#williamturner

[potc-slash-group]

Автор | Author: is unknown, sorry

[heavenlytouches]

Request for William Turner!

I’m thinking reader and William are childhood friends on their way to rescue Elizabeth and William realizes he is actually in love with reader not Elizabeth.

Reader is just hopelessly in love with him not unlike how he thought he was for Elizabeth.

I love your work btw!

Hello angel!! Thank you so much for a great request! I really like this sweet idea. Pirates of the Caribbean are so back, baby! And thank you so much for your kind words !!! El <3

William Turner Jr.- unspoken feelings

𓇼˚₊‧꒰ა

GN reader

<3 (SFW)

TW- none

WIlliam Turner discovers cofusing feelings for his childhood bestie

slight angst with a happy end :)

William Turner Jr.

The salt spray was a constant companion, stinging your lips and coating the rough canvas of your tunic.

The Interceptor cut through the waves with a determined, if weary, rhythm, each creak of the timbers a reminder of the vast, unforgiving ocean stretching between you and Elizabeth.

Beside you, William Turner was a study in restless energy, his brow perpetually furrowed, his hands idly clenching and unclenching.

You watched him, as you always did. Since you were children, sharing tales by the flickering light of his blacksmith’s forge, his presence had been the anchor of your world. You’d seen him grow from a wide-eyed orphan to a skilled craftsman, his loyalty as unshakeable as the iron he shaped.

And you loved him- hopelessly, fiercely, with a quiet devotion that felt both like a blessing and a burden.

“She’s… she’s strong, you know.”

Will said, his voice barely above the wind’s howl, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

“Elizabeth. She’ll be fighting them, I know it.”

You nodded, a knot tightening in your stomach.

“Of course she will, Will. She’s resourceful.”

Your words were meant to be comforting, reassuring him, but each syllable felt like a tiny chisel chipping away at your own heart. He spoke of Elizabeth with such reverence, such desperate hope.

It was a love you understood, a love you’d witnessed blossom over the years, a love you yearned for him to feel for you, even as you knew it was impossible.

You’d spent countless hours on this journey, the two of you, sometimes with Jack Sparrow’s exasperating presence, sometimes just the quiet companionship of the sea.

Will was consumed by Elizabeth’s abduction by Barbossa, his every waking moment dedicated to devising plans, fretting over probabilities, or simply staring into the endless blue, imagining her plight.

And you, your own heart aching, stood by him, a silent pillar of support.

He often spoke of her bravery, her spirit, the way she’d stood up to the pirates even as they swarmed Port Royal.

“She’s truly remarkable.”

He’d murmur, almost to himself, and you’d bite back the sharp retort that bubbled up- I’m here too, Will. I’ve always been here. Instead, you’d offer a soft,

“She is.”

Days bled into a monotonous string of sunrises and sunsets. You ate together, slept in shifts, shared watch on the deck under a blanket of stars.

Will, despite his worry, never lost his innate blacksmith’s practicality. He’d sharpen his cutlass, polish the hilt, always meticulous.

Once, he’d found a loose hinge on a storage locker and, without a word, had taken it apart, hammered it back into shape, and reattached it. You watched him, admiring the easy strength in his hands, the focused intensity in his eyes. He caught your gaze then, a faint smile touching his lips.

“Good as new!”

He’d said, and for a fleeting moment, his eyes held yours longer than usual, a warmth there that wasn’t about Elizabeth.

But then the conversation would invariably drift back.

“Do you think she’ll be cold? On that ship?”

He’d ask, his voice laced with concern.

“Barbossa’s a monster. He wouldn’t hurt her, would he?”

Your chest would clench.

“He wants the medallion, Will. He needs her blood. He won’t harm her until he gets what he wants.”

It was a cold comfort, but it was all you had. You had to be pragmatic, for both your sakes. You had to be strong, because he needed you to be.

One night, the moon hung low and swollen, casting a silver path across the water. Will was leaning against the railing, his silhouette stark against the glow. You joined him, the quiet hum of the ship your only company.

“Sometimes..”

He began, his voice rough with exhaustion,

“I close my eyes, and I can see her face. So clear. And I just… I need to find her.”

You felt the familiar pang, the tightening in your chest. Here it was again, the raw, undeniable proof of his devotion to her. You wrapped your arms around yourself, a chill that had nothing to do with the night air creeping in.

“You will, Will...”

You whispered, your voice a little strained.

“We will.”

He turned then, slowly, his eyes finding yours in the dim light. And for the first time, you saw a different sort of confusion in them. Not just worry for Elizabeth, but something else, something directed at you.

“You know..”

He said, his voice softer,

“you’ve been remarkable. You always are. You never complain, you just… help. You’re always there.”

The unexpected praise sent a jolt through you. Your heart hammered against your ribs. This wasn’t about Elizabeth. This was about you.

“We’re friends, Will.”

You managed, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Childhood friends. Of course I’m here.”

He shook his head slightly, his gaze unwavering.

“It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

He mused, almost to himself.

“With Elizabeth… I thought… I thought it was love. All the knights in shining armor stories come to life, you know? The governor’s daughter, the noble pursuit.”

He paused, his gaze drifting from your eyes to your lips, then back up.

“But now… now I look at you, and it’s different.”

Your breath hitched. Your very being seemed to freeze, suspended in the cool night air.

“When I think of Elizabeth..”

He continued, his voice a low, hesitant murmur,

“I think of grand gestures. Of saving her. It’s dramatic, it’s… intense. And yes, I want to keep her safe, desperately so. She’s my friend, my dear friend. But with you…”

He reached out, his calloused hand hesitantly covering yours where it rested on the railing. The warmth of his skin was an electric shock, sending shivers down your arm.

“With you...”

He repeated, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand,

“it’s quiet. It’s… peace. It’s the feeling of coming home, even when we’re out here in the middle of nowhere. It’s knowing that no matter what happens, you’ll understand. You’ll be there. You always have been. And I… I never truly saw it.”

His gaze, clear and earnest, met yours.

“I thought what I felt for Elizabeth was love, because it fit the story. But what I feel for you… it’s just… you. It’s real. It’s been real all along, hasn’t it?”

Your eyes burned, hot with unshed tears. The jealousy, the angst, the quiet despair you’d carried for so long, began to dissolve, replaced by an overwhelming, joyous rush. He saw it. He saw you.

“Will?”

You breathed, your voice barely a whisper, filled with a disbelief that slowly morphed into profound relief.

His thumb smoothed over your knuckles again, a tender gesture that spoke volumes.

“I’ve been so confused..”

He admitted, his voice rough with emotion.

“So focused on what I thought I should feel, what I should do. But holding your hand now, looking at you… it’s like the fog has lifted. Everything is suddenly clear.”

He squeezed your hand gently.

“The thought of losing you, of you not being here by my side… that’s the true fear. Not just for Elizabeth, but… for us.”

He stumbled over the word, "us," as if it were brand new, yet so fundamentally right.

A tear finally escaped, tracing a warm path down your cheek. You couldn’t speak, not yet.

The sheer weight of his confession, the sudden, liberating realization that the love you held for him was reciprocated, was too much.

He leaned in slowly, his gaze searching yours, asking for permission. You didn’t hesitate, leaning in too, meeting him halfway. His lips were soft, hesitant at first, then firming with a tenderness that made your soul ache in the best possible way.

It wasn't a passionate, sweeping kiss of storybooks, but something deeper, quieter, a profound acknowledgment of years of unspoken affection, a promise whispered on the salty breeze.

When he pulled back, just inches away, his eyes were still on yours, no longer confused, but filled with a newfound clarity, a gentle warmth that promised home.

“We still have to find Elizabeth..”

You finally managed, your voice thick with emotion.

“And we will.”

He nodded, a soft smile gracing his lips.

“Yes, we will.”

He agreed, his grip on your hand tightening, a silent vow.

“But now… now I know who I’m coming back to.”

The ship continued its journey, cutting through the dark waves towards whatever fate awaited you.

But the world had shifted on its axis. The heavy burden of unrequited love had lifted, replaced by a delicate, precious hope.

You were still on a perilous voyage, still worried for Elizabeth’s safety, but now, a different kind of warmth had settled in your heart, a steady, comforting glow that promised a future you suddenly dared to dream of, right there beside William Turner.

Something a bit more angstyyy <3

Also, here is the MASTERLIST!! (click on link, babes <3)

Don’t forget, requests are always open and I can write for any character you’d like!

I love you guys so much <33

El <3

(all images were made by: El via canva & paint)

[plastycznyonline]

Joseph Mallord William Turner – mistrz światła i koloru

23 kwietnia przypada rocznica urodzin jednego z najwybitniejszych pejzażystów w historii sztuki – Josepha Mallorda Williama Turnera. Urodzony w 1775 roku w Londynie, Turner przekształcił sposób, w jaki postrzegamy krajobraz, światło i atmosferę. Jego dorobek to nie tylko tysiące prac malarskich i szkiców, ale także znaczny wpływ na przyszłe pokolenia artystów i rozwój takich kierunków jak impresjonizm.

Wczesne życie i edukacja artystyczna

Joseph Turner urodził się w rodzinie perukarza w dzielnicy Covent Garden w Londynie. Od młodych lat zdradzał wyjątkowy talent plastyczny. Gdy miał zaledwie 12 lat, stworzył swoją pierwszą akwarelę przedstawiającą scenę z Oxfordu. Już jako czternastolatek został przyjęty na kurs przygotowawczy do Królewskiej Akademii Sztuk, którą oficjalnie rozpoczął w grudniu 1789 roku.

Turner rozwijał swój talent w szybkim tempie. W 1790 roku – mając zaledwie 15 lat – wystawił pierwszy obraz na Salonie Akademii. Już dwa lata później otrzymał swoje pierwsze zlecenie na stworzenie scenografii dla londyńskiego teatru operowego Panteon. Jego droga do uzyskania statusu pełnoprawnego członka Królewskiej Akademii Sztuki zakończyła się sukcesem w 1802 roku.

Podróże i inspiracje

Turner był podróżnikiem – jego liczne wyprawy za granicę i po rodzinnej Anglii silnie wpłynęły na jego twórczość. Odwiedził m.in. Francję, Niemcy, Danię, Szwajcarię i Włochy. Malownicze Alpy, klasyczne ruiny Rzymu i mglista Wenecja stanowiły inspirację dla licznych prac artysty.

Szczególnie istotna była jego podróż przez Alpy w 1802 roku, która wywarła ogromny wpływ na jego postrzeganie natury i estetykę przedstawień pejzażowych. W 1835 roku odwiedził Polskę – zatrzymał się w Szczecinie, gdzie wykonał 21 szkiców miasta.

Styl i technika – nowator romantyzmu

Turner był artystą epoki romantyzmu, jednak jego twórczość wymykała się konwencjom. Eksperymentując ze światłem, kolorem i rozmytym konturem, stworzył własny styl, niepodobny do wcześniejszych dzieł europejskiego malarstwa krajobrazowego.

Używał szerokiej palety barw, lecz to żółcienie i złociste tonacje zdominowały jego późniejsze prace. Jego obrazy nie przedstawiały już tylko miejsc – ukazywały atmosferę, nastrój, dramatyzm sił natury. Tytuły takie jak „Deszcz, para, szybkość”, „Burza śnieżna” czy „Upadek Kartaginy” sugerują emocje i narrację zakorzenioną w naturze i historii.

Dzięki zastosowaniu techniki rozmycia, „atmosferycznych plam” i grubej faktury farby Turner uzyskał efekt niemal abstrakcyjny – zwłaszcza w swoich późniejszych pracach, które uznawano za „fantastyczne układanki”. John Ruskin, krytyk i wielbiciel Turnera, nazwał go „artystą, który najbardziej potrafi wzruszyć”.

Najsłynniejsze dzieła

Turner pozostawił po sobie imponującą kolekcję dzieł, w tym znane płótna jak „Ostatnia droga Temeraire’a”, „Holenderskie statki w wichurze”, „Ulisses drwiący z Polifema” oraz „Burza śnieżna: Hannibal przekraczający Alpy”.

Jednym z jego przełomowych dzieł był obraz „Deszcz, para, szybkość” z 1844 roku – dynamiczna kompozycja ukazująca pędzący pociąg prujący przez burzę, będąca odzwierciedleniem siły postępu i przemian industrialnych w XIX wieku. Inne niesamowite obrazy, jak „Statek niewolniczy” czy „Pożar Izby Lordów i Izby Gmin”, łączą tematykę społeczną z dramatyzmem wydarzeń i potęgą natury.

Życie prywatne i śmierć

Choć Turner prowadził życie artystyczne i towarzyskie, jego życie osobiste było pełne tajemnic. Związek z Sarah Danby oraz późniejsza relacja z Sophią Booth były jego najważniejszymi więzami emocjonalnymi. Po śmierci matki i ojca, z którymi był bardzo zżyty, zaczął coraz bardziej wycofywać się z życia publicznego, spędzając czas głównie w swojej pracowni lub podróżując.

Zmarł 19 grudnia 1851 roku w swoim domu w Chelsea, cierpiąc na cholerę. Podobno jego ostatnie słowa brzmiały: „Słońce jest bogiem.” – sentencja doskonale oddająca jego sztukę nasyconą światłem. Został pochowany w londyńskiej Katedrze Św. Pawła.

Dziedzictwo i wpływ

Turner pozostawił po sobie blisko 30 tysięcy prac, wśród których znajdują się zarówno obrazy olejne, jak i szkice czy akwarele. Znaczna część spuścizny artysty została przekazana Galerii Narodowej w Londynie. Dziś jego prace można podziwiać na całym świecie – od londyńskiej Tate po Museum of Fine Arts w Bostonie.

Jego wpływ na rozwój impresjonizmu był nie do przecenienia – artyści tacy jak Claude Monet inspirowali się jego sposobem malowania światła. W Polsce jego obecność zaznaczyła się również dzięki pobytowi w Szczecinie, gdzie dziś znajduje się Pasaż Turnera – pamiątka po wizytach artysty w tym mieście.

Zarówno romantycy, jak i symboliści oraz abstrakcjoniści patrzyli na twórczość Turnera z podziwem. Jego eksperymenty malarskie stanowią pomost pomiędzy sztuką XIX wieku a nowoczesnością XX wieku. Dzisiaj, w rocznicę jego urodzin, warto nie tylko przypomnieć tę postać, ale i oddać się kontemplacji jego niezwykłych, świetlistych wizji świata.

Na zakończenie

Joseph Mallord William Turner to nie tylko wybitny malarz – to wizjoner, który przemienił postrzeganie natury w sztuce. Jego obrazy tchną siłą żywiołu, poetyką światła i pięknem koloru. Ukazując ducha romantyzmu, Turner posłużył się technikami, które ponad wiek później miały wpływać na impresjonistów, ekspresjonistów i artystów awangardy. W dzień jego urodzin przypomnijmy sobie, jak istotna w sztuce była – i nadal jest – wizja świata, która porusza duszę.

[xoxo-mei]

Him and Her and The Ocean - A William 'Will' Turner x Reader Oneshot

The voyage to the crew's next destination was a rocky road to say the least. But, luckily, Y/N had Will and Elizabeth at her side and Jack to distract her from any worries.

It was like an escape from the reality she knew as her life.

For the third time this night, Y/N was telling a story to the kids they rescued from a shipwreck near them on the way over to the next harbor. They were scared, and missing their home, so something needed to be done to get their mind off of things.

''... and that's when the princess realized what she had to do. She grabbed the sword at her side, lunged at the monstrous creature in front of her, plunging the sword right in his chest.''

The kids in front of Y/N gasped, completely engulfed by the story. She made a knife with her hands and plunged it towards her chest, a groan escaping her lips and fell onto the deck. The kids laughed at the young woman, starting to climb on top of her.

Laughter echoed over the entire deck.

Y/N was too engulfed in the adorable kids before her, that she didn't realize someone was watching it all go down.

Jack, however, did.

He walked over to the young man and tapped his hand with his flask, ''Take a sip of rum, won't ya, laddy? It keeps your mind off of things.''

Will turned his head around to look at his captain, then down to the flask in his hand, before meeting his eyes again and shaking his head, ''No, thanks. Someone on this ship needs to stay sober.''

''We have Y/N and Elizabeth for that, aye. Here,'' Jack squirmed the bottle in Will's hand, not accepting a 'no', ''you seem to need it.''

''I don't know what you're talking about.'' Will still stared at the scene in front of him instead of his so-called 'love of his life' beside him talking to Gibbs.

Elizabeth didn't see Will's stare on her oldest friend.

''Everything aight with you and Miss,'' Jack looked at Elizabeth, who simply glared at him when she spotted him staring, shuddering in response as he turned back to the man he was talking to, ''bossy over here?''

''Elizabeth?'' Will turned to Jack.

The captain replied with the tip of his head and took a sip of alcohol, sighing in relief as if this was the only thing that could quench his thirst, ''That would be her.''

Will shrugged.

''We're fine. Why are you even asking that?''

His eyes were once more set on the children and the woman before him at the other side of the deck.

Forgetting he even denied anything, he grabbed the flask back from Jack and took a big gulp. His eyebrows scrunched together at the strong sensation in his throat that slowly made his way down in the wake of the liquid.

Jack took a sip as well, and Will found himself wondering how Jack could even drink that much without moving an inch at the strong burn he felt.

Maybe he was just already too far gone. Too much rum and you become invulnerable to it.

''Well,'' Jack leaned back against the railing, moving along with the hits of waves against the strong ship he called his home, ''I saw you staring at Y/N and thought something more was going on.''

''Between me and... Y/N?''

Jack nodded.

He seemed certain of his assumptions.

''There's nothing between,'' Will started to doubt his own words, but he played it off as a simple mistake in pronounciation, ''between me and her.''

''Could've fooled me, lad,'' Jack walked away without saying another word, assuming that Will would follow - which he did, ''that spark in your eyes would say a whole other thing than your mouth just did.''

The young man following him on his heels, surprised at the annoying captain's observance.

''I tell you, there's nothing there.''

Jack spun around, stopping dead in his tracks, which surprised Will and almost made him collide with his chest, ''Tell me, and try to be honest: Are you convincing me, or yourself?''

''...''

Will had no words for it because he know longer knew.

At the beginning of this he didn't know Y/N. He didn't know her as well as Elizabeth and the woman felt safe. Felt trusting. But now that Will got to know the young woman, he is no longer certain of anything.

Jack hummed, already knowing the answer to his own question, ''You need to make a choice, lad, and rather sooner than later.''

The captain was once again walking away, this time to his own private humble abode.

Will called after him, ''Are you giving me advice?''

The captain turned around with a grin as he realized, ''Wow, I am. Look at me go.'' He cheered for himself as he stumbled his way back to his bed - and his nightstand where another bottle of rum was stucked for security.

-

Y/N came back to the deck after bringing all the kids to their beds, sighing as she felt the calm wind ruffle her hair that was still braided.

She pulled the matching ribbon out of her hair, her fingers untangling the strands, one by one.

''Shouldn't you be asleep?'' The woman jumped at the voice but relaxed when she saw who it was.

''I could ask you the same, William Turner.''

The man smiled and settled beside her, the both of them staring over the dark sea unfolding before them in a comfortable silence that soothed the both of them.

Will cleared his throat after a while, ''I wanted you to know first,'' that made Y/N turn her head to him, waiting for him to continue, ''me and Elizabeth... separated.''

''Oh my,'' Y/N couldn't believe her ears, ''I'm so, so sorry. I never even noticed it wasn't going well. That's not the point. The point is,'' she placed a hand on top of his that was resting on the railing, ''are you okay?''

''Surprisingly, I think I am,'' he turned his hand around so he was holding hers, a soft smile on his face, ''for quite sometime I knew she was the one but now... now, I'm not sure of anything anymore.''

''What changed?''

The woman beside him seemed set on getting to know him, more than she already did. The thought alone made him brighten up in a heartbeat.

''Someone else made me feel the way no one ever made me feel - not even Elizabeth.''

It took some time before it dawned on her what he meant. But it was right in front of her. The only woman beside Elizabeth aboard was her.

''Will-''

''Let me finish,'' he turned fully to her, ''please.''

She stayed quiet and nodded, almost unnoticeable.

''I didn't know you. But when I did, you seemed to understand me in a way no one understood me. You made me feel seen. The only thing on my mind during the day was if you were around so we could just sit and talk, and at night I seemed to long for the next morning in the hopes I could see you in person one day. I love you, Y/N.''

The confession made her heart flutter in a way only he ever could, and a shy smile appeared on her lips.

''I'm glad to hear that. It took some time but I don't mind. Will, I love you. And, I think I always have. No - I'm sure of it. I always have loved you.''

The man grinned and pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. Their bodies were in so close proximity, their breathing pushed them only closer.

Will's hand lifted up to wipe a strand from her face in a gentle and fluid motion, before leaning down and pressing his lips against hers.

She quickly responded by melting into the kiss and tilting her head.

Their lips moved in sync, the whole world standing still as if time stopped moving.

Once they pulled away for air, nothing seemed to be left but the two of them, swaying on the rhythm of the deep blue ocean beneath their feet.

''You want to go to bed?'' Will asked softly.

The woman shook her head, ''I just want this moment to last a little longer.''

He nodded, standing beside her. Will wrapped his arms back around her, folding them on top of her stomach and leaned his head on hers.

And together, they just stood there for a little longer. Just her and him and the ocean.

-

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Words: 1,4K

[artist-turner]

Death on a Pale Horse, 1830, William Turner

Medium: oil,canvas

[ardentesclipei]

• Doublure unique réalisée pour un de nos clients à partir du tableau de Turner « On the Mosell, near Traben Trabach ». En pure soie, cette personnalisation est possible pour n’importe quelle photo ou tableau pour 450€ • Bespoke lining made for one of our clients from Turner’s painting « On the Mosell, near Traben Trabach ». Made from pure silk, we can realise your unique lining with any artwork for 450€ #ardentesclipei #semibespoke #williamturner (à Ardentes Clipei) https://www.instagram.com/p/ChAbaJws9LN/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[agapitotoyski]

squid game or something I haven't watch the series

[potc-slash-group]

Автор | Author: Robin Hess