//working on shit for my verses page. brb
Today's Document

Discoholic đŞŠ

ellievsbear
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
cherry valley forever
Jules of Nature

â
almost home
KIROKAZE
DEAR READER
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
NASA

if i look back, i am lost
wallacepolsom
Sade Olutola

pixel skylines

No title available
$LAYYYTER

@theartofmadeline
No title available

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh

seen from Argentina

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from Singapore

seen from United States
seen from TĂźrkiye
@bxrbossa
//working on shit for my verses page. brb
âNot all treasure is silver and gold, mate.â -Captain Jack Sparrow
"Evening sir, Welcome t' Bloodstone, Watch yer back, and don't listen when they tell you Ale's 5 gold for a pint, s' a dirty lie it's 3 copper"
Barbossa stared at the stranger for a moment. He wasnât used to receiving welcome parties when he came to port-- especially not ones as strange looking as this fellow.
âThank you kindly for the advice, Iâll be sure to keep that in mind.â He did his best to sound grateful, although if truth be told, he really couldnât care less and just wanted to drink himself into oblivion.
â do you tell ghost stories after sex? â //from Reaver :D
Hector stared at the man for a long time, his expression slowly twisting from confusion to horror and back again.
âYeâd best be staying away, now. I donât take kindly to those sorts of questions.â
firstlove-theseaâ:
Jonesâ terrible beastie was gone, itâs dead body washed ashore. It was merely a coincidence really that they had come to that particular island to re-supply on fresh water, but the sight of the dead creature had, without doubt, triggered something in him.
The most terrifying way to the Locker was no more, certainly one thing Jack was thankful for and if his plan was to be successful, going back there wasnât something he needed to worry about ever again. If his plan was to be successful⌠There was no guarantee that it would. He had no way of knowing whether or not Beckett would actually show up at Shipwreck Cove, the pirate could only trust that man to do what he wanted him to.
When it came to Lord Cutler Beckett, however, he was almost certain he would. His last encounter with that man had taught him that. For his former superior hatred pirates - and Sparrow in particular - with a passion and was willing to do whatever necessary to see them dead. All of them.
All throughout his life, the captain had avoided fighting whenever he could, always finding other means to accomplish his own ends instead. But nowâŚ. Now matters where different, for a fight was the only option left for them. The Brethren Court would have to stand together so to defeat the likes of Beckett and his men. Not a concept Sparrow liked terribly much, but it was the perfect opportunity to finally get back to Beckett for what heâd done to him so many, many years ago.
For the longest time Sparrow had stood rooted to the spot on the beach, staring at the giant animal that had once horrified him. Dark eyes were narrowed and he was about to drift deeper still into the raging sea of conflicting thoughts when he became aware of footsteps approaching.
Originally posted by amynagata
@bxrbossa
Hector was more than familiar with the shock that came with realizing quite suddenly that you should be dead, and somehow werenât anymore. Hell, he had experienced it for himself not all that long ago, and admittedly, hadnât initially taken it as well as Jack was. When the sea-witch had brought him back, he had been decidedly not okay. He had spent days not sleeping, barely eating, trying to process what was happening and why... Every feeling he experienced had felt raw and new, as though he were feeling it for the first time. Clothing was heavy and itchy. Water felt slimy in his throat. It had been nearly a week before he had been able to function normally, and Tia Dalma had done nothing to help him along-- simply let him be, let him move past it on his own. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, he wanted to help Jack because he felt bad knowing what the other must be going through.
âJack,â he said finally as he closed the distance between them, footsteps slowing to a halt in the sand.  âIt gets easier.â He said it simply, matter-of-factly, but in the tone of a man who knew better-- because for once, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that he did know better than Jack Sparrow.
âWeâll have all this behind us soon, and weâll be back to just what we were before.â It was a weak attempt at reassurance, but it was an attempt nonetheless. He couldnât be sure just what else troubled his former-superior-turned rival, but he knew far better than to underestimate Jack Sparrow. The man was unpredictable on his best days, and anything and everything could be running through the manâs head.
Rather than press further, he chose to simply stand at the other manâs side and wait for him to acknowledge his presence.
â° Â â Â â Â â Â BUZZFEED UNSOLVED SENTENCE STARTERS
â  strap in âcause this one is rough.  â â  itâsâ itâs yucky.  â â  iâm aware of some details of this and itâsâ itâs yucky.  â â  iâm not a gambling man, but i donât really like those odds.  â â  we could conceivably run into this guy taking a dump in the woods or something.  â â  are you fucking out of your mind?  â â  iâm starting to think you want to die.  â â  you turned a corner on that one pretty quick.  â â  oh my god, itâs fucking horrifying.  â â  thereâs an elk, though. thereâs a deer over there.  â â  hereâs the remains and rubble of one of the greatest unsolved mysteries of all time and youâre looking at the fucking deer in the forrest.  â â  maybe they were in there telling ghost stories.  â â  thatâs not what pillow talk is, i donât think.  â â  pillow talk could either mean something you do after sex or it could mean whatâs like sleepover talk.  â â  do you tell ghost stories after sex?  â â  all very effective forâ for murder.  â â  they stabbed him so hard that the knife bent.  â â  you would think that thereâd be at least one witness.  â â  you see someone running through the forrest covered in blood, youâre probably not gonna bat an eye.  â â  thatâs not how the forrest works.  â â  excuse me, sir. why are you covered in blood?  â â  iâm glad to know that you would be the worst crime scene witness of all time.  â â  oh, you were phrasing it in a dramatic way.  â â  what is it about killersâ that they want to be caught so badly⌠or like they want to get as close to being caught without being caught?  â â  i canât put my mind into the mind of a criminal.  â â  i can put my mind into the mind of a criminal.  â â  some of them must be friends, others would like to plunge knives into each other.  â â  i can imagine one friend of yours murdering you.  â â  iâm pretty sure there was a coverup by the police department.  â â  70â˛s and 80â˛s police were always just like, âoh, you murdered someone? you got forty bucks?â  â â  great! what else do you want?! i murdered people for you! and now⌠what?  â â  oh, so iâm the psycho cause i murdered for you!?  â â  what, the police were just writing fan fiction?  â â  this is just baffling to me.  â â  i guess thatâs their job, but can you imagine how much goddamn paperwork is involved in that? so much!  â â  iâm pretty sure weâre being watched, so i kind of wanna leave, to be honest.  â â  iâve had enough of this place and i havenât even been here that long. i hate this place.  â â  this boogeyman is very thorough.  â â  i guess weâre lucky he got lazy.  â â  the greatest safety precautions of our time are written in blood.  â â  i think theyâre tired of this ongoing saga that never ends.  â â  you know, i actually disagree with that last sentiment.  â â  this is like straight-up end of days shit going on.  â â  this couldâve been the beginning of the zombie apocalypse, in my mind.  â â  iâve daydreamed about having an amazing bunker that has satellite tv.  â â  âbad advilâ sounds like a shitty indie band.  â â  the wild west was the 80â˛s.  â â  in the 80â˛s you could walk in a store, pocket a soda, punch a guy in the face, and then be like âsee ya later. fuck you!â cops wouldnât get to your door for weeks.  â â  he had books that were just titled âhow to crimeâ? if he had a book called âhow to crimeâ then thereâs your guy.  â â  oh, yeah⌠nah, iâm good. eh, bit of a reach.  â â  some old lady in florida bought the unabomberâs typewriter?  â â  maybe this guy was really in the dog house and was just desperate for any kind of turn of affection from her so he thought, âi know that iâll do! iâll write the fbi!â  â â  no, i didnâtâ what, is there anything to suggest that i would chase my mom with an axe?  â â  i think you wear a mask sometimes.  â â  maybe you should keep digging and see what happens.  â â  these are two messed up weirdos who have found each other and itâs almost a shockingly beautiful love story.  â â  i donât get it. i just wanna talk about my work and everyone just keeps seeming to bring up all my past of all the shitty stuff iâve done.  â â  ugh, this guyâs gross.  â â  it mustâve been fun to be a criminal in the 80â˛s.  â â  everything before the 80â˛s â just lawless.  â â  get your sunglasses ready because this one is packed full of bright stars.  â â  iâm good to go. iâm always ready, baby!  â â  it came true so she was actually warranted in all these fears.  â â  this would be like if you were eaten by a shark.  â â  i thought for a second we were talking about things that are actually scary.  â â  iâm gonna let this slide because i know youâre just trying to get a rise out of me.  â â  does that man have a magical penis or something?  â â  you think the only reason someone would go back to someone is because they have a magical penis?  â â  i feel like divorce is probably a lot of work.  â â  do you not know how love works?  â â  maybe i donât know how love works.  â â  i have a hard time imagining someone going gaga over christopher walken.  â â  i bet when you get in a room with christopher walken, he commands the space.  â â  i brought some cocktail weenies.  â â  one of my greatest fears is that someone will trick me into doing heroin.  â â  thatâs the dumbest fear iâve ever heard in my life.  â â  how many situations can you be in that would put you up to that potential danger?  â â  how many parties are you going to where heroinâs involved? it seems like a lot.  â â  itâs the fear that someone would come up to me on the street and put heroin in me and then iâm hooked forever.  â â  hereâs what mustâve happened⌠these forty things, in succession.  â â  what are you trying to do, fuck my wife?  â â  why would he make this up?  â â  heâ he was just trying to fuck someones wife.  â â  i canât imagine murdering someone even when drunk.  â â  when you drink you can imagine murdering someone?!  â â  i ate a pumpkin once when i was drunk⌠i just took a bite out of a pumpkin.  â â  thatâs a rational fear!  â â  that is not a rational fear!  â â  these are the musings of a paranoid man.  â
// the most useless feature tumblr has ever come up with is without a doubt giving you a notification when you reblog your own goddamn posts.
multiplechoicepastâ:
Reaver didnât move from his stance at the side of the ship in plain view of the other. In fact, he was taking the time to see what he could glimpse of the other ship, its crew and its captain. He already spied a way he could take out half of the deck in what would surely take less than a minute, but he decided against it. All the same, in case the filthy imbeciles on the other ship got any bright ideas, he kept his fingers near his Dragonstomper.Â
Though he could easily dispose of most of the crew before anyone knew what was going on, he simply didnât feel like putting forth that much effort today. No, he had another plan. He could only hope that they were all as horribly dumb as they looked. Though, he sensed the captain might have half a brain which only meant this would be more of a challenge and perhaps more fun for him.
âNorth, you say?â He allows the corners of his lips to widen in a grin. âIâm sure you and your crew are all positively famished and could use a good stay at port. If you continue heading north, youâll find Bloodstone Port. It just so happens that I seem to have control of that port and would be simply delighted if you and your crew would grace my dear Bloodstone with your presence.â
He could practically feel the eyes of his crew fix upon him as soon as the stranger mentioned making port. What a bloody arsehole, trying to back him into a corner like that.... Of course, he didnât know what Barbossa knew about this ship and itâs crew.
âAye, weâre certainly famished enough. Thereâs little variety to the diet at sea. Perhaps a brief detour would be good for me crew.â He gave the other man a rather large, toothy smile-- one that clearly said âI hate you for merely suggesting such a thing because you know I couldnât say no right nowâ.
âWeâll make port for half a fortnight, men. Yeâre all expected tâbe back on the ship before nightfall or Iâll keelhaul every last one of you.â
Reblog if I can go on your page and write stupid things in your ask box whenever I'd like to.
//holy shit you guys.
This blog has been open for business for one day and I already have 16 followers!
Welcome all of you, thanks for stopping in! Iâm making my way through your blogs a handful at a time checking things out, so please be patient and donât get discouraged if I donât follow back right away!
In the meantime, feel free to message me to plot or if you just want to chat!
multiplechoicepastâ:
The days were long and sometimes tediously boring in Albion, but, ah⌠They were certainly days and Reaver had more of these than anyone in the land. He would know, of course. Heâd paid the price for that⌠But it was nothing a good look in the mirror or a rather large chalice of wine couldnât fix. After all, who needed everyone youâd ever loved or cared about when one was this good looking, powerful and rich?
It had been too long since any ship had happened across the Bloodstone port and he was feeling all too eager to commandeer and pillage, so heâd decided to take matters into his own hands. If nobody would have the sheer grace and stupidity to happen upon his port, heâd just have to go looking for them himself. Sure, it was work, but he wasnât particularly busy with anything at the moment.
Reaver hadnât been away for long, perhaps a day or two, when he spotted another ship. He was instantly giddy with thoughts of what was to come and when he realized this particular vessel didnât belong to Dread, he was even more ecstatic. His grin widened as he took the ship in, fingers toying with the handle of his trusty Dragonstomper. This would do nicely in his collectionâŚ
As the ship came up alongside his, he made no efforts to conceal himself to the others. He simply stood, half-smirk on his face and wind in his hair as he called to whatever grimy imbecile piloted such a beauty. âMy, myâŚ. Are we lost, my dears? What a pity that would be. Perhaps I could be of some assistance?â
Barbossa couldnât stop himself from grimacing. Cocky bastard, this one was. But, that being said, he looked rich, sounded rich, and the ship was well-furnished... If he could have his men board it and spill some blood, this fool would likely yield quickly enough...
Then again, perhaps it was best to wait a bit, feel things out... See if he could just schmooze his way through this. He didnât want to start a fight so far from the Caribbean without knowing that it was certain he would win it.
âI have me heading,â he reassured the stranger.  âAnd weâve stuck true to it. Simply passing through on our way north.â Donât mention treasure. If they hear the word, theyâll want to beat you to it.
@multiplechoicepast
Attn: Reaver
Barbossa was at the helm, his hat tilted downward slightly to shield his face from the soft drizzle of rain that greyed the sky. He rarely sailed this far north-- in fact, he typically made an effort not to, but he had a lead on some very promising treasure that he quite wanted to get his hands on before anyone else did.
He hadnât had much trouble along the way-- a convenience that he knew would not last long, as it never did. And sure enough, his lookout was yelling now, a ship approached with unidentified colors, but decidedly not British, or French, or Spanish.... He spat bitterly upon the deck. Another pirate. He would have to try his hand at intimidation and hope he wasnât outclassed... Not that Hector Barbossa was by any means used to being outclassed.
âHoist the colors, you bloominâ cockroaches,â he bellowed, swinging the wheel hard in hopes to fill the sails and pick up a bit of speed. He could likely pull up alongside the strange ship and get a good look at things, the wind was in their favor... Aye, he would see just who and what he was dealing with.
//Would you mind liking or reblogging this post if youâre interested in playing with this bitch right here?
Thatâs right, itâs Hector Barbossa. Pirate turned privateer turned pirate again, so wicked and twisted and downright clever he couldnât even manage to stay dead properly.
Mun is 25+ and open to writing in any fandom. Iâve been RP-ing on tumblr since the days when original Xkit didnât even exist yet and we had to use Missing E to make this hellsite functional (thatâs pre-2012 for all the youngâuns out there).
Donât know how your muse would work with mine? Honey, I can write AUs for days. Letâs chat, weâll make it work.
âBetter were the days when mastery of seas came not from bargains struck with eldritch creatures, but from the sweat of a manâs brow and the strength of his back alone.â
The sun beat down hot upon the deck of the ship, rising through the air in faint waves. It was a truly miserable day.
Hector Barbossa was choosing to spend it tucked safely away in his quarters, letting the rest of the crew run things themselves. It was too damned hot for him to be out there, sweating and wasting his precious energy like some common crewman. He would make an appearance every now and again to yell at them, be sure they were running on course, but he knew his best bet was to stay out of the sun, away from the heat, and wait until dusk to do any work he truly needed to accomplish today.
At present, he was having a light lunch-- by which what he really meant was he was eating three apples, because he felt like it-- and considering what the proper course of action should be if the heat didnât break. He couldnât keep tucked away like this all day, every day. That was the surest way to have a mutiny on his hands. But heâd be damned if he was about to go out there and sweat like some common bilge rat; he was far, far better than that. He tossed an apple core into an empty barrel with a sigh, leaning back in his chair to wait out the rest of the heat.
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