#barbossas mornings with margaret

[virtuouscandlelight]

Jacqueline "Jackie" Sparrow is the biological daughter of Catherine Wright and Jack Sparrow. She is your eldest. She's a raunchy, bloodthirsty pirate

Carina Smyth is your middle child and the biological daughter of Margaret Smyth. She is very sweet and motherly and a very good daughter and older sister

Morwenna Barbossa is your only biological child. She's a bit scrappy, but in the end, is a very sweet child

{ 🕯 }

Ah HAH. The culprit has been IDENTIFIED.

“ Hector Barbossa. “

It’s said in a more bitter laugh, remembering him from several meetings.

“ That country pirate ? The one that used to be a farmer ?

He’s nice and all, but I am not interested. Thank ye very much. “

Shooing away the bird again.

“ Jeeeeeez. You’re just as bad as the kids. All these silly little love games and who’s kissing in a tree and baby carriages and whatnot. I have no time for affairs such as baring children when I am assigned to both protect a crew and assist in miracles.

And it’ll be a miracle if you don’t end up cooked gull by morning if you KEEP. BLOODY. SQUAWKING AT ME ! “

[hellspat]

@notaprincessaqueen.

{ x }

lazy roleplayer meme | open to mutuals |  ?? : write you a starter | @hellspat

It was under a gray, threatening sky that Margaret walked the ten minutes from the Dog and the Duchess to the port, as she did every morning. Margaret was responsible for the day to day menu at what was highly regarded as the best tavern in town, which sent her daily down to the docks to see what might have come in. She kept an eye on the angry, but for now quiet, clouds overhead, willing them to hold any rain until she had gone back.

The threat of the inclement weather may have rushed her that particular morning, or perhaps her preoccupation with planning what she would serve today. Whatever it was that distracted her, Margaret’s attention was thoroughly elsewhere as she scanned a cart of fruit. She was surprised to see apples; they made it to Nassau sporadically enough to be an immediate treat, and she was picturing some kind of tart–

Somehow, she had not noticed the figure that had suddenly appeared next to her until their hands brushed reaching for the same piece of fruit.

“Pardon,” she said in apology. “I must have been daydreaming.”

Barbossa snatched his hand back a little too quickly, having no legal reason for it to be there in the first place; only to delicately select another when he saw she wasn’t a guard. He polished it on his sleeve (making it, if anything, dirtier) and took a hearty bite.

At this hour, the rest of the crew was still sleeping off their hangovers in inns or brothels or gutters; with this ominous sky they wouldn’t be weighing anchor for another day or two. And Barbossa relished the chance to escape their company, however briefly. Sharing a glorified floating shack with a couple dozen men for weeks at a time could be stifling.

 A woman, though, was a welcome sight.

“Weren’t quite attendin’ meself, neither. I am now,” he hastened to assure her, smiling, and inquisitively wagged the hand with the apple in it. “These yern?”

[moonlitmyth-archive]

💍 //fuck me up fam

drunk wedding | selectively accepting

What in holy Hell was she thinking? Margaret is pulling herself through the fog of a truly massive hangover, hoping she can figure out some legitimate reason for why she’s waking up today as Mrs. Barbossa - like that isn’t the silliest thing she’s ever been called in her life.

Reflection on the previous night is painful, but necessary. She was at work, he was hanging around at the end of the bar, waiting until close. They got into a spat about something - it didn’t matter what, it was almost certainly bullshit on both sides - and damn Ed Carson, he had the audacity to suggest they bickered like a married couple.

The resulting double-pronged verbal flogging of poor Mister Carson summarily sent everyone else home, including, with a mumbled apology, Ed. That left them alone, glaring after him, and Margaret decided perhaps it was time to go home and let Anne close up shop.

“The nerve,” she muttered, while Hector nodded in agreement. Still stung from the course of their interrupted disagreement, she made a very poor decision just then. It was the kind of thing she absolutely knew would end badly, but she was pissed and wanted the last word. In her defense, she was also twelve hours into her stint at the Duchess today, and the last forty minutes or so of that had been spent at the end of the bar bickering with Hector and taking shots from a shared bottle of whiskey.

“Besides, it’s not as though you’re the marrying kind, anyway.”

“Oh, be that so. Because you happen to know so very much about me, do you? Can predict me every move and whim, can you? And tell me, then, Miss Smyth, how it feels to know you’re oh so very wrong in that assessment,” he’d snapped back, and then it just went to Hell in a whiskey-drenched handbasket when she issued the challenge: ���Prove it, then, or I shan’t believe you.”

Minister Lawrence wasn’t happy to see them at nearly midnight, demanding nuptials be performed, but he was thrilled at the idea of no longer having to pray so vehemently for poor Miss Smyth’s immortal soul due to her no longer having extramarital relations. The night ended, as they strolled away from the minister’s house later, in an argument. Another, which, as they did so often, came to a crescendo on her doorstep, before fading away a night no different than any other they spent together. Save for the fact that he’d proven her absolutely wrong about being the marrying kind.

She opens her mouth now, thinking that one of them is going to have to break the silence, so it might as well be sooner rather than later. “Morning,” she says neutrally. She has absolutely no idea where this morning will find his mood.

[moonlitmyth-archive]

Any number with a 4 in it ^^

super detailed questions | accepting

I’ve been sitting on this forever because I had to think really hard about a lot of them. orz Under a cut for length.

4. What is their relationship with their parents? What’s a good and bad memory with them? Did they know both parents? 

So this is where I fess up to the silly headcanon @murdermayhemandjack​ and I developed which is that Margaret and Jack are twins (yeah I’m pretty sure everyone figured that out on the 13th but hey here’s your official announcement). So uh. Let’s just… She likes to think about her parents as little as possible. She’ll occasionally tell stories about them, but nine out of ten times, it’s the idealized version of events and she pictures generic fairy tale parents rather than her own.

14. Do they have any specific memories of food/a restaurant/meal? 

This woman’s entire life revolves around food. To single out a memory about food would be like asking her to pick a favorite child. (it’s Carina)

24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress? 

She doesn’t sleep much; usually she gets home from work a little after midnight, she putters around for a couple hours, then sleeps in a couple fits. She’s usually up around nine, although if she has enough trouble sleeping, she’ll get up anytime she wakes up and it’s after about 5:30. I don’t think there was exactly a lot of mattress variety in the 18th century, so I can’t really speak to firmness. She doesn’t snore unless she’s run herself absolutely ragged and crashed despite herself. (And if you try to tell her she did, she will argue you all the way to Hell.)

34. What is their body type? How tall are they? Do they like their body? 

answered here. She sees to reason to dislike her body, yay for not growing up with the unrealistic beauty standards imposed by the mainstream media!

40. Do they like energy drinks? Coffee? Sugary food? Or can they naturally stay awake and alert?

She’s pretty damn alert. You would swear she has eyes not only in the back of her head, but the sides, too. She drinks alcohol depressants more often than coffee stimulants.

41. What’s their sexuality? What do they find attractive? Physically and mentally? What do they like/need in a relationship?

Demisexual. The best way to snag her attention: be a little mysterious without being self-conscious about it. Make her curious. She’s definitely more attracted to personality than looks; she’ll acknowledge/notice someone is attractive, but won’t actually be attracted to them until they’ve done something to actually intrigue her. In a partner, she desperately needs someone who can be her match in multiple departments, a true partner. She needs someone who will let her take care of them, but call her on it when she turns into a mother hen; someone who makes her laugh, but is also down for in-depth philosophical debates as casual dinner conversation; someone who can exist in her space without disrupting it; someone who will show her a little bit of the world at a time and be at peace with the fact that she will always end up landbound in the end; someone who will argue, but know that it’s not serious.

42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition?

I don’t know that she has any specific long term aspirations beyond just living a good life and not taking it for granted. I’ve said this before, but she would rip the world to shreds if it meant saving Carina. That mama wolf runs deep.

43. Are they religious? What do they think of religion? What do they think of religious people? What do they think of non religious people?

Nah. She’s just indifferent. She does go to church early most Sunday mornings, but it’s just because she likes the quiet community rather than any particular devotion to god. She has no qualms with anyone who is religious, and she’ll even humor people assuming she is if it makes interacting with them easier, because she just doesn’t really think it matters all that much.

44. What is their favourite season? Type of weather? Are they good in the cold or the heat? What weather do they complain in the most? 

Summer - but only because Hector usually hangs around during hurricane season. She actually abhors the heat. (Meg you live in the tropics what did you expect) She loves rainstorms, the louder and darker, the better; her favorite night is one where she’s sitting there in bed at midnight listening to rain pound on the roof and watching the room light up from lightning strikes. She will bitch night and day about that stagnant, oppressive feeling of the air not moving before a thunderstorm, though.

45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves? 

I’d like to think she sees herself mostly the same way other people say her; she is The Mom Friend and that’s the end of it. She probably doesn’t have quite as rosy a view of herself as other people do of her, but then, other people aren’t usually party to the 24/7 snarkfest going on inside her head, and only the nice stuff usually makes it out of her mouth.

46. Do they make a good first impression? Does their first impression reflect them accurately? How do they introduce themselves?

She’s good at reading people, so she tends to tailor first impressions whenever possible. In the Duchess, she is absolutely in her element, and she’ll adopt different tactics with different people, depending on what she thinks they’ll respond the best to. Anywhere else in public, she puts up that Polite Wall as a guard against just about anything, and for the most part it works; when she meets new people, they think she’s just this nice lady who owns a tavern, which is more or less what she wants people to think of her. She typically introduces herself with just her first name, or first name and Smyth if she has to; the only time she’s ever introduced herself as Margaret Barbossa is when she thinks it might work in her favor, which is somewhat of a rare occurrence, lbr. (also spoilers: no, Smyth is not her real name.)

47. How do they act in a formal occasion? What do they think of black tie wear? Do they enjoy fancy parties and love to chit chat or loathe the whole event?

She has a love-hate relationship with this kind of thing. While she likes organizing events, she doesn’t especially enjoy attending them. She does like dressing up, but not when it’s for the benefit of someone else’s sensibilities, so she ends up being really quietly resentful anytime she has to dress up for anything else. She tends to chitchat and at least look like she’s enjoying herself (#that cocktail personality), but she’ll take any excuse to duck out early.

48. Do they enjoy any parties? If so what kind? Do they organise the party or just turn up? How do they act? What if they didn’t want to go but were dragged along by a friend? 

She likes small parties. She won’t go to a party unless it’s being hosted by someone she knows, or unless she’s the plus one for someone she knows REALLY well (Jack, Hector, Ariel (@fiercelioness , Carina)

49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them?

She doesn’t really get attached to things; actually, she gets all squirrelly when people give her gifts because she’s just like “wehh what do i do with this /arm flailing”. She values her wedding ring for obvious reasons, and any of her journals, and that’s. About it. She generally doesn’t carry stuff with her, but she wears that ring literally 24/7, she sleeps with it on, is2g.

[moonlitmyth-archive]

🎁--brings you a jeweled necklace from his latest plunder, along with some french silk and lace, leaves it all in a sack behind the bar with your name on it, doesn't say it's from him, but lazily comments that perhaps you could make yourself something decent to wear with it. (cause he's just...he's Hector. He has a hard time with feelings.)

platonic acts of affection | accepting | 🎁 - to give my muse a present (sender should specify what)

[Under a cut for length - this can remain a drabble, or be a thread, up to you!]

It was with some trepidation that Margaret regarded the unmarked sack sitting on her doorstep. She had stopped several feet from the door when she spotted it, and now she was studying it carefully, trying to determine if it was dangerous or not. She spotted a scrap of paper sticking out and hesitantly reached for it. The sack remained motionless as she read the scrawled text. Ah. From him.

She toed the sack, mind wandering back to the man she’d spent half the evenings last month talking to. Most people at the Dog and Duchess posed little challenge to Margaret’s attempts to read them; Hector Barbossa was a rare exception. He remained steadfastly a mystery from his scraggly beard to his well-worn boots.

Margaret picked up the sack, surprised by its weight, and stepped into the house, pushing aside the cat that immediately ran over to wind itself around her legs. Another cat was summarily shoved from the dining table so she could set the sack down. Opening it revealed a bolt of green silk and several yards of intricate (read: valuable) lace.

She knew she was flushing as she picked up the fabric and began to spread it out. Something fell to the floor with a clatter and she glanced down to practically gasp when she saw it was a necklace - and a damned expensive looking one at that. She picked it up gingerly, like it might break at the least provocation. It caught a beam of light from the window, the jewels set into its pendant sparkling while Margaret stared at them. Unless she was very wrong, she was holding several hundred pounds’ worth of fine jewelry. Carefully, she lowered the necklace onto the pile of silk and bundled it all up.

She went to bed fully aware of the fortune in (probably ill-gotten, but that was hardly news) finery that was presently tucked away in her wardrobe. Sleep came fitfully, as it always did, but the hours whiled away until she found herself watching sunlight spread across the ceiling and sat up.

The necklace presented a conundrum. Wearing something quite that nice wasn’t always the best choice in a well-known pirate port, no matter how safe she felt in the Duchess; but she was sure he would probably come by the pub that day and be looking for some indication of her reaction to his gift. After some consideration, she settled for wearing it, but tucking it inside her shirt, and went about the rest of her morning routine.

None of her early regulars noticed anything unusual, save perhaps Margaret’s general distraction throughout the morning. She couldn’t help looking up every time the door opened to see if it was him - and denying it to herself every time she did it.