#modern jack sparrow

[mollybeenoel]

Johnny Depp by mashpitrt

[zenzeroruletheworld]

Hear me out: modern AU

At the least half of Jacks clothes are shit like

[soleilpirate]

This happy sailor! I'll sail with him to the edge of the world, and beyond if he asked me to!

[trickstercaptain]

HAPPY DECADE MY BUDDY. i can't imagine the last ten years on this site without your talent and creativity. I am so grateful that Killian managed to piss Jack off in .5 seconds back in the very beginning, its led to such a great dynamic. And I am even more thankful to be able to still call you a writing partner and friend. Tumblr wouldn't be the same without you and Jack (or any of your muses) and your fabulous writing !!

asdfkjsd LUCAS !! thaaank you i am so honoured to join your fabled ranks in the decade club lmao. honestly though i want to uno reverse all of the stuff you've mentioned here, there is absolutely zero way that i would still be here on tumblr writing ( much less still writing jack ) if it wasn't for those rp partners like you who have given me such rewarding dynamics over the years. not to get mushy on main but jack & killian is one of my all time FAVES because i always find that it's relatively easy to find someone to write close platonic/romantic bonds with ( i feel like that's par for the course on tumblr dot com ), but it's surprisingly difficult to find someone who will commit to writing an antagonistic push and pull dynamic in so many different forms and verses and for so long ?? these two hate each other, they sometimes work together and hate each other less and yet the dynamic still always feels so fresh and fun to write no matter the verse or situation we throw them into. some of my all time favourite threads have been with you + killian. you're amazing lucas, never forget it, ily <3

[immortaltricksters]

Loki; “It’s so hard being a silly goose in this anti-whimsy society.”

Jack; “You barely even have room to frolic nowadays.”

[phoenixduelist]

@winters-club

[phoenixduelist]

& Jack, Modern Verse. Because reasons

Text meme made extra

[killmebutneverinsultme]

@compassofsouls continued from here:

“Well, now, aren’t you a poetic old soul, eh?”

The more this supposed Jack spoke, the more Cassidy warmed up to him; the less he found himself caring whether or not it was all a bit. His worldview was down-to-earth whilst still retaining an edge for fun: it was just the sort of company he couldn’t help but enjoy. “Can’t say I disagree with you: I’ve had money before, and it’s good for a while, but…well, can’t beat what’s real, can ya? Still, if you know anywhere doin’ a whiskey that doesn’t taste of dog piss, I’d not mind refreshin’ the old palate once in a while.”

Cass took a drink regardless, made a point of pulling a face (as though he hadn’t consumed far worse so many times before), and wrinkled his nose. “Can’t disappoint your fans, eh?” A cheeky raise of the eyebrows as he grinned over the top of his glass. “Oh, I’d love to know what makin’ ‘em happy involves. Come ooon, you must have some good stories.”

Jack laughed. "Oh, aye, plenty. People book special parties with me, if you catch me drift. Music, dancing, booze, bit'f wacky baccy, and if there's consenting parties involved, we get up to a little more. I let Gibbs handle the paperwork. This one time I had a whole group'f ladies all dressed up like Disney princesses. Now that was fun."

After a grin, he took another mouthful of drink. He caught the attention of the barman, plucked out a menu and tapped one of the better whiskeys. A tilt of the head in Cassidy's direction and the man set to pouring a glass before his new friend.

"On me, mate."

[phoenixduelist]

@wintermulitplied

[zenzeroruletheworld]

[trashytoastboi]

🍖Monkey D. Luffy Masterlist🍖

🍖 Headcanons: Law, Kid, Luffy reacting to seeing their timid S/O angry for the first time

🍖 Headcanons: Luffy x Tall! M! S/O

🍖 Headcanons: Luffy x Tall! M! S/O - Pre and Post Timeskip

🍖 Headcanons: Luffy x F! Strong S/O - Pre and Post timeskip

🍖 Headcanons: Law, Zoro, Luffy x Crewmate who has a tendency to wander off

🍖 Headcanons: Sabo, Kid, Luffy x F! Keyblade Wielder

🍖 Headcanons: Ace, Luffy, Zoro x Tall! F! S/O

🍖 Headcanons: Luffy, Robin, Shanks x S/O - Discovering their S/O is a sea dragon

🍖 Headcanons: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji - Reacting to crying S/O who tries to keep everyone happy

🍖 Headcanons: ABO AU! Omega! Zoro, Sanji, Luffy + F! Alpha

🍖 Headcanons – Ace, Sabo, Luffy, Sanji – Reacting to their accident prone S/O

🍖 Scenario: Soul Mate AU! Zoro, Luffy and F! Soul Mate (Poly)

🍖 Scenario: Modern AU! Luffy and Tall! Male! S/O studying together

🍖 NSFW Scenario: Roommate AU! Zoro, Luffy x F! Roommate (Poly)

🍖 Headcanons: Zoro, Kid, Law, Luffy - with a S/O who has a Buster sword

🍖 Headcanons: Ace, Luffy, Law, X-Drake – With extremely kind, caring and protective S/O

🍖 Scenario: ABO AU! Pregnant! Omega! Luffy x Tall! M! Alpha

🍖 Headcanons: NSFW and SFW: Luffy with Feminine! S/O

🍖 Headcanons: Crocodile, Luffy, Law, Kid with Short! Male! S/O who collapses with a fever due to carelessness for his health

🍖 NSFW Scenario: Ace, Sabo, Luffy x F! Reader - #28 Threesome + #38 Bartender AU

🍖 Headcanons: Pre and Post Time Skip – Luffy x Male! S/O with similar personality to Jack Sparrow

🍖 Headcanons: Law, Zoro, Luffy - #11. Making the other laugh & #28. Threesome

🍖 Headcanons: Luffy, Ace, Zoro, Law – Meeting Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Goofy

🍖 Headcanons: Luffy, Crocodile - Cuddling with Introverted! Reader

🍖 Headcanons Law, Luffy, Zoro, Ace x S/O that loves horror

🍖 Scenario: Luffy x Male! S/O with Jack Sparrow personality – Remember Every Scar

🍖 Headcanons: Modern AU! Ace, Luffy, Garp, Dragon as celebrities

🍖 Headcanons: Kid, Killer, Luffy x S/O with wings

🍖 Headcanons: Luffy, Smoker, Doflamingo, Law – Meeting young Xehanort (Kingdom Hearts)

🍖 Headcanons: X-Drake, Law, Luffy with S/O making a wish on a shooting star

🍖 Headcanons: Luffy x Male! Ex-Marine Lieutenant! S/O

🍖 Headcanons: Luffy, Law, Kid x S/O – who has a split sleeping schedule.

🍖 Headcanons: ABO AU! Alpha! Luffy, Alpha! Sanji, Alpha! Zoro x Omega S/O

🍖 SFW AND NSFW: ABO AU! Alpha! Luffy, Alpha! Sanji, Alpha! Zoro x Omega! S/O Who is in heat

🍖 Headcanons: Ace, Luffy, Garp x Sister!/Grandaughter! Reader - Saving her family at Marineford

🍖 Headcanons: Dad AU! Zoro, Luffy, Ace - Sleeping with their infant on their chest

🍖 Headcannons: Sabo, Law, Luffy x S/O - Reaction to their S/O picking up a magical lamp

🍖 NSFW Headcanons: Crocodile, Luffy, Kid, Law x S/O - First time with their partner who is afraid of being touched and having sex due to their past as a slave

🍖 Headcanons: Law, Zoro, Crocodile, Luffy x Shy! Deaf! Male! S/O

🍖 Headcanons: Ace, Sabo, Luffy, Usopp, Law, Kid x Male! S/O is usually bright and loud but he had a bad day and needs some comfort

🍖 Headcanons: Kid, Law, Shanks, Luffy x S/O - Walking in on their partner “confessing” to their vice captain

🍖 Headcanons: Crocodile, Luffy, Zoro, Kid x Quiet! Calm! S/O - Losing their shit

🍖 Headcanons: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace with Sleepy head S/O – They just love sleeping and taking naps

[trickstercaptain]

it's the way that i can never decide whether jack is 5'9" or 5'10" lmao

[trickstercaptain]

       Bag in hand, Jack clambered into the waiting taxi, shuffling over to the furthest seat in order to allow Lucas to join him inside. Fully prepared for an hour long journey through city traffic in complete silence ( after all, what did the pair actually have to talk about? ), Jack had already opened the bag that had been ceremoniously shoved into his grasp and was rummaging around inside for any other cool gadgets that Lucas and Beckett had trusted him with. Sadly, Lucas was no Q; the only things inside were some seemingly important documents that Jack had decided he would maybe read on the plane ( or not at all ), and a set of clothes that were the most abhorrent thing he'd ever laid eyes on. The life of espionage really was as glamorous as the movies made it out to be. But, so engrossed he was in judging the pair of corduroy trousers that presumably were going to belong to his alter ego, Louis, that Jack didn't expect Lucas to actually speak to him. Or attempt to make conversation — even if this sounded like another patronising warning.

       Jack regarded him, half-tempted to rise to the bait, but he thought better of it, letting a blank look settle on his features instead. “ I actually think my French is pretty good for a non-native speaker, thank you. ” Rabid dog. As if. “ I had a friend who taught me. Well. He wasn't really a friend. ” Probably best that he finish that particular thought right there.

       Finally bored of the bag, Jack placed it down next to his feet. This whole trip really was going to be hell for company. When his companion spoke again, Jack turned to him, arching a brow. “ Is that what you tell yourself when you're swanning around in the south of France, sweating through your collared shirt because you've never not worn a suit in your whole life, even when you're off the clock, watching all the holidaymakers on the beach thinking "oh, if only I could indulge, but they're playing bingo in the hotel lounge at 3 and I can't afford to miss it."? ”

Jack’s smile, as practiced as it may be, does nothing to hide the rebellion that lingers in shadowed eyes .. and Lucas frowns slightly, wondering what the end of their misadventure will hold. He dreams sometimes, dozes through half closed lids as thoughts shimmer in the air before him. The images change, follow different paths depending on his mood and the day’s work…but the ending is the same…A tangle of limbs, a mess of yells and one of them left lying on the ground. Sometimes it’s his protege who lays still and unmoving, shades of blue surrounding the swollen lips of his corpse and mottled skin in the shake of fingertips decorating the sensitive skin of his throat. Lucas staggers from that image, even when it’s nothing but a dream… Finds some corner on the edge of his memory and howls like the beast that Cutler Beckett has shaped him into. He prefers the others, prefers the ones where a shot rings loud and sharp, echoing off warehouse wall.. prefers when it’s him falling to the floor, a crimson stain he can’t quite grasp slipping through fingers that clutch at the fabric of his shirt.

It’s easier that way. That careful dance of following orders while letting Jack live. He tries not to watch the way the other man’s eyes burn with hate, that despairing judgment…. You don’t know. At least this way you can live.

The sharp retort breaks through such thoughts and Lucas feels himself grin, unable to stifle the small flame of affection that refuses to wink out of existence.. but the flash of teeth is gone before it even quite begins, chased by a feigned furrow of brows as Sparrow pushes past him. His strides are lazy, half hearted things as he follows his companion to their waiting cab and though the hollow of his chest is full of things he wants to say, wants to confess… all he offers is a quirk of a brow and an implacable expression as he waits for Jack to get inside. Fingers tug at the collar of his shirt, voice a low rumble flavored with boredom as the car begins to move.

“ You signed up for this, whatever the reason. Don’t start acting like a rabid dog unless you’re ready for the ending that usually awaits one.” Weight shifts as he pulls the mobile from his pocket, blue eyes flicking over it carelessly. Nothing. Well done, for once. “Cheer up, Jack. This job can be fun if you’re not too busy whinging about it.”

[wittyandobsessed]

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Jack Sparrow x Witch!Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | none.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘚𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘗𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯.

Port Royal was meant to be the epitome of our modern high society. It aimed to flaunt the finest in fashion, technology, and military prowess. However, despite its grandeur, Port Royal found itself overshadowed by the presence of pirates. These rogues roamed the seas, pillaging at will. While Port Royal had been fortunate to evade pirate attacks for many years, Governor Swann's fleet remained vigilant, patrolling the ocean to rid it of this persistent threat.

Regrettably, you found yourself ensnared in their trap. Emerging from the thick fog, the mast and flag of Port Royal appeared out of nowhere, catching you off guard. Despite your valiant efforts, your crew and you fought relentlessly against overwhelming odds. With the element of surprise and favorable winds on their side, the soldiers swiftly overpowered you. Before you could grasp the unfairness of the situation, your comrades lay either captured or lifeless.

As the captain, you were escorted ashore, destined for a prison cell in a chilling, damp, and dimly lit basement. Aware of the looming gallows awaiting you, you resigned yourself to fate. Despite the specter of death looming large, you offered no resistance, making no attempt to flee. With quiet acceptance, you allowed the soldier to unlock your chains with a jangle of keys, ushering you into what would become your final abode.

Feeling fortunate, you mused as you glanced around the relatively clean cell, finding solace in the absence of other occupants. Choosing to perch on a step beneath the small, barred window, you closed your eyes, resigned to waiting out the passing hours.

It wasn't until later in the day that you stirred, disturbed by the abrupt slam of the prison door swinging open. Blinking awake, you discreetly observed the scene unfolding before you. Two guards hauled in a man, unconscious, each gripping one of his arms while his limp feet scraped against the staircase. His head hung low, obscured by a tangle of dreadlocks.

You scarcely paid heed to the commotion, assuming the newcomer was likely a drunken troublemaker who had stirred up trouble in town. With little more than a passing thought, you were on the verge of reclining against the wall, ready to resume your rest, when the creak of your cell door interrupted the silence.

Startled, you widened your eyes and swiftly directed your gaze towards the entrance. Surely, they weren't considering housing him with you?

"Seriously, gentlemen?" Your words broke the silence, crisp as a mountain stream. "Is a lady not entitled to her privacy anymore?"

Though your tone dripped with sarcasm, a genuine desire for solitude lingered within. Yet, one of the guards erupted into laughter.

"A lady? You?" scoffed another guard. "I reckon mongrels should stick together."

With callous disregard, they allowed the unconscious man to tumble to the ground with a heavy thud.

"Enjoy your company, you filth!" one guard jeered, his voice reverberating through the cell as he slammed the door shut.

Their mocking laughter echoed as they ascended the stairs, fading into the distance. Alone once more, you let out a weary sigh, casting a glance at the prone figure on the floor.

He lay motionless, so still that for a moment, you questioned if he still drew breath. Concerned, you rose cautiously and approached, studying his form in the dim light. Tentatively, you nudged his shoulder with the tip of your boot.

"Hey, you okay?" you inquired, hoping for a response.

With no reaction to your gentle prodding, you applied a bit more force, rolling him onto his back. He emitted a grunt but remained unresponsive. Relief washed over you as you confirmed his faint signs of life. The prospect of sharing a cell with a corpse was not one you relished.

Lost in thought, you studied his countenance, obscured by a tangle of dreadlocks. A flicker of recognition danced in your mind; he appeared strangely familiar.

With cautious intent, you lowered yourself before him, delicately sweeping aside the strands that veiled his features. Revealed beneath was a faint smile, as if he were lost in pleasant reverie, prompting a mirrored grin from you. Suddenly, the memory struck you like a bolt of lightning.

His visage had adorned wanted posters, prominently displayed in taverns throughout the region. He was a notorious figure, sought far and wide, with a hefty bounty dangling over his head.

"Could it truly be the infamous Captain Sparrow?" you whispered, the realization sinking in.

This was getting interesting. You had avidly followed Jack Sparrow's escapades, particularly those whispered about in the bustling taverns of Tortuga. There was an undeniable allure to his swashbuckling lifestyle, always poised for the next daring adventure.

Then came the tales of his clash with his first mate, Barbossa, followed by whispers of Jack's demise and the ominous curse haunting the crew of the Black Pearl. Naturally drawn to the mystique of magic, you found yourself captivated by the unfolding narrative.

Resuming your position, you waited patiently for the pirate to rouse from his slumber. As the day wore on, the clink of chains and the murmur of imprisoned souls filled the air, echoing through the dank corridors. Meanwhile, neighboring cells buzzed with futile attempts at escape.

Eventually, Jack Sparrow stirred, his eyes flickering open to the grim reality of his captivity. With a wry smile, he took stock of his surroundings, piecing together the events leading to his confinement. Rising to his feet, he nonchalantly dusted off his trousers before retrieving his tricorn hat, discarded haphazardly on the ground. With a flourish, he swept away the straw and dust, settling the hat back atop his head with a defiant pride.

You observed him discreetly, feigning disinterest, yet he caught sight of you tucked away in the corner of the cell.

"How long have I been here?" he inquired, his voice tinged with weariness.

"Long enough," you replied cryptically, unwilling to divulge too much.

"And how long have you been here?" he pressed further.

"Long enough," you repeated, a nonchalant shrug accompanying your response.

He sighed, evidently resigned to the fact that you wouldn't be engaging in lively conversation. With a resigned air, he settled himself before you, his tricorn hat pulled low over his features. Was he intending to catch up on sleep after his extended rest?

You tried to keep a low profile, pretending not to be interested, but the allure of the infamous Captain Sparrow was too strong to resist. You'd heard countless tales of his daring exploits and notorious reputation, leaving you eager to uncover the reason behind his current predicament. Perhaps there was an opportunity here for someone like you, adrift without a ship or crew, craving the thrill of adventure once more.

"Are you Captain Sparrow?" you ventured, unable to contain your curiosity.

He lifted his head slightly, peering at you from beneath the brim of his tricorn hat. There was a glint of mischief in his eyes that intrigued and puzzled you

"Indeed, that be me," he confirmed, his tone carrying a hint of roguish charm. "And who might I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"Captain Y/L/N. A humble pirate," you introduced yourself, the spark of possibility igniting within you.

"A candidate for the gallows as well, eh?" Jack remarked, his tone carrying a mixture of amusement and resignation.

"It appears that way," you replied calmly, your demeanor betraying none of the anxiety that often accompanied such dire circumstances.

Jack studied you in silence, intrigued by your composed demeanor. While he, too, remained outwardly relaxed, it was only because he harbored a plan for escape, as he always did. But you, there was an air of tranquility about you that piqued his interest. Why weren't you even slightly perturbed by the looming threat of death? Your quiet composure and enigmatic nature only served to deepen his curiosity. The less you revealed, the more he found himself wanting to unravel the mystery of who you were. Nevertheless, Jack resolved to exercise patience, recognizing that some secrets were worth the wait.

As night descended upon Port Royal, the prisoners in the adjacent cell grew increasingly desperate, resorting to every tactic imaginable to break free from their confinement. Their frantic attempts included whistling and calling out to the guard dog, their antics making them appear rather foolish in the process.

Jack attempted to find respite in the stillness of the night, but the incessant noise of their attempts at escape grated on his nerves. Glancing over, he noticed the disturbance was also affecting you. Your hand moved to massage your temples, a telltale sign of the onset of a headache.

"You can keep doing that forever that dog's never going to move," Jack interjected, his voice resonating with a hint of frustration at the disruption.

You glanced up with gratitude as Jack intervened, sparing you from the torment of enduring the relentless noise for another minute. The incessant racket had pushed you perilously close to the edge, threatening to unleash a wave of frustration.

"Excuse us if we ain't resigned ourselves to the gallows just yet," one of the prisoners retorted, a note of defiance coloring his words.

"At least he's got good company," another quipped, eliciting a sharp glare from you. This time, you were certain one of them would meet their end at your hands.

"True, but if you don't pipe down, the lady here might turn you into dog chow," you warned them sternly, your words laced with a hint of menace.

Before anyone could offer a retort, a distant rumble echoed outside the prison’s walls, causing Jack to straighten abruptly. His sudden movement caught your attention, prompting an exchange of glances before he rose to peer through the small barred window.

"I know those guns!" Jack remarked, his tone tinged with a mixture of recognition and anticipation.

Your own adrenaline surged at his words. There was only one ship Jack could know well enough to identify solely by the sound of its cannons. Joining him, you stood shoulder to shoulder, pressed together by the confines of the cramped space, and watched as the silhouette of a sail emerged on the distant horizon.

"The Black Pearl," you breathed in awe, your voice barely above a whisper.

A prisoner from the neighboring cell ventured closer, drawn by the mention of the legendary ship.

"The Black Pearl?  I've heard stories ..." he interjected, his voice filled with a mixture of fear and fascination. " she's been preying on ships and settlements for near ten years ... and never leaves any survivors."

Jack's smirk persisted, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he pondered aloud, "No survivors? Then where do the stories come from, I wonder?"

His wit elicited a smile from you; Jack's cleverness was undeniable. Catching your smile, he reciprocated the gesture. However, before the conversation could delve deeper, another cannon blast thundered nearby, followed by a shrill whistle. With lightning reflexes, Jack darted towards you, enveloping you in his arms, and propelled both of you away from the window just in time to evade the incoming cannonball that tore through the prison wall.

Coughing from the swirling dust, you blinked rapidly, gradually regaining your bearings. It was only then that you noticed Jack still beside you, shielding you from the debris. Grateful for his protection, you smiled at him before gently pushing him away, signaling your readiness to stand on your own. With his assistance, you rose to your feet, ready to face whatever chaos awaited outside.

It dawned on you that, despite the cannon blast, your cell remained intact. You were still confined, a prisoner within its walls.

Though Jack appeared visibly perturbed by the turn of events, you found yourself strangely detached. Resigned to your fate, you settled into the corner of the cell, a silent observer to the tumultuous cries and havoc wreaked beyond the confines of your prison.

In the dead of night, intruders invaded the prison, their recognition of Jack sparking a revelation within you. It was then that you were initiated into the grim reality of the curse haunting the Black Pearl. Witnessing a pirate's hand transform into bare bone, devoid of flesh, its movements animated by an otherworldly force, you were confronted with the unsettling truth of magic's existence.

While Jack grappled with his thoughts, his troubled expression mirroring the weight of his predicament, you remained deep in contemplation. Your mind buzzed with questions, fueled by an insatiable curiosity that refused to be silenced. Throughout the long night, you kept your thoughts to yourself, allowing them to ferment until the first light of dawn broke through the darkness.

Jack lay sprawled on the floor, occupying the center of the cell, lost in his own thoughts. Gathering your courage, you broke the silence that hung heavy in the air.

"They stole the Pearl from you?" you ventured, your voice tentative yet curious.

Jack, startled by your sudden inquiry, remained unmoving, his expression inscrutable. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if he had drifted off into slumber, oblivious to your question.

"A mutiny," he responded at length, his voice carrying a weight of resignation.

"So, you're not cursed?" you pressed further, your curiosity piqued by the revelation.

This time, Jack stirred, sitting up and turning to regard you with a newfound interest.

"Why does it interest you?" he inquired, his tone laced with curiosity.

"If you're aiming to reclaim the Pearl, count me in. I can offer my help," you declared boldly, your determination shining through. "I want in."

You had harbored dreams of embarking on such an adventure for as long as you could remember, and the prospect of sailing aboard the famed Black Pearl filled you with an undeniable thrill. After all, Jack Sparrow was a living legend, and the thought of standing at his side was nothing short of exhilarating.

"What makes you think I'll reclaim the Pearl?" Jack countered, his skepticism evident

"Come on, Jack, none of that between us," you urged, a note of earnestness creeping into your voice. "I understand what it means to have a ship, to forge a bond with it, to regard it as your sanctuary. And the Pearl? Well, she's in a league of her own."

"And what's in it for me if I allow you to join me?" Jack pressed, his gaze penetrating.

"A companion? A capable ally?" you suggested, your conviction unwavering.

"And you, what's driving your interest in all this?" Jack inquired, his curiosity piqued.

"Let's just say I have a fascination with the mystical and the magical," you explained vaguely. "And delving into the secrets of this curse intrigues me."

"Magic?" Jack echoed, a hint of skepticism coloring his tone.

He found your demeanor increasingly peculiar, yet not entirely unappealing. Taking a moment to mull over the situation, he weighed the potential benefits against the risks. Though he didn't know you well, he had witnessed your composed demeanor during yesterday's chaos. If he truly intended to reclaim the Pearl from those cursed skeletons, he reasoned, he could certainly use all the assistance he could muster.

"Deal," he finally agreed, his decision made.

"Excellent! Let's bid farewell to this dreary cell," you exclaimed eagerly.

Jack cocked an eyebrow, his expression a mix of confusion and amusement at your enthusiasm.

"I'd love to, my dear, but it seems the key has taken its leave!" he quipped, referring to the dog he had spotted absconding with the keys clenched in its jaws. However, your response caught him off guard as you simply smiled in response, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes.

"Who says we need a key?" you countered cryptically, your gaze fixed on the iron door.

Approaching the door, you extended your hand toward the lock. In that moment, Jack thought he detected a strange hue emanating from your eyes. Then, with a resounding click, the previously sealed lock suddenly released. Jack arched an eyebrow, regarding you with a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.

Still wearing a smile, you casually nudged the door with your finger, causing it to swing open effortlessly. The sight left Jack utterly dumbfounded, his mouth agape and his eyes widened in astonishment. He glanced incredulously between the door and you, struggling to comprehend what had just transpired.

Without missing a beat, you stepped out of the cell, retrieving your sword and other belongings from a nearby hook. "Are you coming, Captain?" you prompted, your tone laced with playful impatience.

"B-But-How-Did..." Jack stammered, his words faltering as he attempted to articulate his bewilderment.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his flustered state. The renowned Captain Jack Sparrow, rendered speechless by your unexpected display of prowess. It was a notion that amused you greatly.

"Wait, you could do that all along?" he finally managed to sputter out, his astonishment palpable.

"Yes," you affirmed simply, still wearing a knowing smile.

Jack remained frozen for a moment, grappling with the revelation. "But why?!" he exclaimed, his confusion apparent.

"Why didn't I escape earlier?" you clarified, your smile unwavering. "It simply wouldn't have been as entertaining. Now, come on, let's set sail for the Black Pearl."

As Jack struggled to process the implications of your apparent magical abilities, he eventually followed suit, gathering his belongings before stepping out of the prison beside you. The adventure ahead promised to be nothing short of extraordinary, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement at the prospect of embarking on it alongside you.

[burningvelvet]

Some thoughts on the topic of Byronism, Byronic Heroes, Byron himself, and Mr. Darcy, Mr. Rochester, and their respective authors...

This was inspired after I was tagged in a post (thank you @bethanydelleman !) asking whether Mr. Darcy should be considered a Byronic Hero or not. I start with my response before delving off, but I refer back at the end and it all ties in.

On Mr. Darcy: to Byronic, or not to Byronic? That is the question...

Whether or not Mr. Darcy should be considered a Byronic Hero is a complex question, as is the concept of the Byronic Hero itself.

I think there two versions of Darcy, and general pop culture tends to conflate them. There is Misunderstood Darcy (pre-"redemption" arc; aka what many think of him pre-Elizabeth's discovery of his true personality) and then there is True Darcy (post-"redemption" arc; "oh he's not rude, just socially awkward and proud"). Misunderstood Darcy has aspects of the Byronic, whereas True Darcy isn't Byronic at all.

Is Darcy Byronic? I recognize that he has Byronic elements that would make the general populace view him as Byronically aligned, so it doesn't bother me too much if people call him such, but without fully going into the debateable qualifications of the Byronic Hero, I don't think he is truly Byronic.

My interpretation of "Byronic" as a concept:

"Byronic" is not an easily defined term. A lot of academics have their own preferred methods of classifying the Byronic and there is no one fixed definition or interpretation. "Byronic" originally referred, of course, to the themes and tropes presented in the characters of Byron, who was one of the best-selling and most influential writers of the 1800s.

However, even applying the term "Byronic" solely to Byron's own corpus is an act of over-generalization. Many of Byron's purported "Byronic Heroes" are drastically different from each other or have little in common, as Byronist Peter Cochran noted in his review of Atara Stein's "The Byronic Hero in Film, Fiction and Television" (https://petercochran.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/stein-green-lapinski-ii.pdf).

I believe there are two main types of Byronic Hero: the Broad Byronic and the Byronist's Byronic.

The Broad Byronic is the modern pop cultural conception of Byronism which has been applied to practically every rebellious anti-hero. You can find thousands of articles analyzing why thousands of characters are or aren't Byronic, from Jack Sparrow to Batman to Luke Skywalker and ad infinitum. If you try hard enough, anything can be Byronic.

The Byronist's Byronic is like the Orthodox Byronic, the more traditional sense of the term. Academics who take the stritcer Byronist's Byronic approach mainly focus on Byron's direct literary descendants, like the Brontës and Pushkin, who were thoroughly obsessed with Byron and whose works/characters are directly and obviously inspired by Byron's own works. Heathcliff and Eugene Onegin are the most commonly cited examples and are Byronic by all standards.

Over time, "Byronic" has taken on a life of its own, leading to what I dubbed as "the Broad Byronic." I personally believe there is sort of a Byronic spectrum wherein I would place Heathcliff on one end and maybe Mr. Rochester on the other, considering his salvation plotline, which I feel is huge to his character and which Heathcliff lacks (as he openly declares at the end, he has no regrets for his actions).

Peter Cochran's interpretation of the Byronic Hero

Peter Cochran was a writer, professor, & one of the best Byronists (scholars of Byron) & I often defer to his opinion. His website is a haven for Byronism. His interpretation of the Byronic Hero is very much representative of the orthodox Byronist's Byronic.

In his essay "Byron's 'Turkish Tales': An Introduction," Cochan provides a brief analysis of the Byronic Hero, which I have sectioned out the most relevant parts of:

"Much has been written about him; what few writers say is that he has so many facets that it's misleading to treat him as a single archetype. [..] The Byronic hero is a human dead-end. He is never successful as a warrior or as a politician [..] he is never successful as a lover. [..] The Byronic Hero is never a husband, never a father, and never a teacher [..] He bequeaths nothing to posterity, and his life ends with him. He is to be contrasted with the Shakespearean tragic hero, who has to be something potentially life-affirming, such as a father (Lear) or a witty conversationalist (Hamlet) or a great soldier (Macbeth, Coriolanus, Antony) or a lover (Romeo, Antony). If they were not such excellent people, their stories would not be tragic. The Byronic Hero is not tragic: he's just a failure, and leads on to the Superfluous Man of Russian literature - as Pushkin demonstrated, when he created the Byronically-fixated Eugene Onegin. [..] The Byronic Hero must never be witty, or be brought in contact with a critical intelligence [..] if he were, his tale would lose its imagined grandeur [..] In his gloom, failure, and rejection of humour The Byronic Hero aligns not with the heroes of Shakespearean tragedy but with the villains of Shakespearean comedy: Shylock, Malvolio, and Jacques. [..] I would suggest that The Byronic Hero is either a closet gay, or a poorly-adjusted bisexual - a problem that Byron would have known all about."

On Mr. Rochester and Mr. Darcy

In his introduction to Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre: Modern Critical Interpretations, legendary literary critic Harold Bloom explained that Mr. Rochester is Charlotte Brontë taking the Byronic Hero, killing him, and then rebirthing him. I fully agree with Bloom's interpretation:

"[Rochester's] transformation heralds the death of the Byronic hero [..] Rochester is, in this sense, a pivotal figure; marking the transition from the Romantic to the modern hero [..]"

I would argue that what Austen does to Mr. Darcy is a lighter, pre-Byronic attempt at doing what Brontë did with her transformation of the Byronic in Mr. Rochester. Women growing to sympathize with rude men and then (directly or indirectly) inspiring them to change for the better. Women taking the Byronic and not just going "I can fix him," but instead "I'll tell him off, and then maybe he'll fix himself." Like Darcy, Rochester has two versions, pre-redemption and post-redemption. This is not Byronic, but their pre-redemption selves are, with Mr. Rochester being much, much more so than Darcy, and being considered an archetypal Byronic Hero (rightfully so in my opinion, his come-to-God ending aside).

Also, what Darcy and Rochester are redeemed for differs greatly; I'm not equating their moral or personal failures, and I know that Rochester clearly has more of them (if any anti-Rochester, pro-Darcy fan is out there, pls don't kill me for comparing them).

On Austen and Byron:

Austen started writing P&P when Byron was 8-years-old, so she definitely wasn't influenced by the actual Byron in creating Mr. Darcy. However, Austen did read Byron's work later on, or at least his poem The Corsair, which was his best-selling work at the time and which is one of his most cliché "Byronic" works. She did write some works, like Emma and Persuasion, after reading The Corsair, but I haven't read these yet and I'm not the biggest Austen scholar, so I don't know if she was ever actually influenced by Byron or not. I'm positive that people have analyzed this before. Lots has been written on Austen/Byron. They also shared a publisher, though they never met.

On Byronic (the writer) VS Byronic (the writer's characters):

To further confuse us, "Byronic" by its literal definition can refer to the Byronic Hero OR Byronic as in Byron the Man. Many conflate these things, but they are separate. This adds to the case of the Broad Byronic. Many of Byron's contemporaries created characters that were direct and obvious tributes or parodies of him, including Mary Shelley's The Last Man, Percy Shelley's Julian and Maddalo, and Thomas Love Peacock's Nightmare Abbey. They all knew Byron personally. Mary Shelley openly put Byron into several of her novels, as explained in "Byron and Mary Shelley" by Ernest Lovell Jr. and "Unnationalized Englishmen in Mary Shelley's Fiction" by William Brewer. Other notable examples of this are Caroline Lamb's Glenarvon (Lamb was Byron's ex) and Dr. John Polidori's The Vampyre (Polidori was Byron's doctor) in which both titular characters were/are clearly known by readers to be caricatures of Byron. The Vampyre was the first vampire novel, and was not only a caricature of Byron but also based on Byron's short story Augustus Darvell. So all modern "Byronic" vampires, including Dracula, are really Byronic as in Byron the Man, although they sometimes may overlap with the Byronic Hero. As I said, easily confusing!

As many academics (and Lord Byron himself) have noted, many of Byron's fans wrongly conflated his characters with himself. Although many of Byron's works were indeed semi-autobiographical, he himself said that they were not intended as actual depictions of himself, and that he was annoyed when people thought so. Many fans who met him would write they were shocked to find he was nothing like the Byronic Heroes of his works. He was humorous, he smiled often, he was somewhat of a dandy and much of a rake (self-confessedly), he was an aristocrat, he was considered by many to be effeminate, etc. -- all elements that are not typically expected of the Byronic Hero.

In reference to his drama The Deformed Transformed (which contains the characters Satan and Caesar) Mary Shelley wrote to him in a letter:

"The Critics, as they used to make you a Childe Harold, Giaour, & Lara all in one, will now make a compound of Satan & Caesar to form your prototype, & your 600 firebrands in Murray's hands will be in costume." [John Murray was Byron's publisher]

Here, Mary mentions how many of Byron's readers expected him to be just like his characters Harold, Giaour, & Lara, who fans assumed were his self-insert characters, as they each had strong similarities. However, these characters were more similar to "alter-egos" than actual "self-portraits." My personal interpretation is that Byron was writing these very similar dark anti-heroes and villains in order to channel the darker aspects of his subconscious, or what Jung would call his Shadow Self, to try to purge or subdue it. Though he lived before the field of psychology officially existed, Byron was very interested in all things psychological, and he used his writing as a method of self-therapy (see: Touched with Fire written by psychologist Kay Jamison, which contains one of the most thorough & reliable psychoanalyses of him).

As Bloom explains in the essay I mentioned, and as countless other academics have explained, Charlotte Brontë and many other women in the early 1800s were obsessed with Byron and his works. Byron's English-speaking fan base has always been primarily female, especially in the beginning of his career. Byron's fans wrote him letters revealing their differing interpretations of him and his Byronic Heroes (but again, most didn't really differentiate between the two).

Likewise, I think the Brontë sisters may have conflated Byron with his Byronic Heroes. Mr. Rochester is such a strong example of Byron the Man and has so many similarities to him that when reading Jane Eyre I felt like I was reading Lord Byron fanfiction. It's clear that Charlotte Brontë was familiar with his biography. For example (one of countless), in chapter 17 Rochester sings what he calls "a Corsair song" -- as I mentioned earlier, The Corsair was one of Byron's greatest hits, and Jane Eyre is set around the time The Corsair was published, and Byron also wrote songs and was also known for his good voice.

Although the Brontë sisters were each influenced by him, they took their own individual spins on the Byronic, and their works reveal the dynamicism of these themes. In my opinion, Emily employs the Byronist's Byronic most raw and faithfully (and maybe even takes it further), Charlotte punishes, redeems, and transforms the Byronic with much influence from Byron the Man, and Anne presents the Byronic most critically and realistically, asking "what if the Byronic Hero were real, and really got married -- what would that look like?" and having perhaps the most (Broadly) Byronic heroine ever, who is also later redeemed by the end, and has her veil of Byronic mystery removed much like Darcy did.