chase_acow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chase_acow) wrote2004-06-30 01:52 pm
chase_acow) wrote2004-06-30 01:52 pm
Entry tags:
More PotC fic-like substance
Um, right. I think I may have lost the plot on this one. And I'm fairly sure I went into debt in comma usage. That said, I spent the time mucking about with it, and thought it should be inflicted on others.
Pirates of the Caribbean
Title: Fruit of Life
Crack!Jack centric
782 words
Three pieces of fruit, ordinary and plain, sailed through the tangy sea air. Up, down and around, they weaved a pattern hypnotic to the eye and deafening to the senses. The arcs were gorgeous the flying smooth and the timing sheer perfection. Circles, circles within circles a paradox, a conundrum, and a question. That precisely was what Jack Sparrow loved about life, the things he didn’t know. In his long life, Jack had learned a lot, seen a lot, felt a lot, and lived a lot. There wasn’t much that was new to Jack, but when he found it, found that rare gem that added to his existence he didn’t let it go.
Wrists flipping and eyes training the fruit as they passed the highest apex of their flight, Jack pondered each piece in turn. An apple, an orange, and a pear, none unique, none could have been picked out specifically from a barrel of its own kind. But put them together, colors and shapes began to blur melting into each other, and against the skyline. Each piece went within a hair of exactly where he wanted it. Manipulation, deception, trickery, and physical force, all were methods he used, things he did to keep the world around him spinning in just the way he preferred.
A glory of dawn had come and gone, his own shadow lengthened and then died away to a wisp of nothing. The bright father sun blazed overhead, just beginning its long decent to the under world, and still Jack juggled. Sweat dripped lazily down his body, the band around his head keeping most of it from his eyes. Entirely, he focused on the fruit whizzing by, around, and through his head. The crew knew enough not to disturb their caption when such a mood set in. and so gave him wide berth as they went about the ship’s business.
Jack was too old, too old by half to let such an opportunity of amusement, of enlightenment pass him be without even a token attempt to grasp it within his fingers. Short-term goals were accomplished too quickly, without time to discover what other prospects abounded for his perusal. True, he had his ship, but what was he to do with her now? He had a crew of proven sailors, but what good were they when Jack could barely find the energy to care?
He’d always had his ups and downs, he should have known after such a magnificent up, that he’d soon be plunging straight into the devil’s own heart. He should have known, should have planned and that in itself was unique. Even if sometimes his plans contained holes a whale could dive through, they were a start, something concrete he could stand on. In the end all his problems lead him down the same path that took him straight around to one thing, Bootstrap’s son.
The boy invaded his life, his dreams, and worst of all his ship, all laughing eyes and smiling lips. Jack had many lovers, male female, human and not, and though he hated to brag, their numbers were quite out of the counting range. It wasn’t even the whelp himself, but the idea of him, his joyous shadow, dancing around Jack, not giving the pirate a moment to himself. His innocence, his spark of life, taunting Jack, what he didn’t have, what he couldn’t have. Jack knew, he felt it in his bones; something must be done.
The fruit sped up, imperceptibly at first, gathering strength and surety as he went. Fruit and people, people and fruit, they were the same to Jack, objects for him to move and play with at his wish. It was for their own good really, Jack knew this, he believed it as he believed little else. His coming, his change was good for them like the tide, dangerous and necessary. There was nothing wrong with a little tweak here, a little shove there, and voila! all is as Jack likes it.
And Jack likes sweet William. Likes the thought of having him, possessing him, clutching the boy’s soul in his two hands and squeezing just the slightest bit. The apple dropped from its place landing of the deck with a thud of finality, and Jack grinned at it. A grin few would pleasure at and he stooped to gab the apple, putting it in a coat pocket. The orange was chucked over the side into the ocean, a streak of color, and then gone, as if it never existed. The pear found its way to Jack’s mouth, its juice running down both sides and into his beard, it crunched merrily and then it too was gone.
Pirates of the Caribbean
Title: Fruit of Life
Crack!Jack centric
782 words
Three pieces of fruit, ordinary and plain, sailed through the tangy sea air. Up, down and around, they weaved a pattern hypnotic to the eye and deafening to the senses. The arcs were gorgeous the flying smooth and the timing sheer perfection. Circles, circles within circles a paradox, a conundrum, and a question. That precisely was what Jack Sparrow loved about life, the things he didn’t know. In his long life, Jack had learned a lot, seen a lot, felt a lot, and lived a lot. There wasn’t much that was new to Jack, but when he found it, found that rare gem that added to his existence he didn’t let it go.
Wrists flipping and eyes training the fruit as they passed the highest apex of their flight, Jack pondered each piece in turn. An apple, an orange, and a pear, none unique, none could have been picked out specifically from a barrel of its own kind. But put them together, colors and shapes began to blur melting into each other, and against the skyline. Each piece went within a hair of exactly where he wanted it. Manipulation, deception, trickery, and physical force, all were methods he used, things he did to keep the world around him spinning in just the way he preferred.
A glory of dawn had come and gone, his own shadow lengthened and then died away to a wisp of nothing. The bright father sun blazed overhead, just beginning its long decent to the under world, and still Jack juggled. Sweat dripped lazily down his body, the band around his head keeping most of it from his eyes. Entirely, he focused on the fruit whizzing by, around, and through his head. The crew knew enough not to disturb their caption when such a mood set in. and so gave him wide berth as they went about the ship’s business.
Jack was too old, too old by half to let such an opportunity of amusement, of enlightenment pass him be without even a token attempt to grasp it within his fingers. Short-term goals were accomplished too quickly, without time to discover what other prospects abounded for his perusal. True, he had his ship, but what was he to do with her now? He had a crew of proven sailors, but what good were they when Jack could barely find the energy to care?
He’d always had his ups and downs, he should have known after such a magnificent up, that he’d soon be plunging straight into the devil’s own heart. He should have known, should have planned and that in itself was unique. Even if sometimes his plans contained holes a whale could dive through, they were a start, something concrete he could stand on. In the end all his problems lead him down the same path that took him straight around to one thing, Bootstrap’s son.
The boy invaded his life, his dreams, and worst of all his ship, all laughing eyes and smiling lips. Jack had many lovers, male female, human and not, and though he hated to brag, their numbers were quite out of the counting range. It wasn’t even the whelp himself, but the idea of him, his joyous shadow, dancing around Jack, not giving the pirate a moment to himself. His innocence, his spark of life, taunting Jack, what he didn’t have, what he couldn’t have. Jack knew, he felt it in his bones; something must be done.
The fruit sped up, imperceptibly at first, gathering strength and surety as he went. Fruit and people, people and fruit, they were the same to Jack, objects for him to move and play with at his wish. It was for their own good really, Jack knew this, he believed it as he believed little else. His coming, his change was good for them like the tide, dangerous and necessary. There was nothing wrong with a little tweak here, a little shove there, and voila! all is as Jack likes it.
And Jack likes sweet William. Likes the thought of having him, possessing him, clutching the boy’s soul in his two hands and squeezing just the slightest bit. The apple dropped from its place landing of the deck with a thud of finality, and Jack grinned at it. A grin few would pleasure at and he stooped to gab the apple, putting it in a coat pocket. The orange was chucked over the side into the ocean, a streak of color, and then gone, as if it never existed. The pear found its way to Jack’s mouth, its juice running down both sides and into his beard, it crunched merrily and then it too was gone.