Give it to me baby!
What with AWE coming out soon sorta, I guess, I just randomly felt in a piratey mood. And I also felt like doing an actual journal-entry. With actual writing. I've been posting nothing but videos and it feels so . . . empty. So, if you happen to be in the mood for reading PotC ficlets, here are a few NOT starring Jack Sparrow. XD; Giving a little love for Minor characters, more specifically Pintel and Ragetti, who I just love.
Some are sad, some are funny. Hope you enjoy them. ^^;
Title: Words
Rating: G
Characters: Ragetti
Setting: DMC
He could too read.
Pintel didn't think so, but Ragetti could. The first time he'd tried to explain the trick to it, Pintel just stared at told him he was a blighter. But then he'd ruffled Ragetti's hair, so he couldn't have been too upset.
All you needed to make words was letters. And Ragetti knew letters. Some of them.
It was like a code. He'd recognize the letters and try to guess the other letters and come up with the word. The more words he guessed, the clearer the phrase got in his head. Probably wasn't perfect, but it was close enough.
He'd heard the Bible was more about guidelines anyway.
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Title: Drowning
Rating: PG
Characters: Ragetti, Pintel, mentions of Bootstrap
Setting: Set during COTBP
Pintel watched him, though he pretended not to as he scrubbed the mop across the deckboards. The moon was hidden away behind a bank of clouds, the only reason Pintel dared to look up at all.
Finally, tired of working alone while the idiot stood there with the mop just looking out at the water, he plunked the tool into the bucket and joined the younger man at the railing. "What is it?"
Ragetti's eye was on the water's surface, staring past it.
Pintel waited, but not very patiently.
"I was jus' thinkin'."
"You don't say."
"About drownin'."
". . ." Pintel looked at Ragetti, flatly. Talking about suicide wasn't like the lad at all. No matter what had happened.
"About Bootstrap."
Oh for fuck's sake. Pintel kept his temper, knowing how that had affected Ragetti. "What about Bootstrap, mate?"
"I'm scared of drownin', you know that, right Pint?"
"Aye, and scared of heights too." That earned him a scowl. "And gettin' hit. And Barbossa. And striped socks. And women wit long fingernails. And monkeys. Anythin' else?" Ragetti was glowering at him. Pintel relented. "What's the purpose, lad? You ain't gonna die anytime soon."
"I ain't scared of dyin', Pint. I'm scared of drownin'. Dyin's what happens after drownin'. That's hows you escape it," Ragetti said heatedly. He went back to staring at the ocean, at a man they'd long since left behind, leagues deep. Pintel thought for a moment he saw a glimpse of sinking black hair in the water, and he pulled back shuddering.
"Don't do it to yourself, lad. Bootstrap asked for it. Think he'd be wonderin' about your welfare if you was the one strapped to that cannon?" Pintel spat, not liking to be spooked.
"Naw, I ain't feelin' guilty for him," Ragetti muttered defensively. "I'm think' o' what he's doin' down there in the deep."
"Drowning," Pintel growled, resuming his chores. He paused, and looked at Ragetti closely.
"Oh."
-------------------------------
Title: Cranky
Rating: PG
Characters: Jack, Ragetti
Setting: Post DMC I guess XD
"I don't have it."
The monkey looked at him, unbelieving, and perched on his shoulder. Ragetti tried to shift him off, but the damn thing had good balance. It merely bobbed, fur tickling his ear. He could smell it too.
A monkey's paw dipped down, patting his jacket for hidden pockets.
"I told you, it's gone."
Jack huffed and swung down to Ragetti's leg, plucking at his sash. Ragetti didn't even bother to swat at him this time, but instead snarled. "For the last bloody time, you 'airy little thief, I ain't got me eye! I looked all over the ship, I don't know where it is and I bloody hate you."
He sulked. Jack sat in his lap for a moment, staring at him. Then, chirruping softly, the monkey picked up Ragetti's hand and placed it on top of its own head. Ragetti stared at him, remaining eye already red-rimmed. After a moment he uncurled his fingers and softly pet Jack's fur.
Sometimes the little shit wasn't half-bad.
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Title: Silly
Rating: PG
Characters: Pintel, Ragetti, Elizabeth
Setting: AWE, speculation
"Then Mercadio's sittin' there with his chest swelled up, all cause he prove hisself the best at five lousy matches o' arm wrestlin' --"
"He beat you too, Pint."
One meaningful glare later in the scrawny man's direction and Ragetti looked down quietly.
"As I was sayin', Mercadio lays it on all thick-like - and he's had a few pints too many I reckon, cause he wagers he can best anyone at anythin' since we're all such sore losers."
Elizabeth took another drink from her bottle, already smiling. This was certainly better company than Will, who was still sulking about something he wouldn't talk about.
"So before anyone else speaks up, ol' Ragetti pipes in with --" Here, Pintel made his voice quite feminine.
Ragetti stopped snickering and sat up straighter, furious. "Oi, I didn't say it like that!"
"Yes you did, you said those very words!" Pintel didn't like having his stories interrupted, especially at the best parts.
"I didn't say it in that high pitched tone what you just used!"
"You'll be speakin' in a high pitch all night iffen you don't bloody shut up!" he roared. Ragetti huffed, but shut his mouth again.
"So Ragetti says 'Can you lick yer elbow mate?' and Mercadio just stares at him, sayin' what a stupid challenge that is, right? Mercadio tries it anyway and course he can't and he looked like a right idiot trying. Two minutes go by with his tongue stickin' out and wagglin at his elbow before all of us just started out laughin' at him. Mercadio gets all nasty then, sayin' iffen' we're too scared to come up with a real challenge to put before him, to just say so."
Elizabeth was giggling just as hard as Ragetti, quite uncomfortably since her mouth was full of rum. She managed to swallow, barely. The taller man clapped her on the back, rubbing to help it down.
"Wait, wait, this is the best part," he told her.
"Then Rags, easy as you please, twists his arm so . . . Ragetti, show 'er, if you still can."
With a muffled popping of joints, Ragetti twisted his other arm sideways and licked his grimy elbow. For her benefit, he pretended to make a face at the taste of it. Poppet laughed out loud at that, leaning her head back against Ragetti's arm, presently the only thing keeping her chair from tilting her onto the floor.
Pintel's whooping laughter joined their own and he thumped the table - "You dog, you can still do it can't ya? Mercadio tried again for a whole mother-lovin' ten minutes after that, and he musta been tryin' all the night long cause he had a sore neck come morning didn't he, Rags?"
Ragetti nodded, as red-faced as any of them from both rum and laughter and unable to speak.
For a moment or two at least, they've forgotten what trouble they're all sailing toward.
-------------------------------
Title: Guilty (#48)
Rating: (PG)
Word count: 346
Ragetti watches as Elizabeth unsteadily replaces the bottle onto the table, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The stories ran out some time ago, but the rum did not. Pintel has dozed off in his seat and the air down here is warm and thick.
He's been taking note lately, of how often the Poppet stares off into nothing when nobody's paying her attention. The whelp comes around every so often, to pester and ask questions it seems until she gets irritated and walks off - usually to find them. Will never follows her.
At least twice, Rags has asked Pintel why Turner doesn't do anything useful and as many times Pintel snapped at Rags to just leave it. It wasn't any of their business, was it?
She lifts the bottle again and this time Ragetti stops it from raising high enough to allow any liquid into her mouth. "Think you've had enough, Poppet," he ventures, carefully.
"How much does it take you to forget things?" she asks. An odd question. Ragetti does not understand and Elizabeth gestures, awkwardly. "You know. To forget. Like your eye, maybe? Or the people you've hurt or - or killed?"
Ragetti might not forgive her for that, but she's not trying to hurt him. A moment passes. "Who've you killed, Poppet?"
Elizabeth stares at nothing and takes a long drink. Ragetti doesn't stop her, hearing Pintel's warning in his mind.
Leave it be, Rags.
"Nobody," she says, in a voice that barely carries over Pintel's steady breathing. The bottle is set down again, this time on the floor. Ragetti nudges it out of reach with his toe. Elizabeth does not appear to notice and puts her head down on the table, forehead against Ragetti's arm. Her face feels too hot against his skin and he doesn't care much for that.
Leave it be.
Slowly, he strokes her hair as if she were a dog. She doesn't protest. Ragetti resigns himself to the fact he won't be getting his arm back tonight and listens to the silence instead.
-------------------------------
Title: Childhood
Challenge Source: Skyrere's List
Rating: PG-13ish
He watches his mother being questioned, shaken, slapped, threatened. She whimpers thinly at the allegations but keeps her head raised and her eyes hard and he watches from the corner as the man finally hits her hard enough to fell her.
Little fists clenched, gasping and wet-eyed and furious, he can't do anything but stand in shock as they kick the woman, these men in their handsome red coats that he was told his father once wore, and they kick her for hiding rum, for lying, for aiding the men who were here last night laughing and telling tales of the sea, that wide open place he desperately wanted to run to now - with her and far away from these pigs that called themselves the king's men.
They kick her until he's not sure if she's breathing and then one of the men lifts his chin up with his fingers and nicely asks if he'd be willing to tell them the truth or should they continue retrieving it from his mother?
All the spit dries up in his throat before it has the chance to fly past his lips and into the soldier's face.
His mother doesn't ever make it to the ocean, to see the wide blue waters in the rum-smuggler's stories. Pintel does.
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Title: Rainbow
Rating: PG
Characters: Ragetti, Jack, Elizabeth
Setting: DMC, sometime after Elizabeth joins the crew, sans William.
Elizabeth looks out over the water as the storm falls behind. Beams hit the waves, refracted light and moisture creating bands of beautiful colors. A promise that all will be well. She is almost comforted. Then a greasy hand attaches itself to the ratline above her head. Ragetti squints with his one eye at the covenant and her hand relaxes over the hilt at her waist.
"They say 'at's a path 'twixt Mount Olympus an' the Earth," he says. "The Greeks do. Made by the Goddess Iris, what carries messages. Wonder what tidings she brings." Elizabeth's brow furrows lightly.
"I always understood the rainbow to be a sign between God and Mankind, promising no more floods."
"Aye. But Noah never made it to Greece, did 'e, lov?" Jack said, and Elizabeth jumps. She hadn't heard him approach at all.
Ragetti looks uneasy as well, turning his face down from his former Captain. Jack notices and he eases between them, one arm resting over Ragetti's thin shoulders, the other around Elizabeth, keeping them both in place. She makes a mild sound of displeasure in her throat but doesn't elbow him in the gut like she wants to.
"The clever things a god does," Jack muses aloud, staring at the rainbow. "First he floods the Earth to get rid of the ones he don't like, then he makes parley with the one man smart enough to listen and get on the boat. Gods don't do so well with nobody to follow 'em. Can't have a ship without a full crew, aye?"
"Aye," Ragetti answers, quietly. Miserably. "Can't."
"Can't have a crew without its captain?" Jack prompted, leaning his face toward Ragetti's and proving once again he had no regards for another's personal space. Ragetti flinched away ducking his head.
"No sir. Can't have that at all." He has a deathgrip on the ratline, as if expecting Jack's hand to shove him over the railing and . . .
But Jack's hand rubs his shoulder briefly then claps the man on the back, nearly sending his eye into the drink. And then his name's called and he's gone. So's the rainbow.
It wasn't a covenant, Elizabeth thinks to herself. She watches Ragetti's shaking hand take more tries than it normally would have to put his eye back in.
Jack had delivered his message.
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Title: Precious Treasure
Rating: PG
Characters: Ragetti
It‘s the prettiest thing he‘s ever seen. She won’t say anything about where it came from, just twirls about and the skirts flare out, lace and satin spinning around her frame. Her face is rosy, flushed, and he can’t tell if she’s really happy or if she’s been breathing in that smoke what makes her act silly until she gets sick and falls asleep in odd places.
Ragetti hasn’t seen her dance like this ever, and she looks like a princess. He doesn’t know who gave her the new dress, but whoever it is must love her because it fits and she’s even washed her hair and combed it all by herself. The boy puts out a hand to catch up the wonderful material without thinking, as one would touch stalks of tall grass as they walk by in a field. She opens her skirts and playfully traps him, still laughing.
And his mother dances - this time with him. Things have changed now, she promises. All will be well. She’s either mad or completely honest.
It’s not just a dress, Ragetti thinks, bewildered. It’s a miracle.
-------------------------------
Title: 19. Grey
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Pintel, Ragetti, Elizabeth
Warning: Character death. Have chocolate nearby. You will be fine.
Something wasn't right with the way the sky was tilted.
He tried to fix it, gagging at the coppery slither of blood at the back of his throat. Soft calloused hands lifted his head, then Poppet's face was blocking most of the sun, streaked with blood and dirt. Grimly, she tried to smile for him. The battle must be over then.
Ragetti started to sit up and couldn't even manage to scream from the attempt. "Pint?" he rasped, after pulling in a breath. The man was going to kill him for getting injured like this. Footsteps passed them hurriedly across the impossibly stained deck and he turned his head in Poppet's lap. He saw Pintel.
Her hand on his left cheek and he found himself staring up at Poppet again. She stroked his face. Her fingers trembled, snagging through the blood in his hair without meaning to. "He went quickly," she forced out.
Ragetti's mouth moved, but nothing articulate came out and the shock of his loss seemed to almost undo her. But Liz remained composed, leaning over him as if she could shield him.
"When d--?" he asked, on the tail of another forced breath. He didn't have enough air in his lungs to complete the question, but she understood.
She shook her head. "He didn't have time to see you."
A strange sense of relief flooded him and he nodded, grateful Pintel had been spared that. Spared the fear of his immortal soul as well, lucky bastard. Ragetti didn't have the breath to say a prayer, but he had one vaguely in mind. Didn't know all the words, but it was the thought that counted.
And then he realized he'd lost color in his vision. Funny. That went first? He reached out for a hold on something and felt Poppet's fingers entwine with his. Her voice spoke to him, filled with some hopeless urgency he hadn't the strength to answer.
He was afraid. He couldn't help it. Pintel was a lot further up ahead than he was.
Ragetti closed his eye against the impending blindness to look for him. He didn't open it again.
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Title: 58. Kick in the Head
Rating: PGish for language
Pairings: Pintel/Ragetti
A/N: If the chocolate didn't help, maybe this story will. :3
Ten minutes or an eternity later, and he was still in this blasted fog. Ragetti sneezed for the fifth time - or the hundredth - and suddenly met the wall. First with the tip of his nose and then the rest of him rushed to introduce itself, causing him to yell in pain and quite foolishly kick it. The only lucky part of his body remaining he now hopped upon, clutching his sore foot and with the other hand, his throbbing face. "Bastard sonnuva --"
"-buggering bilgerat!" screamed an agitated voice, over the muffled sound of boot meeting skull.
Ragetti peered around the edge of the wall and gawped. He took in a breath and let it out in an exclamation of joy, running through the skirling fog and throwing his arms about the stout figure. Pintel flailed until he recognized his assailant and Ragetti yelped with laughter as he was lifted by the waist and hugged until he couldn't breathe. Just as quickly however he was deposited onto the ground and scowled at, but Ragetti was too happy to flinch.
"Just where the hell've you been?" Pintel snapped, hands on his hips. "You have any idea of the trouble I just went through tryin' to figure out where ye bloody WENT?"
Ragetti blinked and looked around, getting his bearings. Ahead of them was a gate. And a little before that was an old man lying face-down on the ground, long white beard strewn in all directions as though it were part of the fog. He was either dead or quite insensible.
"Pint, I just got here! Ain't my fault you got here faster!"
"Well," Pintel scowled, though not as ferociously as before, "Tha'll teach you to dawdle then won't it?" He turned his wrath back to the motionless gentleman sprawled out at their feet. "THIS lout was tryin' ta keep me from comin' inside outta the damned fog! Somethin' about not bein' on no damned list, yet not ten seconds before I got here he was lettin' some bloke in!"
Ragetti frowned. "Pint, he said we wasn't allowed in?" He peered up at the tall gate. "Supposin' this is the bad one? And . . . And maybe we gone in the wrong direction? It ain't got no pearls in it."
"Pearls don't matter none, Rags. Look beyond. You see any more fog?"
"No . . ."
"That's better than our lot out here and if it were the bad place, there'd be even more fog cause THAT place is all about what ye DON'T want. And right now, that's bloody FOG." Pintel's logic was sound and he crossed his arms, daring either Ragetti or the senseless saint to argue further.
Ragetti nodded in agreement. "And I don't think that gate's got anybody out in front turnin' people away or lettin' 'im in. But still, even if we's in the right place, they ain't lettin us in, Pint." He nibbled at his lip, worried. "This mean we gotta find the other gate?" he asked in a small voice, and looked longingly beyond the bars. They weren't made of pearls, silver, gold, not even brass. But when he reached out and flicked them with his fingers the metal chimed beautifully.
"I ain't goin' nowhere 'til I find out what bloody idiot didn't put us in that there book." Pintel was indignant. "I been baptized . . . I think! And I was religious!"
Ragetti gave him a look. Pintel caved after enduring less than a minute of it.
"Well I stopped buggin' you about it, didn't I?" he argued weakly, "That's patience and one of the virtues that is!"
The old man gave a faint gurgle but didn't lift his head. Ragetti frowned, prodding him with a shoe. "You gave 'im the right names n' such, right Pint? Not many people know me first name." He suppressed a giggle. "Or your middle one."
Pintel glared viciously. "Shut yer hole." He directed the evil look unto the barred gate, following it up to the top. "I already searched him for a key. T'weren't none."
Ragetti followed his gaze thoughtfully. "It don't look too high. And I think it's a mistake we ain't welcome. We weren't terribly bad."
"Nah, not terribly."
Saint Peter gave another pitiful moan.
"Barbossa was worse. I bet he gets in," the thinner man pouted.
"Aye, Sparrow too I bet." Ragetti gave his mate a bewildered look. Pintel snorted. "Can't imagine it either can you?"
"Why then there's no reason at all we can't go in. And if we can't, we deserve at least to know why," Rags said, sounding hurt.
"Right you is, Rags. And with present company currently out of order, there's nothin for it but to sally forth and find the answers ourselves. Now help me move this bloody book so we can stand on it."
Between the two of them, they got the immense volume off the inert Keeper of the Gate and fixed it in place beneath the barred entrance. It really wasn't that hard to climb after all.
-------------------------------
And if you are looking for a little Jack Sparrow, check out this . . . *groan* yes, this video. Aaaah there's no escape! So yah, check out Jack's Pretty Fly (For a White Guy), by the very talented dahlianna.
Freaking. Hilarious.
And this movie also makes me happy in very dorky ways. XD
Some are sad, some are funny. Hope you enjoy them. ^^;
Title: Words
Rating: G
Characters: Ragetti
Setting: DMC
He could too read.
Pintel didn't think so, but Ragetti could. The first time he'd tried to explain the trick to it, Pintel just stared at told him he was a blighter. But then he'd ruffled Ragetti's hair, so he couldn't have been too upset.
All you needed to make words was letters. And Ragetti knew letters. Some of them.
It was like a code. He'd recognize the letters and try to guess the other letters and come up with the word. The more words he guessed, the clearer the phrase got in his head. Probably wasn't perfect, but it was close enough.
He'd heard the Bible was more about guidelines anyway.
-------------------------------
Title: Drowning
Rating: PG
Characters: Ragetti, Pintel, mentions of Bootstrap
Setting: Set during COTBP
Pintel watched him, though he pretended not to as he scrubbed the mop across the deckboards. The moon was hidden away behind a bank of clouds, the only reason Pintel dared to look up at all.
Finally, tired of working alone while the idiot stood there with the mop just looking out at the water, he plunked the tool into the bucket and joined the younger man at the railing. "What is it?"
Ragetti's eye was on the water's surface, staring past it.
Pintel waited, but not very patiently.
"I was jus' thinkin'."
"You don't say."
"About drownin'."
". . ." Pintel looked at Ragetti, flatly. Talking about suicide wasn't like the lad at all. No matter what had happened.
"About Bootstrap."
Oh for fuck's sake. Pintel kept his temper, knowing how that had affected Ragetti. "What about Bootstrap, mate?"
"I'm scared of drownin', you know that, right Pint?"
"Aye, and scared of heights too." That earned him a scowl. "And gettin' hit. And Barbossa. And striped socks. And women wit long fingernails. And monkeys. Anythin' else?" Ragetti was glowering at him. Pintel relented. "What's the purpose, lad? You ain't gonna die anytime soon."
"I ain't scared of dyin', Pint. I'm scared of drownin'. Dyin's what happens after drownin'. That's hows you escape it," Ragetti said heatedly. He went back to staring at the ocean, at a man they'd long since left behind, leagues deep. Pintel thought for a moment he saw a glimpse of sinking black hair in the water, and he pulled back shuddering.
"Don't do it to yourself, lad. Bootstrap asked for it. Think he'd be wonderin' about your welfare if you was the one strapped to that cannon?" Pintel spat, not liking to be spooked.
"Naw, I ain't feelin' guilty for him," Ragetti muttered defensively. "I'm think' o' what he's doin' down there in the deep."
"Drowning," Pintel growled, resuming his chores. He paused, and looked at Ragetti closely.
"Oh."
-------------------------------
Title: Cranky
Rating: PG
Characters: Jack, Ragetti
Setting: Post DMC I guess XD
"I don't have it."
The monkey looked at him, unbelieving, and perched on his shoulder. Ragetti tried to shift him off, but the damn thing had good balance. It merely bobbed, fur tickling his ear. He could smell it too.
A monkey's paw dipped down, patting his jacket for hidden pockets.
"I told you, it's gone."
Jack huffed and swung down to Ragetti's leg, plucking at his sash. Ragetti didn't even bother to swat at him this time, but instead snarled. "For the last bloody time, you 'airy little thief, I ain't got me eye! I looked all over the ship, I don't know where it is and I bloody hate you."
He sulked. Jack sat in his lap for a moment, staring at him. Then, chirruping softly, the monkey picked up Ragetti's hand and placed it on top of its own head. Ragetti stared at him, remaining eye already red-rimmed. After a moment he uncurled his fingers and softly pet Jack's fur.
Sometimes the little shit wasn't half-bad.
-------------------------------
Title: Silly
Rating: PG
Characters: Pintel, Ragetti, Elizabeth
Setting: AWE, speculation
"Then Mercadio's sittin' there with his chest swelled up, all cause he prove hisself the best at five lousy matches o' arm wrestlin' --"
"He beat you too, Pint."
One meaningful glare later in the scrawny man's direction and Ragetti looked down quietly.
"As I was sayin', Mercadio lays it on all thick-like - and he's had a few pints too many I reckon, cause he wagers he can best anyone at anythin' since we're all such sore losers."
Elizabeth took another drink from her bottle, already smiling. This was certainly better company than Will, who was still sulking about something he wouldn't talk about.
"So before anyone else speaks up, ol' Ragetti pipes in with --" Here, Pintel made his voice quite feminine.
Ragetti stopped snickering and sat up straighter, furious. "Oi, I didn't say it like that!"
"Yes you did, you said those very words!" Pintel didn't like having his stories interrupted, especially at the best parts.
"I didn't say it in that high pitched tone what you just used!"
"You'll be speakin' in a high pitch all night iffen you don't bloody shut up!" he roared. Ragetti huffed, but shut his mouth again.
"So Ragetti says 'Can you lick yer elbow mate?' and Mercadio just stares at him, sayin' what a stupid challenge that is, right? Mercadio tries it anyway and course he can't and he looked like a right idiot trying. Two minutes go by with his tongue stickin' out and wagglin at his elbow before all of us just started out laughin' at him. Mercadio gets all nasty then, sayin' iffen' we're too scared to come up with a real challenge to put before him, to just say so."
Elizabeth was giggling just as hard as Ragetti, quite uncomfortably since her mouth was full of rum. She managed to swallow, barely. The taller man clapped her on the back, rubbing to help it down.
"Wait, wait, this is the best part," he told her.
"Then Rags, easy as you please, twists his arm so . . . Ragetti, show 'er, if you still can."
With a muffled popping of joints, Ragetti twisted his other arm sideways and licked his grimy elbow. For her benefit, he pretended to make a face at the taste of it. Poppet laughed out loud at that, leaning her head back against Ragetti's arm, presently the only thing keeping her chair from tilting her onto the floor.
Pintel's whooping laughter joined their own and he thumped the table - "You dog, you can still do it can't ya? Mercadio tried again for a whole mother-lovin' ten minutes after that, and he musta been tryin' all the night long cause he had a sore neck come morning didn't he, Rags?"
Ragetti nodded, as red-faced as any of them from both rum and laughter and unable to speak.
For a moment or two at least, they've forgotten what trouble they're all sailing toward.
-------------------------------
Title: Guilty (#48)
Rating: (PG)
Word count: 346
Ragetti watches as Elizabeth unsteadily replaces the bottle onto the table, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The stories ran out some time ago, but the rum did not. Pintel has dozed off in his seat and the air down here is warm and thick.
He's been taking note lately, of how often the Poppet stares off into nothing when nobody's paying her attention. The whelp comes around every so often, to pester and ask questions it seems until she gets irritated and walks off - usually to find them. Will never follows her.
At least twice, Rags has asked Pintel why Turner doesn't do anything useful and as many times Pintel snapped at Rags to just leave it. It wasn't any of their business, was it?
She lifts the bottle again and this time Ragetti stops it from raising high enough to allow any liquid into her mouth. "Think you've had enough, Poppet," he ventures, carefully.
"How much does it take you to forget things?" she asks. An odd question. Ragetti does not understand and Elizabeth gestures, awkwardly. "You know. To forget. Like your eye, maybe? Or the people you've hurt or - or killed?"
Ragetti might not forgive her for that, but she's not trying to hurt him. A moment passes. "Who've you killed, Poppet?"
Elizabeth stares at nothing and takes a long drink. Ragetti doesn't stop her, hearing Pintel's warning in his mind.
Leave it be, Rags.
"Nobody," she says, in a voice that barely carries over Pintel's steady breathing. The bottle is set down again, this time on the floor. Ragetti nudges it out of reach with his toe. Elizabeth does not appear to notice and puts her head down on the table, forehead against Ragetti's arm. Her face feels too hot against his skin and he doesn't care much for that.
Leave it be.
Slowly, he strokes her hair as if she were a dog. She doesn't protest. Ragetti resigns himself to the fact he won't be getting his arm back tonight and listens to the silence instead.
-------------------------------
Title: Childhood
Challenge Source: Skyrere's List
Rating: PG-13ish
He watches his mother being questioned, shaken, slapped, threatened. She whimpers thinly at the allegations but keeps her head raised and her eyes hard and he watches from the corner as the man finally hits her hard enough to fell her.
Little fists clenched, gasping and wet-eyed and furious, he can't do anything but stand in shock as they kick the woman, these men in their handsome red coats that he was told his father once wore, and they kick her for hiding rum, for lying, for aiding the men who were here last night laughing and telling tales of the sea, that wide open place he desperately wanted to run to now - with her and far away from these pigs that called themselves the king's men.
They kick her until he's not sure if she's breathing and then one of the men lifts his chin up with his fingers and nicely asks if he'd be willing to tell them the truth or should they continue retrieving it from his mother?
All the spit dries up in his throat before it has the chance to fly past his lips and into the soldier's face.
His mother doesn't ever make it to the ocean, to see the wide blue waters in the rum-smuggler's stories. Pintel does.
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Title: Rainbow
Rating: PG
Characters: Ragetti, Jack, Elizabeth
Setting: DMC, sometime after Elizabeth joins the crew, sans William.
Elizabeth looks out over the water as the storm falls behind. Beams hit the waves, refracted light and moisture creating bands of beautiful colors. A promise that all will be well. She is almost comforted. Then a greasy hand attaches itself to the ratline above her head. Ragetti squints with his one eye at the covenant and her hand relaxes over the hilt at her waist.
"They say 'at's a path 'twixt Mount Olympus an' the Earth," he says. "The Greeks do. Made by the Goddess Iris, what carries messages. Wonder what tidings she brings." Elizabeth's brow furrows lightly.
"I always understood the rainbow to be a sign between God and Mankind, promising no more floods."
"Aye. But Noah never made it to Greece, did 'e, lov?" Jack said, and Elizabeth jumps. She hadn't heard him approach at all.
Ragetti looks uneasy as well, turning his face down from his former Captain. Jack notices and he eases between them, one arm resting over Ragetti's thin shoulders, the other around Elizabeth, keeping them both in place. She makes a mild sound of displeasure in her throat but doesn't elbow him in the gut like she wants to.
"The clever things a god does," Jack muses aloud, staring at the rainbow. "First he floods the Earth to get rid of the ones he don't like, then he makes parley with the one man smart enough to listen and get on the boat. Gods don't do so well with nobody to follow 'em. Can't have a ship without a full crew, aye?"
"Aye," Ragetti answers, quietly. Miserably. "Can't."
"Can't have a crew without its captain?" Jack prompted, leaning his face toward Ragetti's and proving once again he had no regards for another's personal space. Ragetti flinched away ducking his head.
"No sir. Can't have that at all." He has a deathgrip on the ratline, as if expecting Jack's hand to shove him over the railing and . . .
But Jack's hand rubs his shoulder briefly then claps the man on the back, nearly sending his eye into the drink. And then his name's called and he's gone. So's the rainbow.
It wasn't a covenant, Elizabeth thinks to herself. She watches Ragetti's shaking hand take more tries than it normally would have to put his eye back in.
Jack had delivered his message.
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Title: Precious Treasure
Rating: PG
Characters: Ragetti
It‘s the prettiest thing he‘s ever seen. She won’t say anything about where it came from, just twirls about and the skirts flare out, lace and satin spinning around her frame. Her face is rosy, flushed, and he can’t tell if she’s really happy or if she’s been breathing in that smoke what makes her act silly until she gets sick and falls asleep in odd places.
Ragetti hasn’t seen her dance like this ever, and she looks like a princess. He doesn’t know who gave her the new dress, but whoever it is must love her because it fits and she’s even washed her hair and combed it all by herself. The boy puts out a hand to catch up the wonderful material without thinking, as one would touch stalks of tall grass as they walk by in a field. She opens her skirts and playfully traps him, still laughing.
And his mother dances - this time with him. Things have changed now, she promises. All will be well. She’s either mad or completely honest.
It’s not just a dress, Ragetti thinks, bewildered. It’s a miracle.
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Title: 19. Grey
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Pintel, Ragetti, Elizabeth
Warning: Character death. Have chocolate nearby. You will be fine.
Something wasn't right with the way the sky was tilted.
He tried to fix it, gagging at the coppery slither of blood at the back of his throat. Soft calloused hands lifted his head, then Poppet's face was blocking most of the sun, streaked with blood and dirt. Grimly, she tried to smile for him. The battle must be over then.
Ragetti started to sit up and couldn't even manage to scream from the attempt. "Pint?" he rasped, after pulling in a breath. The man was going to kill him for getting injured like this. Footsteps passed them hurriedly across the impossibly stained deck and he turned his head in Poppet's lap. He saw Pintel.
Her hand on his left cheek and he found himself staring up at Poppet again. She stroked his face. Her fingers trembled, snagging through the blood in his hair without meaning to. "He went quickly," she forced out.
Ragetti's mouth moved, but nothing articulate came out and the shock of his loss seemed to almost undo her. But Liz remained composed, leaning over him as if she could shield him.
"When d--?" he asked, on the tail of another forced breath. He didn't have enough air in his lungs to complete the question, but she understood.
She shook her head. "He didn't have time to see you."
A strange sense of relief flooded him and he nodded, grateful Pintel had been spared that. Spared the fear of his immortal soul as well, lucky bastard. Ragetti didn't have the breath to say a prayer, but he had one vaguely in mind. Didn't know all the words, but it was the thought that counted.
And then he realized he'd lost color in his vision. Funny. That went first? He reached out for a hold on something and felt Poppet's fingers entwine with his. Her voice spoke to him, filled with some hopeless urgency he hadn't the strength to answer.
He was afraid. He couldn't help it. Pintel was a lot further up ahead than he was.
Ragetti closed his eye against the impending blindness to look for him. He didn't open it again.
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Title: 58. Kick in the Head
Rating: PGish for language
Pairings: Pintel/Ragetti
A/N: If the chocolate didn't help, maybe this story will. :3
Ten minutes or an eternity later, and he was still in this blasted fog. Ragetti sneezed for the fifth time - or the hundredth - and suddenly met the wall. First with the tip of his nose and then the rest of him rushed to introduce itself, causing him to yell in pain and quite foolishly kick it. The only lucky part of his body remaining he now hopped upon, clutching his sore foot and with the other hand, his throbbing face. "Bastard sonnuva --"
"-buggering bilgerat!" screamed an agitated voice, over the muffled sound of boot meeting skull.
Ragetti peered around the edge of the wall and gawped. He took in a breath and let it out in an exclamation of joy, running through the skirling fog and throwing his arms about the stout figure. Pintel flailed until he recognized his assailant and Ragetti yelped with laughter as he was lifted by the waist and hugged until he couldn't breathe. Just as quickly however he was deposited onto the ground and scowled at, but Ragetti was too happy to flinch.
"Just where the hell've you been?" Pintel snapped, hands on his hips. "You have any idea of the trouble I just went through tryin' to figure out where ye bloody WENT?"
Ragetti blinked and looked around, getting his bearings. Ahead of them was a gate. And a little before that was an old man lying face-down on the ground, long white beard strewn in all directions as though it were part of the fog. He was either dead or quite insensible.
"Pint, I just got here! Ain't my fault you got here faster!"
"Well," Pintel scowled, though not as ferociously as before, "Tha'll teach you to dawdle then won't it?" He turned his wrath back to the motionless gentleman sprawled out at their feet. "THIS lout was tryin' ta keep me from comin' inside outta the damned fog! Somethin' about not bein' on no damned list, yet not ten seconds before I got here he was lettin' some bloke in!"
Ragetti frowned. "Pint, he said we wasn't allowed in?" He peered up at the tall gate. "Supposin' this is the bad one? And . . . And maybe we gone in the wrong direction? It ain't got no pearls in it."
"Pearls don't matter none, Rags. Look beyond. You see any more fog?"
"No . . ."
"That's better than our lot out here and if it were the bad place, there'd be even more fog cause THAT place is all about what ye DON'T want. And right now, that's bloody FOG." Pintel's logic was sound and he crossed his arms, daring either Ragetti or the senseless saint to argue further.
Ragetti nodded in agreement. "And I don't think that gate's got anybody out in front turnin' people away or lettin' 'im in. But still, even if we's in the right place, they ain't lettin us in, Pint." He nibbled at his lip, worried. "This mean we gotta find the other gate?" he asked in a small voice, and looked longingly beyond the bars. They weren't made of pearls, silver, gold, not even brass. But when he reached out and flicked them with his fingers the metal chimed beautifully.
"I ain't goin' nowhere 'til I find out what bloody idiot didn't put us in that there book." Pintel was indignant. "I been baptized . . . I think! And I was religious!"
Ragetti gave him a look. Pintel caved after enduring less than a minute of it.
"Well I stopped buggin' you about it, didn't I?" he argued weakly, "That's patience and one of the virtues that is!"
The old man gave a faint gurgle but didn't lift his head. Ragetti frowned, prodding him with a shoe. "You gave 'im the right names n' such, right Pint? Not many people know me first name." He suppressed a giggle. "Or your middle one."
Pintel glared viciously. "Shut yer hole." He directed the evil look unto the barred gate, following it up to the top. "I already searched him for a key. T'weren't none."
Ragetti followed his gaze thoughtfully. "It don't look too high. And I think it's a mistake we ain't welcome. We weren't terribly bad."
"Nah, not terribly."
Saint Peter gave another pitiful moan.
"Barbossa was worse. I bet he gets in," the thinner man pouted.
"Aye, Sparrow too I bet." Ragetti gave his mate a bewildered look. Pintel snorted. "Can't imagine it either can you?"
"Why then there's no reason at all we can't go in. And if we can't, we deserve at least to know why," Rags said, sounding hurt.
"Right you is, Rags. And with present company currently out of order, there's nothin for it but to sally forth and find the answers ourselves. Now help me move this bloody book so we can stand on it."
Between the two of them, they got the immense volume off the inert Keeper of the Gate and fixed it in place beneath the barred entrance. It really wasn't that hard to climb after all.
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Freaking. Hilarious.
And this movie also makes me happy in very dorky ways. XD