willabeth appreciation week
âł day two: scenes
Xuebing Du
AnasAbdin
Monterey Bay Aquarium
I'd rather be in outer space đž

titsay
No title available

oozey mess

tannertan36
macklin celebrini has autism
Peter Solarz
Cosimo Galluzzi
dirt enthusiast

Love Begins
Stranger Things

Discoholic đȘ©
$LAYYYTER
Mike Driver
Keni
KIROKAZE
todays bird

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from T1
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Russia
seen from Morocco

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia

seen from TĂŒrkiye

seen from Italy
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia
seen from Russia
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Ecuador

seen from Malaysia

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@causclost-blog
willabeth appreciation week
âł day two: scenes
Elizabeth âdonât fuck with my man because Iâll fucking remember you didâ Swann
#never forgive #never forget
Greyjoy.
     â  donât know itâs gonna cost a  fortune  to sell your  SOUL.  â
     â  ------------  AND IF THE SOUL  is the only part left of me?  â    Cynicism coated in the innate blatant honesty of a boy lost too early,    â  Barely.  â
William âsassy little shitâ Turner
âïŸïœ„ âžâ Night.
    Doleful cries winnow into the Captainâs quarters. They lift from the timber boards, permeate faded panes, and unfurl from keys resting peacefully alow their hands. Silence has one keeper. Not the keenest ear can detect its presence, its moon mad gait and eyes blacker than the abyss. Shadows bleed from his hollow bone structure. Should It cant its head, Darkness will gaze upon a stripped skull. The closer It lurks, the oilier the black filling his eyes appears. An obsidian-crusted, arachnoid claw skates around those implacable pits; teases exploring their depths to pluck his eyes out like seed pearls. Then it retracts.Â
     Nearly a foot of dank air festers between them. It can taste slime, rot, and years yet does not shy from him. Commotion on the deck lures its binary black hole system up. It listens, stiller than dead space as the last remnants of humanity are lashed from his crew. Their pain does not resonate, yet Darkness cards its âfingersâ through Willâs hair â itâs damp, always damp and glazed in algae or seaweed. The dark green film slides under a sickled talon, but the Void does not flinch or scoff. Full lips pout as the shadows mantle behind It, its brow worries, and then It murmurs, âWould you?âÂ
     THE DUTCHMANâS GARGANTUAN AFT END IS NOT LOST IN THE GREAT SWELL  having suddenly climbed for the sky,  but betwixt timbre deck boards spills irritated sea foam.  Above them,  the quarter deck creaks.  This ship speaks with its inhabitants,  crawls like an insect into the brain.  William,  after years,  no longer winces as the vessel screams and heralds merciless death - but watches as darkness paints upon companyâs whetted countenance.
     Talons in his hair dance close to a scalp he does not think would bleed for its injury.  He has no heart to thud within the cage of his chest;  there is no pulse Shadowâs fingers might pick up âneath the skin.  He does not exhale nor catch his breath within his throat,  but,  uselessly,  he blinks.  The salt remains in the corner of his eye.  She is granted great wings out of the burgeoning umbra;  a mantle stretches far over the living-dead space,  and his lips part,    â  I do not know.  â    Blatant honesty,  though stinging,  feels an old friend,    â  If I have been saved or condemned by this curse,  I do not know.  I had thought myself my own jailer - but,  then what of you?  â
Spring Awakening Lyrics Roleplay Ask Meme
â All thatâs known in history, in science â overthrown. â â You doubt them, and soon they bark and hound you. â â All they say is  âtrust in what is written. â â Wars are made, and somehow that is wisdom. â â Thought is suspect and money is their idol. â â And nothing is okay unless itâs scripted in their Bible. â â But I know thereâs so much more to find just in looking through myself, and not at them. â â Still, I know to trust my own true mind. â â Name the stars and know their dark returning. â â Just watch me. â  â God, I dreamed there was an angel who could hear me through the wall. â â This is so not life at all. Help me out, out of this nightmare. â â Just give it time, kid. â â Let me teach you how to handle all the sadness in your soul. â â Itâs the bitch of living. â â God, my whole lifeâs like some test. â â Itâs like, just kiss some ass, man. Then you can screw âem all. â â Itâs the bitch of living and living in your head. â â Itâs the bitch of living and sensing God is dead. â â Itâs the bitch of living and knowing this is it. â â God, is this it? This canât be it. â â Oh God, what a bitch! â â Itâs almost like loving. Sad as that is. â â Itâs like Iâm your lover or more like your ghost. â â I spend the day wondering what you do, where you go. â â I try and just kick it but what can I do. â â Itâs chill in the wind but itâs warm in your arms. â â I love when you do stuff thatâs rude and so wrong. â  â I ride on the rush, all the hopes, all the dreams. â â I may be neglecting the things I should do. â â You. You. You. â â No more whispering anymore. â â Touch me â just like that. â â God, thatâs so nice. â â No more weeping anymore. â â Touch me, all silent. â â Tell me, please, âall is forgivenâ. â â Touch me â just try it. â â Iâll love you right. â â Just too unreal, all this. â â Havenât you heard the word of your body? â â Havenât you heard the word of my wanting? â â Oh, Iâm gonna be wounded. â â Oh, Iâm gonna be your wound. â â Oh, Iâm gonna bruise you. â â Oh, youâre gonna be my bruise. â â Watching his/her/their/your world slip through my fist. â â Havenât you heard the word â how I want you? â â I wanna be strong. I want the world to find out. â â Truly it touched me â it did â that you would think of me as a friend. â â Uh huhâŠuh huhâŠuh huhâŠwell, fine. â â Not like itâs even worth the time. â  â But still, you know, you wanted more. â â Sorry, it wonât change â been there before. â â A thousand bucks, Iâm, like, scott free. â â By now you know the score. â â Youâre gonna crash and burn. â â You toe the line. â â Theyâre not my home, not anymore. â â In any case, I assure you that your present misfortune will have no effect on my feelings for you. â â Okay, so nothingâs changed â heard that before. â â I am unchangingly, and most fondly yours. â â Just fuck it, right? Enough, thatâs it. â â Another day of utter shit. â â Flip on a switch, and everythingâs fine. â â But thereâs nowhere to hide from these bones, from my mind. â â Awful sweet to be a little butterfly. Just winginâ over things, and nothing deep inside. â â I donât do sadness. â â And who can say what dreams are? â â And who can say what we are? â â Canât help the itch to touch, to kiss to hold ____ once again. â â All things ____ never did are left behind. â â When we look back, thirty years from now, tonight will seem unbelievablyâŠbeautiful. â â I thought perhaps, weâd only talk â â â So, are you sorry weâŠ? â â I love you, _____, as I have never loved anyone! â â Oh, youâre gonna be wounded. â â Oh, youâre gonna be my wound. â â Oh youâre gonna bruise too. â â Oh, Iâm gonna be your bruise. â â Such a shame. Such a sin. â â Those youâve known and lost, still walk behind you. â â Those youâve pained may carry that still with them. â â Youâve left them far behind. â â Thereâs a way through this. â â Thereâs so much more to find â another dream, another love youâll hold. â â On your way you are not alone. â
willabeth appreciation week | day four: colour âș cyan
but are vital organs REALLY vital? like iâm no doctor but do i really need them in there? just a thought
âïŸïœ„ âžâ NIGHT.
  The breeze, briny and vaporous, breathes through his damp clothing â through his bones. It winnows throughout the vaulted cabin, soughing an off-key, doleful hymn from the algae-laden organ. Despair exhausts from the old pipes. Without physically treading, the Darkness lurks closer. Obsidian-caked claws dredge up fine lines of dark green gunk as their distance slowly eradicates.Â
   Its shoulders adopt a demure slant, though the Abyss does not coddle him, âAnd thus,â every fidget is jolty, as if It cannot quite grasp the human bodyâs fine motor skills; âYouâve lost cause to fear meâŠ?!âÂ
   The Void spares no smile for him. Lidless binary black holes yawn ever-wider. Stars do not twinkle beyond them. Thereâs no heavenly glow, no glimmer or glint from their singularities. The Dutchman is one wrong word from annihilation, from the ever-blooming black that blots out his window shaped like a shark tooth.Â
     HE ANGERS ETERNAL NIGHT WITH BRAZEN WORDS,  and though a dead farriers countenance twitches not,  spine climbs higher,  rigid like a shipâs mizzen mast.  The Dutchman groans in apparent anguish,  and every dosing of slime upon its weathered timber frame seems to tense.  Itâs captain raises his hand,  a slow offering of peace,    â  ------------  And I know my place.  â    He atones,  before dropping his salt-scathed hands back to sodden wood.
     â  You could annihilate this entire ship,  and the ocean with it  ---  and half of my crew would probably thank you for it.  â    He stiffens,  as though a chill he no longer feels creeps up his spine.  If he were living still,  the hairs on the back of Williamâs neck might stand on their ends.  He exhales needlessly,  allows a glimmer of the unknown to settle in his hollow-framed eyes.  He shows her his fear behind his pupils,  and it is never-ending,  and non-stop.  The man does not sleep,  he does not drown,  he does not wither and fade in the sun either.  He cannot feel the kiss of the breeze nor recall the cry of gulls.  The fear is all that remains.  He blinks and,  almost in silent obedience,  ducks his head.
     â  I donât know what would become of us,  but some would thank you.  â
willabeth appreciation week
âł day one: films
âïŸïœ„ âžâJACK.
â     well ,    youâre  very  welcome  then .     â        a  weary ,   mirthless  smile .   the  pirate  wretch ,   the  honourless  inside  him  wants  them  all  to  know  that  their  actions  are  mutual  ;   theyâve  saved  his  life ,   heâs  saved  theirs .   but  then ,  as  recently  discovered  ,   he  has  a  dozen  minds ,   thousands  of  devils  RAGING  in  a  scattered  brain .   they  can  be  a  whole  crew  that  sails  a ship  thatâs  run  aground  yet  none  is  like  the  other .   the  cherry  on  top  of  the  lost  mess  that  is  his  sanity  comes  out  of  the  LOCKER  itself .         â    no  place  you  want  to  be  pondering  about  like  you  do  with  that  furrowed  brow  of  yours ,   lad .   stop  that .     â     Â
HEâS CAUGHT.  HIS FINGERS HAVE MOMENTARILY burrowed in sea-sodden timber with the zeal of ten small termites.  Will releases his hold,  glances fleetingly toward the burgeoning rain cloud above their head in some feigned display of over-exasperation,    â  It doesnât matter.  â    He agrees,  sloping down his attention until it pinions Jack âneath it,    â  No place weâll be hurrying back to,  iâd imagine.  Our heading?  Or,  â    Thereâs still a boyâs face alow salt spray and grazed cheeks;  it glints ephemerally,    â  Do we sail under the command of Captain Barbossa?  â
potc meme: [1/3] relationships â will and elizabeth
elizabeth, i should have told you every day from the moment i met you⊠i love you.Â
Are we loving my hellwife?? You're my favorite writer no matter which character you take on. Your expositions, emotions, and atmospheres are stunning. You're beyond gifted like to the point that I prefer all of your portrayals over their canon ( except Ollie bc Ollie's a real person duh ). I love you more than anyone in the world and love to see that your beautiful sons are thriving. You deserve the stars I love you đđđđđâ€ïžâ€â€đ
CAST ASIDE  â  youâre literally the biggest sap iâve ever met and i refuse to condone it and yet,  yeah,  iâll just,  lay here,  on you,  itâs no biggie,  donât mind me.  there is literally nothing about your blog,  your writing,  your everything,  that isnât art to me.  jane is yours sheâs all yours,  and i still falter a lilâ bit when it comes to seeing her so????  alive in her characterisation.  look at what youâve done with not only your writing but with you,  you,  you,  iâm your garbage can,  ily.  xoxoxoxox đđđ
Hi your writing and portrayal is really great ok that is all
CAST ASIDE Â â Â this is??? Â so nice of you??? Â asdfgtr i follow you over on my Oliver too and your creativity is like all the way out there and into space, Â idk how you do it. Â thank-you, Â lovely!!! Â xoxo
âïŸïœ„ âžâJACK.
â     william ,     â        a  breath  is  taken  for  the  matter - of -  factly  exclamation  of  the  manâs  name .         â     the  locker  is  a  special  kind  of  HELL which ,   quite  frankly ,   no  one  would  wish  to  even  enter  nor  be  wished  upon  anyone  by  me .      â        imagining  an  eternal  stay ,   at  that ,   (  curse  turner  for  bringing  that  up  )   makes  the  hair  on  his  neck  stand  at  attention .   eyes  narrow  at  the  other ,   paranoidal ,   challenging ,   his  upper lip  twitches .         â    are  we  expecting  a  âthank  youâ ⊠  perhaps   ?      â
â Â IF YOUâRE LOOKING TO SURPRISE ME. Â â Â Â Â JESTS HE, Â a slight cant of his head to allude to humour as he watches white horses dance against the shipâs keel below. Â The abyssal nothingness of Davy Jonesâ Locker presses quietly beneath his skin, Â fleetingly nudges the flesh from bone before setting it all back into place. Â Will bristles his faint discomfort, Â jostling shoulders rid him of the cloak of melancholy, Â Â Â â Â No, Â â Â Â Â He redefines, Â skating fingertips against gradually splintering timber, Â Â Â â Â I wouldnât be so foolish. Â It feels a habit now to face death for your sake, Â Iâd be lost without the threat, Â frankly. Â â
âïŸïœ„ âžâELIZABETH.
                 Fingers intertwined, granting her a sense of love and BELONGING. Her head was lowered, and the soft smile widened. The men in her life, was it her father or the ever-admiring Norrington, they had always seen her as a person she was not. The perfect daughter, who would marry a prosperious, a prestigious suitor of her own degree. The woman with a certain intellect to keep him entertained, yet who stayed home and bore his sons. William, he had been different. An assumed orphan, a blacksmithâs prentice; & yet he had understood her more, still grasped her better than most. For that, alongside the promise of FREEDOM, Elizabeth would be forever grateful.    â  Neither do I see you. You belong here, it is very clear. You flourished, and I am in love with the smile on your face, the one you make, hoping it will go by unnoticed, whenever you look at the ocean.  â
THE BLOOD OF A PIRATE SWELLS âNEATH HIS SKIN,  and with every press of oceanic air,  every tug of the salt in his lungs,  it all seems to waken so.  Such that which she ostensibly sees when the morning glows orange and sets the horizon on fire,    â  In some sense,  I suppose,  It is a part of me.  â    Agreement is reticent,  caught upon his tongue as though it were a secret,  but countenance is soft for her;  his grazed cheeks lift as he grants Elizabeth the modicum gesture of a smile;  that which she says she loves.  Aqueous halo gifts the crown of her head,  shines a pallid golden light into her hair,    â  It was never time at sea that I wished for,  only your safe return.  I would have given anything.  And now we both stand,  anew,  it feels.  â