#Governor Davis

[deadpresidents]

I found a box where I keep some of the political memorabilia I've collected over the years and this brought a smile to my face.

This badge is from 25 years ago (a quarter-century ago!) and it was for the victory party at California Democratic Party headquarters in Sacramento to celebrate the very first political campaign that I ever volunteered on: Gray Davis for Governor.

I was 18 years old and had been canvassing and phone banking all fall and was a precinct captain on Election Day. It was such a great experience (except phone banking -- phone banking is a necessary evil, but it sucks and I've always hated it) and that night was so exciting despite the fact that there wasn't much doubt that we would win the Governor's race. At one point, Sacramento's legendary Mayor -- the late, great Joe Serna -- stepped on my foot and nearly fell down but proceeded to quickly regain his balance, smoothly put his arm around my shoulders and confidently say, "You're doing the Lord's work." I had no clue what he was talking about, but it was a pretty badass way to recover from almost falling on your ass in the middle of a big party.

I volunteered on Governor Davis's successful 2002 re-election campaign, too, but there was just something so special about that very first Election Night in 1998. It was also the first time I was able to vote, which was obviously a big deal for a kid who was a political nerd from a very young age. I lost some of my enthusiasm for politics the next year when Governor Davis was unfairly forced out of office with the 2003 Recall, thanks in large part to monumentally corrupt energy companies like Enron that helped incite a statewide energy crisis that Gov. Davis ended up being the scapegoat for, and ultimately led to the election of Governor Schwarzenegger in October 2003 (less than a year after Davis had been re-elected). Then the Democrats fielded the incredibly uninspiring Presidential ticket of John Kerry and John "World's Greatest Husband" Edwards in 2004 and I understandably didn't regain my interest in getting politically involved until a guy named Barack Obama announced he was running for President on a freezing cold day in Springfield, Illinois in February 2007.

#Me #History #Politics #Political Campaigns #Campaigns #Elections #Political Elections #California #California Politics #California Democratic Party #1998 Election #1998 California Gubernatorial Election #Gray Davis #Governor Davis #2002 California Gubernatorial Election #Governor of California #2003 California Recall #California Energy Crisis #Enron #Arnold Schwarzenegger #Governor Schwarzenegger #2004 Election #John Kerry #John Edwards #Democratic Party #Democrats #2008 Election #Barack Obama #President Obama #Sacramento

[quillofspirit]

POTC characters if they had horses

This is now officially a series! Though the next installment is not yet scheduled, inspiration will most likely strike one night, like lightning to a lone tree. Unfortunately, some pictures are not the specific horse, though they do all resemble the idea behind the choice.

Do excuse the various lengths, I had more ideas for some than others. And my skills at moodboards, I am but a youngling in the skill.

I would love to hear your thoughts or questions! either about this or other characters, and other fandoms 😊

Elizabeth Swann

A chocolate Hackney stallion, mostly sweet though also the type to feign coming when called before running away. It was an active young thing that was a gift initially meant for Governor Swann. Elizabeth fell in love with the horse when it almost got away from its holder, at first presentation. Her father was nervous about her having such an energetic animal be responsible for his daughter’s safety, though he quickly realised the love was reciprocated. Its character only part of the reason why she loved that horse, most of it being the freedom it offered. The first time she let it go at a full gallop is the moment she fell in love with the speed, and the muscles beneath her, tensing and relaxing with each stride. She would rarely confess to loving that horse more every time it resisted orders, snorting and pawing in disagreement when they tried to control it by the reigns. She named it Neptune, though she often referred to him as her First Mate.

Governor Swann

A dark bay Hackney gelding, a sweet sweet thing. The type to nudge you for affection, and have enough confidence in its rider to make them a better rider. The Hackney was, and still is, a sought-after breed, known for its trot, as well as its docile and friendly composure. Although the Governor is a skilled rider, having been instructed in all matters of high English society, he still preferred the convenience of a carriage, than riding on a horse. Over time, he found himself growing to love going on rides with Ambassador, but even more when he accompanied Elizabeth on rides. (Though he only ever went in full gallop to hear her laugh from happiness).

Will Turner

A molly mule, though very pretty, he called Hellebore. Named in honour of Rosie, Will initially got the mule with a forge he bought when Elizabeth and him could settle. The last owner left it with the deed, saying he “didn’t know the last time he’d find the thing useful.” Hellebore however, was quick to warm to Will’s soft voice and gentle pats. Mules are known to be smart, social and affectionate. They also tend to be very protective, so the fool who tried to steal from Will’s workshop got a big surprise when Hellebore bit him and trapped him in a corner. The commotion and braying got Will’s attention quickly, and when he arrived, he found the robber trembling in fear. After that, Hellebore became a loyal companion, often nudging Will for more affection, regardless of his half-hearted attempts to push it away while he worked.

Jack Sparrow

A dark bay Spanish Mustang mare. It was left behind by a Spanish general, and Jack stumbled upon it when hiding running from the law. He didn’t know how to approach such a creature, but he found he didn’t have to. It followed him around, until he relented and took care of it. The next night, it came to his rescue when a man Jack owed money to cornered him in an alley. It came charging at the man, snorting and pawing at the ground. When the man attempted to side step, it gave out a big neigh before pushing the man aside. Jack had no other choice than to be grateful, and he named it Maelstrom for it temper. Spanish Mustang are known for their intelligence, their curiosity and their sense of self-preservation. Skills that are most useful when in proximity to Jack Sparrow.

Hector Barbossa

A black Irish Draught mare, intimidating but loyal to a fault. will kick at anyone that tries to steal from the many bags it often holds can often be find stealing apples. Generally easy-going, they need a firm hand to push them to use their athletic abilities, but they are known to be surprisingly agile. Barbossa named her Themis, after the Greek goddess of Justice and Wisdom.

Joshamee Gibbs

A New Forest mare, named Scallywag. It is intelligent, good-natured and sure-footed, and it stumbled upon a drunk Gibbs one night. It jumped over Gibbs, and the first thing he saw upon waking up was the very close, soft nose of a pony sniffing him. He startled, and the pony snorted in his face. At first, Gibbs tried to shoo it away, but the horse was persistent, pushing its fuzzy nose into his hair, and he would have found the gesture endearing, if it did not grab his hat and run away with it. He looked for the horse for a few days, before he found it, moving its head all around and slapping the hat on nearby bushes. In the end, he did find it endearing.

James Norrington

A stunning silver Turkoman stallion. As a military man, James needs to trust his horse. Turkoman horses, now mostly extinct, are renowned for their stable feet, robust body and stamina. They are intelligent, and often form a very strong bond with their owners. James Norrington would be the kind of man to want a reliable horse, willing to wait months for one to be imported. The first few months together, James had to calm it a few times, before it knew it could trust. More often than not, talking to it and pressing a firm hand to its neck sufficed to calm the horse. Now, he's the type of horse to finish a race alone, and win. It has proven itself time and time again, often the calmest amongst the cavalry. He took a few weeks before deciding on a name, finally settling for Aquila.

Cutler Beckett

A white Thoroughbred stallion, it looks bigger than it really is, though with Beckett's stature it's no wonder. Generally, thoroughbreds are known to be strong and have good stamina, but tend to have nervous and stubborn spirits. Riding a thoroughbred requires a firm but knowledgeable hand, and is often the measure of a excellent rider. Lord Beckett called it Triumphant Venture.

BONUS

Davy Jones

If he had another creature at his command, but horse-inspired, it would be a kelpie. HOWEVER! I do think it would have a few lights in its mane, like an anglerfish. It would look like tiny fireflies stuck in seaweed, and might just be enough to attract curious sailors. The kelpie would generally consume all souls, but would bring some back to Davy Jones. I didn't do a moodboard for this one because it gave me nightmares!

These are my dividers, please do not use them.

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #James Norrington #Elizabeth Swann #Will Turner #Jack Sparrow #governor swann #cutler beckett #barbossa #hector barbossa #joshamee gibbs #gibbs #davy jones

[the-twelve-daggers]

"This is no longer your world, Jones."

⤷ Lord Cutler Beckett (At World's End)

#[💬: quotes] #potc quotes #pirates of the caribbean #potc #the twelve daggers #at world's end #pirates #lord cutler beckett #cutler beckett #davy jones #the black pearl #governor weatherby swann #murtogg #mullroy #ian mercer #james norrington

[bradshawsbaby]

There are honestly alot of pics with Miles and the other Daggers if you go looking! I totally agree with you!🥰

Exactly! Here are just a couple from the Governors Awards:

You can enjoy spending time with people without having to be best friends/attached at the hip. I just find it an odd thing to get so hung up over.

#miles teller #monica barbaro #danny ramirez #greg tarzan davis #governors awards #anon message

[theywhoshantbenamed]

CW: mentions and imagery of death, weapons, and violence(no gore)

I was watching Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, and had sort of an epiphany.

It's well known by anyone who's seen the Pirates of the Caribbean movies that Will Turner was destined to be the captain of the Flying Dutchman

For one short but excellent observation, refer to this post below

So well put, that Will is favored and destined to play his role as the ferryman.

So let's venture further into analysis of his connection to death, the subject for evidence being his sword.

James Norrington's ceremonial sword:

A beautiful sword, a true testament to Will's skill and talent. It is a crying shame that nobody in his previous society - Elizabeth and Jack excluded - would acknowledge his craftsmanship. That aside, the sword shows up again and again throughout the original trilogy.

What is prominent about this sword is the recurring praise and admiration it receives from anyone who comes across it. This list includes some you may know,

James Norrington

Of course, this sword was literally made for him. It should be so that a man of his rank have such a gorgeous blade. In this scene, he holds it up and outward like a statue, and is seen swinging it around in the background as the camera switches to and pans over Elizabeth.

Governor Swann:

He holds it, as it was handed to him by Will, and inspects the blade and handle. Briefly, does he admire it, and commends Will for his master's work. Once again, such a shame.

Cutler Beckett:

I forget the details of this scene a lot, but it's important for this post to note that Beckett does subtly appreciate the sword. He unsheathes it of screen, is seen holding it over his head and brings it down to point to the floor before we see Governor Swann in shackles.

Davy Jones:

Before norrington draws final breath, he uses the sword to run Davy Jones through. A final act of defiance and bravery brushed off by the OG ferryman, who pulls the sword out of his shoulder. His tentacle hand wraps the handle.

"nice sword," he says, and turns to walk off screen, holding it out to admire(and for us to do so as well, going by the placement of the sword in the audience's view).

___

I trust and hope you the reader have figured out by now the attempt I am making. There is a pattern amongst the characters listed. A theme, if you will.

Death is their connecting fate.

Okay forewarning this is where my eloquence flies out the window and I sound like a conspiracy theorist on speed

All of these characters, who have held and/or admired the sword made by one Will Turner, have died.

Granted there is a lot of death in this franchise, and obviously a sword being the cause of someone death is no new thing, but there's something so prominent about the fact that all of these people have had a brush with this specific sword and later died. Not to say that the sword killed them directly, but that it has an influence. I wouldn't go as far as to say cursed, but there is something looming over the blade.

All these guys died, idk how else to say it, and really the scene that sold me most on it was this fucking dude right here

IN THE MIDST OF BATTLE, picks up a sword and just???? LOOKS at it? Like he's literally inspecting this sword with the curiosity and fascination of an archeologist while his fellow men die in battle around him. Now THAT is some crazy shit, for this sword to hold that much power of over someone that he just forgets his surroundings and throws caution to the wind to look at this beautiful beautiful sword.

OH and then he dies too, like right away, stabbed by the sword that he, for whatever reason, had pointed towards him.

Speaking of dying by THAT sword, guess what? There's another person on this list:

Will Turner:

Of course he'd be part of this list. As the blacksmith that made the sword, he is closely tied to it.

Ironic that he should die by his own creation, practically by his own hands.

Of course, he dies only very briefly in At World's End, before becoming the captain of the Flying Dutchman and thus being revived.

Anyways the short summary is that this spooky ass sword might be a little bit cursed but, regardless of it's damnation, adds more to the misfortune that shrouds William Turner.

#potc #pirates of the carribean at worlds end #pirates of the caribbean #will turner #governor swann #cutler beckett #davy jones #james norrington #cursing cw #at world's end #potc: cotbp #cotbp

[fangirl0917]

#danny ramirez #monica barbaro #greg tarzan davis #miles teller #top gun: maverick #governors awards

[disarmluna]

Viola Davis @ Governors Awards

#viola davis #governors awards #fashion #style #red carpet

[pilgrim1975]

Rudolph Wright, last to die in California for a crime other than murder.

It was January 11, 1962 on San Quentin Prison’s notorious ‘Condemned Row’ on the top floor of North Block. Caryl Chessman, California’s notorious ‘Red Light Bandit,’ was long gone. Executed on May 2, 1960, he was a mere memory. An enduring memory, granted, but dead and gone all the same. Merle Haggard, in for robbery on a three-to-fifteen-year sentence, was paroled just over two years previously.…

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#Albert Kessel #Billy Monk #California #capital punishment #Caryl Chessman #Clinton Duffy #Condemned Row #crime and punishment #death penalty #Ed Davis #Folsom Five #Fred Barnes #gas chamber #Goodwin Knight #Governor Edmund Brown #Harvey Glatman #Human Tiger #Jacob Oppenheimer #James Kendrick #Leanderess Riley #Merle Haggard #Pat Brown #Rabbit #Robert Cannon #Rodney Greig #Rudolph Wright #San Quentin #Section 4500 #true crime #Warden Clarence Larkin

[thenewdemocratus]

PBS: Video: NewHour: Texas Monthly's Wayne Slater: Previewing The Governor's Race in Texas

Kire Schneider on Google+ The New Democrat on Facebook The New Democrat on Twitter This is Texas Democrats’ best opportunity to win the Texas governorship since 1990, when Anne Richards won this seat.  I’m not saying State Senator Wendy Davis is going to win this race, because she is definitely the underdog.  I am saying that she can win this race, and it could become competitive, somewhere…

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#Greg Abbot #Judy Woodruff #PBS #PBS Newshour #Texas Democrats #Texas Governor&039;s Race #Texas Politics #The Texas Monthly #Wayne Slater #Wendy Davis

[captain-camille]

_𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞_

‣ Jack Sparrow x f!reader

‣ As a young woman of noble blood, society is a golden cage. There is no mention of you unless the subject is marriage or manners while your trip to Port Royal has become a rescue maneuver. One faithful night aboard the Dauntless you finally snap. And meet the captive Captain Jack Sparrow...

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 18+ language, old society rules, emotional chaos, very light angst ‣ 3,4k words

Your dress weighed heavy on your shoulders, the corset strangled your lungs to a delicate point where you began to feel dizzy.

Silver cutlery laid untouched next to your empty plate. The hunger had long passed. 

Either way was it impossible to properly eat with this torture device crushing your ribs. You would fetch a banana later.

“Miss Sheffield“ Lord Somerset hardly drew your attention while he adjusted his white wig “I find myself greatly invested in the many stories of your brother. They're indeed impressive, are they not?“.

It took nerves to hinder your eyes from rolling.

Instead, you gave him an appreciative but short nod. There was bitter sarcasm within the subtlety of your gesture.

Another man's head, adorned with a teal hat with feathers, turned towards you. Father.

“They are, clearly“. You verbally lend weight to your faux-assent as your father's stern gaze fixed on your face.

You suspected him pleased now.

However, his interest in you promptly vanished and a song of praise of someone else continued to fall from his pale lips.

Sweet, boisterous praise for your great brother, of course. 

You were sick of it but with time had begun to see it as an opportunity to reign over your own life as freely as possible.

For as long as possible.

Every eye and word was on your brother while you, the sister of the new Governor of Nassau and member of the Privy Council, were neigh invisible.

And still you could never leave the shiny prison that was the English noble society. Like living in a nightmare that had occasional sunlight in it but was full of madness anyway.

As the men's triumphant laughter echoed across the room, you pictured how Davy Jones' Locker would be a better place to bide your time.

Or maybe you should run away and live a seamstress' life. Alternatively, a barmaid.

In the corner of your vision you saw Norrington slightly leaning over to you. The new Commodore stationed in Port Royal, as he was.

“You look fabulous tonight, Miss“ he cooed, voice low.

His blue gaze rested on the glittering necklace you wore. A collective of silver, sapphires and pearls Lord Somerset had gifted you upon boarding the Dauntless.

Or perhaps Norrington's gaze laid on your cleavage but if so, he concealed it well.

He had to. Hell would come upon him.

You flashed him a polite smile and a demure “Thank you, Commodore“ before your eyes wandered off to the sea that was painted in the colors of a tropical sunset.

The windows were small but still incapable to diminish the glimmer. It went straight to your heart...

“Since you are a young woman, too-“ the man continued, hoisting a chalice to his lips. Beneath the table, your hand balled in a fist.

It did little to soothe your nerves, though.

“-I wondered whether you would think Elizabeth liked such jewelry as, um, a wedding gift?“ his smooth voice asked but the hesitant tone betrayed him.

You had long seen it in his eyes that Norrington's desires to marry Swann's daughter weren't as honest as he tried to make it seem.

Just as Elizabeth struggled to let go of the young blacksmith Will Turner she was currently trying to rescue.

Just fellow souls lost in this noble dilemma, you almost chuckled to yourself.

Luckily, you were quick enough to bridle any inner jests and looked back in Norrington's eyes.

“I’m most certain she would be delighted. However, it occurred to me that Miss Swann prefers silver to gold.“ you advised him before he got dragged back into a naval discussion with the men. 

Not even thanks were left for your input.

Once again your brother's name was thrown around like a cricket ball. 

The urge to just leave this charade of a dinner grew stronger while darkness began to fall upon the majestic Dauntless.

Candle light reflected in the men’s white and grey wigs like it would in the feathers of doltish pigeons.

Nearly scoffing, the focus of your eyes blurred.

Thoughts wandered off to the small bits of information you had grasped throughout the last two days; a business trip to Port Royal had turned into quite an amusing rescue maneuver as Norrington spotted the smoke signal Elizabeth was sending from a lonely island. 

She was brought onto the ship along with a mysterious pirate who turned out to be none other than the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow.

Lord, he seemed so different to the men you were used to. So interesting…

“Yn, the Lord's question was, would you be his companion on a visit to your brother?“ The raspy voice of your father suddenly cut through your thoughts like a sharp knife. 

You cleared your throat, hiding a muttered “god, no“ along the cough.

No, you simply couldn’t do this any longer tonight.

Tomorrow morning the misery would begin anew and the nights were too short anyway.

Dinner was over for you, you decided and shot up, heading towards the door. 

“Young Miss, where do you think you are going?“ your father called across the room, causing you to spin and face him along with everyone else seated on the grand table.

An unreadable expression settled on your face, lips moving on behalf of your temper. 

“Father, I do believe you won’t miss me much while conversing solely about my brother“. 

Norrington let out a shaky breath, his head turning to expect your father’s answer. Obviously, he was used to Elizabeth's docile manners.

The grey wig beneath Lord Sheffield's hat shifted slightly as he cocked his head.

He looked ridiculous. 

“Then go, yn. I do not have the time nor the patience for your behavior right now“ he sighed, waving his hand in an enervated gesture of dismissal “Check on Miss Swann when you pass by“.

The stingy sensation of the corset fighting your big breaths vexed you, along with your father's aloof attitude.

Nevertheless, he granted you exactly what you wanted; to leave and mind your own business.

A business that had preferably sparsely to do with these men.

“Thank you, sir. I will“ you curled your lips, forcing a hasty smile before your knees bent in a curtsy. “Lord Somerset, thank you again for the generous gift. Commodore“.

The Lord stood up with his chest puffed, trying to address you. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Sheffield. I wish you a good-“  

But the rest of his irrelevant set-phrase was cut off by the door closing behind your back. It snapped shut with a soft rock of the Dauntless.

As if she felt sorry for you.

Taking a big breath of the fresh sea breeze your tongue finally spoke some truth. “Damn you, Somerset“.

It felt good, even if it did little to improve your situation.

You knew you had to get away from the cabins or else your words of pent-up frustration would eventually find them.

Maybe you would find solace on the quarterdeck instead?

As you marched up the stairs with a grimace on your face from how impractical the heavy dress was, a young maid brushed past you with filled wineglasses on a silver tray. 

She smiled with respect, but could barely hide her excited look at the luxurious necklace.

Her soft lips parted when she spoke up in awe “If I may, Baron Somerset really is doting upon you, Miss“.

At her comment, the matching earrings with the similarly cut sapphires began to itch.

“So it seems“ you answered flatly, still trying your best not to let it all out on the innocent girl. 

“I happen to have overheard him talking about how beautiful your children would be“ she added with enthusiasm, unaware of your aversion to said nobleman.

You felt your gut twist and tighten at the vision alone. 

Children with this man? No.

On the brink of screaming or crying, your hand flew up to grab one of the glasses.

“Did he now?“ You hoisted it and bathed your upper lip in the sweet taste of Portuguese wine “Golden me“. 

Hearing her colleague call for her, the maid quickly curtsied and made her way down to the main cabin.

You sighed heavily, taking another sip.

Up on the spacious quarterdeck you wasted no time, set the glass down on a random barrel and began to take off your earrings. 

They were burning on your skin now.

Anger, chagrin and despair rioted in your veins like a hurricane.

So untamed, you didn’t even notice the man at the helm observing your actions through curious eyes.

“To hell-“ you shouted, kicking your right foot so that your shoe flew overboard in a wide arc “with you, father“ the other shoe followed suit.

“And Somerset“ you tossed one earring into the black sea, holding the other one while you unhooked the expensive necklace.

You didn’t hesitate a second to proceed with this macabre yet somehow weirdly freeing act of rebellion.

With your right arm outstretched, jewelry in your hands, you stood at the ship’s railing, wind in your face.

“And to the depths with this society of hypocrites and it's stupid rules“ your now hoarse voice exclaimed bitterly before your tossing arm got stopped mid way. 

What?

Twisting on your stocking feet, you ended up only inches away from Jack Sparrow’s face who was grinning at you with a pleased sparkle in his dark eyes.

You didn't dare to breathe, mouth agape.

He was still holding onto your arm even though you had lowered it in a mixture of shock and awe.

“Not good. Ye wouldn't wanna be doin' that, lassie“ the pirate purred, gold teeth adding to the captivating shine of his eyes.

Since the Navy took him prisoner, you had never spoken to him. Only eves-dropped when he had persuaded Norrington as if it was easy.

And now you could feel his breath fan across your face, the scent of the sea and rum intoxicating your brain.

Slowly, he unwrapped and lifted his fingers off your arm. One by one like a fan.

“Why not? You cannot stop me“ you eventually found your courage again and yanked your arm away. 

The man scrunched his brows, lips closing. The many trinkets in his dreadlocks clinked as Sparrow cocked his head.

Your eyes were slaves to his eccentric mimic for a little while before you finally got to step back.

His presence somehow calmed you down, brought your nerves to a halt. All the way to the point where you remembered your manners.

“My apologies, Mister Sparrow. I didn’t mean to-“ you began to apologize for the snappy behavior but he interjected with a finger pointing at you.

“Never be sorry for disobeying rules that aren't worth following, luv“.

Irritated by the unexpectedly wise words, you found yourself at a loss for an answer.

This man was a real pirate after all. The closest thing to an anarchical life there was. 

Your heart pumped awe through your veins that began to pacify the storm within. 

Features dropping from trained, polite distance to honest distress, your gaze darted down to the jewelry in your hand. It was worth at least as much as your entire collection of summer gowns. 

The blue stones seemed somewhat black tonight.

As grim as your future. With Somerset. Or any other noble, dim-witted aristocrat. 

The pirate just stood and watched the tragic poem being written all over your beautiful face. His silence allowed the gears in your mind to shift.

Then, you seemed put.

“What even are you doing at the helm, Sparrow?“ You asked to avoid any potential questions when you mindlessly chucked the bundle of jewelry to him.

He grinned again as an audible clink and clatter signaled you that he had caught it.

You were sure that Sparrow had a better use for it than you did. Whatever it may be.

Admittedly, you would have just thrown it overboard or locked it away in a random jewel casket for eternity.

A husky gravel met your ears when he cleared his throat after sinking the necklace deep into the inside pocket of his brown jacket.

It was as if he knew you didn't have any expectation of thanks or desire for inquiring about your deed.

“Isla de la Muerta can only be found by those who already know where it is-“.

Slow steps of heavy boots on wooden tiles neared you from your left.

“And rumors have it me, meself and I have a heading Norrington doesn’t, savvy?“ Sparrow slurred, snapping open a compass as he leaned his back against the railing next to you.

With your eyes raking over the dusk ocean, you couldn’t help but risk a peak over to his hands.

You grimaced. The compass obviously didn’t point north.

Was he tricking the Commodore?

Suddenly, Jack chuckled, clearly having seen your expression.

“Nah... tale for another night“ he simply stated closing the small, brown box again.

His intense gaze crawled all over your side profile and pinned updo. “Tell me somethin’ about ye, Missy. Plagued by those wig-suckers, eh?“ 

You gave a snort of laughter, enjoying his unfiltered way of addressing the men you were used to calling 'Lord', 'Governor' or 'Commodore'.

“You know exactly who I am. Do not call me Missy“ you snapped, biting down a playful smile no one had ever elicited as easily as the foreign pirate did.

Perhaps it should worry you but it didn’t in the slightest. 

Jack arched his figure to lean back more and study your edged expression from the front. You tried to shoot him an unfazed look but the pirate saw right through it and smiled widely. 

How he could read you so emphatically was far beyond what you were used to from men. It confused you. 

Just as it puzzled Jack that your behaviour was so devoid of any of the hospitality and judgement he had come to expect from your class.

It only drew the both of you deeper into whatever this conversation would become.

“Apologies, me bad. Miss Sheffield“ his deep voice cooed, finally cracking your surface and putting a soft blush on your cheeks.

“It never occurred to me that Pirates can be this charming“ you snickered with a hint of irony, eyes resting on Sparrow’s unique features for a moment.

His tanned skin was reflecting the flickering light of oil lamps. Sparrow was a handsome man, you realized.

Effortlessly and in tune with the ship's rocking, the man pushed off the railing to trail behind you.

“I always expected Pirates to be more- rogue, I suppose“ you mused, more to yourself.

Sparrow tsk'ed but he didn't seem hurt.

Your head cocked when you felt his hot breath close to the nape of your neck.

“A Shilling that I can alter your outlook on Pirates all by me onesies, eh?“ His comment was nonchalant and smug but in a swinging way.

This man had nerves. 

“Didn't I just give you a collier worth far more than one Shilling?“ you asked rhetorically, amplifying the perky tone.

The pirate hummed, as if contemplating. “Alright, then. Consider your debt paid“.

It was utterly refreshing to converse so freely without any rules or boundaries. You grew fond of it with every passing second. 

When Sparrow didn’t re-appear on your other side, you turned around to spot him chugging down the wine you had abandoned in your rage.

“Sorry, it’s no rum but-“

“-good. That’s good“ he complimented the red liquid, analyzing the ornate chalice through narrowed eyes before he sat it back down.

Carefully, with his pinky stretched out with decorum.

You caught yourself giggling but promptly covered your mouth with a palm. Habits. 

“So, Miss Sheffield...“ the pirate urged you, swaggering closer until he stood by your side again. His elbows were quickly propped on the reddish railing.

“Pray tell“.

You sighed. However, the will to empty your heart was unbreakable. 

It was easier when your gaze found shelter in the darkness of the Caribbean night but Sparrow’s stare lingered on you nonetheless. 

“I- I feel like- No, I am trapped. Trapped in a golden cage with only dull bumbles who want to possess women of standing as if they were accessories for their prevalence-striven plans“ you began to complain, your words gaining speed and intensity throughout the sentence. 

Honest pity flashed behind the pirate's charcoal outlined eyes.

The man had never thought he was capable of pitying those who were born with a silver spoon in their mouths.

And still, there he stood, stricken by the pain in your melodic voice.

You gasped for air, your mind wanting to go on but your throat began to burn on the verge of crying.

“I must behave according to the rules of society, no matter what it is I truly desire. All the poisoned praise goes to my brother while I am only of importance when the subject of my marriage is discussed“.

“Ye brother be the new Governor of Nassau?“ Sparrow eventually asked, his gaze sliding down to where your nails were nervously scratching lines into the wooden railing.

You couldn’t help but scoff in annoyance of his title. “Yes, that be him“. 

The man next to you shrugged his shoulders, the trinkets and charms once again clinking. You would love to find out where he got each of them from.

“I could, in fact, sack Nassau port for ye as soon as I rip me Pearl from Barbossa’s slimy, old hands“ a tad of disgust infused his bold words at the foreign name.

“Jus' a humble offer. What ye say, lassie?“. 

Sparrow was trying to cheer you up.

A small smile began to reign over your lips again, toes curling. “That would only get you killed, fierce pirate“ you noted, trying to sound as judicious and rational as possible.

Instead, he grinned even broader and spread his arms in an eccentric, self-presenting pose. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, luv“ he declared as if it was self-explanatory.

For the first time in a while the sea breeze caught and carried your sincere laughter.

Sparrow’s braided goatee twitched as he found himself biting his lip at the pretty sound and look.

You were a stunning woman in noble clothes with noble blood in your veins but with a spirit as wild and ravenous as his own.

You enthralled him.

“Bring this to my daughter. She shall eat, at least. The Commodore risks too much by rescuing young Turner, he cannot afford to see his fiancé unwell“ Governor Swann’s order suddenly boomed across the main deck, followed by hasty steps of a maid.

Instinctively, Sparrow snaked his hand around your shoulder, across your chest and pulled you back with him.

Out of sight.

His rough hand on your mouth muffled a shrill cry just enough. 

“They thinkin’ yer asleep, eh, Miss Sheffield?“ His voice was lowered, almost just a husk and yet it was filled with this mischievous, flirtatious tone.

God, this man sent shivers down your spine like no other. 

But he was still a lawless pirate.

A prisoner, even.

Suddenly, whyever, the gravity of your situation and the futility of tonight's zeal made you feel how cold and wet the floor was without shoes.

Brown dreadlocks pressed against the back of your head irrevocably disheveled your updo. 

“Asleep, as I should be...“ you muttered, infused with a hint of re-surfacing anger and despair.

You wriggled yourself out of his protective grasp. The pirate's brow was raised, eyes narrowed on your face.

There was a haze of danger and waywardness about Jack Sparrow that made you question your own courage and spirit. 

“Why did I even tell you all that in the first place?“ you exclaimed, hands thrown up. Slowly stepping away from him, you felt all the emotions crushing your mind.

“You most likely do not care, neither do I profit by wailing. It doesn’t bear contemplating...“.

Sparrow wrapped his right hand back around the handle of the helm, looking rather unfazed by the confusion that was spreading in your system like the Portuguese wine in his own. 

Heavy silence and the occasional laughter from the men in the Captain’s cabin mingled with the soft splash of sea water. 

Your feelings were now as erratic as the rhythm of the crashing waves.

“Look 'ere, luv“.

Your gaze was just about to turn from pleading to the usual bored emptiness as you saw his free hand wander down to his leather belt.

A smirk adorned his bearded face when skilled fingers rapidly detached the compass and threw it over to you.

Stumbling slightly as the ship rocked, you caught the brown box before it could hit the ground.

You heard Sparrow mutter a muted “Thank god“ that made you want to snap at him but the gesture was too interesting not to query.

Why would he think you needed a compass?

Fluster painted your features when you met his weirdly satisfied expression.

“Aren’t you Captain Jack Sparrow? Don’t you need a compass for... that?“ You asked with less challenge in your tone than initially planned.

He chuckled beautifully, shaking his head with eyes closed.

“What?“ You probed when his dark gaze began to rise up from the floor, along your figure.

“I may be without me compass but not without heading and a plan“ the pirate finally explained, taking another step closer to the helm “You, contrastingly and tragically, lack both“. 

Your arms came up and crossed defensively in front of your chest.

But his words and the tight corset made you drop them again rather quickly. 

He was right. You had been lamenting about your situation barely three minutes ago.

“So? What exactly is your compass going to change about that, Sparrow?“.

You peered down at the inconspicuous looking box.

“Everythin'.“ Sparrow stated with a touch of mystery. “Listen what ye heart wants and the compass is gonna give ye a heading, savvy?“.

A big part of you wanted to believe what this infuriatingly interesting man promised while another voice was whispering to you how it was literal magic he was implying.

Magic. 

With a hesitant gesture of offering it back to him, you hoped to find out which voice to listen to.

“But you would want it back, right? It is yours after all“ you commented your action with genuine concern and a small smile.

Plus, the fear that Norrington would kill Jack if he couldn’t find the Isla without his compass. 

Captured by the pirate for one last time, you watched his gold teeth flash in a wide grin, his tattooed hand spreading on his chest as a sign of integrity.

He was being honest, you felt it.

“I will be gettin’ it back, luv. Don't ye worry“. 

Before you creeped down the stairs and eventually headed for your cabin to ponder on your heart's desires, the last you saw of Captain Jack Sparrow was a charming wink. 

The last for now, at least.

♡ thank you so much for reading my very first POTC fic ever ♡

𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐨 𝐡𝐨

@mochie85 @holdmytesseract @socksracoon10 @goldencherriess @chronicallybubbly @kcd15 @always-on-hiatus

#jack sparrow x reader #captain jack sparrow #potc x reader #potc #jack sparrow fic #fanfiction #jack sparrow x y/n #pirates of the caribbean #jack sparrow #Pirates of the Caribbean fanfic #captain jack sparrow x yn #jack sparrow x f!reader #language

[cartermagazine]

Today In History

Angela Davis, political activist, philosopher, academic, and author was born in Birmingham, AL, on this date January 26, 1944.

Davis knew about racial prejudice from a young age; her neighborhood in Birmingham was nicknamed “Dynamite Hill” for the number of homes targeted by the Ku Klux Klan. She also knew several of the young African American girls killed in the Birmingham church bombing of 1963.

Angela earned a scholarship to study French Literature at Brandeis University in Massachusetts. After graduation, she studied in Germany and completed a PhD in philosophy.

In 1969, Angela became a professor of philosophy at the University of California at Los Angeles. Governor of California Ronald Reagan learned about Angela’s political connections and pressured the university to fire her. Angela fought back, and took her case to court. The Supreme Court of California ruled Angela could not be banned for party affiliation. However, several months later, the university found another reason to fire her. They claimed that her comments in recent speeches were too politically incendiary.

Around the same time that Angela lost her job, she became involved in the Soledad Brothers Defense Committee. On August 7, 1970, an armed gunman and brother of one of the Soledad Brothers entered a courtroom in California and took several people hostage. An investigation revealed that the gunman used a weapon Angela bought at a pawn shop several days earlier. Distrustful of the government, Angela went into hiding. During that time, the FBI added her to the “10 Most Wanted” list. In October, she was arrested in a hotel room in New York City. She was held in jail for 18 months.

On June 4, 1972, an all-white jury found Angela not guilty on all charges. Angela said it was the happiest day of her life.

“As a black woman, my politics and political affiliation are bound up with and flow from participation in my people’s struggle for liberation, and with the fight of oppressed people all over the world against American imperialism.”

CARTER Magazine

#angela davis #carter magazine #carter #historyandhiphop365 #wherehistoryandhiphopmeet #history #cartermagazine #today in history #staywoke #blackhistory #blackhistorymonth

[quillofspirit]

A conversation with @esta-elavaris about one of her flufftobers (this one, it is definetly worth a few reads) got me thinking about the types of hot chocolate various POTC characters would appreciate sipping on. Please enjoy my ramblings, and send me your thoughts!

Elizabeth Swann; Hot chocolate with cream. Simple, elegant, and oh so comforting after a long day out in the rain. I doubt she'd get many opportunities to celebrate the warmth a hot chocolate offers when coming back from the cold, but she'd appreciate it all the same. Might even have a go at freezing it if she could, so she might enjoy it in the sweltering heat.

Will Turner; Hot chocolate, with sugar and whipped cream, the whole shebang. Technically, he might even be able to add marshmallows, but the plant used to craft it at the time, the mallow plant Athaea officinalis, was not easy to find.

Jack Sparrow; Rhum, a lot of it, with a dash of hot chocolate. He doesn't really want to drink it but he's never said no to being given something. Unless he has reasons to believe the person giving it to him does it so Jack owes them. In all fairness they often try.

Beckett; Hot chocolate with a hint of salted caramel. He is a refined man, and appreciates delicacies.

Governor Swann; Standard hot chocolate. Doesn't usually drink it, but will on special occasions, mostly because Elizabeth loves to share, and he takes the opportunity to spend time with her.

Barbossa; Hot chocolate with cinnamon and cayenne pepper. Since the whole undead thing, he's had his eyes set on tasting everything. Why not enjoy both sweet and spicy at the same time?

Gibbs; Hot chocolate with rhum. Not quite as heavy handed as Jack, but still pretty strong.

Davy Jones; Mocha hot chocolate. Before he was all tentaculy, he might have enjoyed a mocha hot chocolate, the perfect combination of strong with a touch of sweetness.

What do you think James Norrington would enjoy? I was thinking lavender hot chocolate, for just a hint of floral, but I am not settled.

#elizabeth swann #will turner #jack sparrow #cutler beckett #governor swann #barbossa #gibbs #davy jones #james norrigton #hot chocolate #potc #pirates of the caribbean #headcanon

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 8 February 1968, the Orangeburg massacre took place in South Carolina when police opened fire on Black South Carolina State students, killing three and wounding 28 during protests by Black students against an illegally segregated bowling alley. It was the first incident in which student demonstrators were killed by police in the 1960s, but is much less well-known than the Kent State killings of white students. The All-Star Bowling Lanes was refusing to serve Black customers, despite the banning of segregation in 1964, and so protests by Black students began on February 5. When police got involved, rather than enforce the law or arrest the racist business owner, they arrested 15 demonstrators and brutally beat several young women. On February 8, over 100 students assembled on the college campus around a bonfire. After a police officer was hit by a flying object, nine officers then opened fire on the crowd with live ammunition. The demonstrators tried to flee, and many were killed or injured as they ran away: all but two of the 31 victims “had been shot in the back, side, or through the soles of their feet,” according to Reid Toth. One of the survivors, Robert Lee "Dooley" Davis recounted the last words of his friend, Sam Hammond: "Sam asked me, he said, 'Dooley, do you think I’m going to live?' I said, 'Sam, you’re going to be all right, buddy.' And the next time I look over there, he was dead. I took my hand and put it over his face like this to close his eyes, because he died with his eyes open." Henry Smith and Delano Middleton were the others who died that day. The governor and the media, including the Associated Press, falsely claimed that there was a two-way gunfight between demonstrators and police. There were legal cases after the massacre, although none of the killer police were convicted of any crime. The only person who was jailed for the events was Cleveland Sellers, a young Black member of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee. https://www.facebook.com/workingclasshistory/photos/a.296224173896073/2205178599667278/?type=3

[boltlightning]

im planning on making will turner for my next baldur's gate multiplayer character, and that got me trying to figure out what the cast's class and stat array would look like if they were characters in a campaign. these are the fruits of my labor. i am open to changing my mind.

elizabeth swann: sorcerer. natural charisma and an innate sense of calculation and cunning. quick to consider a lot of options at once. later on she gets more close-range options and can control whole battlefields. (dump stat: strength, the classic spellcaster minmax choice)

will turner: fighter, potential multiclass into rogue (or even cleric, depending on how you read into the ferryman thing). he does one thing really really good and it's fight things. comes with a lot of great proficiencies and a background that seems mundane but is deeply tied in with the narrative. of course. (dump stat: intelligence. sorry. his wis is good though.)

jack sparrow: a classic thief rogue — though i think you could argue for arcane trickster too. stumbles into situations and skill checks himself out of them. hidden depths lie beneath a roguish exterior and many, many sessions of bullshittery that somehow always tie back into the main plot. (dump stat: constitution. he's gotten hit in the head so many goddamn times.)

barbossa: hear me out: warlock. they have a lot of variation that can make it hard to tell what class they are, and you could argue that the aztec gold and later calypso are patrons to which he owes his unlife and, subsequently, his powers. comes with a high charisma stat for chewing the scenery. (dump stat: he cheated his stat rolls and has none)

norrington: paladin. my god. a paragon of light until he breaks his oath in dmc through no fault of his own and destroys himself clawing his way back into favor. (dump stat: strength, so he can be a dex-based paladin but his wis is probably next lowest)

beckett: bard. no further explanation.

davy jones: has since surpassed the levels of the class-based system but was a cleric, back in the day, devoted to a goddess he believed abandoned him. no it hasn't defined his existence for centuries. no he's not bitter. why do you ask?

calypso: aforementioned goddess ex. you know how it is.

governor swann: npc the dm has to frantically make a statblock for when he's suddenly drawn into a fight. he has 6hp.

#norrington is deeply perceptive so dumping wis felt wrong #i'm choosing to interpret his lower wis as unwillingness to compromise #while the higher int serves as his ability to scheme and connive when he's fully informed #anyway. i thought about this a normal amount #bolt watches potc

[world-of-wales]

CONFIRMED ATTENDEES TO THE CORONATION OF

♚♛ KING CHARLES III & QUEEN CAMILLA ♛♚

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────

♔ ┆ Foreign Royalty

King Felipe & Queen Letizia 🇪🇸

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♔ ┆ Heads of Governments of Commonwealth Realms

Prime Minister Anthony Albanese & Jodie Haydon 🇦🇺

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♔ ┆ Governmental Representatives of Commonwealth Realms

Margaret Beazley, Governor of New South Wales 🇦🇺

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♔ ┆ Foreign Heads of States + Governments

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President Wavel Ramkalawan, & First Lady Linda Ramkalawan 🇸🇨

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Emmerson Mnangagwa 🇿🇼

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Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina 🇧🇩

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President Alain Berset of the Swiss Confederation & Muriel Zeender 🇨🇭

Prime Minister Galab Donev 🇧🇬

♔ ┆ Governmental Representatives

First Lady Jill Biden & Finnegan Biden and John Kerry, Special Presidential Envoy for Climate 🇺🇸

First Lady Olena Zelenska 🇺🇦

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Sahiba Gafarova, Speaker of the National Assembly 🇦🇿

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Arnoldo André, Minister of Foreign Affairs 🇨🇷

Naledi Pandor, Minister of International Relations and Cooperation 🇿🇦

Nabil Ammar, Minister of Foreign Affairs 🇹🇳

Narayan Prakash Saud, Minister of Foreign Affairs 🇳🇵

Gustavo Manrique, Foreign Minister 🇪🇨

Ahmed Attaf, Foreign Minister 🇩🇿

Frederick Shava, Foreign Minister & Mthuli Ncube, Finance Minister 🇿🇼

Cardinal Pietro Parolin, Cardinal Secretary of State 🇻🇦

Ambassador José Alberto Briz Gutiérrez 🇬🇹

♔ ┆ Representatives from International Organizations

Amina Jane Mohammed, Deputy Secretary General 🇺🇳

Ursula von der Leyen, President of EU Commission 🇪🇺

Charles Michel, EU Council President 🇪🇺

Roberta Metsola, President of the European Parliament 🇪🇺

#coronation 2023 guest list #coronation 23 #coronation guests #coronation guest list #british royals #british royalty #king charles #king charles iii #charles iii #queen camilla #queen consort camilla

[deadpresidents]

"No fewer than twenty-nine of my [research] cards document [Ronald] Reagan's detachment. He was at once the most remote and the most accessible of men. Although he reveled in the constant flesh-pressing of the Presidency, and ate up flattery with a spoon, he needed regular spells of 'personal time.' Glance through the Oval Office peephole and you would see him happily writing in longhand, always with his tie straight and jacket on, ensconced in an egglike solitude that the curvature of the lens only emphasized.

Adored by so many, he was a man with no real friends. This was not due to any inherent misanthropy...Until he remarried in 1952, earnest, bespectacled Ronnie was said to be 'best friends' with [actor] William Holden, and after that with Robert Taylor. But neither man was more than a barbecue buddy. Hundreds of political supporters and associates claimed to be close to him when he was Governor of California and thousands during his Presidency. Former Senator Paul Laxalt spoke for all of them when he said, 'I guess I know Ronald Reagan as well as anybody. Of course we never talk about anything personal.'

Sooner or later, every would-be intimate (including his four children, Maureen, Michael, Patti, and Ron) discovered that the only human being Reagan truly cared about (after his mother died) was Nancy. For Laxalt, disillusionment came when the President called to thank him for his campaign help in 1984, only to pause in midsentence and audibly turn over a page of typescript. For William F. Buckley Jr., it was when Reagan showed polite relief at his inability to accept an offer of hospitality. For Michael Reagan, it was the high-school graduation day his father greeted him with 'My name is Ronald Reagan. What's yours?'

Patti Davis, Reagan's younger daughter, writes in her 1992 autobiography:

'Often I'd come into a room and he'd looked up from his notecards as though he wasn't sure who I was. [Youngest son] Ron would race up to him, small and brimming with a child's enthusiasm, and I'd see the same bewildered look in my father's eyes, like he had to remind himself who Ron was...I sometimes felt like reminded him that Maureen was his daughter, too, not just someone with similar political philosophies.'

Reagan's scrupulously kept Presidential diary is remarkable for a near-total lack of interest in people as individuals. In all its half-million or so words, I did not find any affectionate remark about his children. He conscientiously named every visitor to the Oval Office, having a printed schedule to refer to, but in conversation he tended to rely on pronouns. Nor did he pay much attention to faces. 'Nice to meet you, Mr. Ambassador,' he greeted Denis Healey, the former Defense Minister of Great Britain, while the real British Ambassador stood by. 'But I've already met him,' his Excellency [the Ambassador] complained, 'eleven times.'"

-- Edmund Morris, Ronald Reagan's authorized biographer, on President Reagan's aloof personality, "The Unknowable: Ronald Reagan's Amazing, Mysterious Life," The New Yorker, June 28, 2004.

#History #Presidents #Presidency #Presidential History #Ronald Reagan #President Reagan #Reagan Administration #Presidential Personalities #Edmund Morris #First Families #Dutch: A Memoir of Ronald Reagan #Quotes About Presidents #The Reagan Diaries #Patti Davis #Reagan Family