touch prompts; 17. holding the other’s chin up, for Jiz, please? 🩷
this got incredibly out of hand, so part of it is below a cut. thank you so much for this one, my god
(touch drabble prompts!)
17. holding the other's chin up
At her request, James tests the rigor of Elizabeth’s newly-acquired skills in swordsmanship.
Early in the morning, under only the eyes of the morning watch, they shed their jackets and dance on the Black Pearl’s forecastle. James moves out of obligation; he catches her blows and rarely strikes himself, letting her take ground with no challenge.
“Come, now,” she says impatiently, on the second day. “If you are merely humoring me, I test nothing. I saw you at Tortuga—fight back as you did then.”
Something unfamiliar shines in James’ eyes; something unworthy lingers in his voice. “Is that a request, or an order? I am your humble servant, Miss Swann.”
“It is an order, if you insist,” she snaps, and levels her blade at him. “Again.”
James obeys.
Much of what Will had taught her involved redirecting enemy blows or using the environment to her advantage, and all that teaching begins to crumble away against an unfamiliar adversary. Rarely does James let her blows land, either on flesh or blade. He dodges and pivots, and when he strikes, it is swiftly and harshly, to knock away body, breath, or weapon. She gives as good as she can, victoriously eyeing the bruises littering his arms and chest at the end of each bout—but she rarely comes out the victor.
The fourth day, James finally knocks her to the ground—he steps past her and slams the flat of his sword into the back of her knee. She drops her sword in surprise and falls harder than expected, catching herself harshly on that wobbly knee.
James draws a ragged, guilty breath. He sets his hand on her arm to help her up. She jerks away, turning from him under the guise of returning her loose hair to its tail at the nape of her neck.
“How?” she demands.
“You fight like this is a duel. It is not; it is a fight. You do what you can do end it as swiftly as possible.”
It is hardly the good, honorable thing to say. When she does not reply, James kneels before her and says, “Your swings are too wide; you are too open. You must protect yourself above all. And you are always watching hands and feet.”
Hesitantly, James reaches out a hand and touches her neck; then, confidently, his finger draws up her throat and tilts her chin so she meets his eyes. They are bright, pale green in the morning light; his face is flush with exertion; his expression is serious, even concerned, familiar beneath the unfamiliar beard and hair.
“Keep your eyes up and open,” he says, low. “Look for intent before I move, not after.”
Elizabeth knew James, and knew the duties that defined him. His position implied violence, and his reputation implies fastidious success at that violence, but she had never seen him as such, had never considered his personal involvement—only that he was the commander that facilitated it.
Gazing at him now, she wonders how well she really knew him then, and how much of him there is yet to know.
4. To know another is a terrible work of love. for barnabas/julia?
(Thank you for all the requests! These were FUN. ♥)
The first time Julia Hoffman examined him, it was the most outrageous and humiliating experience of his existence, alive or dead—or so he’d thought at the time.
Doctoring had been much different, in his day, and in spite of his rapidly learned knowledge of the modern world, being examined by a woman, and so intimately, had unnerved him more than he had wanted to admit.
Her hands on his body, then as now, were warm and steady, capable and eminently trustworthy.
How different from that first exam, when he had jumped like a scorched cat every time she made contact with his skin. It wasn’t that he’d never been with a woman in a state of undress. Far from it. But never before had a woman looked at him with that much burning interest. Not lust, not even possessiveness. Curiosity. She wanted to know him.
And she did, now. Julia Hoffman knew him inside and out, in ways that went beyond the mere knowledge of his body that she had accumulated over the years.
It comforted him, and frightened him, and he couldn’t watch as she drew the blood from his arm.
===
Prompt and ye shall receive! Currently accepting prompt requests from this list.
if you could put one of the Dutchman crew members in a fish tank in your house who would it be
HI I was going to send an image but I hit my daily upload limit again... tumblr won't let me slive :(
anyway, I would have to choose Clanker -- or Oatmeal as I prefer to call him. he's not any particular kind of fish or creature, but nonetheless I find him endearing for some reason and putting him in a situation appeals to me. also since he's still in a mostly human-looking stage I get to watch and find out what he mutates into <3
honorable mention goes to Wyvern, but I figure he wouldn't be an aquarium dweller so much as a sometimes-alive wall decoration.
@widowshill sent : Vic has one hand around Rose, and one on the spatula — from which she’s licking salmonella-bait brownie batter — with a satisfied smile on her face. not to worry, though, her immune system is stronger than it looks. “welcome home, Mr. Winters.” she holds up the spoon in offer without really thinking. have a taste, if you want it. “brownies’ll be done in five minutes. "
the moment that he steps in the front door, the smell of chocolate hits him. a smile crosses his face, ethan dropping his bag by the door and kicking off his shoes before wandering further into the house. already, he knows where he will find victoria and rosemary — the kitchen, of course. sure enough, when he arrives, there the duo stands, rose resting on vic's hip. the sight is endearing, enough to make ethan's chest blossom with warmth. for a moment, he merely stands there and watches them. it's too lovely of a moment to interrupt. still, it doesn't last long ; victoria notices his presence, and when she offers the brownie batter spoon out to him, ethan can't help laughing.
“ you really do spoil me, miss winters. ” the words come out almost immediately, ethan reaching for the offered utensil without a care in the damn world. after everything, he highly doubts raw brownie batter will be the thing that kills him. ethan brings it to his mouth, humming at the taste ; victoria and her baking abilities will never cease to amaze him. once he's finished with the remainder of the brownie batter, he leans down and presses a kiss to rose's forehead. the little girl looks excited to see him, laughing in that adorable baby way.
after depositing the spoon into the kitchen sink, ethan then moves to take a seat at the kitchen table, attention turning back towards victoria. that fond smile still on his face, he asks, “ was she good for you today? ” the last thing he ever wants is for him and rose to be too much trouble for her.
