Overwhelmed (Barbossa)
This fic is rated: G
Fandom: Pirates of the Carribean
Characters/Pairing: Hector Barbossa
Summary: coming back from the dead isn't an easy thing
Prompt: um ... call it a late one for Rebirth, maybe?
Word Count: 100
Feedback: yes, please! Concrit welcomed.
Distribution: archiving, linking or remixing ok, just credit me and drop me a line!
Cross-Posted were_lemur, pirategasm, potc_fic, potc100, barbossa_fic, whore4hector
My FanFic Masterlist
December Drabbles 14/50
Disclaimer: PotC belongs to Disney. Characters will be played with nicely and returned to them in good condition when I'm done. No infringement is intended, please don't sue me!
For ten years, all he's wanted to do was feel. But now, freed of the curse and returned from the dead, it's all too much. Overwhelmed, Barbossa retreats to the bed and squeezes his eyes shut, covers his ears, and tries to sort things out; the rough textures of his clothes and the pillow beneath his cheek, the heavy sensation of the hot, damp air. The organic scent of the swamp and the sharpness of his own fear-sweat, and the mingling of dusty-sweet potions and herbs that permeates the shack, spicy and reassuring. And finally, exhausted, he slips into sleep.
Fandom: Pirates of the Carribean
Characters/Pairing: Hector Barbossa
Summary: coming back from the dead isn't an easy thing
Prompt: um ... call it a late one for Rebirth, maybe?
Word Count: 100
Feedback: yes, please! Concrit welcomed.
Distribution: archiving, linking or remixing ok, just credit me and drop me a line!
Cross-Posted were_lemur, pirategasm, potc_fic, potc100, barbossa_fic, whore4hector
My FanFic Masterlist
December Drabbles 14/50
Disclaimer: PotC belongs to Disney. Characters will be played with nicely and returned to them in good condition when I'm done. No infringement is intended, please don't sue me!
For ten years, all he's wanted to do was feel. But now, freed of the curse and returned from the dead, it's all too much. Overwhelmed, Barbossa retreats to the bed and squeezes his eyes shut, covers his ears, and tries to sort things out; the rough textures of his clothes and the pillow beneath his cheek, the heavy sensation of the hot, damp air. The organic scent of the swamp and the sharpness of his own fear-sweat, and the mingling of dusty-sweet potions and herbs that permeates the shack, spicy and reassuring. And finally, exhausted, he slips into sleep.