Ahem: a collection of stories from my older sister's birthday that I am now posting individually.
Rules: I shall put my music library on shuffle and pair her top 10 ships with the first 10 songs. Each ship gets a story related to the song with decreasing times: ship #1 gets 10 min., ship #2 gets 9 min., ship #3 gets 8 min., etc. So ship #10 is a hot mess 1 min. panic attack.
You don't HAVE to listen to the song first...but you might want to. And author's notes are bolded.
3. Elizabeth SwannxJack Sparrow (Pirates of the Caribbean) - "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros - 8 min. timer
I re-watched the first couple movies to write this, and I've got to say, the combination of watching them and writing this fic made me ship them. 10/10.
By means of the Pirate Code, a pirate's home is with his ship, whether he be captain or crew.
It made sense considering they were literally pirates, for goodness' sake, and roaming was what they did, but Elizabeth had never fully considered herself a pirate.
Frequently found herself among them, yes. Fascinated with them, certainly. But not quite one herself.
Sure, at the moment, she was on a full-scale adventure with Jack and his crew, but she was more entourage than anything. An accessory. She hung on Sparrow's arm whenever they touched shore, made him look a bit more respectable, then watched in twisted admiration as he robbed fools blind. So, they sat at dinner, trying to convince the world that he was some kind of gentleman.
"Jack?" she asked suddenly.
"Yes, Miss Swann," he answered in his most debonair voice, which was nearly perfect, save for the hiccup in the middle.
"What's your home?"
"Why, the Black Pearl, of course. What a silly question." He laughed a little too uproariously to himself.
She huffed. "I knew you would say that."
"Why'd'ya ask the question then, lass."
"Well, where's my home? I'm no pirate. I'm not bound to any one ship."
"Wouldn't it be with the Turner boy?"
Her eyes narrowed. "No! Not yet, certainly."
He slung his bottle of rum to the side. "Then, perhaps, it's in Daddy Governor's mansion."
"That was never my home. Not truly. Just a holding place in between adventures."
Jack took a swig from his bottle before studying her quizzically. "Do you remember that day you fell from that big stone opening into the ocean?"
"Of course, I do. You jumped in after me."
"Yes. Right. Well, I always meant to tell you how absolutely ravishing you looked right then."
"What, soaked and half dressed?"
"Precisely. Although, you probably wouldn't still be coming aboard my ship if I did, so maybe it was best I didn't say it." He winked, and she seemed to feel his gaze on every part of her.
"Why?"
He looked off into the distance for a moment, and by the time he came back around, he was on an entirely different topic. "Well, strictly offa th' pirate's code, of course, home is simply the people y' spend the most time around."
Her eyes widened in a moment, and she inhaled sharply, indignant. "Then I suppose that would be you?"
A smug grin and a tip of his rum was all the response she got.
I just... really like this one. Idk.