Tag: intolerablexsacrifice

[ @ Abigail ] ‘I once had an understanding that everything would go my way. That I could–bend the world to my will, were I determined enough.’

{ Human Contradiction Starters }

Abigail could not help but marvel at how similar captain Flint could be to her father sometimes. In moments like these – when he spoke of shaping the world – she could not think of him as Mister McGraw, let alone as simply James. There was a softness to the former – a sadness that had no desire to change the world, so much as a wish to know how to live in it with all the pieces that were missing.

While the latter seemed to be her friend more often than not, a man who was both sad and angry – who was the core of both Flint and McGraw – there was something in the tone today that seemed as though the scales were tipped closer to Flint, than to the man she had come to consider herself close to. 

“Even if you could have – nothing bends itself out of shape like that for too long. The pressure is too immense, when the changes are so drastic. Eventually the world would be bound to snap itself back into place – likely flinging you out of it in the process,” She mused, thinking of a tree branch pulled back too far, or a bowstring held too tightly – the swiftness with which those things realigned themselves, and the way in which dewdrops and arrows were flung far afield in the wake of it. 

Shuffling her feet so they were better tucked under her dress, Abigail wrapped her arms around her legs and plopped her head on her chin. It was cold in the interior tonight, but quieter in his home than the one she’d been staying at. That had been part of the reason for her visit today, though she’d stayed because he seemed to be in odd spirits. Now, it was too dark for her to head back alone, and she had a feeling it would be better for him to have her stay tonight, if only so when he woke up, he would find another presence and his loneliness would not be able to drown him so.

“I for one am glad that you let go before that could happen. Though I suppose that’s selfish of me, in it’s own way.” He was a dear friend, but she understood that some part of him wished he had kept fighting, if only because to him, battle hurt less than being without the people he wanted most to have beside him.

[theypissedonme, @ Abigail] 💧 Wipe away my muse’s tears [ except tbh he’s just offering a handkerchief here. what’s a verse i’ve never heard of one. ]

{ Nonverbal Starters }

Abigail had managed to hold herself together during the worst of it, but there had been no familiar faces at the time and the men who were supposed to be employed to keep these sorts of things from happening had been utterly uninterested in anything beyond being entertained by the spectacle of her attempt to get away from unwanted attention. 

In the end, she’d done something terrible and struck her assailant with one of the heavy beer tankards in reach, and fled to one of the upstairs rooms – praying that Max and Mister Rackham would forgive her for causing a scene, especially when she didn’t bring them the sort of money expected in an establishment like this. All she did was help out with the kitchen staff, but that hardly kept men from thinking they had a right to her anyway. 

The sound of the door unlocking was the only warning she had, and she barely managed to wipe her face by the time it opened. Her breathing was still telling, and she couldn’t bear to face her employer just yet, wringing her hands nervously against the fabric of her dress as she choked out, “I’m sorry – “ 

The sight of a pressed cloth startled her, and after a moment, she reached up and took it to dab at her eyes as Mister Rackham knelt, seemingly to check on her. After a moment she did gather her courage and look at him. “He wouldn’t let go,” She explained quietly, “I didn’t mean to cause a scene.” 

@theypissedonme

[intolerablexsacrifice, for Silver, pick a verse any verse] 💥 Try to calm/placate my muse during an overwhelming emotional moment

{ Nonverbal Starters }

It was astonishing what this man believed himself capable of – and perhaps even more alarming was the amount of times in which he was proven correct in his assumptive actions. For a long moment, Silver was silent as he debated the merits in making his true opinion known. 

Vane and his men had murdered Randall – among others – had relieved Silver of his fucking leg – and within what, three hours? Managed wholesale forgiveness from the captain and a fucking allegiance between crews with a history of hating one another for — what? The purpose of war on England and the rest of civilized society in the name of pirates everywhere?

Fuck that shit.

“Let me make myself – perfectly plain to you, as it appears that once again you have come to completely lose track of why I am here.” His tone was clipped, an iron focus the only thing at this point keeping him from slipping forth some brutal obscenities in his mother tongue, “I do not give a shit about the politics here, but if you think I’m going to stick around now that what I am here for has been obtained, and you’ve decided that palling up with a crew of murderous sacks of shit is a good idea all around, I don’t know what to tell you. I am entitled to my share, and I am taking it. Our business, as I have been stating it to be from the beginning of this entire endeavour, is now concluded. So please explain to me why the fuck I should care about being your goddamn quartermaster.”

[intolerablexsacrifice, for Silver] 👁 Wake my muse up during a nightmare

{ Nonverbal Starters } 

It is not the first time he is shaken roughly, hauled away from the cacophony of howls that haunted him. ( Unaware, as ever, that the Spanish screams were in fact his own, echoes of a burning manor and repetitions of dying soldiers ) His eyes fall upon the man who has taken everything from him – again, so lost in his own mind he can no more tell the difference between one redhaired demon and the next. 

He offers nothing – not daring to speak in his own tongue, the language this man was determined to rip from him even if it meant tearing out his spirit strip by strip. He does not speak the language of these cursed, evil people because every time he does, he feels farther from home than ever – and more afraid that with each passing day, he is becoming more and more like them.

Instead he stares, quiet and angry and full of impotent hatred that means no more to this man than his silence. The devil will have his due, he always does. Jandro does not believe he will succeed in his defiance, but he cannot bring himself to surrender, either. So he waits, his body shivering in the English cold, his mind far afield of the scorching heat of a becalmed ship, and expects an attack that has already come and gone.

“You look–” Flint seems to catch himself, hands tightening behind his back. He gives Gates a curt, military nod. “Very good.” [ listen he deserves it ]

“Uhh…” Gates, having completely forgotten the whole ‘call me pretty’ conversation, has found himself temporarily thrown by the compliment. Unthinkingly, he looked down at himself – perhaps the boss was being sarcastic, and he had some manner of grotesque stain on his shirt?

Nope. Just as pressed and polished as he could be after weeks at sea and no port towns to spend money to bathe in. 

Looking up, he shrugged and grinned, figuring he might as well roll with it. “Don’t I always?”

“ i just want to kiss you. ” [ mcgraw, muttered very v e r y softly to thomas while they have Company ]

{ Kissy Starters } 

Maintaining a neutral expression in the wake of that particular confession proves phenomenally difficult. Thomas knows his jaw has slackened slightly in shock, perhaps more because he felt his lips part than any particular attention spent on how tightly clenched his teeth had been up until that very moment. 

Quietly, his gaze seeks out the lilac vision of his wife as she mingled among their guests, seemingly harmless with her charming smile and innocuous remarks. She was perhaps his most delicate and dangerous device in these political games, her cautious wit affording her the capability of gathering intelligence with none being the wiser for it. She was a formidable ally, but she was not without her own games – he thought, for a moment, she might have put James up to this.

As it was, she was most engaged in conversation with Peter, and appeared to not be paying him or James any mind at all. He supposed that was fitting enough all things considered – she was the one who among them, was the least reckless. Making this gambit all James’ doing and therefore, all the more enticing for the fact the once so formal lieutenant could now possibly be so wickedly and delightfully bold.

“In good time,” He assured mildly, as if they were merely discussing something as indifferent as when it would be best for them to make a proposal before parliament, as opposed to the unspoken promise that there would be a great deal of kissing once their guests had taken leave for the night. “Patience may be a virtue I lack, however,” He warned, glancing over at James with a slight, hidden smile upon the corner of his lips – it wasn’t as though they couldn’t excuse themselves for a moment or two if need must. 

Issues of Pride

intolerablexsacrifice‌:

@oceanfoamed (from here)

He couldn’t describe what it was that had come over him upon seeing Silver in the state he was in: it was almost like anger. So red-hot and forceful that it had driven all other motive from his mind, replaced by the singular desire to fix it by any means necessary. He had no expectation that dragging Silver off would be received well by him. But if it was a choice between Silver’s wrath and letting him keep pretending he could simply walk off his wounds until it killed him–?

“Not interested in the ship.”

Flint’s voice was gruff and subdued: he didn’t so much as glance at Silver at first, standing across the room from him, hands braced against a wooden counter. It wasn’t surprising in the least for Silver to assume that this was about the Walrus: had Flint still had any kind of purpose left, and therefore any desire to regain his captaincy, he’d have used Silver as leverage in a heartbeat. But now?

All he’d ever wanted was to walk away from the sea and find peace: there was no reason for him to return to it. Nothing left to tie him to a life of violence and danger, no martyr to drive him forwards. With his world so deeply thrown off-balance, and no Miranda to hold onto for stability, all he had were the few people that had–in Flint’s eyes–taken pity on him enough to at least ensure he wasn’t dead each time they made port.

Silver was one of them, shit that he was. And he was going to run himself into the fucking grave if someone didn’t forcibly intervene- and who else would dare?

“I take it you’ve been ignoring Howell’s advice.” Flint–or what was left of him now–turned to him, finally. “Can’t say I’m surprised – though I had hoped that being made captain might shake some fucking sense into you, make you less likely to risk your life by refusing aid.” He looked pointedly at the leg, then glared at Silver, lip twitching. “What the fuck are you trying to achieve, here?”

It was admittedly difficult to concentrate, when all of his body and mind seemed intent upon focusing on the part of him that was broken and in dire need of something – anything – to alleviate it. Now that Flint had hauled him here, Silver supposed there was little point in ignoring what his body most needed at the moment. If nothing else, perhaps alleviating some of his pain might help him better deduce what the fuck Flint could want other than his ship back that would cause him to do something like this. 

Leaning down, his hands worked clumsily over the straps that buckled his false leg to the true flesh, hissing through his teeth as the pressure lessened, and needing a moment of distraction when at last he drew the damn thing off. Biting the inside of his cheek was a sore way to go about it, but the new, albeit smaller point of pain was enough to redirect his mind just long enough to keep him from crying out when at last, the false leg fell away from his body and clattered loudly against the floor, a sullen and firm reminder of how real it was. He balanced himself on a wooden peg, and there was nothing he could do to escape that reality. 

Opening his eyes, he stared almost unseeingly at the empty space where the rest of his leg ought to be – at the carefully carved wood that filled that area courtesy of the ship’s carpenter and doctor Howell’s wise instruction. His gaze lifted now to his latest source of frustration, praying that he could focus enough through this not to be lead by the nose by this man and his capacity for resetting reality to suit his purposes. 

“I didn’t volunteer for the job,” He reminded Flint flatly – the men had voted him in the moment Flint left, he hadn’t been granted a fucking say in the matter and they both knew it. “Or have you forgotten, somewhere in all of this, what I told you before?” It wouldn’t surprise him if the man had – so much had happened since that point. “I do not want to be a pirate. At this point, I simply have no other viable opportunities in which I can survive, thanks to this.” 

He didn’t look or gesture at his leg. He simply stared Flint down, knowing the man would understand full well what “this” happened to refer to. “And in case being out here has caused you to forget the realities of piracy, what I hope to achieve remains exactly the same as ever. I intend to survive – and acting like invalid among those folk? Isn’t how I do that.” 

[ while harri is climbing vane, which one of your muses is the most likely to be successfully decked by a 5’3 idiot with absolutely no combat training whatsoever. this is an important hc question. ]

Successfully being the key word there, along with no combat training – we have the following options:

  • Elijah Grey. 5′0″ Captain who can be KO’d by a strong wind tbh. The trick is getting past his lieutenants. 

  • Weatherby Swann. 6′0″ Cowardly peacock who couldn’t fight his way out of a sandcastle tbh. Greatest guardians are his son, James Norrington and his daughter, Elizabeth Swann, and they’re usually Off Adventuring so he a Good Bet.

  • Abigail Ashe. 5′2″ Author raised up in all the ways of How To Be A Lady. Just make sure you go after her in a verse without Joji in it. 

  • Fitzwilliam Darcy. 6′2″ landowner who very much abhors fighting and is most assuredly pants at it. Always nervous.

  • Stephen Maturin. 6′2″ doctor and spy. Not recommended though, because while you could deck him, he would demand a duel afterward and – being the fucking crack shot he is – chances of survival are slim unless you are dastardly and flee the scene rather than accept the terms of gentlemanly behaviour. 

  • Loki Friggajarsson. 6′2″ Frost Giant / convinced Asgardian Prince. He would consider it fucking hilarious whether he saw it coming or not. Good sport.

intolerablexsacrifice and harriedwritings!

{ Positivity Meme } 

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@intolerablexsacrifice is actually the reason I decided to brave Black Sails. I had heard good things about it, but had also been warned that it pretty much dances over every trigger I possess so I should probably be careful – and I did a little google sleuthing and ultimately felt like it wouldn’t be worth the risk to my mental health? Then I met Malakh and was like – this person is really rad and friendshaped and I would really like? To know more about their character. 

So I dove in head first and – as I tend to do when something sticks – I have yet to resurface.

Hilariously enough, Flint — was not all that interesting to me when I was watching the show ( which was good, because I didn’t want to step on the toes of the new friendbean ) but the more exposure I had to Malakh’s interpretation and their passion for the man, the more I began to get invested in the story around Flint until the next thing I knew, I was yelling about characters I didn’t want and tromping into my crew page to tack up new dossiers like heckin wanted posters. And now here we are, lmao.

@harriedwritings was someone I was a little nervous to approach but they were also barnacled to the new friendbean, so I figured it would be worth the shot and boy, I am glad I took that chance because Harri is a fucking delight. I absolutely love yelling at Harri – just in general, actually? They are very easy to talk to and their ideas make me go !!! a lot of the time.

We don’t have a ton of writing going on together yet but I imagine that will be changing what with Miranda and everyone wanting to puppy pile her xD I am really excited to see how things develop and honestly hammering out verses with Harri is a fucking treat because everything slots together so well? 

Honestly I’m hype for both of these folks and I’m really looking forward to the stories we end up telling ❤