#ask spam.

the storm has finally passed, and aleksander’s breathing shifts from adrenaline plagued inhales to calm sighs of contentment. handing the wheel to his first mate, alek hangs his hat at the top of the stairs, runs a hand through thick, raven hair as he descends, nodding toward each crew member with an air of pride and satisfaction. this ship had been through generations of sea — induced trauma, and it never fails to keep aleksander and his loyal mates safe. it’s something he’s thankful for every day.

aging hands land on two brass handles, the captain heaving open double doors to his chambers, closing them behind him with a breath before turning. his intention is to climb into the captain’s chair, to take a moment for himself after steering his and his crew’s lives away from danger. instead, his eyes land on the porcelain — like, bare back of one elizabeth swann. what he can only assume are damp close begin to fall as he twists with great speed, averting his gaze to give her privacy. ‘excuse me, i... normally the crew changes in their quarters, not mine,’ he does not sound angry; only a bit sheepish ( perhaps slightly amused ). ‘had i thought someone was in here, i would have knocked. my apologies,’

the boy ( tall for his age ) stands over the girl with hands grasped in front of him. posture perfect, grin bright and engaging ( unsettling ). the air around them smells like peaches, and atticus’s hair blows in a light, georgian wind. ‘a friend, a’course,’ southern drawl blesses the words as he speaks. ‘thought that’d be obvious!’

‘it’s still not fair,’ as little as danny wanted to pout and throw a fit, he knew that if he stood there for another moment, that’s exactly what they would both be forced to witness. instead, the boy gives a defiant sigh, pushing off the ground with one sneakered foot before riding around tommy on his hand me down bike. ‘it’s kind’ve a dumb game, anyway. no offense, but games gotta have rules — otherwise people could do whatever they want, y’know?’

doll is snatched from jordan’s hand, the rebel turning it this way and that to check out the detail that had been so carefully put into the object. ‘didn’t know you were into this witchy shit. gotta admit, it gives me th’heebie jeebies,’ bender fanes a shiver before tossing the doll back to jordan. ‘if it works, i want a shot at it. can you give a doll laryngitis?’

they didn’t have enough time together. not at all. alice had felt the same way about her father, whom she knew for nearly 30 years. she’s known ash for less than half a year, and it still wasn’t enough. she promised herself not to get attached to another man who could potentially break her heart. but it’s different, this time. ash had been nothing but sweet to alice, albite a bit standoffish, knowing how much danger he could put her in. she didn’t care. as much as it scared alice, she wanted to be close to ash — that feeling only grew by the day. but she never said it. and watching ash fade in and out of consciousness on the ground in front of her made her realize that waiting any longer would be too late.

‘you can’t do this to me, alright?’ longer fingers intertwine with his own, noticing their temperature dropping rapidly. she tries to hold back the tears that would surly fall — alice won’t let him see her cry. she needed to be brave, just like always. ‘not... not after showing up and making me... making me love you.... shit!’ hand moves up quickly to wipe away the tear that rolls down her cheek. she’s losing it. grip tightens on his chilly palm. alice tries to breathe, but a sob rolls through her body instead. ‘i need you to live. okay? i need you... i just need you, and that’s scary, but — i do, so... if you die, i’ll kill you, i swear i will,’ alice sniffles, letting rare tears now stream from emerald eyes as she stares down at him. ‘please...’

college was vastly different from high school, from everything max knew back home. sure, there was bad, but most of it was good, and max found himself relaxing into his classes and studies. the weekend brings him and roxanne in the grass of their campus, previously laid beneath a billowing tree, before max stole the pencil she had been studying with. ‘you’re supposed t’take a break on saturdays!’ he says with a laugh, playing keep away from the girl. once roxanne tries to tackle him, max throws the pencil back toward her notebook and instead uses his arms to lift his girlfriend up, gently throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her back toward the tree. ‘see? there’s nothing wrong with having a little bit’ve fun, right?’

it hurts like a bitch, but you wouldn’t be able to tell by his expression. dull, almost emotionless entirely, he watches clara approach with one of felix’s old college tshirts ( it shouldn’t still fit, but his meals consist of whiskey and scotch, and so it would do for now ). wounded shoulder aches as he stands, the man exhaling when clara lifts the shirt to pull over greying hair. ‘the fact that you even have t’do this for me is pathetic,’ felix mumbles, first dressing his healthy arm before allowing clara to help with the bandaged one. embarrassed does not begin to cover how he felt, having to be helped with something as simple as getting dressed.  and as much as she might want to appreciate clara’s help, all felix can be is bitter when the tshirt is finally lowered over his torso. he shakes his head — he can’t look at clara. ‘thanks,’