Hello everybody! I am Captain Wilhelmina Sparrow of the Pink Pearl, and I will be your author for this, the very first installment of Love, War, Hate, Rum, and Other Stuff On the High Seas. This is Act I— "Enter the Players" , and shall mainly be authored by myself and the wonderful Hester Bit.

Oh! I forgot to introduce us, didn't I? Well, there's me, Wilhelmina, Hester, Peggy Pearl, and Jacqueline the Thief. They're all my crew, see, and Im the Captain. And there's Jamie, but he doesn't really count.

So, the Title of this piece is: Enter the Players

The Rating: Hmmm….Lets call it a PG-13 for now, but that is definitely subject to change.

The Pairing: For this part, mainly Jack/Will. Will contain others later, but centers around JackWill.

Warnings: Well…later on, this will definitely go up, but for now, lets call it SLASH, SLASH, SLASH, with just a dash of mpreg.

Summary: An exquisitely slashy piece of art written by the Pink Pearl Pirates—Jack's in love with Will, Will's in love with Elizabeth, Jack has a stalker,

Disclaimer: WE DON'T OWN PIRATES OF THE CARRIBBEAN! WE DO, HOWEVER, HAVE JACK AND WILL LOCKED IN WILHELMINA'S BASEMENT IN SEPARATE CLOSETS, AND WE'RE NOT LETTING THEM GO TIL YOU REVIEW!

Introduction: ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

In any story, my friend, there is a tale behind the tale that you might see.

Where you as the reader-watcher-listener-dreamer come in is not where the story starts at all, no more than the place where the book-movie-ect. ends is the ending. There is always something more, always a reason (though it might not be a good one a reason never the less.) That reason behind the traditional tale is the birth-place of idea and where our story will start.

Once upon a time, in a world not quite parallel to ours (there was a slight angle you see) someone made a slight mistake in the blue-print of the human.

Or maybe it wasn't a mistake, just an accident in which someone got assigned the project of "human" first and then they got removed from the project or died or what ever and a new someone got the assignment and didn't really look at their predecessor's work and finished the job without much care.

Or maybe it was just a joke.

Well something happened because in this world slightly crooked to ours there are monsters, there is magic, there are curses---and men can give birth.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxJackxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mmm, those lips taste good. Soft and pliant, with an incredibly…interesting taste about them, I try and place it as I delve into a hot, cavernous mouth but the brush of a tongue against mine distracts me a little.

Wonder what the boy thinks of the show? Maybe I'll open my eyes a little, see what he thinks….Ah. Predictable virgin reaction: eyes widening, trying not to stare so he turns away, realizes he's gonna get an eye poked out by someone's delightful breasts spilling out of her corset; face turning a dull red, arms crossed tightly about his chest sso anyone can just lean in and grab his wallet, like that little….ooh, that felt nice; soft strawberry? Raspberry? Scented lips suckingon my tongue….

Oh yeah, that little kid was in the process of picking Will's pocket…Done picking now, actually, she's picked, or plucked, or otherwise taken said wallet and is going on her merry little way with my poor William none the wiser….Better have good ol' Jack come to the rescue then, eh?

I work my arms around the muscle-bound body in front of me, effectively freeing my hands—try not to think about what you're rubbing up against—good, she's going to walk by me. Come on, little thief, bit closer, bit closer…ah! Got your braid! Don't you know long hair's a danger when you're in our line of work? Fucking kid must have a horrible teacher; cant be more than seven and already her hair's swinging past her arse.

I look down over a nice ball of muscle to find two dark eyes glaring at me. I smirk into my kiss and give the braid a brisk little tug.

Let this be a lesson to you, little thief, don't mess with Captain Jack Sparrow or his William. Alright, maybe not my William, but close enough.

Wallet's in my hand, so I let her go. Now maybe I can devote my full attention to those hands running up and down my spine. She's a few steps away when she turns to me and pulls another purse out of her cloak—hey! You fucking little cunt, that's mine! An eerily familiar smirk crosses her face and then she's gone.

A smile twitches on my face, and I pocket Will's wallet. What the hell are they teaching kids these days? You'd almost think she was my—ow!

"Frank, my love, I've taken this from every other whore on this rock, and you've got quite a better arm than most of them. Did I really deserve that, now?" Lower voice to a rough whisper, give him that shit eating grin of mine, a jack-arse grin, Anamaria calls it….

And he's trying to pout, but I can see that grin poking through. Will's staring at him, a silent o of sudden comprehension on his lips as he realizes that this satin-draped frame has an Adam's apple and a lack of breasts. Ha.

"You utterly deserved it, my dear Jack, "

Excuse me, "Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Yes of course, Jack darling," he says absently. "After all, I don't think you realize how much of a stir you made when you left. Well, first when you quit Madam Putain's to work for Iron Dick, and then when you just disappeared, near six years ago?"

Well, forgive me if I didn't want to spend more of my time than I needed to as a prostitute. I wanted the money, not the sex… though there were benefits. Meeting Frank, for one.

A finger is drawn downwards from my collarbone, and the voice gets even more flirtatious.

"Not nice, Jack, not at all. And then you return and steal Ana's boat? And you return with a pretty bit like this and don't introduce us? I'm hurt." The finger is withdrawn just below my navel.

Yeah, he's definitely pouting.

"Well, I can remedy that," glance over at the boy, his eyes are even wider… "This is my sweet William—" ha, that got your attention, didn't it, boy? "—and Will, this is Frank, the best whore this side o' the Bermuda. "

Frank offers his hand, and Will awkwardly shakes it instead of kissing it as was obviously expected. Lovely smirk there, Frank, but Will's blush has got to be more tempting.

He's fidgeting now, face bright scarlet, gotta go find Gibbs before the bloody kid runs off screaming for his Elizabeth. Means I'll have to say goodbye to Frank's delicious muscles, but I can always come and find them later. Cant I, Frank?

"I've been busy, love, too busy to think of visiting, and unfortunately business breeds a business like behavior towards business as well as the accruation of yet more business, which we must go and attend to before Will pops a blood vessel, but if you're not too busy later there may be a chance that we could really get down to business, savvy?"

With a wink and a quick squeeze of my arse, Frank purrs a goodbye to Will and vanishes in to the crowd.

Heathen gods, look at the kid's face! Hey, maybe he's distracted enough that he wont notice if I grab him around his waist like this and drag him along. Mmm, nice.

I start humming to myself. Things are looking up.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooWillooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Dear God, I hate this place. All these people, all these smells, the drunkenness, the shoddy weaponry, the prostitutes…..

Of all that I've seen tonight, I truly think the prostitutes are the worst. I've seen enough bosoms to last me a lifetime…unless it happened to be Elizabeth's bosom, of course. But the male prostitutes…Good Christ, do they have no shame? No trace of masculine pride? I mean, how do they even…or do I want to know?

I miss Port Royal. I always wanted to become a sailor after I finished my apprenticeship with Mr. Brown. A good man, like the Commodore, a man worthy of Miss Swann…But now that future is closed to me. If only….

I wish I were anywhere but here, in this creaky, filthy little room above the Faithful Bride. I can hear the noise from the common room, something like rat scratching across the floor, and to my deep embaressment, moans and grunts from the room next to mine.

Im trying not to listen, but it's…difficult.

I don't know if I should be grateful that Jack left me here by myself since he only paid for one room, or if I should be insulted, since these rooms are obviously…well. Not proper. I wonder where he is.

I wonder if Elizabeth is thinking of me as much as Im thinking of her? Does she know how I feel? That I have sacrificed all my hopes and dreams, become nothing more than a common criminal to rescue her?

I wonder if she feels the same.

It's late. I'm never going to fall asleep at this rate. I wish Jack would come back….I think…..

Author Note:

So who caught the Rocky Horror reference? Kudos to you if you did, mate. Sorry this chapter is so short, they'll be longer from here on in. : )

Now look here; that review button is right there. Why don't you do something about it, savvy?