I DON'T KNOW YET. At the moment it's just like...PIRATE SCENES. I have a plot in my head and I think it will probably be a long oneshot but there's also so much plot that it might be it's own verse and I DON'T KNOW I JUST DON'T KNOW
ALL I KNOW
IS PIRATELOVE
AND YES, THERE IS PIRATE TALK AND TIME PERIOD TALK AND HERE, HAVE A SAMPLE:
--
"I want you to know," Neal said, staring at Peter reproachfully from within the brig, "that your dirty parrot is after me innards."
"Don't demean yourself by talking like that," Peter returned. He was draped lazily across a barrel of gunpowder, and, he had to admit, getting a lot of enjoyment out of watching Neal pace. "I know you know how to speak like a proper Englishman. And it's not 'me' parrot, it's the Admiral's bloody parrot, and it's after everyone's innards."
"Mine in particular," Neal muttered.
"You know," Peter said, musingly, "you're the least hearty pirate I've ever met. You haven't even spat at me, and I was rather expecting that."
Neal rolled his eyes. "So adopting the grammar is demeaning myself and spitting at you to be expected? How very contradictory, Commander."
Peter opened his mouth to argue--he wasn't sure what, exactly, but he knew it would come to him--when Jones, his sub-lieutenant, descended the stairs with a clatter.
"The Admiral is awake, sir," he said, not ever sparing a glance at their prisoner. Peter raised an eyebrow.
"So?"
"So he's coming down here, sir, and you're not wearing your wig," Jones hissed. He tossed the thing over--a huge ceremonial powdered monstrosity that Peter loathed--and gave him a look. "I wouldn't have to do this if you'd just--"
"I am your superior office," Peter snapped, jamming the damned thing on his head, "and you are neither my mother nor my wife. Kindly refrain from lecturing me."
"Sorry, Commander," Jones said, cowed, just as Admiral Hughes descended the stairs.
--
(THERE IS A REASON HUGHES HAS A PARROT EVEN THOUGH HE IS NOT A PIRATE, I PROMISE.)
OMG that is EPIC WIN!!! :D So Are Peter and Jones etc all part of british military?? <3 OMG Least hearty pirate FTW!!! <3 and banter over grammar :) you slay me girl!!
HERE HAVE SOME MORE, SINCE YOU NEED IT AND NOT AT ALL BECAUSE I WANT TO SHOW IT TO EVERYONE:gyzymApril 13 2010, 20:07:45 UTC
The first time Peter met Neal he wasn't Neal; he was Captain Silvertongue of the pirate vessel Howl, and Peter was Lieutenant-Commander Burke of the Royal Navy's Taurus. Silvertongue and his crew had raided a merchant vessel and stolen a truly horrifying quantity of black pepper, and it had been Peter's task to hunt him down.
Peter tracked him to at a port in East India; the Howl was the most impeccably kept pirate ship he'd had ever seen, and it was easily identifiable. He hopped ashore in his undershirt and britches as his crew docked, and he found his quarry having a pint in the local bar.
"Silvetongue," Peter growled. "I thought you'd have more sense that to stop for a drink while being tailed by the likes of me."
He'd delivered that line before, Peter had. It had made other pirates--well, if not quake in their boots, at least swallow rather harder than normal. Sivertongue, to Peter's unending surprise, just put his drink down and smiled, long and slow.
It was a very nice smile, really.
"If I'd known," the pirate murmured, letting his eyes travel up and then down Peter's chest, that smile still in place, "that I had such a worthy pursuant--" He sighed, and stood, cracking his back. "Ah, well. Can't blame a chap for not foreseeing such an adversary, can you?"
Peter flushed, but ignored it, pulling his revolver out and cocking it. "Flattery will get you nowhere," he snapped.
Silvertongue pulled a face. "Oh, honestly," he said, and before Peter could even process what he was doing, he'd ripped a sword from the sheath of the man sitting closest, thrown it up in the air, and caught it by the blunt side of the blade. He knocked the gun from Peter's hand and offered him the rapier instead, the handle trembling invitingly.
Bemused, Peter took it. Silvertongue drew his own sword and his smile went a shade deeper. "If it's a fight you want," he said, circling Peter now, "we should fight like men."
"Don't like guns?" Peter asked, matching his footwork. Silvertongue laughed.
"Any idiot can use one of those death machines. I prefer to make my kills with a little more--" he lunged, whipping out a swift uppercut with the blade that Peter barely blocked, "panache."
"You know," Peter said, trying to cover how badly shaken he was, "from what I've heard, you don't kill much. The great white lily, they call you."
Silvertongue's smile turned dangerous. "Getting personal," he said, his voice low, "and I don't even know your name. That's hardly sporting."
"Lieutenant-Commander Burke," Peter said. "Not that you'll be alive much longer to remember it."
Silvetongue threw his head back and laughed. "Now, now," he purred, "surely you don't expect me to believe you're going to murder me in cold blood. I'm worth twice as much alive."
"The Navy's more concerned about protecting the seas than tossing the nobles a publicity stunt," Peter growled. "As am I."
Re: HERE HAVE SOME MORE, SINCE YOU NEED IT AND NOT AT ALL BECAUSE I WANT TO SHOW IT TO EVERYONE:gyzymApril 13 2010, 20:08:51 UTC
The pirate cocked his head. He flicked his blade, once, twice, waiting to see if Peter would flinch. When he didn't, Silvertongue gave him an approving nod, then leaned in a little over the blades, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"I still don't think you'll kill me," he said.
"And why is that?"
"I think you like me." And before Peter could begin to respond to that ridiculous accusation, Silvertongue moved. He was lightening fast, a twist to the right, a hit to the left, pressing Peter to the wall with the blade across his throat.
A crowd had gathered to watch them. Silvertongue glanced around at them, and then he winked--actually winked!--at Peter.
"Ahoy!" he shouted, "I've just won this scallywag's best girl!"
The crowd laughed and cheered. Despite himself, Peter felt his face go bright red.
"He were a fool to go up against you, Silvertongue!" one man shouted. A woman--Peter was fairly sure she was a whore--tittered next to him.
"Best fencer in the seven seas, you are!" she called. Silvertongue favored her with a smile, and didn't move the blade from Peter's throat.
"Aye," he said, softly, "his mistake." Then he raised his voice and called "Who 'a you fine lads'll buy this poor fool a drink?"
A roar went up. Silvertongue took advantage of the noise to press close to Peter's ear. "You're lucky you aren't wearing anything official," he hissed, "or I'd never have gotten you out of that."
"What--"
"I want you to remember this," Silvertongue said, pressing the blade a little harder into Peter's throat. He gulped. "I don't kill just because I can. But I am nobody's wilting flower. Are we clear?"
"Crystal."
"Then have a good night," the pirate said, stepping back and offering Peter another smile, "Commander."
He was gone in an instant, lost to the rush of the crowd.
Re: HERE HAVE SOME MORE, SINCE YOU NEED IT AND NOT AT ALL BECAUSE I WANT TO SHOW IT TO EVERYONE:lovefanfictionApril 13 2010, 20:23:18 UTC
Oh, an AU with perfectly IC Neal and Peter! This would be worth reading just for that but it's. got. pirates. And it's written so well! I love your nicknames, that jab Neal threw at Peter-!
Re: HERE HAVE SOME MORE, SINCE YOU NEED IT AND NOT AT ALL BECAUSE I WANT TO SHOW IT TO EVERYONE:elrhiarhodanApril 13 2010, 20:26:08 UTC
Just to inject a little reality into this hilarious thread...I actually wrote an article about 18th century grooming and fashion last December, and came across some info about powdered wigs. An excert from my article:
"In case you were wondering, the powder used to whiten hair was not talcum, but rice or potato flour, which needed an oily surface in order to stick. To keep the powder from falling off, the hair (whether on the head or on a wig) was coated with pomades made from rendered animal fats and scented oils. Powdering was a messy and time consuming process, and in accordance with general hygiene practices of the time, even upper-class men and women bathed and washed their hair only once or twice a year."
Hopefully Peter and Neal (and the rest of the crews of their ships) have a better sense of hygiene.
ALL I KNOW
IS PIRATELOVE
AND YES, THERE IS PIRATE TALK AND TIME PERIOD TALK AND HERE, HAVE A SAMPLE:
--
"I want you to know," Neal said, staring at Peter reproachfully from within the brig, "that your dirty parrot is after me innards."
"Don't demean yourself by talking like that," Peter returned. He was draped lazily across a barrel of gunpowder, and, he had to admit, getting a lot of enjoyment out of watching Neal pace. "I know you know how to speak like a proper Englishman. And it's not 'me' parrot, it's the Admiral's bloody parrot, and it's after everyone's innards."
"Mine in particular," Neal muttered.
"You know," Peter said, musingly, "you're the least hearty pirate I've ever met. You haven't even spat at me, and I was rather expecting that."
Neal rolled his eyes. "So adopting the grammar is demeaning myself and spitting at you to be expected? How very contradictory, Commander."
Peter opened his mouth to argue--he wasn't sure what, exactly, but he knew it would come to him--when Jones, his sub-lieutenant, descended the stairs with a clatter.
"The Admiral is awake, sir," he said, not ever sparing a glance at their prisoner. Peter raised an eyebrow.
"So?"
"So he's coming down here, sir, and you're not wearing your wig," Jones hissed. He tossed the thing over--a huge ceremonial powdered monstrosity that Peter loathed--and gave him a look. "I wouldn't have to do this if you'd just--"
"I am your superior office," Peter snapped, jamming the damned thing on his head, "and you are neither my mother nor my wife. Kindly refrain from lecturing me."
"Sorry, Commander," Jones said, cowed, just as Admiral Hughes descended the stairs.
--
(THERE IS A REASON HUGHES HAS A PARROT EVEN THOUGH HE IS NOT A PIRATE, I PROMISE.)
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idk everyone has been writing serious fic like grownups recently, and it is pretty great, BUT TODAY I DEFINITELY NEEDED THIS IN MY LIFE.
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Peter tracked him to at a port in East India; the Howl was the most impeccably kept pirate ship he'd had ever seen, and it was easily identifiable. He hopped ashore in his undershirt and britches as his crew docked, and he found his quarry having a pint in the local bar.
"Silvetongue," Peter growled. "I thought you'd have more sense that to stop for a drink while being tailed by the likes of me."
He'd delivered that line before, Peter had. It had made other pirates--well, if not quake in their boots, at least swallow rather harder than normal. Sivertongue, to Peter's unending surprise, just put his drink down and smiled, long and slow.
It was a very nice smile, really.
"If I'd known," the pirate murmured, letting his eyes travel up and then down Peter's chest, that smile still in place, "that I had such a worthy pursuant--" He sighed, and stood, cracking his back. "Ah, well. Can't blame a chap for not foreseeing such an adversary, can you?"
Peter flushed, but ignored it, pulling his revolver out and cocking it. "Flattery will get you nowhere," he snapped.
Silvertongue pulled a face. "Oh, honestly," he said, and before Peter could even process what he was doing, he'd ripped a sword from the sheath of the man sitting closest, thrown it up in the air, and caught it by the blunt side of the blade. He knocked the gun from Peter's hand and offered him the rapier instead, the handle trembling invitingly.
Bemused, Peter took it. Silvertongue drew his own sword and his smile went a shade deeper. "If it's a fight you want," he said, circling Peter now, "we should fight like men."
"Don't like guns?" Peter asked, matching his footwork. Silvertongue laughed.
"Any idiot can use one of those death machines. I prefer to make my kills with a little more--" he lunged, whipping out a swift uppercut with the blade that Peter barely blocked, "panache."
"You know," Peter said, trying to cover how badly shaken he was, "from what I've heard, you don't kill much. The great white lily, they call you."
Silvertongue's smile turned dangerous. "Getting personal," he said, his voice low, "and I don't even know your name. That's hardly sporting."
"Lieutenant-Commander Burke," Peter said. "Not that you'll be alive much longer to remember it."
Silvetongue threw his head back and laughed. "Now, now," he purred, "surely you don't expect me to believe you're going to murder me in cold blood. I'm worth twice as much alive."
"The Navy's more concerned about protecting the seas than tossing the nobles a publicity stunt," Peter growled. "As am I."
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"I still don't think you'll kill me," he said.
"And why is that?"
"I think you like me." And before Peter could begin to respond to that ridiculous accusation, Silvertongue moved. He was lightening fast, a twist to the right, a hit to the left, pressing Peter to the wall with the blade across his throat.
A crowd had gathered to watch them. Silvertongue glanced around at them, and then he winked--actually winked!--at Peter.
"Ahoy!" he shouted, "I've just won this scallywag's best girl!"
The crowd laughed and cheered. Despite himself, Peter felt his face go bright red.
"He were a fool to go up against you, Silvertongue!" one man shouted. A woman--Peter was fairly sure she was a whore--tittered next to him.
"Best fencer in the seven seas, you are!" she called. Silvertongue favored her with a smile, and didn't move the blade from Peter's throat.
"Aye," he said, softly, "his mistake." Then he raised his voice and called "Who 'a you fine lads'll buy this poor fool a drink?"
A roar went up. Silvertongue took advantage of the noise to press close to Peter's ear. "You're lucky you aren't wearing anything official," he hissed, "or I'd never have gotten you out of that."
"What--"
"I want you to remember this," Silvertongue said, pressing the blade a little harder into Peter's throat. He gulped. "I don't kill just because I can. But I am nobody's wilting flower. Are we clear?"
"Crystal."
"Then have a good night," the pirate said, stepping back and offering Peter another smile, "Commander."
He was gone in an instant, lost to the rush of the crowd.
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HERE, TAKE MY HEART: <3
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"In case you were wondering, the powder used to whiten hair was not talcum, but rice or potato flour, which needed an oily surface in order to stick. To keep the powder from falling off, the hair (whether on the head or on a wig) was coated with pomades made from rendered animal fats and scented oils. Powdering was a messy and time consuming process, and in accordance with general hygiene practices of the time, even upper-class men and women bathed and washed their hair only once or twice a year."
Hopefully Peter and Neal (and the rest of the crews of their ships) have a better sense of hygiene.
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EW.
THEY BATHE MORE THAN THAT IN MY VERSION OF HISTORY AND IDEK CARE IF THAT'S NOT ACCURATE BECAUSE
EW
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(Not that historical accuracy is all that essential in a White Collar A/U fic about PIRATES HAVING SEX)
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IF COWBOYS WERE DOING IT, PIRATES WERE DOING IT.
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Navy!Peter and fencing!Neal!! HOT HOT!
Write like the wind :D I can't wait to see more!!
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