#battlefield meme

[killmebutneverinsultme]

no reversed hehe

Send “NO!” to find my muse dying on the battlefield.  Send “NO! reversed” for my muse to find your dying muse.

“We did it, Esme, we won!”

Sparrow’s triumphant yell sounded as he swung across to the battered deck of the Venganza. 

“Those rotten, bilge-bathing bastards are scrambling for their longboats.”

As she turned to him, he had thought her hand was upon her hip. He had been prepared to see a grin; a delighted sneer of victory; even a bright, joyful smile at his presence. Instead he was met with a look of fading sorrow. Jack’s face fell on approach, on seeing her hand failing to staunch the flow of what made her dress a darker red.

“Jack...” A sighed apology. Her mournful crew drew in around them.

“No...” 

“I am sorry, mi amor.”

“No-no, no-no-no, we can fix it. You’ll see, you’ll be fine.” He looked desperately to her crew. “What’re you standing around for? Date prisa! Dónde esta el cirujano? Move!” His broken cries stuttered as she stumbled against him and they sank down to the deck. 

“It is too late,” she whispered. “You must listen.” The other hand that had not been held fast to her mortal wound had been balled into a fist. She opened it, revealing to him a Siamese coin, the token of her title.

“N-” he started, shaking his head, but Esmeralda hushed him. She took his palm and pressed the piece of eight into it.

“You are Pirate Lord now, mi corazón. Mi hermoso tonto.” Her breaths came in pained shudders.

“Don’t leave me. You’re going to be old and only slightly ugly, with lots of horrible fat grandchildren in a castle by the sea.”

She managed a tearful laugh. “Mm... that is... where I will go. Return to your Pearl, Jack. This is... as it was meant to be. Goodbye.” La Doña Pirata closed her eyes and fell still.

“Goodbye, mi amor.”

[the-marked-one-artist]

Here are the Battlefield V memes.

[killmebutneverinsultme]

NO! reversed

Send “NO!” to find my muse dying on the battlefield.  Send “NO! reversed” for my muse to find your dying muse.

He was getting too old for this. Jack lay upon a patch of earth in the foggy, desolate marshland, catching his breath. The sting and sear of so many cuts cried out from his body. He took comfort that he felt he could still move, however tired. The pirate was not the one dying.

“Jack Sparrrrowww.” 

The harsh, whispering growl squeezed him with dread. It meant he was still out there. After the hulking swamp monster had arrived, their own tussle had been interrupted. Jack had secretly hoped they would cancel each other out. With the beast slain, the Locker had grown quieter again. For this was where Jack found himself, traipsing the endless wastes in search of the man who’d had the audacity to save his life. It was part of the Code to pay that debt. Besides, he didn’t need this blasted monkey following him around everywhere. The trouble with Jack being who he was, there were a lot of people in this place who wouldn’t be happy to see him, let alone willing to allow him to complete his quest. 

Jack hauled himself to his feet and crept toward where he had heard the voice, hardly daring to breathe, his sword at the ready. His next step plunged him ankle-deep into swamp and with a yelp he tugged his leg free. It drew a furious snarl close by. The mists cleared and there he saw Salazar, up to his chest in the middle of a marshy pit, only one arm free. He would have been handsome if his face weren’t so contorted with rage and hate, agonised at finding misfortune again in his fight with this pestilent little pirate. There was no trace of his old curse or even the damage that his fall upon the anchor would have caused him; only a bloodied tear through his once immaculate uniform, courtesy of the creature that had got between them.

“Come here, Sparrow. I would wrap my fingers around your throat so you may embrace death with me.”

“You’ve not got many of those left, mate.”

Salazar made another bestial noise. It was a surprise not to see the black ichor that would have dribbled from his lips. His tone bubbled all the same. “So you would leave me here, eh? Trap me once again for your own selfish, worthless life and that of another of your vermin?”

“I’d offer you a branch, but you’d pull me in.”

“Sí, lo haría.”

Jack sheathed his sword and shrugged. The fog claimed him.

The moments passed where the seething Spaniard sank deeper, weary arm lifted higher as the murky depths reached his neck. His fury and fear roiled, panic gradually taking the lead.

“Sssparrrrro-”

THUNK! The sound of something biting deep into wood. THUNK! THUNKTHUNKTHUNKTHUNK! A cobbled tool of monster tooth and broken branch slammed into the bark of the crooked marsh tree. On the chopping went until, with a crack and a groan, the tree toppled into the pit within reach of the once helpless Matador.

Sparrow did not stay to gloat. He ran deeper into Hell’s clutches.

[killmebutneverinsultme]

“NO!” (Angelica)

Send “NO!” to find my muse dying on the battlefield

The inevitability of it ached in his bones. Despair that for all his desire for freedom, his own body would prove to be his prison and his downfall brought about by those he had left behind, those he had wronged for the sake of his own survival.

Jack regarded the man who held his voodoo doll with a weariness that had taken decades to catch up with him, and then turned his gaze upon the woman who had given it up. He wanted to be sick with rage, and yet, as he had felt before when facing defeat, he found a peace in his mind that was a lie to himself and everyone else.

He smiled at Angelica.

Tears streamed down her face with the gravity of what she had done. “Jack...”

“It’s all right.” Unlike with Elizabeth, where he had deliberately not spoken those words, these ones held the same mockery as his silence had for Miss Swann. Mockery and love. Falsity and truth. He understood, he forgave her, but the vengeful, bitter part of him knew she would have to live with this.

“Jack, no...”

He took a step toward her, all softness and acceptance.

Salazar clenched his fist. Sparrow stumbled and fell to one knee, grimacing. Had it been unexpected, he might have looked comical; made some pathetic whimper or flail of his hands. Instead, the pirate defied his pain with dignity.

“Armando, stop! Please!” Angelica screamed. “I beg you! Don’t do this!”

Black ichor oozed through a grin. The Matador Del Mar dropped the doll upon the boards in front of him.

Jack’s eyes shone like a legend that could never fade. “Remember La Martinique.”

Salazar’s rapier stabbed down, pressing into the doll’s heart. With an anguished sob, Angelica leapt to catch Sparrow as he collapsed. The blade point sank deeper. A trembling, insistent hand forced the compass into Angelica’s.

“Be free.”

[killmebutneverinsultme]

(norringtxn) “NO!”

Send “NO!” to find my muse dying on the battlefield

@norringtxn​ 

Jack should not have been there. Sticking around in a warzone instead of fleeing for his ship was not anything Norrington would have expected. Perhaps it was because the pirate, in some strange way, considered this port sacred. Perhaps some days he did choose a side. The invading force showed no honour, after all, slaughtering civilians and enacting the most depraved crimes.

Pinned down, Norrington’s force could not advance upon the stolen tower. James felt his heart sink on realising he and his men had become trapped. It was only a matter of moments before the established enemy artillery found their mark and it would be all over.

Until Jack Sparrow swung in through a window and a chunk of the tower exploded. Like an impossible cockroach, he popped back out of another window, dancing across narrow outer ledges, crossing blades with the soldiers within. He disappeared once again, the angered yells of the opposition carrying down the hill.

“Men! Advance!” James called, seizing upon the distraction. Damn him, but Sparrow proved to be useful occasionally.

As Norrington clambered up toward the fortification, gunshots sounded and once again Jack flew out of a window, clinging bafflingly to a rope, his legs cycling in the air. He punched one man in the face and slid further down. At the next level, a bloodied soldier shot his arm out of a smoking window and grabbed the flailing pirate. Without any further warning, the knife struck.

“Well done,” Jack gasped.

Sparrow cut the rope and dropped, but the fall wasn’t a short one. He hit the ground with a painful thud.

It was instinctive, the retaliatory shot James made to kill the man who had stabbed Jack. He rushed to where the pirate had fallen, overcome with a fear and anguish he could not quite understand. Jack was still breathing, but the outcome did not look good.

“You damned fool, Sparrow, what were you thinking?” His voice came out more bitterly than he expected.

Jack managed a grin ahead of whispered, broken words. “Told you I was rooting for you.”

[the-marked-one-artist]

New Battlefield meme. It’s a German kids show joke.

[killmebutneverinsultme]

NO!

Send “NO!” to find my muse dying on the battlefield

Everyone heard the shot as it rang out. The sparrow was flying, hurtling from the rigging of one ship toward the safety of his own, and then he jolted in the air, struck. Jack fell, his trajectory interrupted. By some miracle he managed to hit one of the shrouds, allowing him to latch on and make a staggered descent to the deck whereupon he took a few steps and keeled over.

Mercer sneered from the Endeavour and lowered his rifle, fired on the command of his employer, the man from whom Jack had been escaping.

Through the chaos of the battle, Jack saw Natalia running for him. He felt blinding pain in his back and numbness below that. He had been too lucky for far too long, it seemed.

“He wanted the compass,” he gasped out when she reached him. “Wanted to use it to find where you keep the documents. The grave.” Jack clutched his compass to him like some vital organ at risk of falling out. “Wouldn’t let him. We need to run. Turn the Pearl away. She’s the only thing... fast enough...”

[totally-an-autobot-clone]

14. My muse is captured. How do they react? (besides flopping on the floor like a cat on a leash)

Oh my God, Knock Out flopping on the floor like a cat on a leash … perfect.  So perfect.

Knock Out would do his best to appear aloof, dangerous, and confident. Dangerous meaning “seeming vaguely like he’s going to bite your hand if you touch him”, not actually attacking anyone.

He’d also try to keep / hide / acquire anything that he could barter with—bartering for his freedom or at least to make his situation more tolerable.  Surely his captors want something?  High grade, money, information …

If he DID see a chance for freedom he would take it like lightning.