Angelique Joliette
This is the kind of beautifully bad where even the smallest details are stupid. It’s layers on layers of badness, bad at the largest level and at the smallest. It’s like some great Mandelbrot fractal of bad.
-Wolfychan
Gather ’round, heave_ho crew, and listen to the tale of a Sue so beautifully bad that I could scarce go a paragraph without chuckling or gaping in sheer disbelief! Beginning with her name and ending with her accent, truly she has made my week, month, and year.
Yes, that is the Sue’s name in the title. No, I did not make it up. Yes, this was written by a retired high-school science teacher. No, this is not a troll. She is the one and only Angelique Joliette, here to provide us with hours, nay, days of entertainment.
So, let’s get cracking!
TITLE: A_Tourist
CULPRIT: royalpinkdogs At least she wasn’t teaching English…
SUMMARY: Jack receives news of the whereabouts of the Black Pearl and accepts the help of a beautiful woman, Angelique Joliette,to find it. Post AWE; OC
Best Line:"It hurts. My whole right side aches, but where it's broken is like, well, like a Kraken's tooth has pierced it."
Jack's ebony eyes bored into hers, showing the merest tinge of sadness, "Lizzie. Luv, we're past all that. Doncha 'member? We each forgot 'n forgave, and vowed not ta mention it. I jus' want me girl to feel better. What do ye need me t' do fer ye?" "Yeah, that whole betrayed me, chained me to the capstan, left me to die in the slimy maw of a sea monster thing just didn’t make all that much of an impression. Now, how’s my honey-bunny?”
AND:
Jack was finally able to meet his father's gaze, with a distinctly meek expression and a broad grin, to say "Yeah. I am. I love her, Pa. Jes' like you n' me mum. Once in a lifetime, huh?" I’m not sure what prompted Jack to get a brain transplant from Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel, but I’m betting sea turtles are involved.
The Verdict:
Yes, that's right. All of them.
I’m not going to do the standard Mary Sue profile for this one, because it would spoil too many of the…surprises. And there are many. Trust me, this fic has to be read to be appreciated.
The "Plot":
What little there is seems to be a Jack/Elizabeth lovefest gone horribly awry. It starts off pretty promisingly, with Jack helping to steer a Chinese junk through a storm (the Suethor does have a good handle on ship terminology) but then quickly devolves into sappiness when Elizabeth hurts her leg and Jack forsakes the seven seas to take care of her. That is, before it's rumored that someone, i.e. Sue, can return the Black Pearl to him. So, proclaiming his everlasting love for Elizabeth, he sets sail with "Captain" Angelique for the island of St. Kitts, and the rest of the fic goes absolutely nowhere. It's just a lot of boring and heavily-accented dialogue, with the Sue blatantly offering herself to Jack and Jack being nobly and uncharacteristically loyal to Elizabeth. It's kind of hard to tell if Sue will be successful in her attempt, but don't worry: she's already sleeping with another hot guy in the meantime.
Did I mention she's French? Well, she's French. Very, very, very French.
There is also a Tragic Past buried at the end of the fic that I couldn’t resist excerpting.
Elizabeth didn't bother knocking on Teague's door but opened it and struggled through on her crutches while wielding the sketchbook before her. "Pearl. Who was Pearl? And why was an African woman in England?"
"Ah, ye know, do ye? Wot do ye know?"
"That Jack knew and apparently loved a young African woman named Pearl at a big house in England. These drawings are good, and it's obvious he was in love with her."
"His first love. Brought her with me from Madagascar, left as an orphan on the docks near me ship. Poor little skinny kid, loved to sail. Came back to England and worked on the place. She followed Jack like his shadow and they grew up together, became best friends," Teague spoke to the air over his guitar, not looking up at Elizabeth.
"What happened? Where is she now?"
"Plague."
"So she's dead?"
"Along with all the others."
Um…yeah. So that's the story behind the Black Pearl. She was a girl named Pearl. And she was black. And now she's dead. So Jack named his ship The Black Pearl. I wonder...since Jack shacks up with Lizzie in this fic, will he rename his ship The White Swann?
Now, there seems to be a little extra space in this report. What should I do with it?
I know! It’s time for…
Mighty Morphin’ Pirate Accents!
[We regret to inform you that these examples all come from the first chapter.]
Jack Sparrow is Normal:
• Rowsing himself, and calling, "Mr. Gibbs. Take the helm, man. " he waited for his trusty friend and erstwhile First Mate to take the wheel from him. "Good man, Gibbs. I'll be below."
Jack Sparrow has a fly up his nose:
• "We're in th' eye of th' storm, th' hurricane, and it won't last long. Come up here wit' me, Lizzie, and tie yerself to th' railings so I kin keep an eye on ye."
Gibbs cooks up a mess o’ beans before herdin' them dogies:
• "Aye, Captain. See to our Miss Elizabeth 'n git some rest yerself, lad", slapping Jack on the shoulder.
Jack Sparrow impersonates the Czar:
• "Lizzie, Lizzie. What hev ye done now?"
A Chinese man goes Jamaican:
• Behind him, the cabin door squeaked open and the physician came back in, "Coptin Spaarah. She be fine. Her leg broke but now strayt. She take de poppy, and no feel de pain."
Martian. Honestly, there’s no other explanation.
• " Hua Tuo. T'ank ye fer tykin' care o' me girl. She does git herself inta some messes," turning to smile at the doctor. "An' if ye'll forgive me, I am goin' to me bed.”
NOTES: Write more, Suethor. Please, write more. I haven't laughed this hard at a single fic in a long time.
Jack Sparrow, the French-basher
"A feller I once sailed wit', long ago, who knows The Pearl…. Said he saw it after th' hurricane beached east o' here…... They weren't far off o' th' shore 'n he recognized it-unmistakable. Said their captain dropped anchor, 'n they went ashore t' see who was on board. Lizzie, there was no one there. No crew, no passengers, not even that damned monkey."
"Jack! The Pearl! You know where she is then? We can go get her-oh Jack, how wonderf….wait, you're not telling me something…."
"Luv, it grieves me t' tell ye this, but me Pearl is on that Frenchy Saint Kitts. Dam froggies, I’m sure Johnny Depp would be thrilled to hear that line come out of Jack’s mouth. feller says they claim me Pearl as theirs. "
"Ah, the French. Well, how can you get her back?"
Jack rolled onto his back, and pulled Elizabeth along with him, her head resting on his shoulder and her face nuzzled in his neck. "It seems I have a way, but it's not one yer goin' t' like. That French woman, Angelique Joliette, Best. Name. Ever. is willin' t' take me there and bargain wit th' Frenchies, since she's one o' them."
"Angelique Joliette? I knew her in Port Royal-her father was a merchant in town and we bought wine from him. What is she doing here?"
"She sails wit' Pittcairn Bradshaw, Pittcairn Bradshaw?
Pittcairn Bradshaw?!
BRAIN OVER FATAL ERROR PLEASE REBOOT STORY 100100111100010011110111101
n' they have a Merchant with sixteen cannon. I kin sail wit' them day after tomorra'……"
For a long moment, nothing was said. But Elizabeth soon raised her head looking down on Jack, saying," She's a beautiful woman. Do I need to be worried?" No, not worried. You need to be screaming bloody murder and running for your life!
Jack gazed straight into Elizabeth's eyes, neither blinking nor wavering his focus. He slowly spread his lips into a sweet smile that was mirrored in his eyes, and raised his hand to her cheek, "No, luv. No."
Elizabeth looked at him for a few more moments, then smiling, returned her head to his shoulder, and tightened her hold around Jack's chest.
I keep rubbing my eyes to make sure I'm actually reading this.
Sailing on high tide, The Tomb Raider AAAAAAAAAGH! weighed anchor in Shipwreck Cove, and moved out to sea. Standing on the quarterdeck, near the helm, Jack looked back toward the city made of ship wreckage. The expression on his face was a curious mix of wistfulness and peace, for though he knew his lady would be well cared for by her aides and his own father as her broken leg healed he missed having her at his side. Once the city disappeared behind the cliffs of the island, Jack turned to regard the woman at the helm. That she was beautiful was an understatement. Startlingly clear green eyes, tawny masses of golden brown hair As opposed to tawny masses of blue hair? and just-been-kissed lips were only the beginning of the image, An image taken off the latest tabloid from the supermarket. which continued with a full bosom, tiny hips and long willowy legs. Since her clothing was chosen with accentuation of nature's gifts in mind, an observer was immediately aware of Beauty. Now I know why Real Person Fic always gives me the creeps.
She spoke to Jack in her heavily French-accented way, I hope this person never, ever corrected a student’s paper. "Well, Capitan Sparr-oh. How do you lahk ma ship?" Why do you bother to tell us about her ‘French’ accent if you’re just going to render it phonetically anyway?
"She's a beauty, luv. I hear she kin make 20 knots in even a light breeze. How deep is the keel?"
"Ah Capitan Sparr-oh. Do not make ze bon mots wit' me. Ah know der is sumpszing you want to know effen more." "Yieu want to know ze raison why Ah Pepe le Pew’d mah accent!”
"Oh really? Do tell, deary." No, don’t tell, deary. Please. My brain can only withstand so much…
"You want to know where ez mon chere Pittcairn, non? You and he was once bon ami, in ze days of yer youth, and you want to "ketch up" With this accent, I'm just glad there's no mayonnaise. wit your old friend, n'est ce-pas?" she purred.
"Aye, we did have some right good times then. Is he below decks?"
"No, mon chere Capitan Sparr-oh. He did not sail wit' us c'est jour. Der was buzyness for heem to attend to in Shipwreck Cove, so it eez jus' vous et moi on this journey." All…alone…with hideous…faux accent…
"Ah. Then ye'll be wantin' me help wit' all things captain-y, eh? If ye want t' git there speedily, hand 'er over."
"Oh non, mon chere Jacques. No one steers th' Raider but moi Premier-maître -or ze, how you say, First Mate? "
"Luv, ye fergit, 'm Captain Jack Sparrow." "Now, Ah’ll jist saddle up mah horse an’ ride off yonder!” *ptooey*
" Pardonnez moi, but you see, eet ez my ship, and I am Capitan. But, you can help wit' ze navigation, and ze charts are in my cabin. If you would lahk to go there and chart our course, I will join you in une petit temps."
"Darlin', I can barely believe it. You are denyin' yerself the expert advice 'n skills of Captain Jack Sparrow? All this talent n' knowledge at yer disposal, n' I'm bein' ordered to be chartman?" His expression, completely aghast at her audacity, brought only a splendid Gallic shrug Nope, this is still not a trollfic. from the French woman,
"What would you do, if eet waz your ship, eh? Would you hand over ze wheel to anyone on board? Non? I thought not. So, you see mon chere capitan, you are jus' ze same as moi. No, I do believe you are unique, Sue.
Jack crossed his arms over his chest, and turned to gaze out to sea, before pivoting about to say, "Luv, you are precisely correct. I am jes' th' same as ye, a great captain, n' I offer my sincerest apologies fer presumin' otherwise." With that, he swept his tricorn from his head, and made a deep bow to the lady.
She laughed at his gesture, and turned her gaze back to the sea. Jack paused a moment, then clapping his hat on his head, swaggered down the steps to the door leading into the captain's cabin, and entered her private domain. Stopping just inside the door, Jack looked around the cabin, so similar in structure to his own aboard the Black Pearl but so different.
Captain Joliette's cabin bore all the signs of a French woman who knew and loved clothing as much as she did the sea. All around the cabin walls were hooks supporting more garments than Jack had ever seen in one place. Coats, waistcoats, shirts, trousers, hats of every color and material found in the four corners of the globe, the four corners of the globe? and shelves holding nothing but multiple pairs of boots, again in every hue of the rainbow. And what happened, pray tell, when the ship actually went anywhere? Did the clothes all fall onto the floor, perchance? A small area was occupied by more subdued materials, and many fewer items. Apparently, this was the clothing of Angelique's partner Pittcairn Bradshaw, presently on shore in Shipwreck Cove. Clothes chest, people. Clothes chest. Even Abi the Black Rose figured that one out. Jack fingered the materials of a few of the pieces, and whistled at the soft feel and subtle sensuality of the stuff. Unfortunately, those pieces belonged to Pittcairn Bradshaw. In turning, he spied a large four-poster bed, hung with heavy tapestries and draperies. Expelling a gust of breathe, A teacher, huh, Suethor? he turned toward the large chart table occupying the center of the cabin, and settled in the massive, intricately carved chair obviously reserved for the captain.
Angelique Joliette shone a blisteringly white smile Is that a Sooper Speshul Ability, or…? toward Jack, who innocently leaned back in the chair, his fingers steepled, grinning a golden starburst *pukes* in return. Removing her hat and allowing her leonine mane to fall from its casings, Angelique swayed across the cabin to the table, placing her hands on its surface to lean toward Jack. The position could do little else than to emphasize the bounteous swelling of her breasts in the open neckline of the ruffled shirt, and Jack was not immune to the view.
"Ah, darlin', ah kin see ye've bin growin' since last we met. Wot other accomplishments are ye plannin' to demonstrate? Ye're a good captain 'n a fair pirate, if wot I took th' leisure to examine in this cabin is an example o' yer acquisitive skills. Do ye do yer piratin' only in these waters, or do ye sail th' entire world t'git all th' different things?" waving his hands and fluttering his fingers.
"I luff to stop a trader weeth le bleu et le croix blanc. Ah always know der will be some young lady and her trousseau, and I will haff ze greatest jzoyee in taking those delicate bits of lingerie made so lovingly by les soeurs de convent for the virginal miss, and then wear them myself, allowing mon chere Pitt to strip them from me… one… at… a… time….." Run away, run awaaaay!
"Pitt-how is th' dear chap? I ain't see 'im fer a long time. Does Pitt sleep in here wit' ye?"
"Mais oui, mon chere ami sleeps wit' me. Where else? You would not haff me relegate him to ze hold in some limp swinging hammock, would you? Non, mon chere Pitt is beside me in la nuit. But you see, on zis trip ah will be alone in ze big bed-unless of course you wish to join me there?" as she slid around the table and attempted to settle herself on Jack's lap, a move interrupted by Jack immediately crossing his knees and swinging his grungy booted foot fiercely. We know he’s wearing boots, Suethor. You don't have to tell us.
"Angel, luv, wot do ye take me fer? An easy catch? A notch on th' ol' bedpost? My darlin', if t'were anyone but Pitt I'd be jumpin' at th' chance to do some fancy swivin' wit' his wommin, but I feel a brotherhood wit' th' feller, 'n I'll not be violatin' th' Code fer a quick romp in th' hay. Do ye not know 'bout Pitt 'n me?" "We go waaaaay back…” *wink*
"Ah was aware you had known him before, where was eet? Une ecole in Westminster?"
"Luv, me history is so vast 'n legendary it's not possible t' 'member where n' when I knew a man; suffice it t' say we wuz together once 'n those were th' best years o' me life, 'n besides he's a mate," all the while moving from the chair around to the other side of the table.
"But Jacques, mon petit chou-chou, I have ze fire pour vous, n'est-ce pas? I have always had ze fire for you-do you not know eet? Even when I was une petite fille I knew of ze great Jack Sparrow, and I became a pirate so that I might know you bettair…mon pauvre Pitt, he is so silly, so childish, so enfantile, while Captain Jack is the poster boy for maturity. Oh, wait. and while he does satisfy me, I have always wanted you, mon amour. He would rather spend time with his fight club than avec moi," as she continued her sinuous slithering around the table in pursuit of Jack.
Jack took shelter behind the large chair, holding onto its back tightly. Angelique knelt in the seat, running her hands up Jack's chest and around his neck, her sumptuous lips parted in anticipation.
Holding her arms and pulling them from his neck, Jack grimaced, "Darlin', as much as it pains me t' deny meself th' pleasure o' yer company, I must decline. Yer offer is stimulatin' n' arousin', but I gave me word to Lizzie, n' I will not break it. Now, if ye'll excuse me, I'll be off to me hammock in th' hold wit' t'other men. " "That’s where all the real fun happens!”
Jack stays faithful to Elizabeth.
As the Tomb Raidersailed toward Saint Kitts, Jack became more and more aware of the continuous lures cast his way by his sultry hostess. Being a connoisseur of beautiful women and a veteran of numerous trysts he recognized all the signs of a woman on the prowl, employing her most alluring techniques to draw him into her clutches. And he knew that she knew he knew, which turned the entire affair into a most dangerous game.
Angelique would emerge each morning from her cabin in some diaphanous blouse with an opening that barely provided any coverage for her ample bosom, which was emphasized by a tight and uplifting corset. Her breeches were made of a fine knit, and covered her perfectly shaped bum and thighs like a second skin. The boots came above her knees and the high boot heels made her walk with her chest thrust forward, her derriere protruding and her hips swaying. The image she presented would have aroused a dead man, but Jack continued to be oblivious of the tempting morsel offered to him. Jack is now 98% out of character.
True, he would take every opportunity to strip off his coat, vest and shirt, allowing his tightly muscled chest and back to be displayed, and giving Angelique the chance to see his many tattoos which included the entwined swan and sparrow above his heart, It seems like a good idea, until you actually picture what an entwined swan and sparrow would look like. and the name "Lizzie" on his shoulder. But Jack maintained a distance between himself and the pantheresque lady captain and carried out any conversations in a business-like manner, focusing only on the task at hand and the perils awaiting them. Well, that’s good. It might be nice to have some adventure in this story about now!
Both of these experienced sailors knew of the reputation of the settlers of the island who had driven out the native Kalinago peoples in a ferocious genocide almost a hundred years before, and now battled among themselves constantly for possession of the two islands separated by a narrow channel. The Spanish, French and British colonies maintained a constant dispute over territorial rights. It was because of the French presence that Jack had accepted the trip alongside Angelique, hoping her Gallic sensibility would give him an upper hand in the retaking of his beloved Black Pearl.
Once the two islands were sighted with their peaks shrouded in clouds, Jack and Angelique each scanned the shoreline from the crow's nest or fo'c'sle with their telescopes looking for Jack's ship. They decided to sail around the pair going north along the western shore of St Kitts first, then turning east and circumnavigating the islands by going south along the eastern side. Taking several days, their close examination of every nook and cranny left them with eye strain and irritation. After the second day, Jack stormed into Angelique's cabin, not bothering to knock, yelling, "Blast it! Why can't yer ship go any faster…..oh, excuse me…." for he found the lady captain completely nude and dripping wet. She was cleansing herself with a bucket of water and sponge while standing on a canvas mat, and was just straightening up from rinsing the sponge when Jack burst through the door. At least when the Suethors gratuitously write Jack this way, I understand what they’re aiming for: reader appeal. But...surely this author knows that the majority of this fandom is heterosexual and female?
"Oh, mon chere Jacques! It is tres bon to see you. Entrez! Assayez-vous. I will be finished with my petite bain in une moment. "
"Ah, well, I'll be lookin' at yer charts, while ye find sumtin' ta wear," as he quickly turned away from the enrapturing view Yeah, that’s Jack, all right. and headed toward the chart table.
"Mais non, I prefer to let my skin dry in the breezes. It eez tres chaude and the air on my wet skin is marveleux…would you lahk to use my petite bain and cool your skin, which is peut-etre chaude aussi?" as she came closer to the table and to Jack, sliding her cool damp arm along his.
"No, luv, Ah'm fine like I am, 'n well, it be too dark t' see th' charts now, so I'll be movin' along. Have a good night." With that pitiful defense Jack scampered from the cabin, slamming the door. Hurrying to the companionway, Jack jumped down the stairs and quickly flopped into his hammock, not bothering to remove boots or belts. But the stream of vitriol which issued from his mouth included the terms, "flagrant hussy…. Bugger…. Bloody coward…..bugger… " and continued on until his resonant snores replaced it. As I recall, Jack rather likes flagrant hussies. Ah, well. Maybe ole Pittcairn will come bursting in on them and toss Jack overboard. Then Jack can wake up and realize it was all a dream, brought on by some questionable French cheese from the nearest tavern.