RACKHAM. @verbosedisaster - Tumblr Blog

the-sea-cook:

Maybe it was ego fueling his opinion, but John liked to think himself above the simple manipulation of flattery. Rackham didn’t hide his interest in Hook, though, which was honestly a little refreshing. If he had tried to deceive him, Silver would’ve had to deal with that, decisively. The very notion made him feel so very, very tired, even just in contemplation.

So, a little bootlicking here and there? He couldn’t hold it against the man. He’d done the same often enough when he needed information. His smile quirked wryly. “It’s good to know that all I need do in order to win some regard is not die, while befriending dangerous men.” Drawing his pocket knife, he plucked the cork from the rum Jack had handed over, and sampled a pull of it. Definitely satisfactory. He settled with his back against a large boulder. “Although… I’m taking a well-deserved break from the latter. Perhaps permanently.” He peered at him. “I wonder that you haven’t given up the habit.”

If Jack was curious about Hook, John was curious why that was. He took another long sip. Drinking (or pretending to) would only work in his favour, at this point. No matter how adamant the other man was about not underestimating him, if he had questions then surely Silver going to town on a bottle right here on the beach would only encourage him to ask them. “You’re attempting to get close him, I take it? To what end?” A familiar voice in his mind warned against getting too involved, whatever this was. He shouldn’t feel protective of Hook any longer.

“I think you and I both know you did more than simply befriend them. To suggest as much lacks the credit you truly deserve. You made yourself a confidant, an advisor and vital to their success for the time you were with them...” he replied, folding his arms across his chest as he spoke and leaning his weight casually to the side.

A peel of laughter escaped him at his own habit for befriending dangerous men and he lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug, downplaying it. “I have always befriended dangerous people. I think Anne would attest to that...” he replied, eyes glazing for a moment as he considered his lost partner, hoping that their reunion would not elude him in their life time. “Not that my track record often works in my favour, I think two or three successes can only truly be claimed...”

At the question as to Hook he quirked an eyebrow, mind already calculating possibilities as to how much he ought to choose to reveal and the possible implications in doing so. Opting for being forthcoming but not overt, he lifted a hand to drag it down his jaw, before sighing. “Nothing quite so nefarious as to plot extensively against him, I am after allied with him in his battle with the boy. No he simply has something I want, and at this moment he is not inclined to share though he has done so in the past...” Phrasing it in such a way was two-fold, one to gain insight on Silver’s view on the battle between Hook and Pan, and two to see if Silver could establish just what he was after without being told.

#the-sea-cook #the stories we want to believe those are the ones that survive (threads.)#ft. the-sea-cook (1)

swordsnblood:

“It’s the same for me,” she nodded as she also had drawn the short straw that night. Aldonza didn’t mind taking the night watch, she liked the feeling of the cool air against her skin. After she cooked breakfast she could rest of a few hours before starting lunch. “It’s been a quiet night, it seems that this night has been too quiet.” She suspected that their enemies have been plotting something and that they should expect a move sometime in the near future. But such assumptions were not hers to make.

“The locals of the island aren’t anything that the crew of the Damned sSop can’t handle,” she answered with as little information possible. while colonial dawn was an ally, it was best to proceed with caution. Captain Macbeth always had a plan and aldonza did not want to risk putting any part of it in jeopardy.

“Yes quiet suits this place ill. Though I have no doubt we shall rise in the morning to bloodshed, trickery and anguish so best enjoy it while it lasts... It almost reminds me of the moments of tranquillity in Nassau. Almost...” Jack mused. It felt like an aeon since he had wandered the shores of the nearest thing he had to a home bar his ship, and a part of him did miss it, perhaps for the company that while no less formidable than the pirates of Neverland, did at least concede to civilities and companionship a little more readily. Perhaps the frequent taverns made it easier, he mused to himself, briefly entertaining the notion of setting up such an establishment on the sands here.

“Oh of course, far be it for me to question the formidable nature of you and yours. Merely the complexities of the island the politics that have escalated such a war... beyond the obvious of course...” he replied, a wry smile on his lips for he knew that the loss of the hand for the captain of the Jolly Roger had been an offence unpardonable.

#swordsnblood #the stories we want to believe those are the ones that survive (threads.)#ft. swordsnblood (1)

closed starter / @believedin

The knife that breezed past his face barely missing nicking his skin had Jack raising an eyebrow, watching it thunk into the trunk of the tree before him with a look of exasperation. If he was not quite so used to Anne he might have been more alarmed, but sharp, pointy projectiles seemed to be something that came with the job description when it came to her. Stepping forward, he tore the weapon from the trunk before turning in the direction it had been thrown from.

“A pretty projectile, and a very sharp aim. Consider me thoroughly impressed...” he commented, turning the knife in his hand to hold it out hilt first to the other. “With skills such as that you must be Tinkerbell from what I have heard... If you desire conversation I have rum back on the sandy outcrop I have taken to finding peace in on the beach. I prefer not to linger in the forests too long with the wildlings running amongst the trees...”

#believedin #the stories we want to believe those are the ones that survive (threads.)#ft. believedin (1)

Staring across the top of the goblet he was sipping wine from - a beverage he had sorely missed indulging in since arriving on Neverland’s shores and bartered in trade with Hook on his latest return - Jack froze still for a moment, processing what had been said. “Interesting, and when did you say you noticed this? I have to say I am quite intrigued by what you have said and rather curious to discover something more...”

#star:starters #we're all villains in nassau. don't think because you're new you're any different (open.)

the-sea-cook:

What Silver knew of Jack Rackham before now very much aligned with the way the man presented himself, the flourishes and quick tongue. Some alleged him more style than substance, and would deride (at great length) the man’s ability to spew forth an entire evening’s worth of speech amounting to little more than a spiral of meaningless pretty noises. They’d often add something after the derogatory remarks had petered out, some anecdote or other that hinted there may be more to him than empty words.

Silver had, so far, not seen a glimmer of it. But he was happy to use Jack for his own purposes, and there was a lot he was willing to put up with in exchange for decent rum, which was surprisingly scarce on the island unless you stole it from one ship or another. He didn’t cross Rackham out of respect for a few of his associates more than any held for him personally. That, and an awareness that he was lacking, in general, the motive or the means to effectively do so.

“Very considerate of you,” he acknowledged. “But you don’t honestly believe you have anything to fear from the likes of me, do you?” Silver cocked his head, inquisitively. He asked mostly out of curiosity about what Jack would admit to thinking of him. It was vaguely entertaining to watch.

The battle of words was a comfortable space for Jack to occupy for he was far more nuanced at it than any swinging of swords or drawing of pistols, and so he found himself more at ease than he thought he might perhaps be with the question posed. Considering it for a moment, he hummed thoughtfully, cocking his head to the side as his hand grazed the shadow at his chin in contemplation.

“I think to underestimate you would be a perilous mistake, quite frankly...” he replied after a moment, allowing a smirk to creep to his lips as he folded his arms across the chest. “And while it is a great gift to own, it is not one I have the luxury of offering others. There is no secret about the fact that you sailed with Hook, with Flint and survived them both. It takes more than an ordinary man to out-live crewing for two such formidable captains, and befriending them too if rumours are to be believed...”

He paused, giving the other man time to digest his assessment, the vague honesty that he had considered permissible in answer to the question. “I know something of befriending the ruthless... I was rather adept at it in younger years, though Hook seems to currently elude my attempts...” he added breezily offering such a tidbit of information to see what the other would do with it.

#the-sea-cook #the stories we want to believe those are the ones that survive (threads.)#ft. the-sea-cook (1)

justanotherrpmemeblog

Send a ◎ and a question and my muse must answer, even if it’s a secret.

#a story is true a story is untrue; as time extends it matters less and less (headcanon sundays.)

swordsnblood:

Night patrol was her job, after the crew learned of the possible threat that Peter Pan and Lost Boys posed, the Pirates were doing their best to keep the shores secure. Aldonza was on one of these patrol walks when she heard someone nearby. Hand on hilt of her sword, she proceeded with caution inching closer and closer to the unknown figure. Who was the darkness of the night protecting? A friend? a foe? or worse, an unknown? Upon closing in on the target she realized who he was.

“you’re lucky that i recognized your voice, jack.” aldonza remarked as she loosened her grip on her sword, Jack Rackham was not an enemy at the moment. her encounters with him were always brief, her standing besides Macbeth as he spoke.“What are you doing out here?"

Turning at the sound of the voice, Jack took the precious few seconds required to identify the other before he took his hand away from the dagger at his waist and instead offered a nod. “I might pose the same question to you, Aldonza, though I should think that the answer of patrolling the shores would pose as a sufficient answer to both of our inquiries, yes?” he returned, glancing around to ascertain as to whether they were alone or if there was another few crew members waiting to gang up on him. It would not be the first time, nor the last, after all.

“Drew the short straw for the night and have to walk the shores, I suppose... Night watch always was one of the most laborious of tasks... I was glad when my days of night watch were greatly reduced...” Becoming Quartermaster to Charles Vane had allowed him better placement in the world to avoid it, and all the later events that transpired eventually leading to his captaincy in his own right. “How fares you and yours? I hear the wildlings of the shores are getting more brutal and bloody by the day...” he asked, tone conversational enough, though he had an interest in the information that the answer would provide.

#swordsnblood #the stories we want to believe those are the ones that survive (threads.)#ft. swordsnblood (1)

@the-sea-cook asked: ☼ - appearance headcanon

Appearance, and all the facets of it, are exceedingly important to Jack and he studies them relentlessly. His outfit choices are very deliberate, patterns and designs that make those he crosses with look at him, ones bold enough to make him remembered. It is an armour and one he wears efficiently, for he knows that without it he is nothing to look at - not as imposing as the likes of Vane, Teach and Guthrie, nor mysterious as the likes of Silver. He also fashions a lot of clothes himself or alters them, as he was originally a tailor by trade.

#the-sea-cook #a story is true a story is untrue; as time extends it matters less and less (headcanon sundays.)#i feel compelled to state out loud life is simply too fucking short (headcanons.)

the-sea-cook:

---closed starter for @verbosedisaster

The sun had just dropped below the horizon when Silver made his way to the meeting spot beneath the rocky cliffs. It was far enough from most of the local merfolk haunts that he wasn’t terribly worried about encounters with them, although he wasn’t sure if Jack Rackham shared his confidence. He sat and lit his pipe as he waited for the other to appear, unruffled by the growing dark around him.

There was noise from down the beach heralding Jack’s arrival. Silver didn’t bother standing, as his leg was beginning to complain. He puffed on the pipe. “You’re late, Jack. I was beginning to think you might not show at all,” he remarked, without an ounce of real distress. “I’d have been devastated. I do rely on you, you know.”

Building a friendship, or at least an accordance of sorts, with Silver had been one of Jack’s greater schemes for the island, he supposed. While the man himself would surely prove a better ally than an enemy, he also had heard the whispers of the man’s previous friendship with Hook and knew if anyone was likely to have the information he needed about the maps, then it was this man. Of course, the trekking all over the island to meeting drop points with a canvas sack of rum over his shoulder was the less desirable part of the deal, but such burdens were his to bear for the sake of the deal.

“Ahh I assure you that were I to cancel our little arrangement, I would send word ahead in a manner of speaking or leave the appropriate signs so that you knew there was no insult given...” he replied, holding out the sack to the other man to inspect the contents of, rolling his shoulder at the same time to relieve himself from the ache now the weight was absent. “Far be it for me to deprive a man of his rum supply, I fear I would invoke a wrath far greater than any man might be able to withstand...” he jibed, mind reflecting on the various pirates he had seen in his years and their reliance on the drink. He himself was not an exception, though he generally was more inclined to wine when available.

#the-sea-cook #the stories we want to believe those are the ones that survive (threads.)#ft. the-sea-cook (1)

rocketcandycouture

Headcanon meme~

Put a symbol (or several) and a character/characters in my ask box, and I’ll give you a headcanon. Yes. Do it.

☾ - sleep headcanon

★ - sad headcanon

☆ - happy headcanon

☠ - angry/violent headcanon

✿ - Sex headcanon

■ - Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

♡ - romantic headcanon

♥ - family headcanon

☮ - friendship headcanon

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

☯ - likes/dislikes headcanon

▼ - childhood headcanon

∇ -. old age/aging headcanon

♒ - cooking/food headcanon

☼ - appearance headcanon

ൠ - random headcanon

◉ - Any other question of your choosing

#a story is true a story is untrue; as time extends it matters less and less (headcanon sundays.)

@dearestmina / @ofatlcntica asked: ♛ — Does your muse believe in luck? What about fate?

"Luck, she is but a fickle mistress, one in which I believe in whole heartedly, even though she often sways away from offering her favour to myself. I often find her making bed with my enemies rather than settling in my own, or that of my friends, but such is her nature I suppose. As for the matter of fate, I believe in none other than that of our own which we make. No predestined ideal led my person to come to work aboard the ship of Charles Vane and thus start a radical pursuit of a life of piracy; but singularly my own determination to make something of the shambles left after the debt collectors were done ravaging the carcass of my father’s life’s work and chasing any squandered threads of hope from my chest. There was no fate that led Woodes Rogers to Nassau’s shores, only England’s greed and desire to civilise what it can’t control. The only instance in which I could possibly even begin to conceive a moment of fate occurring was the day my path crossed with that of Anne Bonny, though I would argue - quite vehemently I might add - that it was one of the rare days instead that Lady Luck saw myself worthy of her favour...”

#dearestmina #ofatlcntica #a story is true a story is untrue; as time extends it matters less and less (headcanon sundays.)#because what's it all for if it goes unremembered (musings.)

@believedin asked: ♟ — Does your muse believe in free will? Do they believe that people are mostly free?

“The greatest power we have in this world - or one of the greatest in the very least for I do believe that also words, belief and the concept of truth are of equal measure - is the notion of free will. Free will helps men break the chains and breathe a new lease of life into tired bones, helps the hopeless defy those that seek to contain them and the powerful abuse those that they ought to give their undivided care. It is a weapon, when applied, that can fell great empires, bring about ruination and find a path to salvation. But make no mistake, it is not one well utilised. Of course, most will cling to the concept that they are free, believe wholeheartedly in the narrative to their very core, and yet... in their souls they will know that in truth they are little more than sheep, following their shepherds within the parameters of choice set before them... the kernels of choice they are given within their societal structure, whilst those who choose to operate under free will do so with the skill of a refined puppeteer creating their greatest masterpiece. So in summary, yes... the concept of free will does indeed exist, but I find it rarely utilised to its full potential or applied to create the radical changes it can indeed bring...”

#a story is true a story is untrue; as time extends it matters less and less (headcanon sundays.)#because what's it all for if it goes unremembered (musings.)

darrenjolras

young black sails — jack rackham

And calico disappears. And my father’s business, that he inherited from his father, and his father’s father, begins to wither and die. And my father suffers the compound shame of financial failure seen through the eyes of his son, and descended into drink. I’d sit beside him as a boy at the Sunday service as he shouted at the pastor, at the altar - at anyone who would listen, really - at the injustice of it all. […] So, I set to work, determined to rebuild what had been taken away. I was thirteen years old, but I was determined. Until a man arrived at my door, claiming to hold debts belonging to my father, debts accumulated as my father drank, debts he claimed that now belonged to me, debts I could not possibly hope to repay. Debts over which this man would have seen me imprisoned. Imprisoned in a place where the debts would have been discharged only through hard labour, hard labour and no wages. Working at - wait for it - the production of textiles.

#there's a whole world out there that every so often rewards ambition (visage.)#to be underestimated; it's an incredible gift (about.)

oldmemesandhelpandthings-gone

❇ life philosophy headcanons.

Send a symbol, receive an answer. For multimuses, specify muse:

♚ — Does your muse believe in objective right and wrong? Why do they hold this view?

♔ — Does your muse believe people are innately good or innately bad? Why do they believe this?

♞ — What does your muse believe happens after death? Do they believe in an afterlife and why/why not? If they do, what do they imagine this afterlife to be?

♘ — Do they believe humanity/their species, as a whole, to be moving in the ‘right’ direction or the ‘wrong’ one? Why do they believe this?

♖ — Do people, in your muse’s opinion, ever really change? Do they believe themselves to be capable of changing?

♟ — Does your muse believe in free will? Do they believe that people are mostly free?

♛ — Does your muse believe in luck? What about fate?

♙ — How hypocritical is your muse? If they can be hypocritical, do they realise this about themselves? How do they reconcile with it?

♕ — What does leading a ‘good’ life mean to your muse? Are they satisfied with the choices they make?

♝ — Is your muse concerned about being remembered after they die? If so, do they have anything specific notions about what they want to be remembered for?

♡ — How would your muse define love? Do they believe in soulmates? Do they believe this definition of love is achievable?

#a story is true a story is untrue; as time extends it matters less and less (headcanon sundays.)#( so I'm probably going to answer these as an in character ramble rather than out of because jack's like that )

fxirypunzel:

Since arriving to Neverland, the beaches had became one of her favorite locations. Her whole life, she had grown up only seeing a forest with a small river that couldn’t equate to the vast ocean. It was beautiful. The feeling of the sand under her feet, of how it appeared so soft and lovely until she realized how rough it was to the touch. How it clung to her body and clothes, especially her hair if she were to lay down in it. It was after that first visit that she learned her lesson, don’t in the sand unless you were prepared to deal with having to get little specks from your hair. Then there was the ocean that held life. From mermaids to fish to whatever else was dwelling deep within. It was all so beautiful and Rapunzel dreamed of exploring it.

Today was supposed to be like any other day, to enjoy whatever the beach had to offer. From its cool breeze, to the water hitting the bottom of her feet, or even to reading. She was ready with her brown satchel that held books, journals, and writing essentials. So lost in her own thoughts and desires that she was unaware of the other until movement caught in the corner of her eyes. “Oh, hello there,” Rapunzel called out, a wide grin displayed on her face until she caught sight of where his hand was heading. “Please, don’t be alarmed. I’m not here to hurt you.” A true statement, her main priority was to enjoy herself and what the beach had to offer that day. There was no need for her to attack anyone, there was no fun in that. It was only when her magic was needed to protect herself that she would use it. “I’ve come to read and write, a very harmless activity if you ask me.”

The benevolent, cheerful mood he was greeted with did little to soothe the frustrations Jack was feeling, however he knew better than to leave his first impressions to be singularly his exasperated proclamations of ire, and so he drew his lips into a smile and let a laugh slip from his lips. “I assure you that alarm is not my initial reaction, more relief at seeing another soul on this godforsaken island that seems to grow all the more unfriendly with each passing day...” he replied, leaning down to brush sand and muck from the leg of the trousers, grimacing when he felt the sodden patches on the material beneath his fingers. He’d be scrubbing it for a while once he found the way back to the ship to restore the fabric to its former glory, for he could not spare it when he had no chance to secure himself further bolts for the foreseeable.

“Though I would not call reading and writing harmless, for words have more power than any creature in existence gives them credit for. I would go so far as to say that the damage they can instil is far more potent and carries greater longevity than anything a blade or curse could inflict...” he added, righting himself to stand to his full height and observing her once more. He had many thoughts on the strength of words and how the ability to manipulate and wield them was something of an art that could be deployed with a masterful articulacy to deceive or create, to alter or expose, though he refrained from getting into it. He’d been reminded more than once it was something he tended to wax lyrical on. Instead, keen eyes took in the person before him and all that she carried with her.

#fxirypunzel #the stories we want to believe those are the ones that survive (threads.)#ft. fxirypunzel (1)

tag drop

#to be underestimated; it's an incredible gift (about.)#yes well we all have our roles to play (out of character.)#because what's it all for if it goes unremembered (musings.)#we're all villains in nassau. don't think because you're new you're any different (open.)#i feel compelled to state out loud life is simply too fucking short (headcanons.)#the stories we want to believe those are the ones that survive (threads.)#a story is true a story is untrue; as time extends it matters less and less (headcanon sundays.)#but great art has felled empires. and therein lies all the difference (aesthetics.)#there's a whole world out there that every so often rewards ambition (visage.)

Walking the beaches was not something he was fond of, given the likelihood of some young hooligan attempting to jump from the treeline to catch him unawares, but if he ever wanted to procure himself some form of leverage, Jack knew he’d have to do some significant legwork, especially when he was running on a skeleton crew. “Even when at her most rancorous state, Nassau’s captains did not fail to come to congenial terms to sate the desires within their chests and yet in this odious environment the levels of mistrust fail to allow even the most elementary of discussions to pass without such copious amounts of mistrust present it’s nigh on improbable any settlement can be made...”

Frustrated mutterings were muttered under his breath in lieu of having his companion to air them to. Such deep thought almost proved his undoing however, as his foot sank into a deeper pit than he was expecting, concentration on the landscape not as present as that of his thoughts, and he had to stagger to find his step once more. “This fucking island...” he growled, tone louder this time, expressions of eloquence falling way to an outburst of cursing, though his diction did not suffer any less clarity for it. Pausing in his step to right himself, he rolled his ankle once before a sound caught his attention and he turned in the direction, hand already heading for the dagger at his waist.

#star:starters

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