Write fanfiction about who you ship me with in my ask
(Source: windycarnage, via veryspecialskillset)
Mates, I’ll be off to me cabin now.
My brain is gettin’ a bit rummed- I mean, run down. Savvy? I need to relax… it’s been a long, long day. I shall reply to it all in the morning. And mates, if you leave me messages, I shall be sure to answer them.
(Source: bluedeadleaves)
(Source: jennabtc)
(Source: fallenangelsarmy)
Reblog if you want an Anon’s honest opinion of you.
(Source: sluts-b0oze-and-partying, via im-thelost-princess)
@theoppurtunemoment
“Phone book?” Jack tilted his head. “Who wrote a book about phones? Can’t see how that would ‘elp me, mate.” He watched as she began to grow quiet, and almost .. could he see some sadness breaking through her well concealed emotional pallet? He believed he could, but he left it alone for her sake. He did not want to make her uncomfortable. “I am truly sorry, Ophelia.” he said. “I truly am.”
Ophelia rolled her eyes, “Nevermind. It’s after your time.” She planned to leave it at that. There was no way she’d be able to explain twenty first century technology to a pirate from the 1700’s. Why bother?
She jerked her head away from him, “Don’t be sorry. Nobody needs to be sorry. It’s my fault anyways.” Maybe he’d just think she actually meant to kill them and leave it at that. “It’s complicated anyways- I mean, you don’t know about the war or the Holocaust so it won’t make much sense.” She sought to turn the conversation back to him, “So, where’s your ship?”
Jack knitted his eyebrows together. “Aye? Mate, I rather doubt it was your fault…” but she didn’t budge, so he left it alone. “True. I don’t know much about where you came from, but it sounds darker than the hull of the Pearl. Oh? She’s in the harbor, safe and sound. No navy or Barbossa here to take her from me, most thankfully.”
@ Little Sis (im-thelost-princess): Baking Lessons.
She looked at him and raised a brow, “Oh please. Jack, the water is on the cold side, you’re safe.” She assured him. She watched him carefully, making sure he lathered up just enough to clean both of his hands, pleased to find out that he did. She let out a chuckle, “I suppose so,” she smirked back at him.
“Good.” Jack shook the droplets free and wrung his hands in a towel. “Now, then. What are we making?”
She chuckled, watching him dry his hands. For some reason, she thought it was amusing. ”Well… I thought we could start out simple and bake a cake?” She suggested.
“Cake is my favorite.” Jack grinned. “What flavor? Better yet, choose your favorite and we will make it.” He replaced her towel to where he had taken it from. “I promise to try my best, mate.”
