So I've decided to write fics that are completely and utterly bizarre. Or pointless and absurd. Or boring. Things like that.
I sat down today to work on O.C. fic and instead I wrote eight pages of my first true PotC fic that's about a character that only has one mention in the entire movie. Daft you say? Well...yes it is.
And I babysat my little sister yesterday and rewatched The Tenth Kingdom
and I still laugh at the lame lines and love the awesomeness of Wolf.
But first fic, and later, maybe fic I'm supposed to actually to be working on. And after that, perhaps a light snack.Good Mary
Author: Regala Electra
Summary: A tale of a woman who dreamed of greater things over the sea.
Pairing: William's Mother/Bootstrap Bill
Author's Notes: All we know is that William Turner's mother died in England. This is a possible story of the woman who would have loved Bootstrap Bill, a pirate and a good man.
Good Mary, they call her when she passes by the beggars on the street. She offers little food she has to spare, something she herself should squirrel away in the upcoming months, but she's too afeared that someday that may be her own situation.
Her name isn't Mary, although her former employer, the cruel mistress of the house, called her that: Good Mary, always running off to Church. At least, her mistress recounted on a sharp autumn day, she wasn't a Catholic, like some of those hired girls from Ireland.
Her job was lost to an Irish girl; the reason given was the size of her belly. She was dismissed harshly and told she'd do good to never return.
She was married right and true though: her husband married her the very week they met when she told him that he'd naught be trying to undo her petticoats, he'd only laughed and said, "By God, I'm taken with you, love. You've a spirit like the sea."
He was a sailor, so he said with a bit of a sharp grin, and she loved the sea, she'd never been out on the open waters, but snuck sometimes out to watch the coming and goings of the port instead of visiting Church. She'd share bread with homeless young urchins, their eyes wide and too old for their short years.
She saw him working there one day, he'd been a handsome man, young and strong, tanned by hot days and she'd never seen such a fine man.
She did not fall in love with him that day. But he did notice her, his eyes were dark as night and he smiled and she saw a golden tooth in his bright smile.
(There was talk of pirates that year; a talk of their threats growing and it was dangerous for safe passage at sea, though she longed to leave England for the New World. It had grown to the point where she considered doing the indignity of indenturing herself to the growing transportation of wealthy English nobleman and women, who wanted reliable servants for their lavish new homes. But she could not imagine being cramped on those ships with so many others, bound to a destiny unknown over such a great distance. Here at least, she knew her place.)
The next day, she brought a bit of drink with her along with her food. It was a good whisky, and though she was not much inclined to drink, she brought it with her nonetheless.
He surprised her by sitting right next to her, he smiled nicely and his gold tooth glinted in the midday sunlight. "Good day, miss."
"Sir," she stammered, a blush rising to color her cheeks. She looked down; no man had ever dared to address her before.
There was a pause and then he said, in a jolly tone, "Blast, my manner to have swam out to sea! Apologies miss, I'm more seafarer than gentleman, and the sea's not one for niceties. I'm B-Bill," he caught himself for some reason and she turns to look back at him for that, and does not look away, "Bill Turner."
"Margaret Carleton," she answered, her cheeks feeling hot. "Most call me Mary."
"Mary," he replied, as thought doubtful of the name. "No, I do not think it suits you, love."
She laughed softly at that, brushing a loose lock back into place. "Good sir, I hope you're not a right scallywag."
He laughed at that and only said, "I've been called worse. Most folks know me as Bootstrap Bill."
It was strange, but she thought that fitted him, a slim, young man with tanned skin and dark eyes. He was a man of the sea, she could smell his scent mixed in the many aromas of the sea-air and he was suited to it.( Read more... )