#cutler 3

[amazinglyegg]

Forever thinking about the headcanon how, despite Danse being a very no-nonsense guy, he has a soft spot for a specific kind of dirty humor.

Like, don't be a potty mouth and don't you dare say it in front of a superior, but the right joke about Supermutant love-making at the right time will have him laughing way harder than anyone would expect.

He'll just never admit that he got that sense of humor from Cutler.

[codydodie]

Some doodles cuz he’s taken over my head.

Also some harbor town angst and a happy Jack to make up for it (AU by @cupcakeshakesnake)

[scottishoctopus]

Back again after completely disappearing, but here's a meme that I made at like 1 in the morning XD.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

For the ask game: how and when did you get into writing fanfiction? Was it a particular fandom, character… ? Any details you want to share! 😊

ohhh man...

I think I first got into writing it for LOTR - it would have been when the movies first came out. I was ten or eleven years old and created a self-insert OC who was Sauron's daughter and she rode a balrog (then later one of the winged beasts from ROTK) and somehow ended up teaming up with the Fellowship. There was a lot of drama. I think she fell in love with the Witch King of Angmar at one point. It was a blast to write - though, I don't think any of it survives online anymore. It was up on some of the old LOTR fanfic sites that didn't survive, sadly.

Someone harshed my mellow, though, as I got my first flame/really negative review which made me stop writing fic for quite a few years.

I got back into writing it in highschool with both Van Helsing and Pirates of the Caribbean. I was very committed to writing Van Helsing/Dracula and also Mr. Mercer/Lord Beckett slash. The Lord Beckett community on Livejournal, to-date, was one of the best most welcoming fan-communities that I've been in. Everyone was lovely to one another and supported each other. If there was any in-community fighting I missed it entirely. So yeah, that's what got me back in the saddle. A lot of that stuff will still be up, if the livejournal community survives.

From there I was unstoppable. Napoleon/Wellington was big in highschool and on through to university, also back into LOTR with Grima/Eomer and the unfinished Devour a Sunless Day, not to mention Yes Minister fic and a few other niche fandoms.

So yeah, the rest, as they say, is history.

Thank you for the ask!! <3 <3 <3

[ask meme]

[everythingispirates]

[over-the-moon123]

Pirates of the Caribbean behind the scene pt.2 💗

[the-kipsabian]

[kultofathena]

Tod Cutler – Steel Medieval Star Mace 10th -11th Century – 3 Star Version

[thechaosghost]

Cutler Beckett Style AITA Post

Am I (39 M) an A-hole after boasting about my title to my dad (idk, like, 60 maybe? M) and brothers (mid 40s to 50s M) because my dad gave my mom an STD and my brothers were flat out abusive?

[ari-the-arotistic]

Beckett #67!

Prompt 67: Playing the Melody

-

Beckett swayed softly in his chair as he played his violin, his whole body moving with the music as he slid the bow across the strings, producing a heavenly melody with each new note. This was always the best part of his day - the only time where he could just forget about business for a moment, and lose himself in his music. When ever he played, he was no longer Lord Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company and savy business man - he was just Cutler Beckett, a man who loved the violin. But of course, nothing good could last forever. Suddenly there was loud knock on his cabin door, and the beautiful melody he had been playing came to a halt with a discordant twang, followed by several soft curses. He gently set the instrument down in its case, before standing up at smoothing out his clothes to make himself look presentable. He then threw open the door, glaring at the soldier who dared to interrupt him during his moment of peace.

"How many times must I tell you not to interrupt me while I'm playing?" He snapped harshly, satisfied to see the solider flinch back at his tone

"Apologies, sir." The soldier replied, bowing apologetically to make up for his slight. "I came to inform you that we're almost at Port Royal, sir." He added as he straightened back up, waiting anxiously for Beckett's reply. Beckett sighed softly.

"How much longer?" He asked in annoyance, desperately wishing to go back to his music.

"About 20 minutes, sir." The soldier informed. Beckett let out another sigh at that.

"I'll be up on deck shortly. Begin to prepare the men for arrival." He ordered, waving the soldier away in dismissal.

"Yes sir!" The soldier replied, giving Beckett a salute, before marching off to carry out his orders. Beckett just rolled his eyes, before closing the doors to his cabin, and walking back over to his chair, sitting back down and picking up his violin once more. For a few more minutes, he could just be Cutler Beckett, without any duties or expectations.

[opting-for-oblivion]

Do you ever think about how the Golden Age of Piracy supposedly ended around 1730 and Beckett died in 1729

I hadn't known the years exactly, but thinking about it now...

I mean, you could of course go and say, "Beckett successfully killed piracy!!!" or something about how the two went down together, and that'd be neat. Something seems inevitable, seems Pyrrhic, about that, somehow. Something something what is victory what does it mean to lose or die here etc.

However, I'm not sure if the "Golden Age of Piracy" as we understand it historically (in reality) maps onto PotC so exactly? There are plenty of subtle differences / "inaccuracies" that make the world of PotC unlike our own. Does the height of piracy "actually" (per canon) end circa Beckett's death?

Above all, I think I personally find it most interesting (if we are seeing that Beckett died just before the end of the height of piracy in the timeline) to think of Beckett as a symptom of bigger currents in the world rather than as a direct cause, y'know? That's something that Beckett's arc was always about, about the end of piracy looming because the world was changing, not so much because of the actions of one man (and his private army). The world "made" Beckett, far more than Beckett "made" the world going forward, in a sense. Beckett... Gosh, he really was a sort of manifestation of everything anti-piracy that had been building in the world of PotC. In that way, like many villains, he's...less a person than a conflict or phenomenon given a face.

I could think about this much further, and perhaps I will, so thank you for the ask! On a more humorous note, we can always imagine Beckett looking on from the afterlife and going, "Oh, come on! How could I have JUST missed that! That was my whole THING!" asfdghjkl.

[thisloveisredx]

Watching Dopesick and I’m like Billy… stand up!!!

[piratesgiftexchange]

So Here We Are Again

for @imaginepirates, by @arachnoidmater

PROMPT: “Undead Beckett? Undead Beckett!” WORD COUNT: 960

I saw this prompt and cackled. I love the idea of this guy completely shedding all social convention upon his death and becoming just the sleeziest slimiest pirate-killing monster. It’s a lot of fun! Couldn’t do it much justice, though.

I am SO SORRY for the wait, omg. I’ve had. A time, and then last week thought my dog was dying, I got a spider bite on my face, my grandma went to the hospital… and now my internet is spotty as hell. Let’s see if it’ll let me upload this!

The air smelled of gunpowder and smoke. The ship creaked, splintered, blasted apart into nothing but wood chips and dust.

Beckett knows none of this.

Under the surface of the sea, he loses consciousness, cushioned by the flag of the only thing to ever truly have his back. His last thoughts are of traitorous pirates, and then nothing.

-

It was hot, unbearably so. His skin burned as he faded back into consciousness. “I’m in Hell,” he thought, “They’ve sent me to Hell.”

Beckett opened his eyes.

He was not in hell.

He was, somehow, on a beach. How had he survived? He struggled to sit up, using his hands to push against the sand. His palms felt raw and tender, the grains of sand digging into the soft skin. The sleeves of his shirt were ragged and torn, like he’d been put through a ringer. Or dragged along the bottom of the ocean.

Sitting up, Beckett looked over the rest of himself.

He looked terrible. His entire body looked how his palms felt: raw and tender and full of gashes. A blackish liquid oozed from the wounds. The few pieces of skin that were still intact were bloated and bruised a green-blue.

Perhaps he hadn’t survived, after all. But, then, how was he sitting on this beach, looking himself over?

From somewhere behind Beckett came rustling. He snapped his head towards the sound, listening carefully. It sounded like footsteps, making their way closer to where he sat. Beckett rose, unsure if it was to greet or confront them.

"It was over here," a voice shouted. "I saw it wash up! It'll fetch a pretty penny with the company, handing over this corpse."

Ah. A confrontation, then. Beckett turned to meet them as they came out of the brush. “Hello, gentlemen,” he spoke with a voice that wasn’t quite his. It came out much more gravely than he was used to, tone more akin to rocks scraping together than his usual velvet. “Is there something you need?”

The three men now on the beach froze. One brave man raised his pistol, while the other two turned tail and ran back into the treeline.

“Oh, I’m afraid that isn’t going to do much,” Beckett said with what he thought was a rueful smile. It was not. The pistol fired, hitting Beckett square in the chest. He fell back a few steps from the force of the shot, but felt nothing. Black sludge coagulated around the bullet hole. Beckett touched the hole with a hum. “What a waste of a bullet. Well, now that that’s out of the way, I’m going to need your clothes.”

Beckett reached for the man, who dropped his gun and backed away. He only made it a few steps before tripping over a sword one of his companions dropped. Beckett caught his arm before he fell completely down.

“That won’t do at all. I need your clothes, remember? Mine are in no state to be seen in,” he gestured to his tattered uniform. He tightened his grip on the man’s arm, and pulled. The shoulder popped from the socket as the man screamed in pain. Beckett pulled a little more to be sure, and only let go once he felt the skin tearing. “That’s better. Do I need to undress you?”

The man shook his head and shucked off his shirt, shoes, and pants. He made quite a show of being in pain, crying and screaming at random intervals.

Beckett took the clothes and picked up the sword the other members had dropped. No use having loose ends, he thought, and stabbed the sniveling man in front of him. He turned away to change clothes. Interesting how he had no qualms over getting his hands dirty now that he was dead, but couldn’t let a dying man see him naked. How strange it was, what insecurities life left behind.

The new clothes were much, much rougher than his own had been. The fit was loose, and a bit too long in the legs and sleeves. Not wanting to be recognized again, Beckett pulled off the mangy wig that had somehow stayed on through his death and apparent resurrection. A chunk of his scalp came with it, hair still attached. He dropped it in disgust.

Looking around, he found a length of fabric had washed up with him. It might have been the flag he had been wrapped in, but it was too torn and faded to be sure. Perfect. He tied it around his neck like a cloak, using a corner as a hood. If those three men had instantly known who he was, surely others would.

But where was he, and why had those men wanted his corpse? Who were they selling it to? Surely not the navy. The navy would never offer a bounty for a lord's body.

There was one group of miscreants who would be thrilled to have the decaying body of a man who committed his life to upholding the law. A group that would do anything to rid the world of men like him, a group that, very recently, did.

Pirates.

Suddenly, Lord Cutler Beckett knew exactly why he had been brought back. It was his duty now, more than ever, to rid the world of this scum. No longer bound by the weaknesses of man, he could cut down every one uninhibited. It wasn’t like he could die again!

Now with a purpose and renewed vigor, Beckett made his way into the brush to follow the two men who took off. He would start with them, find out who they were selling him to, and work his way to the top, destroying every degenerate along the way.

No pirate was safe.

[hostilecityshowdown]

the young bucks are in the hospital and you're crying over phillip

[youtwitinmyface]

HACKTIVIST #4

Created by: Alyssa Milano Writers: Jackson Lanzing & Collin Kelly Artist: Marcus To Publisher: Archaia Black Label Previously: Hacktivist #3 Yes, I know I’m quite late on this issue. I actually thought I had reviewed this. But as I thinking about getting ready to watch and review Mistresses tonight, which stars Alyssa Milano, it made me think of this series that she created, so I looked it up and…