#pirate story

[uglypastels]

Not Wholly Evil |II| Pirate!Eddie au

summary: as the daughter of the Governor, there is quite a heavy prize set on your safe return home, and the captain will not let anything come between him and his bounty.

Series Masterlist

word count: 5.7k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. heavy scarring and wounding. minor character death. allusions to suicide, depression and trauma. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. pirates are pigs: frequent mentions of non-con and allusions to assault, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment. abuse. manhandling.

There might be a mention of other ST characters, and for plot's sake, everyone is an adult here, just coz I don't want fetus pirates running around, but they are not really relevant to the plot.

Chapter 2: Asphodel "Because you and I are alike, and there will come a moment when you have a chance to show it." - Elizabeth Swann, Pirates of the Caribbean 

Despite gaining the privilege of an open cage and access to the rest of the ship, you decided against this freedom… and in a way, that was all the freedom you could ask for, wasn’t it? To choose where to go or where to stay. The restrictions were only so far as anyone else on this ship. The uncharted waters kept you all at the bay of the plank. 

But perhaps there was a part of you was scared to go beyond what had now become your own piece of the ship, a safety blanket among the ravenous snake pit. It was not even a question. You could just tell by how you closed your cell door at the sound of footsteps approaching down the ladder towards you. These men were wild and unpredictable. You could never expect what they would do once with you. The distance was the only option. 

Perhaps not so free as the rest, after all. 

Yet. 

Because you would fight it. All of them. Make your presence known and show everyone you were not like any other they had snagged off a ship. You assumed there had been more, after all. More prisoners, more girls to take advantage of. The shackles hanging down from the wall in your cell, stained red with rust and blood, were proof enough of what once occurred below deck. 

Despite being the safest place you could be in, it still was a nightmare on Earth to spend your days there, among the crates and chests filled with stolen treasures, supplies, and whatever else was deemed worth the same amount of treatment as you. Everything had been stacked mindlessly, dropped at the earliest convenience, and items only moved to make a short path to your holding cell. The disorganisation and thoughtlessness around you had been a bittersweet nuisance. You could not stand it, but at the same time, it was nice to have something so trivial on your mind as the lacklustre distribution of goods around the ship. 

Clearly, no one cared about what was going on. No one spent enough time there to notice anything, besides you, of course. The only times someone climbed those steps were to bring you your meals or to bring more storage in. So what harm would it do to you put some order to it? 

It wasn’t much, but you had created a way to pass the long hours aboard. And it was pleasant, though exhausting. With the food you were given, your energy was not what it once used to be, and the first thing to go when not feeding the body properly is the muscle. Moving the larger items took a while, but you saw a positive outcome. By taking everything slowly, you had no fear of completing your task soon. It was a never-ending activity. Tiring but something for you to do, and most importantly, keep your mind too occupied with the straining work ahead rather than the larger picture of your current circumstances. 

A part of it was also an attempt at claiming your territory. Lifting large boxes was doing the trick when it came to letting out your anger and frustrations, too, a way to channel everything into the peculiar renovation. A point to focus on something physical, something you could control, instead of your emotions and everything going on around you. 

A few days since you began doing so, things started making sense. But, most importantly, no one who ever came down there seemed to notice or care what you were doing. Besides the food they had to feed you to keep you alive, there was little interest they seemed to have for your existence.

You found many other objects that they must have considered rubbish, but you could use them just fine. Like the old sails, or what you assumed were scraps of an old torn sail, folded up in a corner. It was such a large piece of material that you tied it up to the corners of your barred walls, creating a curtain that gave you some privacy. Most of the chests around you were locked, giant padlocks handing down from the cover, the keys most likely at the bottomless pit of the ocean along to their original owners. But some were shut, and of course, you poked a peak inside with interest. 

Some were empty, and some had scrolls of paper, which you took up as light reading for early mornings when the sun hit through the windows just right, giving you a bright light source. There were captain logs and maritime routes; letters never sent, and maps never finished. 

One caught your attention, and you read the most on those drabby mornings when nothing else could make you feel alive. This one particular letter, which you could only assume was intended for a young woman from her lover, kept your heart beating and your hopes of escaping this ship alive. At least the parts of it that you had managed to find, for the parchment was ripped to pieces, the last chunk still missing among the piles of items you were roaming through. 

By now, you had read it so many times you didn’t even need the paper to recite it. 

My dearest,  The nights have been cruel, but I spend them thinking of you, and suddenly, the dark sky does not feel so heartless anymore. I think of your eyes. The sea reminds me of them— it is a calming sight each morning, and I imagine you looking out of your window at the shore, and perhaps we look up at the same clouds, and it is like you are right by my side and the wind feels not as harsh suddenly. More like a kiss straight from your lips. Some days I hum the words of that song you sang to me. I know what you have said about my voice, and the kind words still warm my heart, but it will never compare to yours. I will never do the melody justice. Only you… 

There certainly was something about the love you felt seeping through each word you read and reread. It almost put you down into this state of calmness as it looped in your mind in the evening, letting you fall asleep. 

It was another evening like all the others before it. Your dinner had been served in silence. If you had not known better, you would have assumed all men had taken an oath of silence, never to speak again, but it was evident the quiet was only limited to you. As you felt the slumber climb over you, the deck was alive and well. 

The contrast between living aboard the Hellfire at night and day could not be more than that. While the sun was up, the boots fell heavy above your head, fatigue coming over them as the work had to be done. The crew did what they could to keep the boat afloat and sailing on. As much as the deep waters could be a calming sight to some, it was absurd that there could be nothing around you but water for days. Undoubtedly, the ship must reach a harbour quickly; provisions could only be stored in the salt barrels for so long. The last time the boat reached shore must have been days before your cage door had opened. Then again, you knew what going ashore meant for the people like the Hellfire crew… and did not wish the aftermath upon your worst enemies. 

There would be fire, which you knew they adored. It came alive in spirit and light when the night sky appeared. When the work was done, and the sails smoothly let themselves be guided by the wind, you could always hear them walking above your cage, taunting their freedom with songs and tales. The ship was like a masquerade when the moon lit everything in her silver glow. It would have to be, or else the weariness and longing for land would take over. 

The songs were nothing special, typical shanties and hymns allured by a drunken chorus, singing the ballads of adventure and treasures, beautifully sombre. Yet, these moments made you believe that some humanity was left in them. Some kindness and compassion, too. A part that they would never dare show when the sun came up. 

It was as if the men aboard were two different people in one, where one side came out during the night and the other during the day. And you seemed to much prefer the nighttime sort. As, during the sun hours, the candles and lanterns went out, and with it, their souls were all back to their usual dirty selves. Their dark spirits would take over once more.

Either way, the nights were extended, as no sleep came to anyone. Not with the singing being so loud that it drilled into your ears. For them, slumber would come later and disappear quickly too, but no one seemed to mind. 

You had no way of telling the time on board, the only possible tell sign would be the sun's position, but even that was never exactly as you had barely any idea where in the world you were. All you could make out was that the crew made way for their hammocks in the small hours of the morning when the sun teased its appearance at the horizon, its glow awakening everything else but the drunken sailors that held you captive. 

The ship was asleep. The only sounds you could make were the waves smashing into the vessel and the gulls screeching in the distance. It was an opportunity. You could roam the deck unbothered. 

With a deep but shaky breath, you inhaled the salty sea air as you climbed the ladder, hands paling at your knuckles from your grip on it. The trapdoor opened with a creak, and you froze in your movements, waiting for the sound to have woken up everybody… but the silence resumed. You let out another deep breath and pushed the door open to reveal the sky, millions of stars looking down at you, but already fading as the sun appeared slowly. The dewy morning hours were dark but brighter than anything you had been surrounded with since your capture.

It had been getting colder by the day, and you already knew that by sitting in your cell. Soon enough, more than your dress would be needed for the climate you were entering. Shivers swarmed your arms at the wind blowing by. Your steps remained small and apprehensive as you needed help figuring out where to go. You had the entire ship deck to yourself for a short time. There was so much to explore above ground, but your legs automatically steered you towards the barriers of the ship.

You walked over to the ship's edge, letting your nails dig into the wood and your frustrations on the trim piece. Stand there, look at the horizon, and watch the sun slowly rise from under the water. The first sunrise you witnessed in weeks— at least not from the small window that peaked right over your head in your cell– had been a euphoric experience. Everything felt brand new. As your last attempts at peeking at the waves had resulted in painful flashbacks of your previous minutes aboard the Red Tail, now, you focused on the calm ripples of the water. No longer was the only thing you saw in the blue the blood of your long-lost friends. You saw their resting place. In the early morning, golden sun rays peeked out from the horizon, illuminating the drab grey of the waters like a liquid treasure hiding beneath the surface. You saw the waves moving along the ship sheepishly, back and forth. Calmly, sleepy, drifting away into the distance with each push of the boat and wind. It was slowly waking up, the sea, the earth. 

What would it dream of, you pondered. It must be lovely to be so at peace. 

If you closed your eyes and let the fresh golden light wash over you for long enough, you could fool yourself into oblivion. That you were somewhere else. A happy place.

It was so peaceful and quiet that the smallest of disturbances broke you out of your happy thoughts. You felt the presence from across the ship, his eyes on you, disintegrating your moment of bliss. But, of course, it could have been anyone, and you expected it to be one of the crewmates, one of the men with poor luck who had to start their work shift with the sun. 

Never, in a million years, did you imagine turning around and meeting with a pair of golden hazel eyes. Captain Munson was leaning against one of the masts, leg prodded against the wooden pole. He chuckled at the sight of your face, evidently struck with panic. How had he even reached the centre of the deck so quietly? Because… he could not have been standing there, or anywhere, all this time?

In one hand, he held an apple, and in the other, a small knife. He pressed the blade against the fruit’s skin and his thumb over it, cutting a small piece off. Then, still with the knife under it, he brought the apple slice to his lips. Never did his eyes leave yours as he ate. You felt unnerved with each move he made. You felt the need to look away, but for some reason, you simply couldn’t. It was like he was capturing you in a trance. So instead, you let your nails dig into the ship’s rail even more.

‘Do not let me disturb you, my darling,’ he eventually said and bode you farewell with a slight bow before parting ways. You were left stunned. Not sure what to say or do, you just turned back to look at the sea. It had no effect and felt like a sore loser's words, but you mumbled “Not your darling” under your breath. 

Had that been all? It was all extremely disorienting. Because, of course, he had meant to disturb you. He did so to your very core. That cold-eyed gaze opposed the actual warmth of his honey irises. It froze your blood. It spoiled everything about your morning. 

And as quickly he had appeared behind you, so quick the captain was to disappear out of your view again.  You looked around yourself for good measure, extending your neck to locker over the larger barrels standing in the corners of the deck, but he had genuinely evaporated into the early day’s mist. A phantom of the sea.

But just because he was gone didn’t mean his presence was. You still felt his eyes on you, lurking from hidden darkness. Perhaps the darkness was in your own head, inner thoughts poisoning your sanity, but the feeling remained nonetheless. 

Suddenly, the calm sea was anything but. Instead, the light sky seemed dull and grey, the waves bouncing off the ship aggressive. There was nothing peaceful about it left behind. There was nothing left for you there. But you remained steady in your place on the boat, looking out ahead at the horizon until the sun rising began to burn your eyes with its bright presence, and the wind blew harder. Only then did you decide, on your own devices, to head back down into the warmer discomfort of your enclosure. 

You lay on the ground and threw that thin fleece over yourself, hoping to fall asleep and thus pass on the rest of the day. But, if Lady Luck was on your side, it would be one of the silent dreams that asked nothing of you but your mind, leaving it as it was. In fact, letting you rest from the horrors that were your life.

And so, the sleep came, but quiet it was not.

Flashes of the Red Tail. Flames, explosions, blood, it was all around you. Men dying over and over again. You tried to scream out, reach for them, and help them, but it was as if your body was stuck in the mud, unable to move. So you just had to stand there, helplessly, as you watched everyone around you die.

The pool of blood expanded over the sinking ship. The sky turned dark, almost black. You looked up to see the sun–that same sun that kissed you welcome mere minutes ago at the horizon– melting, enveloping everything in darkness. Once you looked back down, another urge to scream came over you. 

A figure was standing not far from you, perhaps a few feet away. Covered in the blood that the ship was drowning in, from head to toe, he was basically dripping in it. 

He smiled at you, a canine-baring grin. Then, slowly but steadily, he neared you. 

“Oh, we’re going to have a lot of fun, princess, aren’t we?’

You awoke with a pitched scream. 

Breathing heavily, just trying to get your heart back on a steady rhythm, the clanking of swords echoing in your head was doing everything against it. Just like that day on the Red Tail. Just like in your dream. You could still hear it, and it felt so real. Each loud hit of metal against metal made you wince. Cannons would follow soon. Then the blood… 

But only the swords remained. It kept going and going. Then there were the footsteps. Heavy above you, making the whole ceiling shake. It felt like a stampede, in all honesty. And there was shouting. Boisterous clammer. Followed by crowded cheers and some clinking… that you could not immediately make out what it was supposed to be. 

One thing you knew for sure, however. Whatever was happening above you, it could not mean anything good. It simply reminded you too much of that other day. That first day… or was it your last?

There was a fight ongoing on the deck. The question was, what kind? Were you being attacked? Would another group of men come down the ladder steps and haul you onto another ship? Will they cheer over Munson’s death as these men cheered over Carver’s? Would this circle of hell ever end? 

No, it couldn’t be that. The cheering was too joyful and—was that laughter you could hear? Yes. Loud and boisterous. Right above your head. In a chorus. Your mind went to the evenings you had endured sleeplessly as the men jested until the sun rose, but when you looked out the window, you still saw the bright blue sky. So what was going on? 

Against your better judgement, you took a risk, all in the thought of showing initiative and how powerful you would look walking out of the trapdoor onto the full deck. You just told yourself that enthusiastic cheering was a sign of no evil. It indicated that it was no malicious attack of another ship, that whatever you would encounter, there would be nothing to be afraid of. With that confidence, you climbed up there, pushed the trapdoor up and– 

A blade wobbled back and forth as it deeply penetrated the deck's surface, inches away from your face. You held onto the edge of the floorboards, trying not to fall back down, as the scream that erupted from your lungs halted everything around you. Everybody in reach hooked his gaze on you if they weren’t fast enough to run up to the hole you were attempting to crawl out of. No one helped, of course. They just stared. Dozens of pairs of blank and cold eyes blinked arhythmically as the bodies they belonged to stood frozen in a circle, unsure of what to do next. The blade stuck in the wood still shifted in its new makeshift holster. 

Then, much like on your very first day aboard, the circle opened up to reveal the captain. He stood several feet away, and you caught him blinking slowly before approaching you. Had he been hesitant to approach? Was he, though you doubted, startled to see you?

But whatever emotion it had been to cause his hesitance, it was gone as he spoke:

‘Just in time, darling!’ The silence was broken, and so was the tension your appearance had created.

He had an almost identical sword in his hand. Behind him stood one of his crew mates, face paling despite the grimace he was trying to pull off among his peers. He must have been who the captain dramatically disarmed, ending with that sword landing and nearly cutting your nose off. Was anyone feeling guilty for putting that fear upon you? 

Highly unlikely.

The captain neared your trapdoor, leaning down on one knee and reaching his hand out to you, an attempt at some fair treatment toward; helping you get up onto the deck gracefully—you boldly refused. The idea of touching him… images your mind had conjured up in the night still pestered you and flashed past your eyes at the sight of his hand so near you. You looked away as your feet touched the deck for the second time that day. You hated the sight of him any given day, but this particular afternoon, it was even more of an unbearable sight.

The captain had abandoned his hat, opting to tie his hair with a red ribbon into a ponytail, failing to do so properly as strands were already escaping at the frame of his face. His long black coat and shirt also had been abandoned. It was a hot day, and with the training, he was most likely performing, the sweat on his chest was already forming, despite the cool breeze standing a strong fight with the sails. 

A ghastly sight, truly, the sweat that slicked over the countless prints of black ink on his arms, chest and ribs. The ink barely covered the various scars in the same placements. Some were small, like the nicks of a blade. The new bright red cut across his clavicle would surely join that collage. Others were unmistakably older but must have once been deep flesh wounds, possible gunshots, bites, or the results of things you most likely would not even be able to fathom. It looked like a visual of a life of torture.

You blinked, letting his previous words settle in your mind. ‘In time for what?’ You looked around. All eyes remained on you since you had made your presence known, something you had fallen out of habit with. You were not used to getting so much attention anymore.

‘Training, of course.’ Munson easily pulled the blade out of the ship planks, handing it to you. ‘Has anyone ever taught you how to fight?’

‘No.’ It was unladylike to swordfight, scuffle, argue, or do anything you did at the time of your capture. The heft felt awkward in your grip, clearly too big for your hand, but the entire piece felt off-balance. It must have been a homemade contraption of one of the Hellfire crew. Possibly molten out of the treasures residing downstairs with you. You adjusted your grip on the sword, but nothing felt right.

Nothing you did slipped past the Captain, whose eyes were on you and his crew. He pursed out his bottom lip in a mocking pout. 

‘A true pity.’ He swung his blade back and forth. Each swoosh in the air made you flinch. ‘maybe if someone had, you wouldn’t have ended up here with us.’ The chuckle started deep within him but evolved into a guttural laugh from the whole crew. The sound boiled your blood in anger as well as embarrassment. You wanted to attack their captain immediately but knew it wouldn’t end well. He looked you up and down with his casual smirk, and you made it a point to, somewhat confidently, keep your head up. No longer could he think he could just do whatever he pleased with you. ‘But there is always time to learn, I believe.’

‘I don’t want to fight you,’ you simply stated, looking down at the longsword clutched in your hand. 

‘C’mon, princess,’ Munson swung his sword back and forth, ‘it’s no fighting. it’s just a bit of fun.’ 

‘I see no fun in useless acts of violence.’ Did any of your words sound profound? Confident? You were ready to hear another wave of laughter, but it did not come. The only response was a smirk of the captain, but not one you had seen before.

It wavered. 

‘Don’t be like that, my darling.’ He recovered with his mockery, but you were no longer having any of it. With large strides, you closed the gap between you two across the deck. The men around you were split in moving back or getting ready to seize you if the situation required interference. The captain was among the former group. His stance shifted backwards as you met him, your chest nearly hitting his. 

Your grip tightened on the sword, and he must have noticed it by how his eyes shifted down to your arm and back to your face. 

A million different things ran through your mind; there were endless possibilities for relieving your anger at the man standing before you, all being the catalyst of events that you did not dare start. What were you to do? 

Your nails dug into your hand as your fingers wrung the halt of the sword. With this object alone, you could do a hundred different things, most of which would result in only a worse situation for yourself. 

You struck the blade down with as much power as you could muster. Like it had hit the planks in front of your face moments before, it now missed the captain’s feet by mere inches. He looked down, never moving anything but his eyes, and then looked directly at you again. His features were blank of expression; no fear or anger, but no amusement either. 

‘Call me any of that again, and next time it won’t be the deck that gets it.’ You had dared to move closer, letting your faces nearly touch. That smell of cinnamon and rum greeted you again. A few seconds passed as you stood there, eyes piercing through one another. Your blood boiling, his chest heaving with deep, controlled breaths.

He did not respond.

Or at least not until you had turned to walk away. 

‘I would love to see you try. It sure is easy making empty threats, prin–’ but he never got to finish his mockery. Perhaps because it was even easier to sound confident behind one’s opponent’s back, not looking them in the eye, that angered you. The fact that the man who threw you in a cage was, in reality, nothing but a coward. At that moment, all regard for your safety escaped you as you turned back on your heel and lunged your fist towards his face. 

It must have hurt you more than him, but the pink mark across his cheek was established. You did not bother to await his reaction once more and walked away for good– as far as the circumstances allowed you, which was not far. The ship was only so big, and the circle of men had moved onto the trapdoor, locking you in the fresh afternoon air. 

They were ready to retaliate for your aggression towards their captain, but his words boomed across all ears. ‘Stand back! I said stand back,’ he repeated when some still tried to reach for you. You passed the crew and made for the spot you had become familiar with over the morning. Trying to ignore everything behind you, you again reached the ship’s edge. Their voices lingered over everything, impossible to block out, but you let yourself focus on the ripples in the water as your anger subsided. 

Not long now. You had already been so close to home when they took you, and it's been days. Surely, soon they would reach the shore of your home and give you back to your family. That idea somehow managed to overcome everything that was actually happening around you. 

Though you had slept through most of it, it had been a long day, and signs of it were showing in the sky. Now turning a soft pink and orange as the sun began to set once more, the night was coming. With it, the stars. Would you stay outside long enough to look at them? It had been a sight you had missed properly gazing at the millions of twinkling lives above you, the constellations and the stories they told. 

It would all depend on the men that had now resumed their sword-fighting practice. 

The casualness of it all was actually rather comforting, as it, for once, did not bring back memories of the unfortunate ship you had bid farewell to but rather the surroundings of your father’s estate. There, men like Admiral Carver were standing guard or practising, but also young boys and girls who ran away from their mothers, pretending to be on great little adventures with large twigs for weapons. For a moment, you could swear you could smell the fresh flowers that bloomed outside your bedroom window, or the spices haggled for at the market in the harbour. There were cats meowing and dogs barking. To think that once you had grown tired of it all, yearned for something new in life, but now could not imagine anything greater than a return home…

Who knew how long you had stood there staring at the darkening horizon. Your thoughts must have sent you off into the distance from the ship, as you had not realised anything happening around you. The sea was quickly becoming a comfort. When looking out at it, you did not have to face the cruel reality of the Hellfire and the people upon it. The waters seemed so inviting and freeing that you couldn’t help but think if maybe walking the plank wasn’t always a punishment… 

You had not even noticed the smile creeping up at the corners of your lips, but it never came to fruition as you were broken out of the spell. 

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ the deep voice startled you, but you did not show it. In your short time aboard, and now being in actual contact with these scoundrels, there was one thing you had learned: To show fear to people like Munson, like the men on this ship, was possibly the stupidest thing a person like you could do. Letting fear control you would let them control you, playing right into their hand. Instead, display confidence and strength, which gets under their skin. 

You glanced over as much as you could without physically turning in his direction. His long dark hair messily flowed with the wind now that he had released it from the ribbon. He was looking directly at you, making you grow hot with anger. Then, subtly rolling your eyes, you looked away again, back to the waters. That, however, did not stop the Captain from speaking again.

‘A view like this makes you think of how big the world is. How small you are.’ He held his dagger again in his left hand, twirling it mindlessly between his fingers. He was standing so close that your arms were brushing against one another. His gold and silver chains jingled at the slightest of movements. You tried to focus on that instead of his words. A task that turned out to be much more challenging than you had thought, as the Captain did not enjoy your rejection. 

‘A bit of advice, princess,’ he leaned closer to you, his breath mixing with the wind. His nicknames for you would just have to lose their meaning in your head, as clearly, they were not going anywhere. ‘The silent treatment is not doing you any favours. On the contrary, my men like their girls quiet.’

‘Spare me, please,’ you hissed. 

‘Believe me,’ he responded as if he could read your mind, ‘finding yourself on our ship has spared you enough,’ he let his head hang lightly askew, looking up at you with his large eyes, bemused– you could tell you had lost his one-sided game by speaking up. Then you might as well keep going.

‘Is that a threat?’ Just a reminder that even when you were not locked in a cage, you were not truly free or safe. Their danger constantly loomed over you. 

‘Far from it, darling. I simply hope you know that there are much worse things out there,’ he leaned forward, forehead nearly touching yours as his hand reached out to the waters at your side to point at the waves with his blade. ‘You probably can’t even think up the horrors that live out in the wilderness of the oceans.’ What could he possibly know about your imagination? If only he knew that, at this specific moment, you were considering five different ways to gauge his honey eyes. 

You turned to him directly now. His stare at you was cold and focused. The mark you had left on his cheek was now also unavoidable. It called to you and anyone who looked at him like a beacon of a lighthouse. That smile of yours from seconds before threatened to come out again, but you held it in. However unbothered he might have sounded at the strike, you did not believe that could have been it. There must have been a reason for his current approach. What you had done in front of his entire crew was unacceptable and certainly not inconsequential–you could not imagine that he had not set a punishment ready for you. And whatever it would be, you doubted it would be subtle or free of pain. Yet, you reminded yourself of the freshly taught lesson. Keep your head up. Don’t show your fear. 

Not breaking eye contact, you decided to simply ask. 

‘What is it that you want from me?’ 

And the Captain did not waste a second in his response.

‘See me in my quarters, darling.’ 

-Chapter 3-

thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist.

and please support your (not so) local creators by liking AND reblogging.

I would love to know what you thought of the story, so please consider leaving a comment, or maybe an ask or even an anonymous review ;P

you are also more than welcome to join the taglist. right here.

taglist:

@nope-thanks @seventhlevelofhell @luna-munson83 @hangmanscoming @blueberrylemontea-fanfic @jaemunson70 @reading–mermaid

@spiderrrling @theglitterymess @dorianelizabeth @theletterhart @pastel-abyss-x @ghoulsgraveyard @prettytoxix @lovesickollie @xbreezymeadowsx @meaganjm @mischiefmanagers @capybergara @brother-lauren @h0sh1verse @ghostlyreads @croweaterr @ladyapplejackdnd @bilesxbilinskixlahey @kbakery @liltimmyst @hellfire-state-of-mind @escape-in-time-x @miscelaa @sweetpeapod @eddiemunsonbby @mydearzero @overthewhiteclouds @wroteclassicaly @celestialsxturn @hoe4eddiemunson @inanausomewhere @scoops-harrington @fluffyharrington @billyhargrovesprincess @annikin-im-panicin @kaitieskidmore1 @yesv01 @princess-aries @m4riesworld @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @dixontardis @nataliastranqe

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson au #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #pirate eddie munson #pirate eddie #enemies to lovers #pirate au #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #imagine #writing #pirate story

[legoinspire]

Pirate Lloyd

Lloyd, the Green Ninja and revered leader of the Ninjago pirates, hungered for adventure and the chance to protect the innocent.

Tales of a fabled treasure hidden on a distant island had reached his ears, fueling his desire for excitement and riches. Undeterred by the dangers that awaited him, he set sail, determined to claim the elusive prize.

#Lego #legopics #minifigure #lego photography #minifigs #toyphoto #Lloyd #ninjago the island #lego ninjago #ninjago #legophotography #custom minifig #pirates #tropical #island #photoshop #madagascar #pirate story

[arcadialedger]

“"If God had not meant for such diversity, he would have made us all alike"

— Shannon Chakraborty, ‘The Adventures of Amina Al- Sarafi’

Not to be dramatic but this book is so good and changing my life.

Not only is it an entertaining adventure, I am learning so much about Islam and as a Christian feeling to much Abrahamic solidarity as a person of faith. We truly have so much more in common than we do different.

Anyways I signed up for a fun pirate romp and instead am getting theological education and having a spiritual experience.

#the adventures of amina al sirafi #shannon chakraborty #amina al sirafi #books #fantasy #pirate #pirates #pirate story #muslim #islam #religion #faith #abrahamic faiths #the arcadia ledger

[i-did-not-mean-to]

The book of You and I

Now with an alternative banner by Wavy themselves!!!

It's my pleasure and my honour to announce that TODAY, the story I was lucky enough to write will be revealed.

It was written for the amazing art by Wavy!

TUMBLR main

TUMBLR art blog

Ao3

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔅𝔬𝔬𝔨 𝔬𝔣 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℑ

Rating: M

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Blood, pain

Relationship(s): Finrod/Caranthir, Background Russingon, DaeMags, and Angbang

Characters: Finrod, Caranthir, House of Finwë, Melkor, Mairon

Word count: 19 916

Summary: Finrod has written a novel that needs an editor. Said editor turns out to be Caranthir who is less than pleased by the opus and the whole idea. Old grudges, deep-seated regrets, and a whole lot of pettiness are dredged up… Can they put their differences aside and find a new way to see one another?

(I have, as vowed, stayed under 20 k! There might be a little smut treat for this story though that would definitely push the whole narrative beyond that random boundary!)

If you like pirate stories, pining, idiots in love, deep-seated resentment, and a hard-earned, at least hopeful end...this might be a story for you!

All my love and admiration for the excellent artist who has been a true delight to work with!

@tolkienrsb

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #trsb23 #trsb2023 #tolkien reverse summer bang #Finrod #Caranthir #Finrod x Caranthir #Pirate story #story in a story #under 20 k #promo post

[offbeatworlds]

Lilianna, the pirate witch (from my original story Crown of Salt)

Closeup

Patreon

#art #illustration #digitalpainting #digital art #digital artwork #character art #digital illustration #original characters #original character #original story #oc #pirate #witch #spooky art #pirate story #oc art #oc artwork

[pulpsandcomics2]

Blackbeard's Bride by Jeramie Price (Cardinal, 1960)

#adventure novel #pirate story

[apieters]

“Pirates” vs. Pirates

So I’m currently reading The Republic of Pirates by Colin Woodard and it’s a fascinating history about the very small world of the Golden Age of Piracy. Apparently, all the famous pirates of the age—Samuel “Black Sam” Bellamy, Charles Vane, Henry Jennings, Benjamin Hornigold, and Edward “Blackbeard” Teach/Thatch—all knew each other. Their real-life stories are fascinating, truly worthy of a series all their own (Yes, I know Black Sails exists. No, its portrayals of these real historical figures according to its wiki are not historically accurate in the slightest—you don’t need to change anything to make their stories interesting).

We all “know,” cognitively, that real piracy is very different from the movies, but I started thinking of how exactly it was different, and trying to identify what my childhood fantasies of “piracy” actually were. And I’ve come to the conclusion that I never actually wanted to be a pirate—I wanted to be Jim Hawkins from Treasure Island.

I’ll explain (because that’s what we do on Tumblr).

Real piracy, from Woodard’s description, was basically getting mugged on a boat. The pirates would show up, maybe fire a cannon or two, but usually not even that—they’d sail up to you or find you gathering fresh water and fruit on a tropical beach, be bristling with weapons, point them at you and say, “Empty your pockets ships holds.” And the poor merchant vessels (disproportionately Spanish for historical geopolitical reasons) being targeted usually did what you’re supposed to do in a mugging—give up their wallet cargo and get away with their lives, and like most muggers the pirates were more than willing to let those people go, taking the money and running.

And whatever I had in mind when I thought of pirates, I wasn’t thinking about the nautical equivalent of a guy in a black leather jacket and beanie hiding in an alley and then drawing a knife saying, “Give me your wallet!” (Yes, that’s my image of a mugger—thankfully, I’ve never been mugged).

The most pirate-y pirate I’ve seen on-screen is Captain Jack Sparrow of Pirates of the Caribbean fame—he is actually portrayed doing sketchy things like picking pockets and stealing boats, and lying to/manipulating people for his own personal gain. But here’s the thing—he never mugs anyone. In fact, he only steals from an “innocent” person’s pocket once, when he steals the bribable dockmaster’s purse off his desk in the first movie. What Jack Sparrow actually does—what all the pirates spend most of their screen time doing in the PotC franchise—is hunting for Maguffins magic treasures. They’re not pirates—they’re treasure hunters. And according to the PotC wiki, this is true in the prequel books, too—all the stories are about treasure hunting, not mugging merchant vessels. Jack Sparrow was never a real pirate—he was and is an edgier, funnier Jim Hawkins, the 12-year-old main character of Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island.

We shouldn’t be too surprised—Treasure Island is the Trope Codifier for pirate stories, and it’s all about, well, looking for treasure on a tropical island. No merchant vessels were harmed in the making of that story. In fact, there is only one ship—the Hispaniola—that appears in the story at all. So of course the big “pirate” movie franchise is going to portray “pirates” doing what “pirates” do in stories—looking for treasure.

Yeah, it’s sanitized and romaticized, but comparing the fiction to Woodard’s more historical book, an early-18th century treasure-hunting story really does have all the benefits of real piracy without the drawbacks: real piracy really was lucrative, and if a pirate wanted to quit while they were ahead and make some wise spending choices they could go from being a literal beggar to being upper middle-class literally overnight. Treasure-hunting gets you, as a character, the same rags-to-riches prize to drives the story, but without the inconvenience of, you know, shoving a flintlock pistol in anyone’s face (sometimes you have to for self-defense, but never to get the treasure itself). Plus, in a treasure-hunting story you get to be on a boat, wear cool/funny cloths, say “Arrrgh!” And hang out in the Bahamas, without the messiness of scurvy, weevil-infested ship’s biscuits, hurricanes, and the threat of getting arrested by the local governor and executed (unless the author decides to make any of those things a plot point. Authors are just mean like that). Also, the original owners of the treasure are never looking for it, unlike the historical European powers who considered the loss of a treasure galleon a Really Big Deal. And if you ever get into a fight, it’s always because someone else who wants the treasure too is saying “I’ll fight you for it”—in a certain twisted way, the violence in “pirate” stories is more like a sporting event than anything else, a competition between teams for a common prize. Even the “bad guys” of “pirate” stories aren’t thieves.

So do I fancy being a mugger and intimidating people to give up their wealth, even if I don’t actually kill anyone (many real pirates were surprisingly merciful to their victims)? Not really. I realize that as a kid (and, let’s be honest, we still dream of this every so often as an adult) I really just wanted to go on a pleasure cruise in the Bahamas in funny clothes, dig in the sand, and find a whole bunch of gold, silver, and jewels in a wooden chest. That’s the premise of Treasure Island and Pirates of the Caribbean. I don’t like imagining myself as Blackbeard or Sam Bellamy. I want to just be Jim Hawkins.

Thanks for reading—here’s a picture of my character Chris Carnovo, who started off both in-universe and in my imagination as a “pirate.”

#Pirate #pirates #piracy #golden age of piracy #the republic of pirates #Colin woodard #Pirate story #treasure island #jim hawkins #pirates of the carribean #captain jack sparrow #gotta have the Captain in there #Literary analysis #historical accuracy

[cotton-box]

So I’m reading “Daughter of the Pirate King” by Tricia Levenseller, right?

(Spoilers ahead)

There’s a character named Riden, quarter master of a ship titled the Night farer and brother of the captain, Draxen. He’s a cocky son of a bitch, but one that is too afraid to do what he truly desires. He wasn’t his father’s favorite, and to be honest his father was right for that, as Riden ended up killing Jeskor. In the humble opinion of Alosa, our main character with a head of fire to match her spirit and the daughter of the pirate king, Riden could very well become captain of his own ship if he wanted to.

The whole thing with Alosa is that she’s been sent on a mission by her father to find one of three maps that’ll lead him to this legendary island that holds all the treasure a pirate could dream of. It’s said that sirens and other creatures of the sea will take the treasure that they’ve stolen from pirates they’ve killed or ships that they’ve sunk to this island for safe keeping. There are three maps in total, and when put together, they’ll reveal the path to the island. (Think Gravity Falls and the journals if you’ve ever seen that.) So Alosa was given a crew of disposable men and three of her trusted crew mates from the Ava-Lee to find the Night farer and purposefully get captured so she’s on the ship and has the ability to search it. Draxen and his crew think that Alosa is an unwilling prisoner who is being kept for ransom, while the princess has many tricks up her stolen sleeves.

GETTING TO THE POINT AND THE WHOLE REASON I WROTE THIS… bRO- I don’t know if it’s the desperation in me or what, BUT WHEN RIDEN AND HIS SLY SELF HAS ALOSA IN BED AND STARTS KISSING HER TENDERLY N SHIT I JUST DJENJDENEK. She quickly realizes he just wants her to let her guard down so she’ll slip up and spill information, which leads to her being like “lol never mind” and getting back to business. But thEN, after Alosa’s hung by the wrists in irons as punishment for killing three men before she was taken, hurting a few more, then killing a crew member named Shek for coming on to her, RIDEN TAKES CARE OF HER AND AAAAAAA. Mind you I’m only on chapter ten, but hOO BOY.

It’s definitely the desperation-

#bookworm #book #book talk #daughter of the pirate king #Alosa #Riden #enemies to lovers #pirates #pirate story

[youalmostcapturedjacksparrow]

𝕁𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕊𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕨'𝕤 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟟

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15  

Chapter 7: Tortuga

General POV

The trio jumped off the interceptor and landed on the dock of Tortuga.

Will was carefully looking around seeing a lot of drunken sailors and woman with really tight dresses and loads of makeup on their faces.

Rosemary loosened her hair out of the ponytail and took her hat, she placed it on her head to make her outfit complete.

Even though Rosemary was walking around in Tortuga and not Port Royal she wanted to look the best she could. She was a tailor after all.

'Stick with me' Jack said

'And Will hold her close'

We walked off deeper into Tortuga. Rosemary nor Will had any idea where Jack was leading them

'It is indeed a sad life that has never breathed deep the sweet, proliferous bouquet that is Tortuga.

Savvy? '

The trio was walking around town and the further we walked into the town. The more drunken sailors , pirates or woman we saw.

'Well what do you think?' Jack asked . He turned around to look at Will and Rosemary.

'You know what I think ' Rosemary said while holding her nose up from the horrendous smell that was around. They were close to an shet or a urinating place.

'I love the people here, but I prefer it to be noon instead of the late late evening.'

Will was looking as confused as ever. He never had been to a place like this. And never seen a Woman dressing like that selling herself to drunken sailors.

' Ill tell you mate' Jack said while putting an arm around Will.

'If every town in the world were like this one, no man would ever feel unwanted.' Jack let go of Will.

And Rosemary was rolling her eyes at him.

Rosemary's POV

When we were about to walk further. A woman with dark red hair, and a lot of roots from the painting came up towards us.

Her makeup was all over her face. And her dress was to small and dirty.

'Scarlet!' Jack said while holding his arms open.

But she didn't stop to hug or talk to Jack.

Instead she slapped him right on his cheek.

Will and I both had our hand on our mouths and I couldn't help but laugh at Jack.

'Scarlet' looked me up and down and narrowed her eyes. Before she stomped off towards the group of girls she was with.

'Not sure I deserved that' Jack said asking himself.

'Well from the looks of her' I shrugged and bit on my lower lip holding back my chuckle.

But before we knew it a small blond girl stood before us.

'Giselle' Jack said looking a bit confused

'Who was she?' she said before slapping Jack across the cheeks again.

'And who is she' She said while pointing at me.

I hold up my hands.

'Nah sorry, I'm not with him' I simply said.

Giselle narrowed her eyes and then walked off.

'I May have deserved that' Jack mumbled before he spoke up.

'Will fetch me a few buckets of water'

'Here lets go' I said towards Will and pulled him towards the water pump.

'For what in heavens sake would we need water' Will said while pumping

I shrugged. 'Its Jack. I don't think I need to explain any further do I ?' I said with a small chuckle.

General POV

Jack walked up towards a shed opening the door. He was nodding to Will en Rosemary to come in with the buckets of water.

It smelled horrendous in there. So Rose was holding her nose up her fingers closing her nostrils.

Will was looking at her with a smile. She was still a little bit spoiled.

But hen he caught the smell in his nose. And he started to dry heeve.

Which made Rose burst out laughing.

To which Jack motioned that they should be quiet and that Will should move closer towards him. With the bucket of water.

In the shed with the pigs there was an older man sleeping with a bottle in his hands.

Jack motioned to Will that he should throw the bucket on the man. And so he did.

The man shook up. And started mumbling nonsense.

'Curse you for breathing, you slack-jawed idiot!' the man cursed and looked up towards Jack and Will. his face cleared up.

'Mother's love! Jack!

You should know better than to wake a man when he's sleepin'

Its bad luck!' he lisped.

'Ah fortunately, I know how to counter it.

The man who did the waking buys the man who was sleeping a drink.

The man who was sleeping drink it, while listening to a proposition from the man who did the waking. ' Jack said while squatting next to the man. And holding out his head.

'Aye, That'll about do it.' The man said.

And Jack lifted him up.

Rose came forward with another bucket of water and threw it around the ears of the man.

'I was already awake miss.. ' he looked at Rose confused

'That was for the smell' she said smiling.

And looked at the man.

'You look so incredibly familiar' Rose said eyeing the man.

'Rosemary don't stare at him like that' Jack said almost jealous.

'Ah miss Rivers. I did not think I would ever see you around here' the man said.

'Well neither did I Mister Gibbs' Rose said smirking.

'You're father would keelhaul you, if he ever saw you in Tortuga you know that right?' Gibbs told her.

'Yeah yeah, were here for something else' she motioned towards Jack.

'Well shall we then?' Jack said confused while walking off.

The group entered a bar. It was a huge mess. Drunk people everywhere and even small fights breaking out.

Rose smirked looking around while Jack was ordering drinks.

She was quite interested by everything going on. She had only been to the port of Tortuga so she had never sat foot in a bar here.

Rose turned around looking to a fight brewing in the back of the bar. she was tapping with her fingers on the wood of the bar waiting for Jack to be done.

'I'm quite interested in you, y'know'

Rose fastly turned around to look straight into Jack's eyes.

She lifted her eyebrow looking at him.

'You know what you want. You say what you want ' I appreciate that in a woman.

'Keep dreaming Jack.

You got the drinks?' she took the cups out of his hands and walked off.

The bartender grope Jack's coat.

'Did she just got your rum? U got it bad mate' the bartender said while shaking his head.

'Who would have thought Jack Sparrow would had a soft spot.' He was talking to himself.

Jack walked off after Rose who was holding the drinks and dodging drunk people before she got stopped by an huge man stepping right in front of her.

'L..Lass ' he hiccuped.

'I don't fink u shouwld be wearing those clofes at all' he spat at Rose.

Will walked up towards Rose as did Jack, but Will got there first.

And stepped in front of Rose.

'I think you should leave her alone mate' Jack said while also catching up.

'Really guys?

You really think I'm that much of a helpless woman?

Here hold on to this. ' Rose pushed the cups into Jacks arms. And pushed Will aside.

She pulled the clearly drunk man at his coat towards her.

'You know. ' she said while pulling him even closer. Her mouth was next to his ear.

'You know, I think I can wear whatever the fuck I want' she bit in his ear.

So the man jumped up and fell backwards.

'SKANK! You bit in me bloody ear' he scowled towards Rose.

Who got back the cups from Jack and stepped over the men towards the table Gibbs was holding free for them.

'Pathetic ' she spat at the man.

The whole bar was looking at Rose.

Jack looked at Will and Will looked directly back shrugging his shoulders.

As they followed Rose towards the table.

As she sat down she shoved Gibbs a cup. And sat the other 3 on the table.

Crossing her legs. Raising an eyebrow when she saw everyone looking at her.

She saw the drunken man stand up. And wanting to walk towards her again. But she saw him coming and threw her cup on the wall next to him.

It almost exploded next to the man's head. And he gulped looking at her.

She looked straightly back into his eyes. And shook her head.

He actually backed off.

And she sat back down next to Gibbs.

'Will. Did you know she could do that?' Jack asked while he lifted his top lip a bit.

'Its almost scary, I thought she was a high class royal'

Will chuckled.

'Well she's kinda both. She grew up in the Swann household. But she was in the town way more and I thinked she picked up some things.' Will shrugged.

'Well anyway. Keep an sharp eye ' Jack said to Will.

He walked towards the table where Gibbs and Rose were sitting.

'Rose love, this is kind of grow up talk' Jack said while trying to shoo Rose from the table.

She raised her eyebrow. Looking at Jack.

'I'm good where I am' she said looking in his eyes.

'Well then.' Jack said while sitting at the table.

'Now , what's the nature of this venture of your'n' Gibbs asked Jack.

Jack quickly skimmed around and looked at Gibbs.

'I'm going after the Black Pearl' Jack said

Gibbs almost chocked on his rum. And looked at Rose and then at Jack.

'I know where it's going to be, and I'm gonna take it.' Jack simply stated.

'Jack , it's a fool's errand. You know better than methe tales of the Black Pearl.' Gibbs said shaken.

'That's why I know what Barbossa is up to.

All I need is a crew. '

'What I hear around here is Captrain Barbossa's not a man to suffer fools, nor strike a bargain with one.' Gibbs told Jack carefully.

'Well then it's a very good thing, I'm not a fool. ' Jack said

'Well prove me wrong. What makes you think Barbossa will give up his ship to you? '

'Lets just say it's a matter of leverage.' Jack said and looked over towards Will.

Gibbs shook his head not understanding what Jack meant.

'Excuse me what? ' Rose stated.

'Gibbs its obviously about the lad over there? Will' she almost needed to turn his head for him towards Will who was standing closeby.

Jack ignored Rose.

'That kid is the child of Bootstrap Bill Turner, His only child. Savvy?'

Gibbs mouth fell open. Understanding what was happening.

'Hello? I'm right here?! Jack jesus tell me ' Rose started to get a little frustrated she wasn't just a little girl who was 11 years old. She was a grown up woman.

And she wanted to know what in the world he was talking about.

'You'll see Love, He's going to be completely fine' Jack said with a soft smile and a chuckle.

'Leverage says you' Gibbs said with a soft smile.

'I think I feel a change in the wind, says I' Gibbs said to Jack.

'Ill find us a crew. There's bound to be sailors on this rock as crazy as you Jack'

'One can only hope.' Jack said while raising his cup of rum.

'Take what you can.'

'Give nothin' back' Gibbs said as they clashed their cups together and drank them.

They looked at Rose as if she was not clashing her cup with them.

'I don't have a cup anymore remember' Rose said while pointing towards the wall where she threw her cup against.

She winked at them both. And stood up walking towards Will.

'She's a special one.

Isn't she Gibbs'

'Aye sir' Gibbs said.

#Pirates #Pirates of the caribbean #potc #Jack sparrow x oc #Jack Sparrow #Captain Jack Sparrow #Jack sparrow x reader #Jack Sparrow fanfiction #Jack Sparrow fanfic #Potc fanfic #POTC fanfiction #Jack Sparrow's rose #Elizabeth Swann #Orlando Bloom #William Turner #Johnny depp #Pirates fanfic #Pirates story #Pirate story #Captain Jack Sparow x reader

[rather-ace-writing]

PROMPT/IDEA- Longer than usual, hope you like it!

“You are, undoubtedly, the worst person to be stuck in this cell with.” The former prince groaned, as the pirate took a break from her forth rendition of ‘He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’.

“Must suck.” She grinned at him. “To not be so, what’s the word,” she paused. “Respected. Cared for,”

“You’ve made your point.”

“Valued,”

“For the love of God, are you ever quiet?!”

“Do you miss it? Being important?”

“I am important!”

“You keep telling yourself that, bud.”

“I am not your ‘bud’.” He spat. “I’d rather die than consider you a friend.”

#dialogue prompt #short prompt #story prompt #creative writing prompt #writing prompts #writing prompt #dialogue prompts #dialogue inspiration #pirate story #pirates #story ideas #short stories #short story #story #found family prompts

[daybreaksys]

The man arrives at the entrance to the treasure room, the one said to hold treasures so precious and magical they can reverse any curse.

The door can not yet be seen, he stares at the guardian who emerges from the darkness, faithful that he will suceed its test, for he had betrayed friends, parterns and family, forever doomed his own child in the pursue of the world's largest riches.

The guardians stares at the man with a smile and asks:

—What is the most precious thing in the life of a man?

The man seems conflicted and nervous, ruminating his choices. The question was enraging, it was unfair. But the man still produced a response:

—gold?

The guardian says with a smile:

—wrong

The darkness engulfed both guardian and man, his crew ran away, no one ever came out of the room.

Time has passed, and now the piracy empire constructed by the man is larger and setorialised.

The captain of one of its fronts is awaken by an unusual conflict in the ship, when pursuing the source of the disturbance, the captain found a zombie who had at some point entered the ship, a cursed, doomed soul, but this one time it was different, for the zombie was a child.

The captain says:

—it's okay, I will not harm you, stay calm, who are you?

The child did not remember, she just cried and barely managed to voice:

—what horrible thing I must have done to be cursed?

The captain responded:

—You are a child. Whatever was done to you, you didn't deserve it.

After a week of navigating with the presence of a zombie and many conversations with her partner, the captain brought forth to her crew the project of finding and acquiring the legendary treasure which disappeared with the founder of their piracy empire, said to be so precious and magical they can reverse any curse.

Not all responses were concordant, a man said the child had brought it upon herself and therefore wasn't a concern nor shouldn't bring a risk to the crew. The captain responded with a loud slap on his face, followed by two other slaps and nothing more. The crew followed their captain, for the promise of precious treasure was enough to motivate them.

The captain had much personal reason behind this adventure, only known to her partner, for she had men taking advantage of her defenseless body in her own childhood, but the largest damage lied in the questions she still parrots to herself:

"Where was I? How were my garments? What did I do? What did I do to bring this upon me? Am I guilty?"

Upon finally arriving at the entrance to the legendary treasure room, the captain's wife whispered:

—remember, the most precious thing isn't gold, and probably isn't any sort of treasure either.

Then moved back when the guardian emerged from the darkness and stared at the captain with a smile

The crew awaited for the interaction in unbreakable silence, the guardian finally spoke:

—what is the only kind of child which exists?

The crew was shaken, how could there be only one kind of child? Everyone is different, there are quiet children, loud children, reserved children, outspoken children... The question was infuriating, it was unfair. But the crew awaited in their struggle for the response of their captain.

The captain stayed impassive staring back at the guardian with a serious face and said in clear voice:

—innocent

The guardian retracted backwards with a smile and disappeared into the darkness, which also retracted, revealing an ornamented golden door which unlocked to show treasures so beautiful they could hyptotise any man. But the captain did not see it, for she had closed her eyes to hold in her tears with no success.

#writing #my writing #storytelling #short story #story #lesbians #yuri #tw: sa #trauma #childhood #childhood trauma #pirates #pirate #pirate story #pirate ship #zombie #zombies #curses #riddles #riddle #fantasy fiction #fiction #nd artist #treasure #lgbtqia+ #sapphic #this came to me in a dream #literally #pirate captain #tw: csa

[callum-librrry]

I Think Therefore I Am

The governor looked down on him incredulously. His eyes narrowed down upon the officer. He stared at him for a while like that.

“You mean to tell me that you’ve been a man the whole time?” He asked after some time.

Gabriel nodded nervously. He’d been a part of the crew for a while, but he could never be certain how well those around him would take the news. His mother didn’t…

“Gabriel, you say?”

The blond jerked as he looked the governor in the eye.

“Yes, sir.” He said simply. He desperately hoped his nerves wouldn’t show in his quiet voice.

The older man hummed. He was looking to the side; towards the endless sea on their right. His stern face melted into something resembling understanding. Acceptance.

“I could get used to that I suppose.” It was as much approval as the man would give openly. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“Well…” Gabriel trailed off as he searched for a good explanation. A mildly understandable one, instead of some disjointed ramble about trauma and acceptance. “Well, I was concerned about how you would take the news, sir. Some people don’t take it very well…”

The young man couldn’t help but remember that event 5 years ago. His newly cut hair; patchy and rough. The old suit he had managed to haggle off of some street venue, claiming it was for a non-existent brother. His mother’s cold eyes creased in disbelief, in sorrow, and finally, in rage.

He couldn’t see that in the governor’s face. He was currently looking out towards the rest of the crew as they hauled cargo onto the deck below. His face shifted as he seemed to settle on something. Gabriel was almost scared it was how best to get rid of him.

The older man placed his hand on the officer’s shoulder and gently led him into his quarters.

There was a surprising amount of light in the confined space. The windows were slightly ajar with their lace curtains rustling slightly in the breeze. It was not nearly the dark, imposing place that Gabriel imagined it to be.

“Listen here, officer,” the governor said, “I don’t want you to think for a second that we won’t accept you here. That I won't accept you.”

His hand, which had not left Gabriel’s shoulder, squeezed him comfortingly. The young man forced himself to look at its owner.

The governor continued.

“There’s that saying of ‘I think therefore I am’. I think that applies quite adequately in this situation. You said you’re a man, and you obviously believe it, so for all I care, you’re a man. Always have been.”

Tears pricked the corners of Gabriel’s eyes. He blinked them back ferociously.

“Thank you, governor,” he said, his voice wobbled slightly.

“Don’t thank me, son,” he replied sharply, “and between you and me, it’s Michael.”

The governor – Michael – took a breath before his face returned to its usual icy complexion.

“You’re dismissed. Get out there and do some work.”

Gabriel saluted shakily as he quickly turned to leave. The smile on his face was undeniable, even now as he went to work with the other crew members.

As they all welcomed him back, he thought back to Michael’s face before he left. He could have sworn that the governor’s usual harsh exterior held a deep layer of warmth.

He smiled again. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

#writeblr #writing #original story #pirates #pirate story #but not focusing on the pirates #oc story #lgbtq #lgbt #trans #trans character #love some good old found family

[thewingedgoat]

just my pirate ocs

#original story #ocs #oc #pirate oc #pirate story #pirate characters

[theunboundwriter]

Find The Word Tag

Thank you for the tag @eccaiia !!

My words are after, against, always, anymore, and away

After:

From The Sea is in Her Blood             “You found me,” June breathed. “After all this time.”             Red took a step closer, looking as if he were on the verge of tears. “Of course, I never stopped looking.”             June let out a choked sob, trying so desperately to hold herself together. She released a shaky breath, hand reaching for her sword.             Red watched her movements, face morphing into confusion. “What are you doing?” He asked, fingers tracing over the hilt of his own sword.             “Forgive me, Red.”

Against:

From The Sea is in Her Blood             The captain struggled against the restraints once again, his back aching from the uncomfortable position. He was tied to the mast, his arms stretched behind him as far as they could bare and the rope bounding his wrists around the back of the mast. The deck of the ship was vacant, no one on board but June. His foggy eyes settled on her.             “Where is everyone?” Captain Bates asked.             “Dead.”

Always:

From The Sea is in Her Blood             “You seem awful sure I won’t just betray you.”             Governor Fulton shook his head. “You won’t. I’d grant you and the rest of your crew immunity. No one will bother you or you ship, and all you have to do is capture other ships and collect as much gold as you please. All we ask for is a cut of what you make. I’ve already spoken with the admiral. There’s already a Letter of Marque waiting for you.”             “And what’s the catch?”             “No catch.”             June scoffed. “There’s always a catch.”

Anymore:

From The Prices We Pay             Jack grabbed Kendyleigh’s bag, already beginning to fill it with clothing and food. She looked to Barrett; eyes wide as she examined his stone-hard features. There was no emotion in his expression, as if he were trying to mask what he was feeling. If she stared long enough, she could make out the sorrow in his eyes, seeing into the depths of his soul through his blue irises.             “Take a horse from the stable,” he told her, “attach it to a cart and follow the trail until you can’t anymore. Get as far away from here as you can.”

Away:

From The Sea is in Her Blood             Salton looked up at June, narrowing his eyes and removing his cap. "A good captain goes down with his ship, and you took that away from him."             June stared, straight-faced, the wind blowing her hair gently around her eyes. Salton's hard stare searched her features, searching for any sign of emotion.              He sighed, "I hope you put that ring to good use."

The Sea is in Her Blood Taglist (and an invitation to participate!) @fearofahumanplanet @marinesocks @parttimeghost @houndsofcorduff @creatrackers

Your words are: About, Boy, Super, Glass, and Sorrow

#wip: the sea is in her blood #wip: the prices we pay #find the word #find the word game #find the word tag #pirate story #anti hero

[i-did-not-mean-to]

The book of You and I

It's my pleasure and my honour to announce that TOMORROW, the story I was lucky enough to write will be revealed.

It was written for the amazing art by Wavy!

TUMBLR main

TUMBLR art blog

Ao3

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔅𝔬𝔬𝔨 𝔬𝔣 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℑ

Rating: M

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Blood, pain

Relationship(s): Finrod/Caranthir, Background Russingon, DaeMags, and Angbang

Characters: Finrod, Caranthir, House of Finwë, Melkor, Mairon

Word count: 19 916

Summary: Finrod has written a novel that needs an editor. Said editor turns out to be Caranthir who is less than pleased by the opus and the whole idea. Old grudges, deep-seated regrets, and a whole lot of pettiness are dredged up… Can they put their differences aside and find a new way to see one another?

(I have, as vowed, stayed under 20 k! There might be a little smut treat for this story though that would definitely push the whole narrative beyond that random boundary!)

If you like pirate stories, pining, idiots in love, deep-seated resentment, and a hard-earned, at least hopeful end...this might be a story for you!

All my love and admiration for the excellent artist who has been a true delight to work with!

@tolkienrsb

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #trsb23 #trsb2023 #tolkien reverse summer bang #Finrod #Caranthir #Finrod x Caranthir #Pirate story #story in a story #under 20 k #promo post

[marymusexoxo]

"A Test of Loyalty" - Part 1 🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸

🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸

"What will we do with a drunken sailor... what will we do with a drun ken sailor..." 🎶

The door opens, followed by hushed voices.

"Aye, I've got him. Give me an hour."

The door closes. Footsteps. A shadow looms closer.

"...what shall we do with a drunken sailor, early in the morning~" 🎶

A creak.. a pause. A chuckle.

You jolt awake as a bucket of cold water washes over you. Gasping for air & feeling like a fish out of water, you cry out, "FUCK!"

You hear more laughter. You try to rub your eyes but realize that your arms are tied behind you.

... Fuck. You look around, taking in your surroundings. There's a fire burning in the corner, a bed, a small table with a few glasses and chairs, and one small window in a small, dark room.

Mary stands before you, smirking. "Up late last night- were we, sailor?" she teases, already knowing the answer.

"Word is..." she crosses the room, swinging playfully around the pillar in the center of the floor, "... you were blabbering God knows what to the folk in town about our little trip to the northern isles..."

"I swear, I didn-" you stammer. You inwardly curse your stars.

"Save it." she interrupts, waving her hand. "This isn't an interrogation." she drags a chair behind her as she makes her way across the room.

"It's your punishment."

You gulp, eyeing the various weapons hung on the first mate's belt. Your eyes scan the room for other various vehicles of your demise... Taking a wide stance, she sits before you and begins unlacing her boots. You blink and shake your head.

"Listen- I barely even talked! Just had my eye on the baker's daughter, that's all, I swear. Told some big stories, tried to impress her- but I didn't even mention pirates, honest!" you blurt out, hoping your words are true- but struggling to remember past the haze of the baker's mead from the night before.

Mary raises her eyebrow at your desperation, "Yes, I'm aware. And you know who's daughter that was?" she smirks, but you see a fire burn behind those piercing green eyes of hers. "Not the baker's, you tw at," she removes her coat, tossing it on the table. "It was the damn Governor's daughter, you idiot!"

You exhale sharply, praying to God that you didn't expose your entire crew to danger. "I-I didn't know- she said-"

"And you believed her?" Mary laughs, standing again, "I wish I'd gotten a better look at her," she takes a swig of her goblet at the table, "Must have had tits of an angel to get your guard down so easy."

You squirm uncomfortably, feeling your arms begin to lose circulation. "Ma'am, please- I'll do anything. I'd never make fools of our crew, I'd lay my life down for the Devil's Companion!" you exclaim.

Mary stands facing away from you as she unhooks her belt from her hip, laying her weapons out on the table, "Keep going sailor, I like it when you beg," she looks back and winks at you, and your trousers begin to feel tight.

"Ma'am-" you begin, voice raspy with thirst, aching after your long night. You hear the clink of glass and moments later, she returns to your chair, holding a glass to your lips.

"Drink, sailor." she says quietly. "And call me Captain."

You sputter as she pours the water into your mouth, "B-but you're not-" she yanks the glass from your lips, and grasps your hair roughly, pulling your head back to whisper in your ear...

"I am your life line here, Sailor-" she straddles your chair with her legs, her breasts hanging in line with your mouth. "And you should be grateful the captain let me handle your punishment." she suddenly grabs your crotch firmly, and the breath leaves your lungs. "I get an hour to do with you as I please."

She pulls back, crossing the room once again. "And I've decided..." she twists around the beam once more, "You need a little reminder about where your loyalty lies."

You gulp, feeling guilty, nervous & excited all at once. "It's with you & the crew, Ma'-Captain."

Mary smiles as she straddles your chair again, looking down at you lovingly. "That's right..." she says sweetly, stroking the hair on your head lightly, drawing her finger down the side of your face, under your chin. She leans down, nearly touching your lips with her own, "And that's why you get to sit and watch me, right in that chair. And if you're a good boy, I'll untie you."

🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸

Hope you enjoyed the first part of this little pirate story! Check my bio to see how you can read the rest~ xoxo, Mary

#fiction #writing #short story #chapter 1 #chapter one #pirates #pirate story #pirate smut #smut #lemon #marysuexoxo #preview #a test of loyalty