POTC fic: "Time Has a Stop"
Aug. 3rd, 2008 03:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
“Time Has a Stop”
Rating: PG
POTC: Will, Calypso, Bill; implied W/E
Disclaimer: I do not own these, and I do not make any profit off these characters or situations.
Summary: Why should the trivia of mere mortals matter to a goddess? Will tries to think like Jack. Missing AWE scene ... sorta.
A/N: This story certainly isn’t the homage it deserves, but I did borrow the title out of an Aldous Huxley novel. Thanks to betas
yoiebear and
metalkatt for their help; any lingering errors are not their fault.
Pain blossomed, frozen in a brine-filled scream as the sea washed over him. Water filled his nose, open mouth, the ragged wound spilling half the blood of his chest down into the worn fabric of his abused shirt.
Will squeezed his eyes shut, blinking back the tearing sting of salt. Wetness coursed into his throat, his lungs, soaking through every part, burning what its minerals touched. He gasped, panicking; he tried to get up, but somebody’s hand was on his shoulder, pushing him down, fastening him to the slimy boards. He let out a sob of impotent anger, his life gone, death rushing in. The sea had spit him out too many times to be robbed of her prize this last time.
He was soon aware that his eyes would open, however, and that the sunlight, blurred and refracted, was dimming. Pressure pushed at his skin, but did not rent or rip it. The water here was calm, almost placid; above him, the whirlpool was slowing, stalling, filling in once more. Will breathed in-
-and didn’t cough.
He was suddenly, irrationally afraid of his ignorance. This was a battlefield he’d never expected to stand … swim, thrash, upon, and even the balanced sword still waving from his upper chest wouldn’t serve much use down here.
Down here. Jesus Christ, where- How …
Even as the ship’s deck tilted on its gentle spiraling fall through the deep ocean, Will was able to stand up straight as hands lifted him. At first he was like a new colt, unsure of his legs and clumsy, and each leg wanted to take off in a different direction. He clutched the monsters holding him up for support; looking between them, he was not afraid – and worried why.
“Why are you helping-” He stopped, hearing his own voice, clear as a bell in air, even as water sluiced between his eyelashes when he blinked. He hadn’t expected it to be out loud. “I can talk.” He put his hand to his chest to steady himself and prepared to say more, when something rough and hard pressed into his fingerpads. He looked down at the hard scab bisecting his chest diagonally. The knife, the cutting, the screams, his death.
“Oh, shit,” Will mumbled, feeling hollow.
“I had no choice, son. I had to.” As Will looked up, his father fell silent, expression frozen beneath the starfish covering half his face. Everybody else had gone dead still, too, not even blinking; he raised his own hand and wiggled his fingers to see if he were similarly affected. Nothing was moving but him; not even the sea, now.
And one more. “The sea, she takes what is hers when the time is proper.”
He looked around, startled; it seemed less frightening that her voice was clear than that it was her voice. “Calypso,” he breathed, not even having to catch himself calling her Tia Dalma.
And then she was before him, clothed in seaweed and coral and softly swirling white eddies. “Captain,” she replied, dipping her head in acknowledgement.
“Captain?”
“This is your ship, sir.” She smiled mischievously, but it was just this side of cruel delight, and he almost didn’t notice her radically altered speech. “You prefer another title?”
He could think of nothing, except: “I don’t belong here.”
“Think you not?” She looked about. “Who else but the direct descendent of Davy Jones?”
“What?”
“This is a blood ship, William Turner.” Her smile narrowed. “Or is your father not a Scot, too?”
He opened his mouth, but could say nothing. Questions! Too many all at once! But the only one that would come was: “What about Elizabeth and Jack? And the others?”
She cut the still water between them with an imperious wave. “The realm of the living is no longer your concern, Captain. The dead are your subjects now, and your responsibility.”
He cut his eyes toward the surface. “I have to get back up there.”
Her expression darkened. “Your ties are severed, your bonds cut to that world. You serve me and the sea.”
For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to counter a goddess. Think like Jack. “A bargain, then.”
“You are in no position to bargain with me.”
“Perhaps not.” He dipped his head, maintaining calm even as he wanted to scream and rail against the wholesale slaughter he knew was to happen any minute, for now overshadowing even his own death. “But I can refuse to do the job with which you charge me. I can let the souls drift aimlessly, wander lost and alone, unable to find and serve your glory.”
Now her smile was cruel, and triumphant. “You saw the monster Jones became.”
“What do I care? I would have nothing to look forward to, with all I love dead and gone.”
“You’d jeopardize your one day to see her every decade?”
Reflexively, Will spat toward the deck … only to watch the glob of saliva stop a foot from him and rise up, back toward him, floating. Point taken; not the most intimidating statement, underwater, he conceded silently. He took a step to the side, leaning away from it, frowning, and looked toward Calypso. “Ten years?” He shook his head. “Not acceptable. I need to be able to see her whenever I like.”
“You cannot set foot on-”
“What? The deck of another ship?” It was Will’s turn to pin her with sharp eyes. “If I am master of the ocean, I believe I can.”
“You’re master of nothing!” she retorted. “You are a servant only.”
Concentrating, he willed the deck to steady, for his feet to stand flat instead of his toes pointing at a steep angle downward. He wasn’t sure how to do this, but it was better to try than to listlessly accept the weight she wanted to throw over his shoulders. As he closed his eyes, he felt the wood turning, so slowly, steady, the boards rising to meet his toes. The Dutchman groaned against the stop of time, and he opened his eyes as the ship rotated halfway, coming about and creating currents around them, catching bright, still fish in its wake. “I am this ship’s master,” he told Calypso. “And he will continue to do nothing, on my word.” He wasn’t sure why he knew Dutchman wasn’t the traditional feminine, but had a sinking feeling he was about to get plenty of time to solve the puzzle.
To Will’s surprise, she looked less surprised than he had hoped. “You would trade ten years total service, for the chance to be with them more often in the short beginning of an eternity?”
For a moment, he doubted; then, he remembered her caprice. “You have no intention of releasing me anyway,” he guessed, glad his heart was removed from his self so that it couldn’t break. “You’ve put too much effort into just ten years. You couldn’t even remember when ten years had passed to honor your deal with Jones.”
She waved him on. “Save your mortal fools and wicked Jack again … if you can. You’ve proven I am no hindrance.”
He curled his toes in his waterlogged boots, reflexively trying to get a purchase on the boards he couldn’t feel. “I do not want your favor,” he admitted. “But I require it.”
“It’s your ship,” she dismissed.
“But it’s partly your ocean.”
Calypso looked up at him from beneath half-lowered eyelids. “Think you can charm me into it?”
“I don’t need to charm you.” He smiled, understanding why she’d tried so hard to get back to the sea, why she had fixated on him instead of an easier – and less scrupulous – target of all the men she could choose from. “You want this job done well, again. You want tales and songs of your mercy as well as to your fury. You don’t like the curses being railed against you by the sailors who ought to be your willing servants.” He regarded her with the growing confidence of his new station. “You need what I offer.”
“I can secure my own worship,” she snapped.
“Can you?” He narrowed his eyes. “Neptune, Poseidon – by any name, he’s the real power in these waters, is he not? I could just as easily do this in his name, try to curry favor with him-”
“Which would do you no good-”
“According to you.” He hesitated. “Are you so certain I won’t find a way?”
She fixed him with a haughty look. They were both silent. Then, she smiled, though it wasn’t pleasant. “I’d almost forgotten what righteous spirit looked like.”
“That’s because you killed the last one by trying to harness it with lies and broken promises.” It was his turn to not let a smile reach his eyes. “You honor the occasional request, and you shall have a servant who glorifies you.”
With an unexpected move, she was upon him, her lips to his, the side of her nose brushing his as she licked into his mouth. When he opened his eyes, she was gone – and so was the lassitude that had frozen the-
MY crew, he corrected himself.
He turned toward the stern. With each step, he felt the weight of his new office, the souls of the monsters – men, they’re only men like you, Turner – tied with his own. The steps to the helm were leaden, and it had nothing to do with the suction of water.
Approaching the decimated rail, he blinked, shaking his head to clear away the loose hair drifting into his eyes. Annoyed, he patted down the pockets of the coat pilfered from Beckett’s ship, until he found a scarf shoved into the bottom of one. He took it out, folded it hastily, and tied it around his head as he’d seen Jack do. Then he touched the rail and traced the rough, slimy wood with his fingertips. How do you work? he wondered, wanting to surface.
The ship started to rock, slowly, then he could feel it pressing against the bottom of his feet, lifting. He shook his head. “Guess the same way as awhile ago, hmm?” he said to the ship, humbly reminded of his own skepticism of another captain’s ability to converse with his ship. He pictured Jack’s possible reaction to “the eunuch” as a captain, with his own crew, his own helm, his own – bigger – ship and guns.
And he grinned.
With that, he gripped the rail. “I hope you knew what you were doing, you mad old bastard,” he murmured. Head back, eyes closed, he felt every drop of water and brine sluice away as the wind caressed his face, taking a breath before turning to assume his final command.
Rating: PG
POTC: Will, Calypso, Bill; implied W/E
Disclaimer: I do not own these, and I do not make any profit off these characters or situations.
Summary: Why should the trivia of mere mortals matter to a goddess? Will tries to think like Jack. Missing AWE scene ... sorta.
A/N: This story certainly isn’t the homage it deserves, but I did borrow the title out of an Aldous Huxley novel. Thanks to betas
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Pain blossomed, frozen in a brine-filled scream as the sea washed over him. Water filled his nose, open mouth, the ragged wound spilling half the blood of his chest down into the worn fabric of his abused shirt.
Will squeezed his eyes shut, blinking back the tearing sting of salt. Wetness coursed into his throat, his lungs, soaking through every part, burning what its minerals touched. He gasped, panicking; he tried to get up, but somebody’s hand was on his shoulder, pushing him down, fastening him to the slimy boards. He let out a sob of impotent anger, his life gone, death rushing in. The sea had spit him out too many times to be robbed of her prize this last time.
He was soon aware that his eyes would open, however, and that the sunlight, blurred and refracted, was dimming. Pressure pushed at his skin, but did not rent or rip it. The water here was calm, almost placid; above him, the whirlpool was slowing, stalling, filling in once more. Will breathed in-
-and didn’t cough.
He was suddenly, irrationally afraid of his ignorance. This was a battlefield he’d never expected to stand … swim, thrash, upon, and even the balanced sword still waving from his upper chest wouldn’t serve much use down here.
Down here. Jesus Christ, where- How …
Even as the ship’s deck tilted on its gentle spiraling fall through the deep ocean, Will was able to stand up straight as hands lifted him. At first he was like a new colt, unsure of his legs and clumsy, and each leg wanted to take off in a different direction. He clutched the monsters holding him up for support; looking between them, he was not afraid – and worried why.
“Why are you helping-” He stopped, hearing his own voice, clear as a bell in air, even as water sluiced between his eyelashes when he blinked. He hadn’t expected it to be out loud. “I can talk.” He put his hand to his chest to steady himself and prepared to say more, when something rough and hard pressed into his fingerpads. He looked down at the hard scab bisecting his chest diagonally. The knife, the cutting, the screams, his death.
“Oh, shit,” Will mumbled, feeling hollow.
“I had no choice, son. I had to.” As Will looked up, his father fell silent, expression frozen beneath the starfish covering half his face. Everybody else had gone dead still, too, not even blinking; he raised his own hand and wiggled his fingers to see if he were similarly affected. Nothing was moving but him; not even the sea, now.
And one more. “The sea, she takes what is hers when the time is proper.”
He looked around, startled; it seemed less frightening that her voice was clear than that it was her voice. “Calypso,” he breathed, not even having to catch himself calling her Tia Dalma.
And then she was before him, clothed in seaweed and coral and softly swirling white eddies. “Captain,” she replied, dipping her head in acknowledgement.
“Captain?”
“This is your ship, sir.” She smiled mischievously, but it was just this side of cruel delight, and he almost didn’t notice her radically altered speech. “You prefer another title?”
He could think of nothing, except: “I don’t belong here.”
“Think you not?” She looked about. “Who else but the direct descendent of Davy Jones?”
“What?”
“This is a blood ship, William Turner.” Her smile narrowed. “Or is your father not a Scot, too?”
He opened his mouth, but could say nothing. Questions! Too many all at once! But the only one that would come was: “What about Elizabeth and Jack? And the others?”
She cut the still water between them with an imperious wave. “The realm of the living is no longer your concern, Captain. The dead are your subjects now, and your responsibility.”
He cut his eyes toward the surface. “I have to get back up there.”
Her expression darkened. “Your ties are severed, your bonds cut to that world. You serve me and the sea.”
For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to counter a goddess. Think like Jack. “A bargain, then.”
“You are in no position to bargain with me.”
“Perhaps not.” He dipped his head, maintaining calm even as he wanted to scream and rail against the wholesale slaughter he knew was to happen any minute, for now overshadowing even his own death. “But I can refuse to do the job with which you charge me. I can let the souls drift aimlessly, wander lost and alone, unable to find and serve your glory.”
Now her smile was cruel, and triumphant. “You saw the monster Jones became.”
“What do I care? I would have nothing to look forward to, with all I love dead and gone.”
“You’d jeopardize your one day to see her every decade?”
Reflexively, Will spat toward the deck … only to watch the glob of saliva stop a foot from him and rise up, back toward him, floating. Point taken; not the most intimidating statement, underwater, he conceded silently. He took a step to the side, leaning away from it, frowning, and looked toward Calypso. “Ten years?” He shook his head. “Not acceptable. I need to be able to see her whenever I like.”
“You cannot set foot on-”
“What? The deck of another ship?” It was Will’s turn to pin her with sharp eyes. “If I am master of the ocean, I believe I can.”
“You’re master of nothing!” she retorted. “You are a servant only.”
Concentrating, he willed the deck to steady, for his feet to stand flat instead of his toes pointing at a steep angle downward. He wasn’t sure how to do this, but it was better to try than to listlessly accept the weight she wanted to throw over his shoulders. As he closed his eyes, he felt the wood turning, so slowly, steady, the boards rising to meet his toes. The Dutchman groaned against the stop of time, and he opened his eyes as the ship rotated halfway, coming about and creating currents around them, catching bright, still fish in its wake. “I am this ship’s master,” he told Calypso. “And he will continue to do nothing, on my word.” He wasn’t sure why he knew Dutchman wasn’t the traditional feminine, but had a sinking feeling he was about to get plenty of time to solve the puzzle.
To Will’s surprise, she looked less surprised than he had hoped. “You would trade ten years total service, for the chance to be with them more often in the short beginning of an eternity?”
For a moment, he doubted; then, he remembered her caprice. “You have no intention of releasing me anyway,” he guessed, glad his heart was removed from his self so that it couldn’t break. “You’ve put too much effort into just ten years. You couldn’t even remember when ten years had passed to honor your deal with Jones.”
She waved him on. “Save your mortal fools and wicked Jack again … if you can. You’ve proven I am no hindrance.”
He curled his toes in his waterlogged boots, reflexively trying to get a purchase on the boards he couldn’t feel. “I do not want your favor,” he admitted. “But I require it.”
“It’s your ship,” she dismissed.
“But it’s partly your ocean.”
Calypso looked up at him from beneath half-lowered eyelids. “Think you can charm me into it?”
“I don’t need to charm you.” He smiled, understanding why she’d tried so hard to get back to the sea, why she had fixated on him instead of an easier – and less scrupulous – target of all the men she could choose from. “You want this job done well, again. You want tales and songs of your mercy as well as to your fury. You don’t like the curses being railed against you by the sailors who ought to be your willing servants.” He regarded her with the growing confidence of his new station. “You need what I offer.”
“I can secure my own worship,” she snapped.
“Can you?” He narrowed his eyes. “Neptune, Poseidon – by any name, he’s the real power in these waters, is he not? I could just as easily do this in his name, try to curry favor with him-”
“Which would do you no good-”
“According to you.” He hesitated. “Are you so certain I won’t find a way?”
She fixed him with a haughty look. They were both silent. Then, she smiled, though it wasn’t pleasant. “I’d almost forgotten what righteous spirit looked like.”
“That’s because you killed the last one by trying to harness it with lies and broken promises.” It was his turn to not let a smile reach his eyes. “You honor the occasional request, and you shall have a servant who glorifies you.”
With an unexpected move, she was upon him, her lips to his, the side of her nose brushing his as she licked into his mouth. When he opened his eyes, she was gone – and so was the lassitude that had frozen the-
MY crew, he corrected himself.
He turned toward the stern. With each step, he felt the weight of his new office, the souls of the monsters – men, they’re only men like you, Turner – tied with his own. The steps to the helm were leaden, and it had nothing to do with the suction of water.
Approaching the decimated rail, he blinked, shaking his head to clear away the loose hair drifting into his eyes. Annoyed, he patted down the pockets of the coat pilfered from Beckett’s ship, until he found a scarf shoved into the bottom of one. He took it out, folded it hastily, and tied it around his head as he’d seen Jack do. Then he touched the rail and traced the rough, slimy wood with his fingertips. How do you work? he wondered, wanting to surface.
The ship started to rock, slowly, then he could feel it pressing against the bottom of his feet, lifting. He shook his head. “Guess the same way as awhile ago, hmm?” he said to the ship, humbly reminded of his own skepticism of another captain’s ability to converse with his ship. He pictured Jack’s possible reaction to “the eunuch” as a captain, with his own crew, his own helm, his own – bigger – ship and guns.
And he grinned.
With that, he gripped the rail. “I hope you knew what you were doing, you mad old bastard,” he murmured. Head back, eyes closed, he felt every drop of water and brine sluice away as the wind caressed his face, taking a breath before turning to assume his final command.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-03 07:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-03 07:56 pm (UTC)Thank you.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2008-08-03 08:16 pm (UTC)Good bits of humor in there as well, always a plus.
Would love to see this story go further.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-03 09:05 pm (UTC)Thanks for enjoying it and saying so!
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2008-08-03 08:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-03 09:05 pm (UTC)(Did you see where Numbnuts has cut off all his hair into practically a buzzcut lately? It'd better be for a new role, is all I have to say *G*.)
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2008-08-03 09:11 pm (UTC)I felt that he was well on his way to becoming a good student of human nature in his own right. He sure knew how to read DJ during the tea scene, and he knew enough to let Calypso know who was really behind her being bound by the Brethren Court all those years ago. Those two things were necessary for the battle to not be over before it started, with Calypso killing off the current Brethren Court of out revenge.
And it stands him in good stead now, as he bargains with Calypso to change her plans for him into this:
"“You’d jeopardize your one day to see her every decade?”
Reflexively, Will spat toward the deck … only to watch the glob of saliva stop a foot from him and rise up, back toward him, floating. Point taken; not the most intimidating statement, underwater, he conceded silently. He took a step to the side, leaning away from it, frowning, and looked toward Calypso. “Ten years?” He shook his head. “Not acceptable. I need to be able to see her whenever I like.”
“You cannot set foot on-”
“What? The deck of another ship?”
I *love* this!
It was Will’s turn to pin her with sharp eyes. “If I am master of the ocean, I believe I can.”
I loved the part where you described him as a colt, learning to gain his legs, rather awkward at first. I loved the ending, where he turns to assume his final command.
This was wonderful, very true to Will's character. And I found Calypso to be the right mix of cruelty and manipulativeness. Most of what I've read about the gods and goddesses is that they were/are extremely self-involved, and blithely unaware of what effect their wants and desires have on their subjects. This was very in keeping with that.
I hope there's more (hint, hint).
no subject
Date: 2008-08-04 02:06 am (UTC)Most of what I've read about the gods and goddesses is that they were/are extremely self-involved, and blithely unaware of what effect their wants and desires have on their subjects.
I think the stories of Zeus's sexual escapades alone would be proof enough of that, yes. Here's a god who took any form he liked, banged anything that was pretty enough, all without regard for what it would do to their real lives (well, as real as you can get in a mythology - you know what I mean).
I felt that he was well on his way to becoming a good student of human nature in his own right.
I believe Jack has always seen this in Will and was impatient for him to hurry up and GROW up and learn all this. Still doesn't excuse how he treated him a couple of times, but Will seems willing to let bygones be. *G*
Thanks for such detailed FB!
no subject
Date: 2008-08-03 10:35 pm (UTC)All the little touches, horrifyingly, Will FEELING his father cut out his heart (ack!), his wobbly colt's legs as he gets his feet under him after the change, the way instead of feeling for the deck with his toes, he finds he can sink to horizontal and COMMAND those boards.
I like the way he begins at once to get the sense of the Dutchman, and wryly acknowledges it's not so impossible an idea having known Jack and his Pearl--as well as the hint of quite human glee at the prospect of one-upping Jack with the bigger and better-gunned ship.
Best of all, I like his toe to toe haggling with Calypso; my heart broke for him too when he recongized she'd not really free him in ten years, she'd kept no promise to Jones, who loved her.
You made her more than just heartless though, you captured the sense of heedless, selfish godhood. The Greek gods were all a bunch of nasty, privileged brats, long on perogative and short on obligation.
Interesting that you made the Dutchman "male" and brought up the option that she wasn't the only sea god he might deal with and that she wasn't supreme even in that baliwick. T & T seemed ot have only borrowed the godess' name from the Greeks but not the concept of the whole pantheon so they could make her "The" Goddess.
You've opened some intriguing territory I hope you'll continue to enlarge.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-04 02:28 am (UTC)as well as the hint of quite human glee at the prospect of one-upping Jack with the bigger and better-gunned ship
I like humor. There are others far better with it than me, but I do my best when I can find the opportunity (like the glob of spit).
I think Calypso might just be a mere nymph; I don't think she was ever a goddess. But this is fiction, and I suppose it's OK. I just like that Will's read or paid attention to an education enough to KNOW about the mythological gods like this. I like to think Elizabeth taught him, or maybe Jack told a couple of stories, too.
I'm glad you liked it!
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2008-08-04 01:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-04 01:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-04 01:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-04 02:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-04 01:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-04 02:30 am (UTC)Will's had plenty of chance to see Jones and his men at work at this point - he knows they can move around, just not in certain places. But the sea is - was - Jones's domain, and by gum, he ought to be able to do anything Jones could do on it.
Thanks for reading!
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2008-08-04 02:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-04 02:32 am (UTC)Glad you liked it!
no subject
Date: 2008-08-04 03:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-04 04:04 am (UTC)Glad you liked it. :-D
no subject
Date: 2008-08-04 05:46 am (UTC)You know, I think I'm getting addicted to your writing (again). I feel like I took a hit of something really good when I read that.
I do like the 'missing scene,' as I know many in the PotC fandom, especially us Will-lovers, wondered what happened in that whirlpool, and what kind of service Will went into. I love your idea of it - and I just remembered that I love me some Calypso (whether with Will or Jack, or both, I don't mind).
Anyway, succinctly, I love it. Even more, I'm reminded that I'm so jealous of your talent!
no subject
Date: 2008-08-05 01:50 am (UTC)"Missing scenes" are a trove of inspiration. I admit I should branch into other characters than the Big 3, but I like Will. Maybe I will for the
no subject
Date: 2008-08-04 06:37 am (UTC)I like your take on what happened after the 'Dutchman' went down with it's new Captain. Will ain't no push-over, and he's already proven that he'll get in Calypso's grill if necessary. And she totally owes him.
Lovely as usual.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-05 01:53 am (UTC)Will ain't no push-over
Not unless he LOOOVES you. And then, only to a point. At least I saw so. Glad you liked it!
no subject
Date: 2008-08-04 06:53 am (UTC)I love the way you captured the disorienting feeling of being able to not only "live" but to talk under water. And yay for Will standing up to Calypso! Intriguing that he could possibly meet Poseidon - wonder what he's up to these days?
no subject
Date: 2008-08-05 01:55 am (UTC)Something happened underwater; I think time came to a stop for however long was needed ('cause she's a goddess ... and he's immortal now) and there was haggling. I'd love to see someone do a longer version. I feel like I only sketched it out.
Poseiden ... I don't know. Trying to chase landbound princes away from his daughters? ;-)
Thanks!
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Date: 2008-08-04 05:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-05 02:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-04 06:23 pm (UTC)''...“This is your ship, sir.” She smiled mischievously, but it was just this side of cruel delight,...
And I guess he proved to Calypso that it was. This fits in nicely with his still standing at the helm of the Dutchman at the end of AWE. Maybe he found a way to be free, or maybe not, but he meets with Liz regardless. There is another story in there somewhere.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-05 02:11 am (UTC)Will's learned well from Jack and Elizabeth how to circumvent the rules if need be. Among the three of them, I think they'll find ways to visit. I hope so!
Glad you read!
no subject
Date: 2008-08-05 01:58 am (UTC)I also appreciated the direction that you went in continuing to develop Will's character. He grew into his own in the movies and this story didn't send him several steps back.
I, too, would like to see this continued...
no subject
Date: 2008-08-05 02:13 am (UTC)Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2008-08-05 01:17 pm (UTC)I adore you for bringing other gods into the bargain and Will blackmailing Calypso. I can think up various scenarios where he can use that tactic and you've done it splendidly.
I loved the dry, humorous observation with the floating spit. It's so very Will.
And you made time stop, which is just perfect.
You've filled a gaping void with this and you've done it with style.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-06 05:18 am (UTC)I still think Will would make a great addition to the Council of the Gods ... perhaps like a lower House member as only a demigod ... and Jack gambling while he waits ... I may have to write that.
The floating spit just BELONGS. Will has a moment in each movie where he tries to do something impressive and falls on his nose. It's good for the hero to be humbled every so often!
Thanks for reading.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-06 06:05 am (UTC)My favoite moment was when Will realized that Calypso never had any intention of releasing him. Heartbreaking, indeed.
And oh, the hairporn. *Weeps for Orlando's hair*
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Date: 2008-08-06 11:21 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading!
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Date: 2008-08-07 01:20 am (UTC)Absolutely LOVED all the little nods to Jack - gave me chills (in a good way) to have Will say "a bargain" and too funny the 'bigger ship'! Hah! I imagine that will piss Jack off pretty good! And as I read in your comments -- yes, Will's little oops moment with the spit -- I envision his face with the 'don't eat me' parrot as he looks at that spit floating by! hee!
Good story! Thank you!
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Date: 2008-08-07 04:26 pm (UTC)I've seen a lot of fic where it seems Jack has turned into Will, so it's probably appropriate there should be a few where Will is shown as essentially turning into Jack. :-)
Thanks for reading!
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Date: 2008-08-13 08:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-16 05:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-22 06:41 am (UTC)I've always liked the idea that Will would end up talking to and hearing a ship like Jack does. Though maybe that's just because I like Will with Jack, and if Jack hears the ship then why not Will? Anyway, I really like that you hinted at it here, as well as the hint of good natured (hopefully) bickering between he and Jack over who's better. :P
I also love how you touched on the fact that nothing was said about Will not being able to go onto other ships. As long as he's not on land somehow, he should be fine. How else would he go to collect new crew? That was one plothole I latched onto early one. Rather desperately, truth be told. ;)
I just like that Will's read or paid attention to an education enough to KNOW about the mythological gods like this. I like to think Elizabeth taught him, or maybe Jack told a couple of stories, too.
Wouldn't anyone who lived in a port town have some knowledge of the sea mythology anyway? Especially if his father was a sailor? Granted, he wouldn't be home much, but enough to pass on a story or two, I would think. It's nice to have him already know something on his own, lol.
On an almost unrelated note: Orly cut his hair?? Dang, last I saw it was short enough. *Whimpers* Why does everyone who looks good in long hair cut it?
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Date: 2008-08-25 01:55 am (UTC)There's a lot that hasn't been explored with Will's assignment to the Dutchman. I'd like to see more about it that actually concentrates on Will and doesn't involve how to scrape him off Lizzie like a barnacle so she can run off with Jack. Hopefully we'll get that now.
(Yes, he cut his hair, the wingnut. I think he's trying to transition from "pretty boy actor" to "businessman who acts and produces" now that he's in his 30s. Hopefully we haven't seen the last of the pretty hair.)
Thanks for reading!
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