Happy Halloween, people!
I hope you are having a blast! I have just had your everyday workday today. :-P Tomorrow though, I'll have company here since astroflammante is coming here tomorrow and stays until wedneysday next week. She and tekiila is going to work on there masters and try to finish more of it off. I bet they'll be successful to. :-)
Anyway! To celebrate Halloween, I come bearing fic... Stop staring. I know it is shocking. For some fucked up reason me, who am no fanfic-writer, signed up for a fanfic-challange called The Witching Hour over at pirategasm. I should be keel-hauled. The challange was to pick a character and write his/her worst nightmare. And me, having a thing for Bootstrap Bill Turner, picked him. At first I didn't know what to write... But then I got struck by an idea and this shorty wrote itself almost. :-) Read the warnings before reading is all I ask.
Title: Bootstraps nightmare...
Author: kseenaa
Characters: Bootstrap Bill, Will Turner
Warning/Rating: Don't know, but there is a bit of blood and.. gore? You don't like blood, you have been warned. Also warning for spoilers have you not seen At Worlds End.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I just play around with toys of others.
Author's notes: This was inspired by the rpg I play Bootstrap Bill in, Raise the Colors, and a post I wrote together with the Will Turner-player in the game. You can see it here if you are intrested.
A thank you to estelofimladris who was my beta for this, considering english is not my first language. This is for you, and the inspiration you give me in above mentioned game.
Originally posted here.
His bunk wasn’t as comfortable as it usually was and he had to move around quite a bit before he could lie comfortably. It did take time before he could fall asleep. Maybe it was the lack of barnacles? He had grown quite used to them over the years, after all. After moving around some more, Bootstrap finally fell asleep.
And he could see his hands strong, weather-beaten from all his years working on the seas holding a knife… Her voice was in his head. I need him! You need him! We need him! We must have it! He’d tried not to. But his hands, wasn’t his. Part of the crew, part of the ship. He would always be it. His son… on the deck… with the water rushing around them from Calypso’s rage. Still. They were here not moving. Held by her. Reaching out his hand, he felt for William’s pulse. It was there, but dying. Not strong. Hurry! the voice said. I will lose him! “I am sorry, William….” He could hear himself mumble. So easy. His knife, the one he had given William himself, moved through William’s skin. The heart was still beating but there were bones in the way. Break them! Hurry! Reaching in, he broke the bones protecting his son’s heart. If the water had not flowed around them, he’d be crying.
In his bunk, Bootstrap moved restlessly in his sleep…
There was not much blood. Did she take it? He is mine! Yes. Yours. And the seas. No bones. No skin. Only a heart. Reaching in his hand, he took it, and placed it in the chest that Jimmylegs held. Jimmylegs closed it, without looking. First looking at his hands, covered in blood and then at William, whose chest was open, but slowly closing, he felt like screaming, but couldn’t.
But he could. The scream got stuck in his throat when Bootstrap woke up with a start. He looked down at his hands, half expecting them to be covered in blood. Why him? Why had he been the one to do it??? The images would always haunt him. Always.
Anyway! To celebrate Halloween, I come bearing fic... Stop staring. I know it is shocking. For some fucked up reason me, who am no fanfic-writer, signed up for a fanfic-challange called The Witching Hour over at pirategasm. I should be keel-hauled. The challange was to pick a character and write his/her worst nightmare. And me, having a thing for Bootstrap Bill Turner, picked him. At first I didn't know what to write... But then I got struck by an idea and this shorty wrote itself almost. :-) Read the warnings before reading is all I ask.
Title: Bootstraps nightmare...
Author: kseenaa
Characters: Bootstrap Bill, Will Turner
Warning/Rating: Don't know, but there is a bit of blood and.. gore? You don't like blood, you have been warned. Also warning for spoilers have you not seen At Worlds End.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I just play around with toys of others.
Author's notes: This was inspired by the rpg I play Bootstrap Bill in, Raise the Colors, and a post I wrote together with the Will Turner-player in the game. You can see it here if you are intrested.
A thank you to estelofimladris who was my beta for this, considering english is not my first language. This is for you, and the inspiration you give me in above mentioned game.
Originally posted here.
His bunk wasn’t as comfortable as it usually was and he had to move around quite a bit before he could lie comfortably. It did take time before he could fall asleep. Maybe it was the lack of barnacles? He had grown quite used to them over the years, after all. After moving around some more, Bootstrap finally fell asleep.
And he could see his hands strong, weather-beaten from all his years working on the seas holding a knife… Her voice was in his head. I need him! You need him! We need him! We must have it! He’d tried not to. But his hands, wasn’t his. Part of the crew, part of the ship. He would always be it. His son… on the deck… with the water rushing around them from Calypso’s rage. Still. They were here not moving. Held by her. Reaching out his hand, he felt for William’s pulse. It was there, but dying. Not strong. Hurry! the voice said. I will lose him! “I am sorry, William….” He could hear himself mumble. So easy. His knife, the one he had given William himself, moved through William’s skin. The heart was still beating but there were bones in the way. Break them! Hurry! Reaching in, he broke the bones protecting his son’s heart. If the water had not flowed around them, he’d be crying.
In his bunk, Bootstrap moved restlessly in his sleep…
There was not much blood. Did she take it? He is mine! Yes. Yours. And the seas. No bones. No skin. Only a heart. Reaching in his hand, he took it, and placed it in the chest that Jimmylegs held. Jimmylegs closed it, without looking. First looking at his hands, covered in blood and then at William, whose chest was open, but slowly closing, he felt like screaming, but couldn’t.
But he could. The scream got stuck in his throat when Bootstrap woke up with a start. He looked down at his hands, half expecting them to be covered in blood. Why him? Why had he been the one to do it??? The images would always haunt him. Always.