I can't stop thinking about that ask saying sour > debut taylor cause like, most of what Olivia's being praised for as a new artist (storytelling, painting a movie-like scene, stellar bridges, etc) she learned from the MASTERCLASS that has been taylor's 15 year career, however when taylor was coming up, confessional storytelling writing wasn't really a thing in pop music, taylor was integrating the country writing style to pop melodies, it was years of experimentation to find her versatile, ever-changing style, which has directly inspired Olivia to make a very polished debut album. So I don't think it's a fair comparison at all.
country music very much lends itself to confessional songwriting and taylor combined that confessional songwriting with whatever genre of music she wanted (country, pop, folk, etc.). it's like comparing apples and oranges like both of the albums have very confessional songwriting but one is very country and the other is pop/rock influenced. i also still think that debut isn't the album to compare SOUR to anyways, she was 13-16 when she wrote that album at a different stage of life (like 13-16 vs. 17-18 is very different)
Hello! I’ve lost a Pirates of the Caribbean story I read in 2017, on either Ao3 or FanFiction.Net. I’m worried it’s been deleted honestly. I can’t remember the name of it unfortunately but I have been trying to hunt it down for days and I’ve had no luck so far.
I don’t remember any specific quotes (or I’d have just googled it and had more success I think) but Elizabeth Swann and her father had moved back to London. I don’t know the deal with Will, other than he wasn’t in the picture. I do believe she had a son, but very uncertain on that. Jack had changed himself, he dressed neat and clean, had changed to formal speech, and was basically a merchant vessel instead of a pirate. His ship may have been the Pearl still, but I know it wasn't black, because it gets repainted black later. He came to London to get Elizabeth for... some reason(?) and she was disappointed in the change. He was very professional and cold towards Elizabeth. They went along making his trades and hunting for a special pearl (I think? Might’ve been some other rare item) and at some point she was kidnapped, but I don’t remember by who. In the chase to get her back, Jack kind of reverts to the piratey-ness and he DOES get her back but I don’t remember much of what happened after that.
Any help would be much appreciated! 🖤
I should mention it was completed and I'm unsure of the rating
- ‘Desiderata’ by Max Ehrmann, tattooed on Jack Sparrow’s back.
“Desiderata” is a guide to happiness, it literally means “desired things” which has been Jack’s theme throughout the movies. It’s a moral code, the guide to happiness for good people.
The thing about Jack is, he is a good man who needs to forget this mantra. Being good has never brought him good. The significance is in the fact it’s tattooed across his back, where he can ignore it. He’s literally turning his back on the ideal of the good man. On the ideal that being a good man will ever bring him happiness.
He does not let things go; he holds grudges, he never quite forgives himself for his own mistakes - “Be gentle with yourself.” Whoever chose to put this on Jack’s body, in a scene where he kills himself over and over and over, is an ironic bastard with a sick sense of humor.
He hates this part of himself, hates the good in him, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t kill it. Deep down he still believes in everything the Desiderata stands for, he’s still willing to trust people, to stand up for his beliefs, to put those he loves before himself.
So overall, I think the significance is that there’s a war in him, between good and bad, optimism and pessimism, trusting and being careful, his conscience and what he wants. And whether he can ever truly achieve happiness.
@colorblindly suggested something once. Jane Eyre AU.
“How is your charge, Mrs Watson?“
The blonde woman was up on her feet in an instant, her eyes scanning the growing number of people in the room.
"Calm at the moment, but we did have a moment this morning,” she said, glancing towards a breakfast table.
A thin figure sat at it. Long tangles of black hair fell down past her shoulders. Her fingernails were cut back until they were blunt. A violin and its bow, well-used, stood in the cradle of an armchair. Every item in the sparse room was carefully arranged, spacious despite the cramped area.
“I’d suggest caution, sir,” Mrs Watson added. Her harrowed look, contrasting so easily with her usually bright demeanour, seemed an answer to me now, rather than a puzzle. I found more answers in the grey walls, marked by brushes of red. Fingerprints in the pattern. The red scarf blew from the window.
My betrothed gave a dry smile. “Aren’t I always?” He glanced towards his brother, who looked pale as he stared at the thin, black-haired figure. Mycroft looked at him in return, swallowing.
“We need to leave.”
“You wouldn’t think it, would you?” A nasty bitterness found Sherlock’s voice. “My brother, terrified of his own sister. Eurus.”
“Sherlock—” Mycroft replied, with that reprimanding tone. My eyes remained on the black-haired figure. It seemed wrong to give her a name. She was more than a name; bigger than the body that contained her.
“I that am lost, oh who will find me, deep down below…” She was singing. The lullaby was soft, sung in the voice of a child. The figure lifted her head. Ice-blue eyes, the shade of her brother’s. She took in every single last person. Her song continued.
“The old beech tree… Help succour me now, the East Winds blow—” The tune stopped with a tilt of her head. Her eyes narrowed. “Have you had sex?”
She spoke brashly, harshly. I remembered tantrums by children, uncontained by harsh rules. I remembered standing for a night and day, the wooden sign heavy around my neck. The rope had burned into my neck. My spine felt sore. I had walked slower than the others and had earned the punishment for it.
The figure’s soft blue eyes hardened.
Mycroft cleared his throat. “Eurus—”
What happened next, I struggle to remember. I have dreamed of it, in patches and scraps, but they are always disjointed as if they come from someone else’s life. A tragedy that befell someone else. On those nights, I wake, my mind expecting to find me living the consequences of another path. On those mornings, I sit quietly at breakfast and ignore the wordless questioning of my new companions, thanking them only, as always, for their kindness in keeping me.
The full narrative comes back to me with the slamming of a door. I see him, my betrothed, with scratches of blood on his cheek from blunt nails. Don’t worry, she’d murmured with clearness in her eyes, I’ll be finished with him in a minute.
“There’s the truth.” Those are the words that bring the memory to the front of my mind. If they are there for a moment, I find myself playing the narrative to its end. Sherlock looking to his pale-faced brother. “As you wanted, Mycroft.”
Sherlock sighed, slowly walking forward, every step a jerk, as if the movements pained him. He sank into the sofa where his brother had once laid, teeth marks in his chest.
“She is cleverer than all of us. Able to see things in a way that no-one else ever can. Everything to her is a construct. A way to play the game. My parents locked her away in an asylum, fearing what she could do. When they died – I always knew the asylum would ruin her – make her worse than she ever had been. I hoped, when I removed her, that her mind had been preserved. I brought her here, back to Musgrave – for a while, it seemed she was getting better. But it was as I feared. She was worse than I ever thought.” Sherlock returned to his feet. It was as if he could not find a place in this room, as long as his sister wailed and screamed his name. “It was suggested that I keep her elsewhere. The second home. The damp would’ve taken her. Rid us both of the burden.”
An awful quiet fell between the four of us. Mycroft shared a glance with his lawyer, whose protesting voice I sometimes still hear. This marriage cannot go ahead. All at once, I knew who had suggested that possibility. Sherlock shook his head. A sick, dry smile came to the corners of his mouth, along with a sardonic laugh.
“I could have done just that. No-one would’ve known, and no-one would’ve blamed me. No, I just left her here, in Musgrave. With no-one but a maid to keep her company. Travelled the world instead, trying to escape the horror that sat waiting for me at home. Until one day. When a girl appeared. A girl, who knew nothing of what had surpassed. This girl,” he hissed. Every time I tell this story to myself, I feel the same thing. A needle, white hot, sinking past the barriers of silk that had been my armour and pricking at my heart. “This girl, who stands quietly and gravely at the mouth of hell. Who offered her friendship to me without question, or judgement. Quietness, sanity and innocence. You wonder why I want her. Why I lied? Why I risked the wrath of God to have her?”
Sherlock swallowed. Mycroft’s eyes fell on the closed door. She still screamed. The dark-haired figure in the nightgown with a red scarf at her window.
Sherlock’s shoulders sank forwards. He turned the key in the lock.
“I need to ask you to leave,” he said. “I have to attend to my sister.”
The narrative ends there. I remember what happened after; mumbled words between Mycroft and his witness. Sherlock’s look. He had looked at me with every pain he’d tried to hide, every word we had exchanged meaningless as his sister begged for him to return. I turned from the mouth of hell.
also i wish they'd stop comparing her to taylor, for olivia's own sake, let her find her identity as an artist without taylor's shadow over her
it’s a compliment to be compared to taylor but they are in very different stages of their career right now and i think in the future, we will hopefully see olivia grow into her own style
colorblindly replied to your post: “I've never bought into the 'he could reunited with Elizabeth because...”
You know what would really be the best lifting of the curse??? That ELIZABETH can now go on the Dutchman with him to do his duty. This way he still keeps his duty and she gets to go back to the sea and they get to be together. That's the logical solution, but of course the wil/abeth crowd want Elizabeth on land like a lady again and so their happy ending HAS to be about going back to land, rather than them being together anywhere (or really, being together AT SEA)
Hi love! Just passing by the askbox to say: My soul is revived to see your beautiful blog full of lovely, sensible people banding together to fight the good fight in this new maelstrom of wtf-ness we've encountered. My heart weeps with relief every time someone comes with new insight and new points to make and idk I wanted to shout out to your followers I guess AND AS ALWAYS THANK YOU AND BLESS YOUR GORGEOUS BLOG FOR BEING THE HEADQUARTERS OF OUR CORNER OF THE FANDOM!!!😘😘
MARIEL!!!!!! thank YOU so much for being in this fandom and always gracing us with your light and your insights and just your general presence!!!!! and also a big THANK YOU to everyone else in the fandom!!!!! this blog would be NOTHING without all of you!!!!!!
I like your idea he was raised in a convent to shield him from Elizabeth's enemies, raised not to know who his mother really is, thinking she is dead, etc. Imagine Jack telling him, your mother was a pirate, and Henry like, how dare you? She was a respectable woman! a la Will/Bootstrap back story in cotbp 😏 I HAVE MUCH TO SAY ON THIS and I have a fic in the works BUT I NEEDED TO SCREAM AT YOU CRIS FOR HAVING THAT WONDERFUL IDEA AND INSPIRING ME WHEN I HAVE SO MUCH HOMEWORK TO DO!
GIIIIRL WE ARE FEELING EACH OTHER SO MUCH!!!!!!!! THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I MEANT LIKE ugh imagine henry being completely OBLIVIOUS to his mother’s true identity????? and like jack’s face when he finds out??? “SO ARE YOU SURE WILL TURNER THE CAPTAIN OF THE FLYING DUTCHMAN IS YOUR FATHER???” “yES” “SO YOUR MOTHER.........” i’m just????? you need to write that fic asap ISTG MARIEL!!!!!!
but the possibilities are truly endless.... at least we can all agree lizzie got to raise her child for those first 10 years, and then after their first encounter with will shit got really bad and the boy ended up pretty much like will in the first movie.... the parallels are there!!!! also it’s sad when you think about the fact that neither will nor elizabeth grew up with their mothers... we don’t even know their identities or anything about them except the fact they are allegedly “dead” and that’s the same fate elizabeth has...... except that this time she will be back!!! i feel like it has to be something really BIG for elizabeth to leave her boy and not tell anyone, to the point where she may even risk will’s fate as davy jones.... like girl she has never ran away from any situation before but this is bigger than that!!!!
