going with your flow.

moosic is my religion.

my stalkers.

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stringlets.

reminisce.

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Design: doughnutcrazy
Icon: morphine_kissed

Drink Up, Me Hearties, Yo-ho.

Drink up, me hearties, yo-ho.

Drink it all up, the rum,

And see it all gone.

Drink up, me hearties, yo-ho.

See Miss Swan and Captain Jack make-out,

See Norrington and William freak out.

Drink up, me hearties, yo-ho.

A pirates life for me.

Because you know you want the ending like that. Disney is loony with its lame ending. Did you want Elizabeth Swann to end up with prissy ole' William Turner? No, of course not. Their babies would end up so unlike Jack Sparrow.

It's a crime.

I also committed the crime of having to watch PoTC-AWE at this late of time and having the guts to whine over it after it had been released in theatres for almost three months now.

I cry for my loser-esque behaviour.

But I still ship Jack/Elizabeth because they're right and they're eye-shaggingly delicious.

So with those words, I need to find a certain disclosure from the third installation just because I need some Sparrabeth action.

My take on the last movie:

She had the crown on her head and the smile of success. She was the King of the ocean, she ruled the waves of the seas, and she has Captain Jack Sparrow under the wings of scrutiny.

"Why are you still here, Jack?" She asked.

And he would answer back with a lazy quirk of his lips, "it's the compass, love."

She would step down off from her pedestal and watch him under half-lidded eyes, waiting for a certain word to roll off his tongue. But it never came so as she took the compass from his hold and looked down upon it.

She tilted her head upwards and she would question his purpose.

The compass pointed towards her.

So he would smile and take it from her hands, a small smile evident in the movement of his lips. "It always takes me back to you."

And the sea would roar it's surrender.

Sigh. I miss writing. I should seriously consider getting a new muse. My current one keeps running away making babies with a bottle of rum. Bad Jack, bad.

I also think Barbossa needs some lovin'. The sexy man needs more fangirls, stat.

Also:

Happy Pirate's Day!

I shall talk like a pirate after this entry, arr.

Ye be forewarned.

Labels: at world's end, disney complaints, elizabeth, fiction, jack sparrow, journal, pirates of the carribean, sparrabeth