one, I confess, is not new- not with how often your hair was done away from it in Port Royal,” he conceded. “I suppose it was the reminder of that.”

“When did that start?” she pressed on, still bewildered. “It’s not a feature that changes with maturity.”

“I seem to recall it around the time I had begun to love everything about you,” he said, rather simply.

It would do very little good to dwell on it - she had already gone over why countless times - and at this point James seemed to wince every time it came up that she wished she had noticed the sincerity - the severity - of his affection sooner.  But Christ!

“Well, it’s all yours now,” she said, even if she could not fully understand what allure the back of the neck could possibly have - she still understood that if a smallish thing like that could provoke him then he must want her very much indeed.

“I think,” he said slowly, eyes shut,  “it was the thought of being permitted to touch it, and the intimacy such an act would entail.”

Elizabeth dislodged him only very slowly as she sat up, only to look down at him a long moment, tracing her fingertip over his lips.

“...Would you like to?”

“Lisbet,” he began, embarrassed. “It's not- I was merely struck by the memory while watching you storm about the place in an unlaced shirt and trousers-”

“Well, if you want to - I think I’d like it,” she said hesitantly.

James sat up with some difficulty, flinching against the sunlight as he opened his eyes again. Elizabeth's hair was down at the moment, but that only added to the sensation as he pushed his hand under it to rest at the back of her neck, as lightly as an insect on a leaf.

“...like this,” he said softly.

Elizabeth parted her lips, and her eyes widened just slightly - but she could not speak for a moment.  When she found it in her to move, she leaned in and rested her head, tremulously, on his shoulder. James threaded his fingers through her hair.

“I couldn't bear to dwell on this-”

“- because I had made you no promise,” she surmised.

Elizabeth released a breath she had not known she was holding.  

“I am so relieved that things fell into place such that I did not lose out on this. On… you,” she confessed, and pressed her face into the area between his neck and shoulder, her arm creeping around his back to embrace him. He put both arms around her and held tight.

“I wish I could make this sound like anything but the lowest of lust-”

“It doesn’t,” Elizabeth snorted.  “That’s - God help me, that was what I was experiencing concurrently.  Thinking about a blacksmith’s toned arms,” she   deadpanned.  “I do know that what I had with Will was real… eventually.  At that point, it was nothing more than a daydream about a boy I barely knew.  At least… at least you knew me.”

“I thought I did, at least,” he said, with a sad smile. He kissed her temple through her hair.

“Enough to know you should like to know me better,” she amended.

“Well,” he said, “now I do. I suppose it ended as well as it could have?”

“As my dog, you mean? You seem to handle it well-”

There might have been a pun in that.

“Elizabeth,” said James. “I scarcely know what I'm speaking of- I would have always- I cannot imagine not loving you, regardless of everything else-”

Elizabeth barely bit back a smile, touching his face as though hesitant to actually lay her hand on him - as though it would pass right through him.

“Oh, well then.”

“I hope that's not overmuch-”

“Hardly, but I don’t know what provoked it-”

“I rather dwell on the thought.”

She laid her hand on his rough cheek, brushing her thumb back and forth affectionately.

“...more than I care to admit,” he said, without looking at her.

“Because I am less amenable than you would like?” she asked, following his gaze, and cupping his face in her hands, leaning in to give him a kiss in apology.

“No- no, you’ve done nothing wrong-” James protested, lowering his eyes, flustered.  Elizabeth laughed against his lips, deepening the kiss - she loved when he got like this.

“I tell you I don’t dwell on this - not like you do. But it rests at the back of my mind, like - “

She slid her fingers into his hair and kissed him again, her fingers gently pressing the crown of his head.

“- like a pressure, and then I give it some mind, and it becomes-”

She gripped his hair - slowly, and not enough that it could pain him, but certainly enough to be felt.

“-overpowering-”

“Elizabeth-”

“I’ll just look across the deck, and see the faint glimmer of red in your hair, and take note of the figure you cut, and it will all hit me at once,” Elizabeth confided, her lips against his, but not yet kissing him, and with her hand as it was, he couldn’t lean in to do it himself.  “That man is mine.  To do with as I please.  As it pleases him.”

She cupped the back of his head as she kissed him. James gasped against her lips, closing his eyes again.

“...red?” he repeated faintly. It was just about the only thing he could seize on that wasn’t going to exacerbate the situation beginning to happen down below. The alcohol was clearly no longer that present in his system.

“Mm, yes. So strange; you have such dark hair.  It’s really lovely, you know.  And it’s grown out almost curling,” she said, wrapping a lock around her finger possessively, adoringly.

“It- yes,” he said awkwardly, trying to keep on a safe topic. “It always has- I suppose it merely doesn’t show after a certain point. Er, thank you-”

Her fingers moved to his chin and glided down his throat in continued approval.  “I suppose I do not like it as you like mine - I can think of no one in the world who has liked anything, the way you seem to like my hair - but my word, James.  That wig did your cause more damage than you have caused any buccaneer in the Caribbean.  I have so much lost time to account for, and I shall begin by recognizing your beauty - you are beautiful, James.  Moreso now I can be prideful to have you, too-”

“I- thank you,” he said again. “It’s- well, had we married, I certainly would not have worn the damned thing in private-”

“Yes, I can only imagine now we are as good as married what it would have been like: very different to my expectations.  And if you had touched the back of my neck as you do now,” she said, with a mean twinkle in her eyes, “or certainly if you had ever put your hands in my hair as you are wont, I would have fallen desperately in love with you, and lived happily ever after.”

“I can only hope I would have,” he said, taking a handful of her hair as he said so and bringing it to his lips to kiss its length.

She shivered.

“I don’t understand. I don’t feel that, and yet…”

“It is not… conditional on your hair- I hope that much is clear-”

“It is, but -”  Elizabeth bit her lip, genuinely conflicted. “Is it strange, though - is it wrong, that the way you like it… affects me?”

James stopped mid-kiss.

“...it affects you?”

“Yes,” she said, self-conscious.

“...ah,” James said awkwardly. “I hope that’s acceptable-”

“Why wouldn’t it be?  I merely want to know if you think it’s wrong- or unusual-”

“I don’t- why would I?”

“You know rather a lot more about relations between men and women than I do -”

“I don’t find it perverse, if that’s what you fear-”

“No,” she said with a laugh. “Weird, at most-”

“I’ve seen weirder,” he said flatly.

“No doubt, in the King’s navy,” she said, holding his chin fondly, and kissing him. James finally laughed again and returned it.

“No, darling, I don’t think there’s anything too odd about it. My only concern is that you find my affections shallow.”

“Less so than my own, I assure you,” said Elizabeth, pulling his shirt open.

“Mm- I shall do my utmost to avoid any permanent injuries, then.”

She ran her hand liberally over his chest, then leaned in to kiss his collarbone.  “Touch my hair again,” she murmured.

James obediently began pushing his fingers through it with a light laugh. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

“Good boy-”

“Elizabeth.”

“I can’t resist that any more than you can resist me.”

He nuzzled into her hair. “Duly noted.”

She let out a sharp sigh.

“Oh, this does wonders for what remains of my misery,” she said contentedly.  “Being here with you.  Though I am sure being more hydrated helps.  How are you feeling, by the way?”

“This is a wonderful distraction,” he said, though his eyes were still closed. “I shall manage.”

“Or be managed, as the case may be.  As the case is, I should say.”  

“Elizabeth?”

“Yes, love?”

“You understand that your physical charms are not all that has gained my interest, I hope?”

“I certainly never imagined so,” said Elizabeth, with the full knowledge that she had been taller and lankier and considerably longer in the chin than most women who were considered beautiful would be.  Besides, she had very little bosom to speak of.  “I can only assume you were bewitched by the idea of a bride who wouldn’t obey a single thing you said.”

James ignored that last jab. “Very well. As long as you understand that I am… aware of the difficulties of this life, and the damages it may inflict-”

“Yes, yes,” she said dismissively. “You’re so morbid, James.”

“You have reminded me often enough that we may not survive this voyage,” said James. “I have reminded myself in turn that there are worse things than that that can befall one at sea.”

“We’ll just have to appreciate each other as though there is no tomorrow,” she said, smiling.

James kissed her again, making a proprietary fist in her hair as he did.

“Good,” he said firmly. “I would hate for you to have runaway ideas about my losing interest in you were you to be without this due to some mishap or another, and that’s only one example.”

“I don’t, but do you really have to speculate on it?” she groaned.  It was not a noise to indicate desire for once.

“It tends to occupy the background of one’s thoughts while thinking of marriage,” James retorted.

“Mutilation does? Are you certain? Are you really very certain?”

“In the Navy it certainly does!”

“Surely not one’s wife’s mutilation, though,” she said dubiously.

“If one is to take her to sea, it's a matter which must unfortunately be weighed. Mrs. Fenton had a halt in her step for some time, though I understand she eventually recovered-”

“Don’t you think,” she baited him, “that you should have given me some notion of that before you married me?  Not a word during our engagement.  Why, you would have had me under false pretences.”

“I would have offered you the chance to stay home,” said James, “and full awareness of the risks. But I also intended to surprise you with the offer to accompany me to sea-“

“An offer I would have gladly accepted - rather more gladly than I had the man who made it,” said Elizabeth, wrapping her arms around his shoulders much like a happy wife would.

“I’m flattered,” James said dryly.

“Who knew that underneath it all, you had such....” Her eyes moved from his, almost unconsciously, down to his bared chest and throat, and she wetted her lips, and looked at him again, and gave a small, helpless shrug.  “-character.”

“Thank you,” he said, even more flatly.

“How glad I am I got to know you better after all,” said Elizabeth, rubbing her hand along his chest once more and dipping a finger between his pectoral muscles with approval. James followed her finger down with his eyes.

“Are you- all right, I shall accept a compliment where I can find it, but God, if it's not a little overwhelming.”

“What, pray tell, do you mean,” asked Elizabeth, her own eyes also following the trespasses of her fingers, as they now strayed over the full expanse of his chest.  Her touches were light, but purposeful and possessive.

“For you to have cared so little, and not too long ago, to this- it’s rather a lot-“

“Oh, James,” she said, eyes meeting his abruptly with a wince of guilt.

James lay his hand against her cheek.

“Forgive me, that was- unnecessarily harsh.”

“Not so harsh as fate’s been to you,” she said, cupping her hand over his and turning her face to kiss his palm.  “I do care for you now - I cared for you before, just not as you hoped.”

She mulled over her thoughts only a moment before committing to what it came to her mind to say. “I love you.”

“It certainly took you long enough,” James said, though not unwarmly or accusingly.

He kissed her. “I love you, too.”

Elizabeth frowned into the kiss, but did not end it - kissed back, harder, as though it were a competition. “I - did not realize - it was a matter of any - urgency-”

“I pride myself on punctuality,” said James.

“And I on my free spirit-”

“All right, I grant you that-”

“I do not need your permission for it,” she practically sneered, but something in her tone of voice was hungry and pleading regardless. “Grant me something else-”

Small wonder what else she could want.

“We still haven’t any quondams, Lisbet,” he reminded her. It was rather a pity; release was good for a headache.

“Let me have it anyway,” she commanded, tossing her hair while gripping his. In spite of the roughness with which she handled him, she never really forgot herself - Elizabeth was always careful to not yank his hair.  If the firmness of her grip startled him, it would at least never hurt.  “I want you in my mouth.”

James stared at her, momentarily deprived of speech.

“...I’m… amenable,” he said, eyes still widened, his whole body bowstring-tense.

She took his hands in hers then, guiding one to her mouth and the other to the crotch of his trousers.  She teasingly took the tips of his fingers between her lips, while her other hand entwined their fingers and rubbed at his groin.

“All right- all right, I'm awake now-”

“Still amenable, darling?”

“You make a strong case-”

“Mm. Awake indeed, my love,” she said, her face lighting up.  “Now… To begin with, I’ll want you to take your shirt off.”

It wasn't hard; his shirt was already mostly open. James did not break eye contact with her as he chucked it aside.

“All right.”

Elizabeth released his hands and reached out for him, burying her face against his chest for a moment and breathing him in.  He smelled of sour sweat and spilled rum, but other, more pleasant odors took over for her - the spices of the rum, the taste of salt, the familiar scent of his skin.  She kissed him, and then she bit him - then she pulled back to assess that she had done him no wrong.

“What was that?”

He was, to be fair, more bemused than anything.

“Does that heighten your enjoyment?”

“...not particularly,” he admitted, “though it scarcely retracted from it either-”

“Pity - it does mine,” said Elizabeth, trying a different approach - she resumed her kisses, but more slowly, and more gently; and then after a time, introduced the application of her tongue.

“I don’t know how you can do that,” he said, watching her with a sort of detached lordliness. “I expect I must taste foul after last night.”

“I like your taste.”

“Perhaps I shall let you wash me when you’re done,” he said, leaning back and shutting his burning eyes again.

“Oho, I did not offer to-”

“Maybe I am telling you to,” said James.

“Sorry, what’s that, dog?”

“I cannot be blamed for trying.”

“Mm.”  The censure of her kisses was mild, at least.  She did consider withdrawing to tease him, but she didn’t particularly want to deny herself just because he was being disobedient.  She would have to show him that being in her power was too enjoyable to give up.

“Mm what-”

“James, you are not being appreciative.”

“Don’t fool yourself into thinking I did not notice your enjoyment of having the tables turned against you the last time I held you down to the bed.”

“Yes, you��re a big strong man, I know,” she said dryly.

“I might do it again later,” he retorted, beginning to smile vaguely with his eyes still closed.

“Are you planning on acting bored then, too?” asked Elizabeth, her patience starting to fray.

“I never claimed to be bored,” said James, as he blindly felt along her arm and back until he had found her neck and could slip his fingers across the back of it. “In fact, I am enjoying myself a great deal at the moment.”

That made up for it for the time being.  After a little more dallying, Elizabeth moved downward.

James tensed and opened his eyes.

His breathing heavy but even, he moved his hand upward to grasp at her hair.

“I think,” he said, “that I may have to provide you with some direction.”

Elizabeth gasped.

“James!”

“I rather thought your majesty liked this-“

“She’s - amenable -”

“Ah. Good for her, then. Continue-“

“May I undress you?”

“Yes- yes, please-“

“Please?”

“Yes-“

“That all? You don’t seem to want it much-”

“I’m a little distracted-“

“By what, pray tell?” asked Elizabeth, as she freed him from his trousers.  “Mm, imagine how I should have gasped to see this once.”

“With- delight, one can only hope-“

Elizabeth, heedless of his hand in her hair, came up to nose at his throat, her friendliness in this manner softening the heartlessness of her teasing.

“Commodore Norrington, it’s enormous-”

“Elizabeth!” James blurted, covering his face with his free arm.

Elizabeth laughed and pulled him sweetly down to her, running her fingers through his hair and kissing the top of his head.

“Elizabeth- what in God’s name was that-“

“Realism.”

“Oh my God-“

She slid her hand down between his thighs again.  “It really is, too, you know,” she said conversationally.  

“Is this- you don’t go telling others anything about this, do you-“

“Our secret.”  She kissed him, while at the same time giving him a squeeze.

“Oh my God-“

James involuntarily released her hair. She made a noise of surprised displeasure, and he grabbed at it again in a scrambling hurry.

“If we are to do this, I need to tell you where to go-“

“What, have I been doing it wrong,” she said dubiously.

“No, it’s- I was put off. I lost my train of thought-“

Elizabeth kissed him on the throat and continued touching him, trying to coax him into remembering.

“...squeezing will do that, you know,” James added, a little crossly.

“Pardon me my eagerness to touch you, Captain Norrington,” said Elizabeth - herself out of breath now.  “You must know how you linger in my thoughts, distract me with longing-”

“A welcome change of affairs, to be certain-”

He regained his grip and tightened it.

“Strange and - unexpectedly -” she managed, before giving up on conversation altogether - having one’s hair pulled will do that.  

“I shall have to ensure my place in them, then, will I not?”

She groaned.

“There are a lot of places I’d like to have you in -”

“Most pertinently, your mouth-”

“And you?” she implored, beginning her earlier attentions again - more slowly than earlier, so as to not get him off track again.  “Do you want to put yourself there?”

“I,” said James, “would be satisfied to put you there myself-”

Elizabeth’s mouth opened of its own accord - not as a reaction to the conversation at hand, but out of dimly interested shock. Something in her brain slowed and stopped processing information when James said filthy things.

“And I do seem to have a good handle with which to direct you, rather than trying to speak on it-”

Elizabeth thought about another smart-ass remark; she was the Pirate King, a pirate lord and captain well beyond simply being voted into the position by men who had wanted to fuck her.  Scourge of the Caribbean or no, James Norrington had better respect her or else.  But her mouth seemed to have some trouble in catching up with her thoughts; she was too tongue-tied for a single comeback.

It was not like Elizabeth to be flustered.  That in and of itself was worth some analysis, and she thought suddenly of what he had said a moment ago about turning the tables.  

Damn him, he wasn’t wrong.

Finally she managed to half-stammer out a reply.  “I’ll - I’ll permit that.”

“Do you desire it, or merely permit it?” James asked. “I would hardly see you forced.”

She grit her teeth for a moment, but he had but to tilt his hand in her hair just slightly enough for her to feel the tug for her to open her mouth again.

“I want it - James, direct me-”

“...Elizabeth,” he began, “are you certain-”

Elizabeth laid her hand on his chest and met his eyes.  Words came to her, but left just as quickly.  Instead she nodded emphatically. James was immediately struck by a pang of regret.

“Mm,” he said. “Come up here and kiss me first. I would rather you here than there to begin with.”

“I’ve no doubt,” she snorted, though she wasted no time in entwining her arms around his shoulders.  “I am trying to acclimate you.”

“If you insist on going down there, I’d prefer to have a degree of control,” James retorted, leaning back to embrace her properly and kiss her.

“We’ve established I don’t mind that-”

“I’ve noticed.” He looked rather amused by this, in fact.

“Do you remember- in Tortuga, you said to me, early on, ‘You don’t have to be the Pirate King in here,’” said Elizabeth distantly.

“Mm. Yes, I think so-”

“It seems,” she said, with the utmost seriousness, “that you really meant it.”

“What does that mean-”

“Did you want a degree of control?”

“I try not to think of it.”

“Usually, from you,” she said cannily, “that means you do want it.”

“I mean,” he said, with a laugh as he looked at her, “that I try not to think of any of it at all. It’s bothersome at best-”

“You’re so boring, James,” she complained, pushing her aggrieved fingers through his wavy hair.  “I think about it as often as I can spare. It’s such a welcome reprieve from the chores of daily life.”

“Ah- keep doing that. In any case, I suppose you don’t find it a chore in itself-”

“What, basket-making? Don’t be absurd.”

“We have not yet made any baskets,” James groused, “and I expect you will find that more of a chore than you think when the option arrives.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible,” said Elizabeth, pressing their bodies still more closely together. “When we’ve been together and you are near me like this I think I am going to pass out from how much I want to have you in me.”

James grit his teeth and gasped.

“The feeling is mutual-”

“Besides - if I need finishing,” she baited him, a smile hovering over her lips, “you’ll finish me, won’t you?”

“Yes-”

He had turned his face away from hers.

Elizabeth gently tugged where her hand was still in his hair.

“James. What is it? What’s the matter.”

“Nothing is the matter,” he said. “I'm a bit sore, that's all. Don't worry about me, please. Last night must have been rather a lot-”

“Changing the subject away from intercourse, when we were just about to have it - that’s a matter all right.”

“Am I not allowed to wish to treasure you a little first-”

“I feel a little oppressed by your treasuring,” said Elizabeth testily.  “It begins to sound like excuses.”

“If it's an inability you fear,” said James, “I would have thought you noticed that my body is more than prepared for such an activity-”

“A reluctance of the spirit,” she said.  She longed to touch him again, but forced herself to keep her hands well above his waist until she had ascertained the truth of his discomfort; she could not force him.

James noticed this, and gently- almost apologetically- took her hand by the wrist and moved it downward.

“I would rather look you in the eye.”

“Going to be somewhat difficult, don’t you think?”

“Then that's the matter.”

Elizabeth withdrew her hand in some reluctance, but she did not feel comfortable floating through this activity unbothered; there were things that had to be addressed, first of all, and she was perplexed by his seeming dislike of her seeing to his pleasure - which, in being denied opportunity to do so, had become more of an object to her recently than achieving her own, which was a feat in and of itself.

“James,” she said plaintively.

“If you insist on it,” he said, taking hold of her hair again, “then get back down there, and we’ll have done for it.”

“Not if you’re going to behave like this about it -”  Elizabeth bit her lip and twisted a little in his grasp, her emotional turmoil making her physically restless.  “At least tell me why you don’t like it-”

“I've told you,” he said. “I prefer bringing you off, that's all.”

“It ruins my pleasure to have you forsake yours,” said Elizabeth coaxingly.  “You enjoy it, why can’t I?”

“Elizabeth,” he said.”It's only a preference. Please don't trouble yourself about it-”

“Well, it’s a burden to me,” she said, pulling a face.  “I want to make you want me… I want to overwhelm you as you do me.”

“I do not wish to be overwhelmed,” he said, after a long pause. “It's uncomfortably like being drunk.”

Elizabeth looked unbearably cranky.

“You like being drunk,” she said peevishly.

“Only in the moment,” he shot back.

“You seem to like the anticipation of it, too, but not this.”  It was clear her mood had taken a turn for the foul, and a sharp one at that, since she had moments ago been dewy-eyed and leaning on him.  Now her posture was stiff and her movements all harsh. Her hand was still in his hair, but it rested there unmoving as stone.

“I don't know about that. I drank a great deal last night and am all the worse for it today, as evidenced by the grabbing you by the hair and dragging you downward like some kind of beast-”

“I think I would have remembered if that had happened-”

“You fell silent- I feared I had hurt you, frightened you in some way-”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Elizabeth cried out, unwilling to hide her disgust with this new inanity - she pulled her hands away from him with a swiftness that bordered on cruelty, even though she did not hurt him in any way.

James, for his part, did not move- only watched her.

“If you insist,” he said, more than a little peevishly at this point, “then you may get down there and handle the matter yourself. That's what you want, isn't it-”

“No, it’s not,” she said heatedly.  “I just want -”

She cut herself off from speaking any further on that subject, and glared at him fiercely.

James sat up and watched her for a moment, waiting for her to say something. He was still at attention, and felt unspeakably grotesque for it. He tried to conceal it by tilting his hips to one side and pulling up the covers.

“I know what I want,” he said, “but I am disgusted by my wanting it. With myself, most of all.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders sagged.  She was trying to keep up her anger, but, as was typical from her, as soon as the opportunity came to put it aside, she couldn’t help it.

“Why? That’s - that’s all I want from you.  I just want to be wanted.”

“I do want you- I've even told you how-”

“Every time I indicate how much I want to attend to you, you reject me-”

“I don't want to be rendered helpless, Elizabeth-”

“I thought that was the entire point of your directing me!”

“That's different- that's- good God, Elizabeth, I don't want to-”

He took a deep breath to steady himself before he said something he would regret.

Like the suggestion that her husband was still on board if she'd prefer.

“I don't derive the pleasure from that you expect me to,” James said, in a carefully even voice. “I struggle to maintain the personal desire for it even as my body makes a crude show of it. Directing you felt as though I might be able to pull you off when I chose- make it a game- and instead you seemed so shocked and compliant that I felt ashamed of having desired it at all. If that's what you desire, then I will have you back down there before you leave this room again, and try not to regret my enjoyment if I do- but at least permit me my concern, especially after the discovery that I am far less prudent when drunk.”

He laughed bitterly. “I apologize if that makes me defective to you in some way.”

“It does,” she said shortly.

“I thought I had frightened you.”

Elizabeth was warring with her own desire to fling into his face that this was the very reason she had not wanted to marry him - something she had anticipated enjoying with Will - but at that all meanness fled, leaving her without much energy, but considerably less ill will.

Miserably, she said, “You hadn’t.”

“Your face went so blank, so slack- I thought you were resigned, at best.”

She put her arms around his shoulders again, shakily.  “I was aroused, you colossal idiot.”

“That isn't how you are usually inclined towards showing it-”

“My brain just…”

She made a little twisting gesture with her fingers.

“- turned off, like a phone.”

“In a good way, I hope-”

“In a very good way-”

“-ah.”

He paused.

“Do you still want to try-”

“Do you? You’ve just explained to me you feel no personal desire for me-”

“You misunderstood me- good God, I want you to the point of preoccupation-”

“But you don’t want to.”

“Elizabeth?”

She tossed her hair, tilting her head to meet his eyes confrontationally.

“...you don't suppose I could have a go between your thighs, do you? I can't guarantee it will be of much use to you, but unfortunately, what I would most prefer is impossible at the moment.”

“Why is that so much preferable to what I wanted?”

“I can look at you, for one,” said James.

Elizabeth tried to give him a frank look, but a smile broke through regardless.  A little embarrassed, she managed only, “Oh?”

“Rather more personal than shoving you down between my legs, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Will you forget it’s me if you can’t look into my eyes? I’m curious-”

“I prefer sharing the moment, that’s all.”

“Fine,” said Elizabeth, perhaps touchily, and perhaps also to hide her smile.  “May I get you started, though?”

“Yes,” he said, “though you'll find I'm rather far along-”

“What, even through this conversation,” said Elizabeth dubiously, moving her hand to between his legs again.  The same slack expression of surprise came into her face.  

“It's been rather trying,” James said flatly.

“So why do you still-” she started, even as she started on him with her hand - gently at first, but still having to shut her eyes.

“-yes?”

He was not entirely comfortable with this, but kept his face carefully blank lest she opened her eyes and got a good look at him again. It was worth it for her sake.

“Mm- why are you still…? Nevermind,” she said, biting her lip and smiling as she looked up at him again.  This was what he’d said he wanted - to look at her.

“Dulling it takes time,” James said vaguely.

“So that’s why the sailor prefers to roll over and go to sleep, rather than fantasize about the girl he left behind,” she teased him.  Her touch remained gentle - she wanted to feel him desperately, but she did not want to help him too far along, if he were going to go between her legs again.

“Now you begin to understand-“

“But you don’t have to dull it anymore, James,” she whispered, nearly kissing him.  “You have me now.  Let me take care of you.”

“Don’t- Elizabeth-“

He began to laugh, embarrassed, and covered his face.

Elizabeth put both of her arms around him now, but more vexed than truly comforting.  “What is it-”

“It’s nothing-“

“Nothing? You can’t look me in the eye-”

“You’ve got me at a disadvantage.”

“What’s that, that you’re aroused?  I would hate to be the one to inform you, but so am I-”

“I know-“

He looked at her, bleary-eyed and grinning.

“Good heavens, it’s not so much, Elizabeth- you needn’t think of it as taking care of me.”

“My sweet Captain,” said Elizabeth, matching his grin, “I don’t. I think of it is as fucking you, and I love it.”

“You haven’t yet,” he said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “We haven’t the necessary equipment for that yet, either-“

“You don’t think this is - ? You cannot be serious.  What is it between men, then - on an equivalency to hand-holding?”

“You’ll have to ask Theo about that one. I wouldn’t know; I was not in the habit of regular conversation with anyone with whom- well.”

“This was what I feared, when we were engaged,” Elizabeth finally blurted, after a long while of holding her tongue, even when she had been angrier.  “That my instinct proved correct, and you were about as erotic as a dead fish.”

“Elizabeth,” he said, “you’re lucky I had the sense to avoid getting you with child.”

“You don’t even want to let me take your cock into my mouth,” she argued.

He lifted his head in alarm at her language but chose not to comment on it.

“What am I supposed to do, rut you senseless like it’s two years ago in Tortuga all over again-“

“I just want you to be senseless every so often,” she said wistfully. “To be overwhelmed and to like it.  I want to be - happy together.”

“I’m already happy,” he said, a little woundedly.

“I want you to be happy in our bed as well as out of it,” she retorted.  “Not that I have ever seen you happy outside of this cabin-”

“I am happy in our bed-”

“You are tense and nervous and disgruntled in our bed.”

“Presently, I’m still at attention in our bed,” he said dryly.

“And the reason why you are still at attention instead of sated and lazy is because you feel no personal desire that you have not tried to stifle-”

“Believe me,” he said heavily, “my desire is feeling extremely unsatisfied at present.”

“Put your hand back in my hair.”

“Elizabeth?”

“You heard me.”

After a moment, though, she pressed a hand to his chest, urgently.

“I don’t mean it. I mean, I do mean it, but - there are no consequences if you don’t wish to do it-”

James grabbed her hair in his fist and yanked her downward.

Elizabeth gasped, but came to her senses almost immediately - enough to recall his comfort before seeing to her own, though she was reluctant to wait.

“May I, then-”

“I’m not asking you to talk-”

She needed little encouragement after that.  She had wanted him greedily and unreasonably since they had been drunk the night before, and being given the opportunity, she did not plan to squander it- not that James gave her much room to do so. He held her body in place with one leg and her head between his hands, her hair still clenched in one of them, as he urged her along in silence punctuated by the rare gasp or word of approval.

If he supposed he could have no means of ascertaining her enjoyment, he did not count on how greatly she would enjoy it.  Elizabeth clutched at his hips and his thighs enough to leave a few bruises, and she moaned her delight - not intentionally, but because she could not help herself.  If this was what James called ‘using her’, he was permitted to do so as often as he liked.

James lifted his hand to pry hers away.

“I did not ask you for- nnn- that-”

It was difficult to get a grip on him that both of them were satisfied with, but the negotiation was worthwhile. When it was finished, James silently released her hair and let his hands fall to his sides.

Elizabeth was ungraciously wiping her mouth on the back of her wrist, but she looked starry-eyed when she gazed back up at him.

“Well?”

“Nn. Give me a moment, I'm rather spent.”

“I should know.”

“Were it not for the delay, I would drag you back down there this instant.”

Elizabeth flopped back against the pillow, looking up at him smugly.

“And did you feel so very helpless, Captain?”

“Not particularly,” he said, looking up toward the ceiling.

“Come down here and thank me,” Elizabeth purred.

“No- you're going to come up here,” he said firmly, with another tug for emphasis.  She sat up, stretching her arms above her head.  It was fairly clear that, amenable though she was, she was as easy to control now as the weather.

“Go on, then.”

James pulled her down and kissed her possessively, tightening his grip on her hair to push her mouth to his.

“Is this what you want?”

“Can’t say I mind-” she breathed.

“That will do.”

He turned her down into the cot beneath him.

“James,” she murmured into his mouth, though she took her sweet time in finishing her thought, “Kiss me on my neck again, please?”

He did not object to this- in fact, he set to his task with relish.

“Remove my shirt-” Elizabeth moaned, tilting her head back and lifting her arms to help him.

“I'm working on it-”

“Take your time,” she said idly.  She shivered when the shirt came up over her head, though not from cold. She touched him on the chest a lingering moment, as though contemplating his body, and then sank silently into his arms, burying her face against him, just holding him close.

James dragged her up for another kiss. She returned it tenderly, sinking her fingers into his hair.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” she asked wonderingly, meeting his eyes.  “Really mine.”

“...likewise,” he said softly, “yes?”

“Entirely, I think.  I don’t understand it myself.”

“You've mentioned that,” he said, a little desperately.

“I want no man but you.  I don’t even want a woman.  If the thought appeals to me in the abstract, it is not really serious enough to detract from wanting you.  And I barely feel guilt over it.  Even when I think that I should, I can’t persuade myself to.  I simply want you, over and over again.  In bed and in battle and on a beach some day, when it is not raining.  And I think something else, too.”

“What else do you think of?” James asked softly.

“I think we were always meant to be together,” she confessed.

“I don't- I'm not certain that's how it works,” said James. “I believe that in some way I was destined to love you, but I do not believe that you were always meant to return it.”

“I do. I was,” she insisted.  “Everything that’s happened has thrown us together in the most unlikely way - as though fate were determined to have us together.”

James watched her for a moment, as though waiting for her to begin laughing

When she didn't, he kissed her again- joyfully this time, with a surprised cry of happiness.  Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him tightly, returning the kiss with near biting enthusiasm.  

The topic was important to her - it was how she had always felt about Will, and perhaps the transfer of this belief from Will to James had assuaged much of her guilt about choosing the latter, as well as whatever twinges of the emotion she had when she thought of Jenny or Angelica a little too long.  But, most of all, it was important to believe that James - and her father - had not been wrong to hope for this union, and had pursued it for nothing.  She wanted to believe her father would be happy to see them together at last, and to bring order to a life which had been uprooted in every way - both his and her own.  

But it did seem likely - the way they had fallen in love in Tortuga, the way she had come to save his life, as though directed by a higher power, was surely not usual.  The fact that they had been engaged at a point where it might have been a disastrous ill match, but had been thrown together again at a point where they could meet as something closer to equals (and if not equals, when Elizabeth, not James, was the more powerful of the two) - these things could not be an accident.  If she had married James then, not only would she have been unhappy, but she would have made him miserable - and Will would never have had a chance to be reunited with his father.  No, everything had surely happened as it must - and now she was with the man she was meant to be with, her soul-mate, the man her dearly beloved father had chosen for her future happiness, because he had waited for her, and proven his love by waiting, as she had proven her worth by becoming a pirate lord in the meantime, and recognized his by choosing him.

“Elizabeth,” he said, clasping her hands in his. “Elizabeth…”

It wrenched her sharply out of her fantasy to see the naked joy on his face and feel guilt at it, even now.

“Yes, James?”

“It's nothing- please, just let me say it-”

“Say whatever you like,” she murmured.

“-just Elizabeth,” he said softly, before kissing her again.

Elizabeth toppled them both backwards, all the better to let him feel the weight of her and know she was his own. James groaned a little- his headache had not yet dissipated- but he began to laugh anyway.

“Careful-”

“I’m always careful,” she said, affronted.

James mmmmed loudly but let the matter rest. He pushed his hands back into her hair with a pensive smile.  Elizabeth ended up rolling off him and pulling him to his side so that she could continue to kiss him more comfortably.  She had no aim, no finish in mind; the matter was less obvious for her than it was for a man; she just wanted nothing more than to hold him very close and to kiss him as though she could drink him in, and wanted to be drunk.

“My apologies for the undoglike behavior,” he laughed against her lips. “Is this- would you like more of this?”

“More of your mouth, more of your kisses-? Of course-”

“More of my force-“

“More of your enthusiasm, to be certain. The forcefulness - well, it is a fun sort of game, really.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I am your Captain, am I not?”

“I certainly don’t expect you to carry on like this before the crew.”

“Mm, I like you to be a man with me, James, but not a master,” she said fondly, before gripping his hair tightly again. “I may not be a man, but I am your master. There should only be one of each, between the two of us, I think.”

“Ah- all right, noted-“

She took advantage of her grip on him by kissing his bared throat.

“You know,” James began, gazing up at the ceiling again, “on consideration I find myself less opposed to the idea of that swan tattoo-“

“Yeah? Where shall you get it?  I have some ideas,” said Elizabeth - gliding her hand down his stomach teasingly.

“Elizabeth-“

“That would be so scandalous and none would ever see it but I-”

“How would they tell I’m yours, then, when we are apart-“

“Must we be apart? You’re giving up the Gloriana to be by my side and in my bed.”

“I’ll probably have to go out and do your bidding from time to time.”

“Oh, true enough. I don’t suppose you could tell them yourself?”

“I’m not exposing anyone but you to that much of myself, tattooed or not,” James retorted.

“That will have to satisfy me.  And, I find it does, now that I think on it.  I want you to belong to only me.”

He smiled tiredly. “I thought it might.”

“Then at least I know you are finally, finally convinced of the depth of my feelings for you.”

“You should know by now that I want nothing else as much as to be yours.”

Her fingers in his hair turned as coddling as they were possessive.  She opened her mouth so as to speak, but nothing came to mind, and so, after a moment of this, she shut her mouth, and smiled and shook her head gently, as though conceding the speechlessness contentment and bliss had brought her to.

“And you can have your damned earring,” he added, before kissing her.

Elizabeth smiled so hard into this kiss that she had difficulty returning it. James noticed and rolled her on top of him with a warm, satisfied laugh.

“I want…”

“Yes, darling?”

“I want the world to see the way you have affected me,” he said softly.

“You mean you want to look dangerous,” she said, with a wicked showing of her teeth.

“It wouldn’t hurt anything,” James said, grinning back.

“My darling Captain.”  She pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed it.  “I confess, I am impatient for it.”

“Not dangerous enough for your taste yet, I presume?”

“For the two of us to do something fun,” she clarified.  “I miss raiding.  I should like to do it with you sometime.”

“A suitable target, I hope,” James said, very seriously.

“Oh, darling, let’s get one of Beckett’s,” she said with bright, misty eyes.

“I will purloin you another crew.”

She kissed him as if he had told her he planned to pick her a bouquet of wildflowers. James meshed both hands into her hair and guided her along the way, but he was gentler this time- more lingering.

The kiss, which had begun almost affectedly chaste, deepened gradually with time.

James released her hair from one hand and let it glide down her back instead, until it found her backside. He gripped it- lightly, teasingly, but a grip all the same.

“When they write the ballads in years to come, they will recall that I turned pirate in your bed…”

Elizabeth laughed in response, low and sultry.  She pulled back just enough to turn her eyes up to his, stealing a glance in secret, unabashed pleasure.

“Lord, our reputations are really sealed in stone, aren’t they?”

“I don’t expect to be anything but an addendum to your story.”

“You a degenerate. Me a whore.”

“You, an outlaw woman-king-”

“And a whore,” she said, her mood perhaps a little less pleased.  “I know what people think like.”

“People think that of queens who began their lives as princesses as well,” James reminded her.

She thought of the English queen whose name she shared and tried to cheer herself up a bit.  “Yeah, I suppose,” she said, a bit more brightly. His hand helped.  “I don’t mind being your…. “  No good; even at her bawdiest she could not say that.  “...I do not mind being yours.”

“You’re more of a bride regardless,” James said offhandedly. “You came to me good as one regardless-“

“I know,” she said, and briefly smiled, radiant as one. “But that’s not what the ballads will say.”

“Are you so certain?” he asked, as he began to bend his head toward her neck and kissed her collarbone. “You’ve demonstrated a rather imperious fidelity to your- mm, what did you suggest? Your werewolf lover-“

“I’ve been held captive by two pirate lords,” she said rather loudly.  “Married once now.  After being engaged to you first.  Then there’s the curious ambiguity of my situation with Jack.  I’m afraid I shall never convince anyone I was a maid before now.”

“They’re as likely to consider you soiled and vengeful about it as anything else.”

“I suppose it’s for the best. To be honest,” she said, and realizing this cheered and relieved her immensely, “I would rather that rumor than the truth be known.  Elizabeth Swann a maid, even her husband having had no pleasure off her-”

“Give me another fifteen minutes and I shall make you less of one,” James cut in.

“Oh, sweet boy, there is yet one particular quality of maidenhood you cannot ease me out of,” she crooned, touching his cheek gently with one hand - and sliding the other down her own thighs.

“Lie back and we'll see about that…”

“I think you might see something.  Sit up.”

“No interest in my going between your thighs, then?”

She pushed him backward daintily with one foot, which should capture his attention - and give him a fairly good vantage point when she began to glide her fingertips over herself and smirk at him.

“Elizabeth, what is-“

“Do you want to help me ease the trousers off? I cannot guarantee you shall be allowed anything but a view, but-”

“Elizabeth!”

“I don’t think you can convince me you wouldn’t enjoy it,” said Elizabeth, wriggling out of them.

“If it's all the same to you, I'd rather participate-”

“Oh,” she said breathlessly, fast on her way to being quite naked; “would you?”

“It will certainly hold my attention better-”

“We’ll see.”

Elizabeth put her foot on his thigh, forbidding silently that he should move from where he sat, and met his eyes as she glided her hand over her pelvis.  She touched her lips with her tongue, almost nervously, and then her mouth opened and she let out a small moan.

“Oh, my God-”

James had to look away.

“James! I command you to pay me - the attention and the respect I am owed, both as your captain and as your woman-”

“ELIZABETH.”

“Please, James,” she pleaded.

“I don't- I don't fully understand-”

He looked at her in apprehensive anguish.

“I just want - I want you to see-”

“I'm not sure I can- react appropriately-”

“All I want you to do is watch me - and perhaps- later -”

“Let me-”

“Perhaps later-” she said, out of breath - as much from shyness as anything else; she was hardly touching herself yet, not without reassurance that he wouldn’t look away - “you might - think on it-”

“I don’t want to think of it later,” he said, attempting to maneuver himself out from behind her leg so he could lay beside her, and finding it difficult. “I want to assist you- now-”

“I’m asking you to let me show you - perhaps you’ll - have some advice - and - if you would like to assist-”

Elizabeth swept her hair off her neck with her other hand and pushed her shoulders back, tilting her head and extending her neck.  “- will you - will you put your hand here -”

“Yes-”

He clapped his hand, more roughly than intended, to the side of her throat, and then quickly relaxed it again to support the back of her neck.

“Will this help-”

“Will you touch me - just here, and…”  She trailed her fingers down and over her breasts.

“May I kiss you?”

“I want you to watch me-”

“Are you certain?” He pressed his lips to her shoulder- a safe place, he assumed, to test the waters.

“Yes-” she moaned, but it was momentarily ambiguous as to whether or not this was an answer.

“Absolutely?” Her throat now.

“You may kiss me later,” she said, and now the moan in her voice was slightly petulant.

“If you insist. I was prepared to move downward, you know.”

“I do insist. You know that I do, why are you trying to weasel your way out of it-”

She had stopped what she was doing on account of the lull in his attention.  He sapped all the fun out of it.

“I thought I might intensify things-”

“Wait,” she said, now more irritated than anything else. “Until you’re asked for.”

“Am I still permitted to touch you?”

“You are, but I may rescind that- if you keep misbehaving-”

“Misbehaving? Is that what you call it?” he asked, trailing one finger along the underside of her breast.

She made a soft, indecipherable noise.

“If you can’t be patient,” she amended, in a more tender tone of voice.

“Not an hour ago, you were furious with the thought that I did not want you,” James said, as he moved that finger along to the other breast.

“I never really doubted that you wanted me,” said Elizabeth now, pushing herself up onto her elbows.  “Just perhaps that you did not want me as I want you - there’s a difference.  You are a little aloof, James.”

“Mmm. Well, you may remove that from your concerns, madam. You have my full-”

He curved his hand up and squeezed.

“-attention.”

“I had better,” she murmured, laying back down again almost sleepily. “You had better watch.”

“I don't know when I'll be ready,” he said, with a significant downward gesture.

“That doesn’t matter-”

“Fortunately for you, I haven't eyes for anything else,” James said, arranging himself to watch her.

The result of having to talk him into it was that Elizabeth was now a little shy about it.

“So why did you mind before-”

“I have to remind myself I'm not prying.”

Elizabeth lay back on the bed with a nervous hum.  It made her feel slightly better to slide her foot back into his lap in the process of parting her legs again; at least she could distract herself teasing him. James watched and felt his confidence eroding more and more the wider her legs spread.

“Should I be… er- taking notes-”

“Shh.  Let me look at you.”

“-yes, Elizabeth.” He swallowed, hard.

That made it easier - watching his throat jump like that - that made her want to do it.

“You- you have me at a tremendous loss-”

She shut her eyes for a moment, fancying she could hear his tremulous breathing.  Most likely untrue, but it did help.  “Oh, James-” she murmured, almost inaudibly.

“Elizabeth,” he said, so flustered his voice came close to cracking, “I could help if you liked-”

“You’re doing enough,” she sighed dismissively, leaning her head back.  That was true; James in this state did more for her than all of the other stimulations in the world.

“This feels unforgivably decadent,” he said, eyes widening.

“No, then there’d - oh - there would be - you would peek at me through veils-”

Elizabeth was still quick with words, but it was taking more and more concentration to be so.

“As though you’re on display for my- er- benefit-”

“I am-”

“Oh, God- Elizabeth, I'm not ready- I actually feel quite pleased, thank you-”

Oh, he was flustered, all right- flustered enough that he began laughing at his own foolishness and covered his eyes in embarrassment.

“Mm,” she complained, opening her own eyes in time to see him bury his.  “Do you want to assist me, James?” she asked breathily, turning her foot to dig her heel into his thigh, a nudge to get his attention.

“I certainly might be more effective that way,” he said, lowering his hand to look at her. “I fear we have some time before I’m of much use otherwise.”

“I can - nnh - delay my gratification-” she said, and the motion of her hand slowed.  “I thought I told you to look-”

“I think,” James said gently, “it will have the effect you desire on me if we wait until then.”

“Oh, very well,” she said, a little sleepily, but game.  “Come here and clean my hands.”

James slid up beside her and picked up his discarded shirt to wipe her off, punctuating the gesture with a little kiss to her forehead.

“Now help me dress…”

“Oh, are we finished? I do enjoy looking at you this way.”

She flushed and beamed at him, sitting up a little shakily - she was rather far along, with no closure in sight. “I feel exposed,” she said, without any self-recrimination or even any irony.

“Would you have me finish you?” he asked, putting his arm around her to support her.

“Not if there’s a chance that…”

“Hmm? Darling, you seem a little unsteady-”

“You made me an offer earlier,” she said, putting her arm around his shoulders just to pull him close enough to lick his ear.

“I can do more than that,” he reminded her. “You're not as easily winded as I may be.”

“Perhaps I want to make you wait,” she teased him.

“I haven't much choice at the moment,” he said, giving her ear a little reciprocal nip.

“To please me-”

James kissed her forehead again.

“You're burning up, sweetheart.”

“I am not.”

“Are you certain you want to wait?”

“I am certain that I want to drive you mad,” she said, kissing him slowly.

“Lisbet-”

He laughed against her lips. “Lisbet, it's not that, it's… it won't have the effect that you think. I can't- a man can't be driven mad for a certain period after his last exertion. It's not only a matter of whether or not he may stand at attention-”

“Then I’lll wait-”

“Very well. I only hate to see you suffer.”

“I don’t suffer,” she said, smirk widening.  “You hate nothing. You enjoy pleasing me.”

“At present, I’m afraid I can't enjoy anything much more intensely than smiling and nodding.”

“Come here, then, and enjoy my smiles,” she said, reaching to stroke his hair again.

“Gladly,” he said. “You may have mine in return, but I doubt they are quite so dazzling.”

“Your doubt is misplaced,” she murmured.

He laughed again, leaning his forehead on hers. “Well, I suppose you were hardly more sober than I was.”

“I remember last night better,” she pointed out.

“That would certainly explain your looking better than I suppose I must.”

“You’re beautiful,” she argued, before thinking better of it.

James met her eye for a moment, grinning with flattered pleasure.

“I’m not making an argument for my own ruination,” he said, “only a lapse in judgement last night. I’ll accept the compliment.”

“You do nothing without my permission,” she said, extremely pleased, pulling his hand to her heartbeat.  “The fault is mine, darling.”

“And what fault is that-”

“For letting you drink-”

“It would appear to have been a good time for all involved. I forgive you.”

“Mmm, show me.”

“How’s this-“

He kissed her, vehemently and open-mouthed. James was still some minutes away from being able to react as much as they would both like, but knowing that this would have an effect on her was its own satisfaction.

Elizabeth had not expected that - not when he was acting so spent.  She arched upwards against him, gasping his name.

“Were it not for the risk, I would have you as soon as I am able-“

“Mm, what if -”

“Hm-”

“- I want you,” she said quickly, shyly.  “We could risk it-”

“Even if I were to get you with child?” James asked, leaning in toward her again.

“We’ve -” She kissed him. “- discussed this-”

“Elizabeth, I…”

He hesitated, the same old litany of concerns playing on a loop in his mind.

“I- if you’re certain, Elizabeth, I don’t think anything could make me happier than to have a child with you-”

“Why is this always the first place your mind goes,” she complained.

“Because neither of us is diseased,” he said dryly, “so that’s out of our concern.”

“Yes, but-” She snorted in displeasure.  It was not a fun distraction, thinking about raising a child, foggy and unfamiliar though the idea was.  Thinking of carrying one was even worse.  

“I suppose I could try to withdraw in time,” James murmured, “though- well.”

He gestured at himself.

“Do you prefer to wait for a quondam,” she asked gently, cupping his cheek.

“No-” he said, a little too quickly.

Then:

“...but speaking practically, yes.”

She smiled at him, perhaps a little disappointed, but overall visibly content.

“Then we shall.”

“More’s the pity,” said James, who was more than a little disappointed himself. “You're certain-”

“We’ve managed this long,” she said gamely, struggling to maintain the facade of a self-sacrificing good mood.

“I know,” he groaned. “Believe me, I have searched for a substitute-”

“I like the things we do,” she said with an affronted sniff.

“As do I. You know that.”

“Then why are you so dissatisfied?”

“Dissatisfied is the wrong word,” said James. “It is more of a longing.”

“There you go, being poetic again,” she said drily - before she could take it back.  It was a defensive manoeuver, always responding with sarcasm when James had done some romantic thing she could not possibly reciprocate.

“It is what one might eventually have done with a wife, after all-”

“You did not think about this when you wanted me for your wife,” she reminded him with a wry smile.

“Through great effort alone,” said James. “And perhaps- well, one day. Presumably far in the future, we may still-”

Elizabeth sat up, blindly reaching around for her clothes.

“Hm?”

“-marry.”

“Very far, I would imagine,” she said musingly, but without a great deal of thought.

“Far enough to make dwelling on it foolish.”

Elizabeth pulled her shirt on lazily, one sleeve at a time, but could not bother to button it just yet.  She fingercombed her hair over one shoulder, picking out the tangles left there from this most recent romp, reminiscing fondly on how they’d got there - both his strong, broad hands buried in her hair and urging her on while he arched underneath her - her name on his lips and his pleasure on hers.

It made her beam up at him a little slyly.

“You know,” she said, “I like it when you call me ‘Lisbet.’”

James grinned. “I shall make an effort to recall that.”

“I’ve never been Lisbet before,” she said wistfully.  “It makes me feel… It reminds me that I am only yours.”

She was not certain she was anyone’s, but it would not be worthwhile to tell him so.

“Surely you're not dressing already,” he said as he sat up himself. He had been momentarily distracted in watching her.

“I feel naked,” she said bluntly.

“For what it's worth,” said James, “I like you naked.”

“I thought you liked me in trousers, dressed up like a sailor…”

“I enjoy both, but one is decidedly easier to have you in.”

“To have me, you mean,” said Elizabeth, tone light.

“I certainly won't object to trousers, if that's what you prefer.”

“Yeah, but kind of difficult to have me in trousers, hmm? Without making a mess.”

“Mm, yes, rather.”

She reached for them anyway.

“Must I do everything myself around here?” James grumbled, reaching toward his own crotch and gauging her reaction.

One of her lovely eyebrows lifted, and her smile grew perhaps a touch smug, but she did not comment. James was, of course, still not quite ready to begin with, and leaned back against the wall, still seated in bed.

“Well,” he said, “by all means, don't let me keep you.”

“Oh, no, now you’ve raised my interest-”

“It will have to wait all the same. Your trousers will not diminish my interest, believe me.”

“James,” she laughed.

“Yes, Lisbet?”

Her gaze grew tender.  “James,” she repeated, leaning across the bed to kiss him.

“Mm- yes, darling?”

“Just let me say it,” she whispered to tease him, and kissed him again.

“Ah-”

He was still bleary-eyed, but positively beaming between kisses.

“Have at me, then, my stubborn little sailor…”

She whispered his name as she kissed him, guiding, first, his hand to her breast, and then sliding hers between his legs.

“Forgive me if I am slow to react…”

“Forgiven,” she said primly.  “Thank you for permitting this…”

“The pleasure is mine-“

“Not that it is really yours to permit me,” she said, with a flash of hungry teeth.  “You belong to me, body and soul-”

James laughed. “Oh, of course. It’s mutual, isn’t it?”

“Yes-” Elizabeth gasped.  He might have been slow to react, but she wasn’t.

“Oh- mm. Good, then-“

She moved closer then, parting his legs and sitting between them, her free hand roaming along his bare torso idly while she kissed him.  If his body was hers, she would act like it.

“You poor creature, you must still be on fire-“

“I am!” she laughed, or cried, against his mouth.  “Good Christ-”

“I’ll have to finish you next-“

“You can go between my legs again - if you want,” she said, turning her eyes up to his quickly.

“Mm- that may take too much time. I would not see you forced to wait any longer-“

“I want to wait for you-” she insisted.

“I could try to manage it now if you would like-“

“Not yet,” said Elizabeth.  “When you beg for it- then we can.”

“You had better make it slow, then-”

“Take as long as you like,” said Elizabeth, kissing him on the neck now.  “I’ll be here.”

“And you're certain that will bring you off? I would hate to make you- nnn- wait again-”

“I think a breeze would finish me- If there’s so much as a draft in here, it’ll finish our fun prematurely-”

“Fortunately for you,” said James, as he semi-blindly groped forward to pull on her shirt, “you're easier to start up again than I-”

“Start up again? But I never stopped-”

“Were a breeze to finish you-”

His words cut off in a harsh, biting sound as he gasped and grit his teeth, eyes wide, though not precisely disturbed or displeased.

“Where did you learn to do this?”

“Uh, here, you brilliant mastermind.”

“You're rather good at it.”

James was trying to be dry, but it was difficult under the circumstances. He pushed Elizabeth's shirt off of one of her shoulders.

“Take hold of my hair, will you? I’ve not grown it for you to ignore it at a crucial moment such as this-”

“Oh, darling,” said Elizabeth in a swoon, though her grip was firm and punishing and her smile was cruel and playful.  “Forgive me my negligence. You know I am still unused to these matters.  I get so distracted so easily.”

“You’re- ah- forgiven-”

“I can’t seem to help myself.  You know how I love doting on your prick-”

“I’ve noticed.”

“- you could dissuade me, you know. Try being less provocative-”

“-oh, so I’m provoking you now-”

“Biggest tease on the ocean.”

“The better to render the family name good and blackened-”

“Biggest something else on the ocean too,” she murmured; “or perhaps that’s only the limits of my imagination-“

“That's- you've a bias,” James blurted, going red in the face.

“Just can’t imagine they get any bigger.  Hard enough to get the whole thing in my-”

“Oh my God.”

“I’ll have to work on it.”

“It's- I've heard that attribute is of no real consequence,” James said awkwardly. “It's something men crudely brag of in taverns to win fights, and of no value beyond that-”

Elizabeth smirked at him, like a cat presented suddenly with a saucer of cream.  

“Your modesty in this matter does much to assure me my assumption is correct.  You would only inform me - with so much humility and shyness as this - of the irrelevance of that attribute if you knew you possessed it.”

“I don't want you to think it's beyond disappointment-”

“James,” she said, with great majesty composing her features into a more frank expression. “I hope you understand me. I know very well the disappointments you are capable of.”

“Not- gah!- all of them!”

“No? Surely I am. Your oppressive good manners, your projected blandness, your morbid detachment from carnal matters-”

“Must you call it morbid-”

“As one dead, Captain.”

“Does this feel dead to you!?”

Elizabeth could not hold back her smile forever, not when her teasing found so soft and easy a target.

“No,” she said softly, leaning in closer and rubbing him more slowly.  “Not at all.”

“Christ,” he said, “I should hope not-”

She thought of her experience with dead men and brushed it off.  

“Show me,” she murmured; “kiss me.”

“Don't let me go,” said James, and he did.

Oh, she loved him. Good Christ, how she loved him.

Elizabeth felt a stab of pleasure go through her like bright, sticky lightning and gasped against his lips.

“I think I'm sufficiently prepared,” James whispered into her open mouth. “Lie down, dearest-”

She didn’t need a second telling.  She did not quite lie down, though, leaning up on her elbows because she couldn’t take her eyes off him.  His hair hung in short, tousled waves around his face - eyes all the more interesting with his tan - and she couldn’t stop looking at that face she had known so well, and somehow only recently discovered was so handsome it made her heart beat faster to see him smiling, just for her. James began to maneuver himself into position and then stopped, though he rubbed the inside of her thigh to assure her that he was in no way reluctant.

“Darling?”

“Yes?” she asked, nearly panting, cupping his cheek so that she could keep taking in the sight of him.

“Do you want to be on top?”

“Oh,” she exclaimed.  “If - if you think- if it’s safe-”

“It might be safer. Gravity and all that-”

Elizabeth was already pushing him down and straddling him, too enthusiastic to notice she’d been a bit rough.

“Careful-” James blurted, but he was too busy laughing to imbue it with much authority.

Elizabeth let out a loud sigh.

“I don’t tire of that-” she gasped, when she could manage words.  “James, Christ-”

“What now-”

“What do you think-”

“I’m flummoxed.” It doubled as a convenient euphemism.

“James,” she said, exasperated - more than a little physically overwhelmed.  She had been wanting a long time, and yet there seemed to be still more barriers to her personal satisfaction.

“I love you,” he said, reaching with one unsteady hand to brush a lock of her hair back.

That only increased her desire - it did not fulfill it.  She shut her eyes, more aware once she had of the sound of her breathing, shaky and shallow.  

“I love you-” she countered in nearly a whisper.  “ - touch me, will you?”

His hands found her breasts. James lightly stroked one of her nipples with the pad of his thumb.

She let out a whimper and closed her arms around his shoulders, burying her face into the hollow of his throat.  Elizabeth was not generally self-conscious enough to seek to muffle herself, but the only man alive whose disapproval and hurt mattered to her was on this ship - and besides that, she thought she might make a lot of noise.

“Would you prefer I- nn- muffled you myself?”

James was trying to sound teasing. It was about as hard as he was.

Elizabeth shut them both up for a good long while. James’s participation was necessarily somewhat limited, but he had to playfully pull himself away from her from time to time- make it a game- to extend his own longevity, and hopefully hers as well, while making it clear that he was not experiencing another attack of reluctance or misplaced conscience. He could only pray that his- hopefully- wolfish grin when he did, and his eager, exploratory hands gave the game away.

By the time they had both climaxed and fallen into one another's arms, James’s headache had mostly dissipated. Whether that was the Advil or two rounds of release, he couldn't say, but it was a blessed relief either way to bury his face against her neck, into the sea salt scent of her hair and no longer feel the burn behind his eyelids.

“Good Christ,” he murmured. “You're… mmph. You're very good at that.”

After such a long time of wanting it, to finally achieve this elation had exhausted her.  Elizabeth was entirely spent and refused to do any more than the bare minimum of movement. Therefore the pressure of her fingers against the back of his neck, sunk into the base of his hair, was very light, and their motion was very slow.  It did not quite qualify as a massage.  A good wind would have been stronger.

“Elizabeth?”

He propped himself up on one elbow.

“James?”

“Ah, good. There you are. I thought you had exhausted yourself.”

“Myself? You exhausted me.”

“One does not wish to overestimate one’s contributions,” James said, affectedly stiff and more than a little self-mocking.

“You wore me out,” she complained, while smiling.

“I did notice a fair bit of recurrence.” This was a bit more smug. “I did not even realize this kind of success was possible with your particular anatomy-”

“I did not realize it was not with yours.  You’ve been….. mm, instructive,” she said, biting her lip and smiling.

“Ah, good,” he said again, as he did not wish to say anything more vulgar. “Put your hand in my hair again, will you?”

She threaded her fingers through it, remarking again on its admirable curl and depth of color, and reminding him that she had still not grown used to seeing him without his formal wig, but liked him better every single day.  In general she liked to look at him. He was beautiful, and realizing both that he was hers - and that she had almost lost him - made her more inclined to linger on the thought.

“Most of the curl will be weighted out by the time I am able to tie it.”

This came out in a startlingly rueful tone from the sheer force of fear of disappointing her. James immediately covered his eyes with his hand in mortification.

“Pardon me- I did not intend to sound so morbid where something so petty is concerned.”

She laughed at him. “James, it’s not a big deal.”

“I know it isn't- though in truth, living up to your expectations often feels like the most important demand in my life at present-”

“You have far exceeded my expectations. You know what I thought of you.”

“You have no trouble reminding me,” James said dryly. “I couldn't not know.”

“You meant my... present expectations?”

In truth, Elizabeth had none - she did not think of relationships in that transactional way he assumed - but she wanted to soften what she had just said.  

“...yes?” said James, with an uneasy rising intonation.

“That you comfort me, and irritate me, and make up for it; that you be sarcastic and interesting, and sensitive, and in need of your own comfort and irritation; and that you make me regret the last few years sorely, but the last few months not at all, and make me impatient for the future? And that you be as good a second as any captain could imagine, and as good as a husband to boot, and that you be here, in this bed, when I climb into it in at night, even when our day has been awful, and I am stinking angry at you?”

She pinched his nose.

“You’re better than I expect, a great deal so.  I never thought you would give over the Gloriana to be with me, and you’ve said you will.  I still cannot believe you brought me the heart of Davy Jones, for that matter.  And, darling James,” she laughed, pinching his chin instead. “You grew a beard for me.”

“It was the least I could do after you saved my life,” he said, faux-somberly. “Twice, to be fair.”

“I only saved your life the once.  And you had saved mine already.”

“I seem to recall a rum bottle cracked over my head-”

“Ah, well. That wasn’t guaranteed in either direction,” she said, but she looked smug.

“I want to do right by you,” he said, with a softer, more sincere note creeping into his voice. “Everything else is secondary. I suppose I will sort  out in time.”

“You do,” she said, fond with exasperation.

“It’s a matter of convincing myself, then,” said James. “Of- of allowing myself to believe that.”

She brushed his hair back from his forehead. She couldn’t think of what to say to convince him - or make him convince himself - and so she did not say anything. James closed his eyes and tilted his head into her caressing.

“If it is easier to consider it as such,” he sighed, “you may consider it more of a desire to honor your choice of myself even with your former husband back in the situation.”

A pause.

“That,” said James, “and- God help me-”

He inhaled sharply, going a little red with embarrassment. He was silent again for a moment.

“...I liked your doting on my prick, as you called it.”

Since she had made that brazen declaration in the first place, it was perhaps ironic for Elizabeth to respond to having it tossed back in her face by growing flushed and pressing her nose into her arm.

“- is that what I called it? Ah - well - I suppose - it’s apt, isn’t it?”

“It's what you called it,” he muttered, covering his face, “it will do-”

“Perhaps, seeing as - you liked it - you might -”  She tucked her head onto his shoulder and nudged him, curling up beside him as she did. “ - permit it more frequently-”

“I- yes, I suppose. I… I could, couldn't I?”

James's voice was a little fragile with bafflement. For the first time since very early in their rekindled acquaintance, he felt as though he were looking at her curled up on someone else's shoulder.

She pressed coaxing kisses against his ear, his bearded cheek, and his fingers, which still lay over his face.

“I do dote on you,” she whispered, gently headbutting him and smiling to herself.

“I’m very aware-” James blurted. “I-”

“- like it?” she supplied, stroking his chin again.

“-yes, that too.”

“Oh, and what else, Captain Norrington?”

“I imagine I can permit it. More than that- request it-”

He lowered his hand- he had already been looking out from behind his spread fingers- to look at her properly.

“Oh?” she breathed, delighted.

“Subject to your consent, of course-”

“That’s all I want,” she said, leaning her cheek on him again ecstatically.  “We’ll be - we’ll be just like outlaw lovers in a ballad, huh?  Real lovers - not that we aren’t lovers.  But you’re so - you’re so - you’re so reluctant-”

“Happier than a ballad, I hope-”

“You make me happier than anyone is in a song,” said Elizabeth, forgetting momentarily every eye-roll, every yawn and every bit tongue - she kissed his cheek, enthusiastic and sincere.

“How is that earring practice coming along?” he teased, pushing his hand up into her hair as she kissed him.

“Mmm, touch my hair, James-”

“You needn’t ask-”

She shut her eyes and let him, a smile stealing over her face. James obligingly began gently working out the lingering tangles in her hair with his curved fingers.

“Am I permitted to show you a greater amount of public affection after last night?” he asked.

“- not until Will’s left,” she said, with sudden, unexpected tension.

“Ah,” he said. “A pity, that. I had rather hoped, given your apparent enjoyment-”

“Not until Will’s left,” she repeated in a haze.

“All right,” he said, kissing her on the temple in reassurance.

“I couldn’t -  couldn’t - make him watch that-” she said numbly.

“Then I suppose I shall have to detain you out of his sight more often,” James laughed.

“You - you may have to do that.”

She was stumbling over her words, the swiftness of the unhappy reminder - the heartache it gave her - rendering her briefly useless; she burrowed into his arms and stayed for a moment.  Then she rolled over and flashed him a tired smile.

“It’s going to be difficult to stay off you, even in front of the crew,” she goaded him; “so I shall need more of you than ever when we are alone.”

“I intend to give it,” he said as he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “As much of me as you will have-”

“I could eat you alive,” she said with a smirk.

“I can think of no happier demise,” said James, beaming.

He was so proud of that, she realized - he really had wanted this, and nothing more.  Or nothing less, perhaps, was a better phrasing.

Elizabeth pulled his hand to her lips now in return. James's smile softened.  

“I am not living for you alone,” he said, “but what joy it is to live for you at all.”

She rubbed his thumb with hers affectionately.

“...yeah, I don’t mind it either,” she managed, blushing again; not the most romantic of affirmations, but sincere.

“... perhaps we ought to maintain a no-poetry policy-”

“We’re pirates. You might be just out of the Navy, James, but for my own part, I don’t think i can hold to policy all that well.”

“You would be amazed to know how similar they feel after a few months at sea,” James conceded, “when we're all sick to distraction of uniforms and protocol.”

“Understood,” she laughed.  “In any case, I cannot allow a no-poetry policy.  I am sorry, James, but the king has said her final word on the matter.”

“Then I shall have to cope with that, it seems,” he said, with an affectionate squeeze of the hand. “My God, Elizabeth. From the way you carry on, I sometimes suspect that even had we married it would have taken mere months before I might as well have wed another sailor.”

“Another boy sailor?”

James blinked, a little taken aback, and collected himself.

“Well,” he said, “if it were still you-“

“I don’t think I would have been quite so much of this then,” she said, a little cautiously - if he liked the thought of it, she did not want to discourage his affection for her; but she could not bid herself lie, either.

“That’s true,” he admitted. “And thinking of the others, I might have so much as grown too accustomed to you-“

“Lord, James, there’s no pleasing you.  You wouldn’t have been excited by my stockings or my corsets, but if I had taken to trousers you’d have bored of that too?”

“I never said a word about stockings-“ he interjected, too quickly.

“Oh,” she said, grinning.

“Elizabeth.”

“Well, indeed, I suppose you did not, though I assumed-”

“Stockings aren’t much for artifice-“

“I thought all of those little feminine trappings disagreed with you.  All of that beribboned nonsense.”

“Not all of it, certainly-“

He pressed his lips together.

“There’s nothing to recommend against a chemise, either,” he said finally. “And I suppose panniers on their own have a degree of charm to balance out the stays-“

Elizabeth’s expression made the rounds between amusement, to incredulity, to exasperation with a startling quickness.

“James Norrington, you ass!” she shouted, hitting him in the shoulder.

“What have I done now?” he protested.

“Perjured yourself - though I should have expected no less from so foul and so black a brigand,” she said, thumping him again.

“You know what I prefer- for heaven’s sake, Lisbet, what do you suppose Lettie wore?”

“You said you didn’t like all of that! You told me so-”

“It’s certainly not my ideal-“

“You said you didn’t like it. You said it had no appeal.”

“Not under a dress, it doesn’t!”

“But we talked about it! We talked about - women, in a state of undress - and you said you didn’t care for those things!”

“I said I don’t care for stays, Elizabeth, I was quite specific-“

“I am certain I asked after everything else,” she grumbled.  “I remember-”

“It’s of no consequence regardless,” he said heatedly. “I know how I prefer you.”

“Naked as the day I was born - that’s very glamorous-”

“In men’s clothing with scarcely anything left to be imagined,” he muttered, averting his eyes.

“In men’s clothing- you have to imagine everything in order to even believe there is a woman under them in the first place,” she exclaimed, exasperated.

“Not her legs- and not her arse, either-“

Elizabeth opened her mouth, but no sound came out this time. James shrugged uncomfortably.

She found herself blushing.  And trying not to smile.  And smiling.

“Really?” she asked, feeling the corner of her mouth tugging upward in spite of her best intentions.

“Yes,” he groaned.

“You like looking at - ?“

“Oh, my God- yes, all right? I know what I prefer-”

Elizabeth looked radiantly happy.  She could barely hear him.

“That is so - that is too kind of you.”

“Did you really believe that was all a lie?” he asked, frowning in concern.

“I thought you felt very little and wanted me to stop accusing you of it,” she laughed.

“For heaven's sake- just because I found a little to delight in when Lettie wore all of that-”

“You still seem very….” She hesitated to repeat the word ‘cool’ to him.  “...restrained about matters of preference,” she finished delicately.

“I don't wish to be churlish-”

“I think I’d like you to be a little bit of a brat to me sometimes,” said Elizabeth with a nudge.  “Just to make up for the way you are most of the time.”

James laughed a little tiredly.

“Lettie hardly had your abundance of hair, either,” he said, “and yet you know how I feel about that.”

“Mm, yes. The one thing on which we are in absolute agreement,” she said, pulling it to the side and scrunching it absentmindedly.  “I have very wonderful hair.”

James reached out and stroked it.

“Hers was a very pale blonde. She tinted it red and cut it around here-”

He touched about halfway down Elizabeth's neck.

“-filled it with switches lest anyone pulled on it, to spare her neck the strain. A rather grim occupational hazard, really. Don't tell her I told you that, if you ever meet her.”

Elizabeth pulled a face unintentionally.  “Do you think she would like me?”

“I would hope so,” said James. “It’s not as though we parted on poor terms; I can’t imagine her bearing you any ill-will.”

He sat up a little, to gain better access to her hair, and began working on some of the more stubborn snarls.

“I hope that this does not lessen your opinion of me.”

“What now?”

“My selective honesty, compounded by the impropriety of that which I chose to omit.”

“...the fact that you are only sometimes honest?  James, everyone is only sometimes honest.  I think Captain Barbossa is only sometimes partially honest, and he does his best not to be.”

“In matters of the heart,” he said gently, “it seems a rather cold detail to leave out. I did not realize it upset you to think I cared so little for all of that.”

“I don’t imagine you would,” she said, reconciliatory with private alarm, realizing at once she had made him think she was much more hurt than she was.  “I have never appeared to value my feminine attributes, such as I can be said to have them - why would you think I did?”

“You commented often enough on my alleged preference for a boy and my morbidity that I thought you must have thought I regretted your sex in the first place-”

“I think you regret that you want me - physically, anyway. I think you wish love were an entirely spiritual affair.”

“Not now I don't-”

“But you did.  Even after we got together.”

“Is that so disappointing?”

“Of course it was.”

“You were coming off of the end of your marriage- because of myself, I might add. I did not dare to get ahead of myself.”

“You remember how I was in Tortuga,” said Elizabeth, looking towards him in exasperation. “How badly I wanted you.”

“I know that,” he said. “But I did not know you would choose me in the end.”

“Whose heart were you protecting?”

James swallowed. “Both, I thought.”

She brushed her finger over his heart with the ghost of a smile.

“I’ll protect it, always,” she said in a soft voice.  “...your feelings, on the other hand, I cannot promise anything-”

“Don't worry about that,” he said. He released her hair to clasp her hand instead, with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

There was an awkward silence between them for a moment, which James broke with a small cough.

“I know I ought to dress and go out,” he said, “but I find I lack the impulse. What does Her Majesty suggest?”

“Well, it must be growing close to evening by now,” she said dubiously.  “We may as well.  And perhaps we’ll linger when the sun goes down.”

“Mm.” He stretched his back with a grimace. “I can only hope I don't look too dissipated.”

“The more dissipated, the better,” she said, leaning on his chest to look down into his eyes.  “You’re a pirate now.”

James scoffed. “Then perhaps we ought to change the standard.”

“No, I like the standard- it’s less work.”

“Suit yourself,” he laughed.

“I do,” she said loftily.

“Dissipation may be a bridge too far,” said James, settling in comfortably to hold her a moment longer. “We’ll have to find some adjacent adjective.”

He pushed his hair from his face, with the dim thought that he understood a little better now how much she could like how much he loved hers- even if she had specified their feelings were not quite matched in that regard. He wondered, vaguely, how long it could grow without the near-curl dropping out of it, and if he could get accustomed to not tying it back…

“What's the next nearest thing to dissipated? Tarnished?”

“That will do,” she said, muzzily.  The bed seemed hot and somewhat sticky, but she didn’t want to get up and get dressed, didn’t want to be released.

“Tarnished, then. I can be content with tarnished.” He dipped his hand around to the inside of her thigh, as though to make a point.

“Mmmmm, content indeed.”

“More than content, really,” he said, after a short pause. “Elizabeth-”

“James?”

“I hope that with our misunderstandings cleared away, you might permit me to ask for your attentions… often.”

“Which attentions?” she asked, stirring her fingers in his hair in the echo of a question.

James met her eyes.

“All of them. And- mine in return.”

“You want to ask for your own affections?” pressed Elizabeth, clearly amused.

“To give them, at least-”

“I do like your attentions,” she said in a low, baiting voice.

“And to receive yours,” said James, very seriously.

“You might not realize what you are opening yourself up to,” she said, creeping closer to him.

“How would you have me prepare myself, then-”

“I wouldn’t,” she teased, and kissed him.

“Mmm. I shall remain alert, then,” he said, with the ghost of a laugh.

She explored his mouth with her tongue, pushing him back onto the bed and leaning over him.  Her hair fell over him in a curtain of tangles. James looked up at her, guileless and joyful.

“What is it?”

“I love you, obviously,” she said, looking down into his eyes and snorting.

“Is that all?” James scoffed, too seriously to mean it.

“I love you and I don’t want to leave this bed,” she amended in apology.

“Oh, thank heaven. Neither do I.”

“Let’s forget today ever happened.  Like we slept right through it and go on deck tomorrow bright and early and express shock that anyone would wonder how we missed a full day, since all we remember is All Hallow’s Eve, and drinking enough to be sick.”

“Clever,” he laughed. “Agreed, then, save the part about pretending none of this happened. I want to treasure today in my heart as the day on which I feel we came to a stronger understanding.”

“James,” she said flatly.

“What is it?”

“You sound like a 90-year-old barn owl.”

“I don't want to forget today,” he said, with a resigned sigh.

“A stronger understanding, really? Because I-”

“-I feel we’re on the same page, at last, as concerns car-”

Too formal, still. James caught himself and had to take a moment to flake the excess ornamentation away from his words, until his feelings beneath them were exposed.

“Where fucking is concerned,” he said, with an embarrassed precision. “You don't understand how often I think of it- dwell on it-”

Elizabeth’s exasperation softened to be reminded that James was, after all, only a man - and a man she had lain with many times over now, to great mutual satisfaction, to boot.  It was pitifully easy to forget sometimes.

“You hide it rather better than most men do,” she said gently.

“Thank God for that,” he scoffed. “But I will… try… to hide it perhaps less-”

“Not in front of others,” said Elizabeth, a little mortified.

“Of course not! Let's not get ahead of ourselves-”

“But when we’re… alone together?”  She bit her lip hopefully.

“Oh- yes, darling, yes-”

“Then - that will be - very much to my preference,” she said delicately. The irony of her speaking like an owl did not go unappreciated, and Elizabeth cracked a smile reflecting on it.  “At the very least, I shall have no reason to think of you as morbid.”

James smiled a little tightly but had nothing else to add after that. He stretched, groaned, and fell back in place with a yawn.

“Is there enough water left in the basin to wash, do you suppose?”

“The important bits,” she said unruffledly.

“I see,” said James. “Do we plan on dirtying ourselves again?”

His hand in her hair tangled itself in firmly enough to give her a possessive little tug. “I could always wash you myself, but I fear that would end in defeating the purpose.”

“Mm-” she laughed.  “What a tempting offer.”

“If you were to take it up-”

(He kissed her collarbone.)

“-might you reciprocate?”

“You sure you want that?” she asked lightly, with a knowing smirk.

“...I do,” he said softly, the smirk momentarily falling from his face to be replaced by a look of utter open vulnerability.

[politics-not-my-thing]

Here is a non-comprehensive list of ways in which our society is Islamaphobic (a lot of these will also relate to racism because Islamaphobia and racism intersect making it hard to draw a line between the two):

We take for granted that "neutral" world building is world building with Christian elements as an unquestioned part of it. Most of the famous writers are from countries that have Christianity as the dominant religion, there will be elements of Christianity that they just see as normal such as the prevalence of Christmas and Easter, lent and Halloween. These aren't secular holidays, these are Christian holidays which we act as if they are secular. This is also true for many other religions but is a point worth being made

The way in which we don't get taught about any Islamic holidays or practices and, certainly in England, have to choose to study R.S. where our school might teach us about Islam

The portrayal of the Hijab and the Burka as oppressive I get that some countries do insist that women wear it whether they want to or not but if they are not in that country, it means the woman is choosing to wear it, it is most likely her choice so respect it

The way we focus on calling out sexism in Islam, yeah sure there are definitely practices which are sexist but a lot of those practices appear to be a reaction to the sexism at the time they were introduced and appear to be attempts at correcting it. It still needs to be talked about it but it is not the same as the sexism baked into Christianity. And on the topic of Christianity being sexist. You are choosing to call out only Islam for its sexism, it isn't really about the sexism then is it. You just wanted an excuse to be racist and Islamaphobic

The way we don't see Islamaphobic things as racist, yeah sure Islam is not a race, just a religion but it is about the race of the people practicing Islam as I don't ever see white Muslims being treated to the same level of discrimination as non-white Muslims. Most of the time white Muslims aren't even acknowledge, making Islamaphobia both against Islam and race

The way we choose to give a predemoniatley Muslim country over to another people, with the justification that the people had suffered. Excuse you but did Palestinian even have a say and would we have done it to a white or Christian country

Also the erasure of Islam from the Holocaust, sure one group suffered more than any other but the Nazis were against a lot of people basically anyone who wasn't "Aryan" and practiced a religion. The Nazis were also a product of the rising racism and push for eugenic projects in Germany, Europe and much of the Western world. The Nazis may have taken it to an extreme not yet seen before (in Europe) but they did not appear from thin air, they were a product of their time which needs to be acknowledged

This links to the erasure of Muslims from European history. Muslims lived in Europe from at least the Middle Ages. The trading we did with European nations meant that Europe and Muslim nation's were conversing leading to the movement of people both into and out of Europe, seeing Muslims living in Europe and Christians living elsewhere. Muslims didn't just suddenly move to Europe in the 21st century and thinking that is very limited of you and buys into racist trips which sees the inclusion of non-white cultures in history as not historically accurate despite all evidence to the contrary. I mean Spain had a thriving Muslim population

The erasure of Islam from both world history that, isn't the history of the Middle East, and European history. Sure the crusades are acknowledged but Muslims interacted with Europe in ways that were not fighting even during the time of the crusades, in fact Muslims countries were bustling during the Middle Ages so they were who Europe manly traded with and they kept many of our favourite sources alive during the European "dark ages" also they rose to power as Europe entered the "dark ages" so they had beautiful centres of knowledge and were a key part of history that should not be overlooked

Also the fact that we act like Islam was confined to the Middle East and a backwards religion. Islam is a truly interesting religion that saw great achievements which is something that Europe does not want to acknowledge. It also expanded into Africa and far past the 'Middle East' yet you confine it to one place to make Christianity seem more impressive

Because Islam is inherently linked to the Middle East by Europe the portrayal of the Middle East as savage and barbaric is frequently not only racist but Islamaphobic, pick up a history book it was far from barbaric

Also despite linking the Middle East to Islam we act like the invasion of the Middle East is a purely secular event, except when portraying Muslims as the aggressors and problem in the Middle East even as it is countries dominated by white politicians which invade the countries and fail to acknowledge their own brutal actions, focusing only on the violence of Islam

The portrayal of Islam as nothing but a terrorist religion in all but a handful of media portrayals. Even in a show that tried to say Muslims were not inherently terrorists, by having a Muslim being the victim of terrorism, the show still used a Muslim as a terrorist villain (just one which disguised themselves as Christian which is harmful for obvious reasons) and had the only Muslim woman it featured actively cheating on her husband. I don't care if the main character openly talked about how against Islamic beliefs terrorism is and how the story tried to confront Islamaphobia in its characters because the storyline still buys into the racist trope of Muslims as terrorist therefore undercutting all the good it was trying to achieve. How about just not making a Muslim the terrorist an instead having the Muslim character being framed for being a terrorist forcing the characters to face their own biases as they come to the realisation it was easier to suspect the Muslim was a terrorist than to see them as innocent due to the Islamaphobia they carry with them and how this actively harmed their investigation

The way we make fun of and belittle Muslims for not eating pork, making it to be a cultural thing and point out how it is not actually religious. This stinks of religious and cultural superiority because it refuses to acknowledge that it is common for schools to serve Fish on Fridays in England due to the influence of Christianity. Sure a lot of Brits may not do that anymore, but a lot of Brits are also not practicing Christians, atheists or barely practicing Christians

The way FGM, which is just a cultural thing, is made out to be a Muslim thing. FGM is disgusting and needs to be stopped but the way it is portrayed is racist. We treat sexist acts as a nuanced and complicated only when it applies to white cultures, but the moment it is practiced by non-white cultures it is evil and obviously wrong. Once again, it is not the sexism you care about then is it

Also the general discussion of Islam as nothing but the worst thing the people who practice it do and all but homogenous rather than a nuanced, complicated and living religion with the specific practices depending on which group of Muslims you talk to and whether the Muslim you are talking to belongs to a Mosque rather than practicing on their own

There is definitely more Islamaphobic practices that should be called out so feel free to add on

[anne-wentworth]

Something About Her

Chapter 5- This is Halloween 

Donna drags Harvey to a Halloween party.

Read on ao3

Chapter 1 2 3 and 4

One of the many things that Harvey had learned about Donna Paulsen was that she loved Halloween.

He wasn’t surprised because of...well her entire personality.

However, he wasn’t much of a fan of the holiday himself.

Donna was absolutely mortified when she found out.

“First Shakespeare now Halloween? Why am I even friends with you?” she had asked exasperatedly.

“Because of my good looks and charm,” Harvey grinned, to which Donna responded with a very undignified snort.

But because she was Donna and he was Harvey he let her convince him to go with her to some Halloween party that a friend of a friend was hosting.

Another thing he had learned about her was that she had a lot of friends.

His own friend, Jared, had laughed mercilessly at him when Harvey complained about the party during class.

“God you’re so fucked.”

Harvey hadn’t even bothered to respond because there was nothing he could say.

He was fucked.

Yet, he didn’t really care. He knew that he would happily follow Donna anywhere if she asked but it didn’t bother him one bit. After all, she was worth it.

“God you’re such a nerd,” was first thing Donna said upon laying eyes on his Han Solo getup as she opened the door.

Harvey felt every ounce of oxygen leave his body as he took in Donna in her black dress and red lipstick. Her hair was in an updo, showing off the perfect angles of her face and allowing the light to hit the glittering earrings she wore. Audrey Hepburn couldn’t have done it better herself.

“You’re a theatre kid,” he countered as soon as he found his tongue.

Donna glared at him so hard he was surprised he didn’t drop dead.

With a huff, she turned on her heel after loudly shutting the door and began walking away from her dorm, as well as him.

“Oh come on!” Harvey called out as he chased after her. “I’m sorry!”

Donna ignored him, continuing to walk at a pace that should not be possible for someone wearing heels.

“Please forgive me,” he implored, shooting her his most innocent smile.

With a sigh, she stopped, turning to face him.

“You know that Specter charm you’re always talking about is non-existent right?”

“No you’re just Donna and it doesn’t work on you because you’re a superior human being.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Donna said as she poked his chest, the corners of her mouth quirking up.

“I know,” Harvey replied with a smirk of his own.

“You’re such an idiot.”

“You’re friends with an idiot.”

“You’re my idiot,” she said and his heart jumped out of his goddamn chest.

“Come on let’s go,” Donna added as she began walking again.

Harvey followed her with a spring in his step and a grin on his face that remained for the entirety of their journey.

Leaning against a wall, Harvey watched Donna swaying on the makeshift dance floor with a few friends as the latest Taylor Swift single blasted in the background.

She had tried to convince him to join her but he claimed that him dancing was something no one ever needed to witness. For the moment she let him be but he knew she would soon return with those pleading eyes and eventually he’d relent.

“Never thought I’d see you here.”

Harvey turned in the direction of the familiar voice and found himself staring at Poison Ivy.

“I could say the same thing,” he replied.

Sara hated Halloween more than anyone he knew.

“My girlfriend dragged me,” she nodded towards a blonde dressed as Harley Quinn who was talking to a guy in a french fry costume.

Harvey had to give him points for originality.

“What brings you here? Or should I say who?” she asked.

He pointed at Donna who was laughing loudly at something and a smile automatically graced his features.

“She’s just a friend though,” he said.

“Oh please,” Sara scoffed. “You’ve been staring at her like a creep for the past twenty minutes. If she’s just a friend then I’m Beyoncé.”

“You know if you paid this much attention in class I wouldn’t have kicked your ass at our last mock trial,” Harvey stated.

He couldn’t exactly deny that he hadn’t been staring at Donna but it hadn’t been for twenty whole minutes.

“Don’t insult me just to change the topic. Also the next time that we go up against each other I’m going to wipe the floor with your sorry ass.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“Fuck off Harvey.”

It crossed his mind then that he should introduce Sara to Donna. Something told him that they would get along great.

He flashed her a smile in response and she flipped him off before stalking off towards her girlfriend.

Turning his attention back towards the dance floor, he caught sight of a guy in a shitty vampire costume with a grip on Donna’s arm.

Richard.

Filled with curiosity after Donna had stumbled into his room, Harvey did a little research. And even with fake blood smeared all over his face, Harvey was able to recognize her ex.

Donna’s eyes were filled with fire as she stared him down.

Without even thinking, Harvey began making his way towards them, anger quickly coursing through his veins.

“Let me go,” Donna’s voice was dangerously low.

“I just want to talk,” Richard slurred.

“She said let her go,” Harvey stated venomously as he planted himself next to the pair.

Moving to look at Harvey, a grin spread across Richard’s face. He dropped Donna’s arm and held up his own hands in front of him in a gesture of mock surrender.

“Sorry man,” he said. “Didn’t realise she was yours now.”

Richard then looked at Donna before directing his question at her.

“So Donna, aren’t you gonna introduce me to the newest guy you’re fucking?”

Harvey was aware of Donna’s hand balled up at her side and he was pretty sure she was going to punch him.

He wanted her to punch him.

However, before he knew what was happening, his own first was colliding with her ex boyfriend’s face. Time seemed to slow down as he watched the asshole fall to the floor, real blood spurting from his nose.

Every pair of eyes in the room was suddenly glued to the three of them.

“I’m Harvey Specter,” he announced, looking down at the drunken heap who was struggling to simply sit up.

Even with the music playing, the entire room would be able to hear a pin drop. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to get a full view of the show.

“Want to get out of here?” Harvey asked softly as he switched his focus back to Donna.

He would never admit it but the multitude of attention unnerved him a bit.

“Yes,” she breathed, clasping her hand in his.

Just like that, everything was okay again.

So they quickly made their escape, fingers entwined as they ignored the stares and whispers that followed their every move because no one else mattered but them.

It wasn’t long before they found themselves in the middle of campus, a chilly autumn wind whipping their skin as the moonlight blanketed them.

“Okay that was awesome,” Donna spoke after a while. “But I gotta admit I’m a little pissed that you punched him before I could.”

A burst of laughter escaped from within Harvey.

“I’m sorry for stealing your moment,” he apologized.

“It’s okay,” she sighed. “Like I said, it was awesome so I can’t be too mad.”

Harvey smiled in response as they made their way over to one of the benches nearby.

As soon as they were sitting, Donna began pulling out all of the clips buried in her hair, letting her auburn waves tumble down her shoulders. She deposited the million bobby pins into her purse, all the while grumbling about how that damn hairstyle was giving her a headache.

“How’s your hand?” Donna inquired suddenly.

“It’s fine,” he answered.

She shot him a look before gently tugging at his wrist to bring his hand on her lap. A frown settled on her features as she took in the slightly purple bruises that were already beginning to form at his knuckles.

“It really is fine,” he said softly. “It’s not the first time I’ve punched someone.”

Donna’s eyebrows shot up.

“Care to elaborate?”

“I’ve just been in a few fights in high school,” Harvey explained. “Besides I box so there’s that.”

“You box?” she asked almost incredulously. “How did I not know that?”

“Well I haven’t in a while,” he shrugged. “I don’t usually have a lot of time once the semester picks up and school starts kicking my ass.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Donna,” Harvey said as he stared at her.

“It’s kinda hot,” she eventually mumbled and Harvey blinked because he didn’t follow.

“The boxing thing,” she added.

“Really?”

This time it was his turn to raise his eyebrows.

Donna nodded.

“Huh.”

“No other girl’s ever told you that?” she asked, a trace of amusement in her tone. “I’m pretty sure it’s a universal thing.”

“It’s not exactly something that comes up in a lot of conversations,” he replied drily.

“Well now you know.”

Harvey didn’t tell her that the only girl he wanted to impress was her.

“Are you okay?” he asked abruptly. “I mean the whole Richard thing...”

As usual, he trailed off, unsure of exactly what he wanted to say. No one made him tongue tied like Donna Paulsen.

“I’m fine,” she said firmly. “He’s just kind of a jerk when he drinks. Well more so than usual.”

The frown that settled on her expression made Harvey want to find the piece of shit in question and hit him again.

“I always knew he was asshole,” she stated quietly, more to herself than him. “But he was nice to me. And because I’m stupid I fell for him. Until one day he wasn’t so nice anymore.”

“You’re not stupid,” Harvey objected.

Donna gave him a doubtful look in return.

“You’re not.”

Silence filled the space around them before she spoke again.

“He taught me that I should fall in love with someone who’s nice to everyone. At least I learned something.”

She shrugged, trying to keep her voice light but Harvey could see the hint of sadness in her eyes.

Suddenly, he rose from his seat to stand in front of her, holding out his hand.

“What are you doing?” she asked in confusion.

“We never got a chance to dance back at the party,” he answered.

“You were one who turned me down.”

“I didn’t feel like making a fool of myself in front of everyone,” he defended himself.

“And now?”

“You already know I’m a fool.”

Donna laughed in agreement before accepting his outstretched hand.

He pulled her towards him, his heart beating a thousand miles per second in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist as she threw hers around his neck and the whole world stood still.

“You know this isn’t the kind of dancing that was going on at the party. And there isn’t any music-”

“Shh,” Harvey interrupted.

“Did you just shush me?”

“Mhm.”

She shot him one of her threatening looks and he flashed her a smile in reply.

“This is the cheesiest thing I’ve ever done,” she said.

“You really know how to ruin a moment don’t you?”

“Excuse you. I make moments.”

“You’re not making this one,” he quipped.

Donna huffed, filling him with amusement.

All of a sudden, she rested her head on his shoulder as her arms tightened around his neck.

Everything in him stilled.

His eyes fell shut as he buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the scent of her flowery shampoo.

This was the cheesiest thing he had ever done too.

He had become a total fucking sap but he didn’t mind at all.

Donna and Harvey swayed to the sound of the leaves rustling in the breeze as the sky looked down on them and the stars eavesdropped on their heartbeats.

It had never been easier for him to breathe.

Everything around them faded away as he lost himself in this moment.

He dreaded when it would end and they would need to say goodnight and part ways.

But for now, they existed. They were light and laughter and everything that was good in the world.

In that instant, they were perfect.

[timmynthnblg]

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from Brian Greathouse Alive Canada https://briangreathousealivecanada.wordpress.com/2018/01/11/the-hidden-secret-of-researchpaperessay/

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[timmynthnblg]

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So, hunting for inexpensive canine kennels and conducts is really a amazing notion to keep your pet protected. By hanging more mirrors into your property, it is on the list of frugal choices to renovating your residence. In the event that you don’t will need to input fencing the full lawn, then about the watch for affordable kennels and conducts would be your perfect way to go.

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Just How to Decide on the Suitable InfoBarrel

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Let’s look at several of the absolute most productive approaches potential buyers could acquire their hands on discount granite countertops for the least time period, energy and dollars. Before going in to market your own premises, you have to do your homework regarding the present market price on your own region. Even now, sizeable collections and a excellent market for these are available from these countries.

Research Paper Essay Options

The Way to Write a Good Essay

If you’re uncertain regarding the characteristic of this essay you wrote, then we will be able to allow you to. For the cause, it becomes quite crucial for your writer to use simple and simple to understand metaphors. All documents are going to have certain topic that’s each one you select or one which can be obtained to you personally.

The Best Way to Write a Fantastic Essay

Of course it doesn’t will need to be all demanded. There are just three primary options whom I urge if you would like to incorporate writing to a list of brainteasers. You are able to receive them in virtually any terminology!

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Halloween paper lanterns could possibly be the item. When you have the pumpkins secure most the items you require. It is hard to own a thriving designer shrub without the usage of large ornaments.

Since you often notice, there are lots of inexpensive Valentine’s Day gift ideas that you find it possible to give a companion. In the event the meal cost wasn’t included within my ticket, ” I may not even have purchased a meal! Even in case you are on the lookout for xmas gift ideas below 10 dollars, it really is feasible to possess a great holiday .

The Do’s and Don’ts of Research Paper Essay

The recent types of inexpensive laminators are liquid makers. Ordinarily, it’s like replicating a post in the magazine inprint, using a copier that is regular. Many options don’t require that you possess a aesthetic flair.

Most people don’t utilize all of the options that have machines that are expensive. A number of those old sewing machines up for auction might wish to go mended and might look well utilized. Even seniors that have personal computers nevertheless love to have a conventional film at a framework they could put along with their own tv.

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The Best Way to Produce Your Own Wind Turbine

When creating seams having laminate an instrument referred to as a countertop backsplash can create the occupation much more straightforward. It really is fine if they don’t end the full sheet. You’re able to attach two different components of rope to a person’s attention area so it’s possible to tie up this up.

Source:http://alivecanada.com/the-hidden-secret-of-researchpaperessay/