Jack Sparrow ;

🪐 — jack sparrow​ ;

      His memories of her from his childhood were surprisingly vivid: the strong… a young Jack could only describe it as swamp smell that clung to the very bones of this wooden shack, the pots and talismans and other assorted trinkets that he had always longed — and occasionally tried — to take home with him, the rhythmic quality to her voice that made any story she told sound like the most interesting thing he had ever heard. Teague had strange friends but Tia Dalma had always stood out.

       “ You knew her? ” There was no way her remark had been made by accident, but something youthful and hopeful leapt in Jack’s eyes nonetheless. But even as he leaned forward in his chair, a willing listener to whatever stories she cared to tell, he couldn’t help but spare a quick, wary glance over his shoulder. “ He… ” Teague wasn’t present here in Tia Dalma’s shack, but his mother had been the forbidden spectre of his youth for long enough that the habit had become difficult to break. “ Teague doesn’t really talk about her. ” Jack shrugged slightly, crossing his arms in front of him on the table. “ And I don’t really remember much. ”

       THE EYES IN QUESTION CAME ALIGHT at the mention of maria, though the goddess’s own sharp gaze did not miss the flicker of fear as they looked away briefly, ensuring they were truly alone before he spoke. but there was hope there, too. young jack could not hide his interest in the topic.  &  suddenly, calypso found herself a bit sad for the boy. their mortal lives were so unbearably short, after all,  &  she could see how he yearned for so much as a scrap of detail from the life that had given him his own. that his father would deny that to him seemed cruel — but that too was the way of men, she had found.                                           ❝ only briefly, ❞  she responds, moving away from her heavily laden shelves to seat herself at the table across from jack. ❝ your father brought her here once, before you were born. ❞ grimy fingertips play idly with the bones laid out before her, twisting them into new angles as she calls to mind the face he sought. the humans all began to blend together over time, but it is easier to remember maria with jack there before her; they really do look quite alike. a smile curls at one side of tia dalma’s lips, her knuckles rapping softly against the wooden tabletop. ❝ that a woman like her could handle captain teague was proof enough of her strength of spirit. ❞

My family’s here now, at sea.

                                luck hasn’t exactly been on my side.

🪐 —open prompt  sent by  @artereis​  / podrick               ❛  i  hope  that  you’re  okay . ❜

                    SHE SHOULD HAVE BEEN ELATED. everything her family had worked for since the day she’d been born was finally within their grasp. after two failed attempts at making a strategically beneficial match for her, at last margaery had secured a betrothal to the eldest son of the royal family. she would be queen; it was her grandmother’s dream realized. but in spite of her family’s undeniable victory, there was a heavy weight that had settled in her stomach, a sense of dread that only grew more  &  more intense as her wedding date approached.  &  when podrick was standing before her, it became almost overwhelming. her breath caught in her throat  &  margaery began to despair  —  how could she marry another when her very heart felt as though it was trying to burst from her chest whenever podrick was nearby ?                                                                              but it was not her choice to make; this was her duty to her family. her head held high in resolve, her lips curl into a well-practiced smile, though in her chest her heart is split open  &  aching. ❝ of course. it’s my honor to be of service to my family  &  to the kingdom. ❞  it wasn’t truly an answer to his question,  &  margaery hopes that it goes unnoticed —  or does she want him to notice the false note in her voice, that somehow he will hear the truth behind her carefully measured words ? even she cannot say for what she hopes.

🪐 —open prompt  sent by  @immobiliter​  /  robin                        ❛ wish i didn’t care .❜

      TOWNS LIKE HAWKINS COULD FEEL LIKE A CAGE  for those who didn’t easily  fit into the established mold. birdie knew far too well the uncomfortable sensation of not belonging in a close-knit community like this one.  &  folks around small towns could be mean to anyone who was the slightest bit different  — especially high school kids. it was one of the reasons that she kept the art room door open during her lunch period: any of her students were welcome to come in  &  eat with her if they couldn’t brave the cafeteria for any reason, or if they just didn’t have anyone else to sit with.                                           robin had been taking her up the offer more often lately. birdie didn’t mind; she was grateful for the company, in fact. even if robin didn’t want to talk about it, it was just nice not to eat alone. but she also can’t help but worry about her student.  &  birdie doesn’t really know what to say  — doesn’t want to push her to talk about it — but she wants to help, however she can. ❝ it’s not always a bad thing to care, ❞  she says, her eyes downcast as she slices an apple into neat eighths.  ❝ but you’ve also gotta remember for your own sake that not everyone’s opinion is worth listening to. ❞

🪐 —open prompt  sent by  @thecodekeeper​             ❝ i kept your tears in a jar. ❞

         ❝ THEN YOU’VE KEPT AS TIGHT A HOLD  on mine as you do on your own. ❞  &  she laughs, the sound rough  &  harsh when it escapes from her throat. captain teague sometimes seemed more than just a man himself. his reputation preceded him, his attentions often singularly focused on his duties as keeper of the pirate code. it was rare that he came to tia dalma seeking help with matters of the heart. far more often he asked for her help navigating without stars, or keeping sirens at bay. but she could still remember the day she had given him the little crystal vial of her own tears to help blunt the sharp edges of his grief. on that day, teague had been nothing more than a man mourning his lost love, gone too soon.  &  she had given him something to help ease his sorrows, but it seemed that the good captain had not understood how to use it in the end. ❝ they didn’t work because tears only have the power to heal once they are released, ❞  she says, her tone incredulous. as if he should have known, as if it’s common knowledge.  &  the priestess taps her cheekbone just beneath her eye, the pattern of her tattoos wrinkling as she smiles. ❝ keep them trapped inside,  &  they can do nothing to help you. you must let them out if you ever hope to be free of them. ❞