EDWARD TEACH For Stede !

🪐 — EDWARD TEACH  for  stede ! 

he hasn’t been avoiding stede all day,   not exactly.  not by choice,  at least.  it’s just that they haven’t managed to get a quiet moment to themselves in what feels like entirely too long,  and they’re both still trying to navigate their newfound relationship in the wake of stede’s return  —  while having to deal with the consequences of edward’s broken hearted rampage on top of that.  it has been a messy ordeal from all sides,  obviously.  it still kind of is,  because although it’s getting better the process is slow and the road not void of obstacles.

edward waits until it’s nearly sunset,  with the rest of the crew long gone to find some well earned merriment across nassau,  before securing a hold on stede’s hand and all but dragging him towards his restored quarters on the revenge.  contrary to this behavior,  however,  he halts his movements once they are inside.   ❛  hey.  ❜   back to the door,  edward slants a sheepish look stede’s way.  he is wearing his leather trousers,  but his torso is covered by one of stede’s white linen shirts  (   taken from the untouched secret wardrobe,  of course   ),  and his lips are upturned,  albeit tentatively.  as if he’s learning how to do this all over again.  how to be around stede again,  without either clawing at his clothes as if he’s afraid the man might disappear any second,  or arguing it through until he is exhausted and apologies fall from his lips like rain drops,  heavy and desperate.

❛  c'mere.  ❜   he takes him to the couch,  hand still linked with his own.   ❛  there’s some serious stuff i need to tell you.  promise you won't  —  you can’t stop me until i’m done,  alright?  ❜   he waits for confirmation,  and the next words out of his mouth come quieter,  stifled.  he’s very much trying to find a way to make stede understand what’s going on in his mind.  and trying not to hurt him in the process,  too.

❛  i need to go away for a while.  on my own.  i’m thinking about taking the queen anne and just enough men to make sure she doesn’t fall apart on me.  it’s been a while,  so i’m gonna have to check that she’s ready for open sea again,  but it’s not  —  you’ve done nothing wrong,  i need you to believe me on that.  i said you made me happy,  an’ you still do.  ❜   edward frees him of his grasp at last, only to cradle stede’s face with both hands. he does nothing but brush his thumbs across stede’s skin for a while, hoping to provide more reassurance this way, but he grows restless before long and a concerned frown makes an appearance on his forehead.   ❛  stede?  talk to me,  love.  ❜

     THE CREW GONE ASHORE  served twofold purposes : both to bring the men’s morale up with a well-deserved break,  &  to give edward  &  himself some proper time alone aboard the revenge for the first time since stede had finally caught up to him. it was still not as it had been before between them  —  &  perhaps it never would be again  —  but it was shifting into something else now, something more honest.  &  stede is eager to move past the pain, to make his amends  &  let time do its work healing the wounds they had all caused.                         there are nerves that prickle to life low in his gut when edward finds him at sunset  —  a vision to behold in both leather  &  linen  —  &  pulls him toward their quarters, the door falling decisively closed behind them. stede doesn’t know what’s coming next for them, but he trusts ed. with his life, he trusts him. but edward doesn’t lean in to kiss him, doesn’t try to touch him, aside from where their fingers are entwined.  ( he still hasn’t, not since that first night he’d been back,  &  stede honestly can’t decide if he’s grateful or disappointed for his hesitance. )  instead, edward leads him by the hand to the sofa, sits them there together  &  makes stede agree to listen to whatever it is he has to say.  serious stuff.  &  the butterflies in his stomach suddenly turn sharp, fear warning him that this is the moment ed leaves him after all. but still he nods, his eyes locked onto his beloved’s face. no matter what he has to say, stede will face it.  &  his eyes are steady, though he cannot entirely stop his hand from curling tighter around edward’s when he begins to speak.       need to go away for awhile.  taking the queen anne.  ready for open sea again.  stede hears the important parts, but some of the words in between come a bit muffled through the sudden rush of blood in his ears, his heart pounding violently in his chest. stede feels his lip quiver. he can’t keep his promise ; he can’t face this.  &  his head drops, eyes falling to hide how saltwater wells in their corners. but there are other words, too.  done nothing wrong.  made me happy.  you still do.  &  stede clings to them as debris in a storm, repeats them to himself a few times, hoping they are enough to keep himself from breaking apart.                                        he has to choke back a soft whimper when edward takes his hands away, but they return quickly to cup his face instead. his fingers are strong yet gentle, thumb tracing over his cheek. it feels nice,  &  stede lets himself lean into the touch. just in case it’s taken away, he wants to remember this feeling.  but it’s the gentle way that edward says his name, calls him love  that finally calls him back, watery eyes fluttering open.  ❝ i’m —  i’m here. still here. ❞  they both are.  &  stede forces himself to draw a slow breath, one of his hands curling around ed’s wrist to steady himself before he responds.  ❝ so. i’m afraid i still need you to help me understand, my darling.  you’re leaving.  but ...  you’ll be coming back, right ? ❞  &  there is a pause, but only a brief one, before he adds, ❝ &  — why are you going ?  did you say ? ❞

🪐 — NANCY WHEELER​  for  sarah !

nancy   wheeler   has   a   way   of   getting   herself   in   trouble.   usually   she   isn’t   alone   to   deal   with   it.   she   thinks,   well   no,   feels   that   although   it’s   not   the   smartest   move   it   is   perhaps   the   most   empathetic   one.   sarah   fier   needs   help,   and   nancy   wheeler   can   provide   some   sort   of   help.   and   in   the   middle   of   helping   she   can   also   get   to   the   bottom   of   this.   it’s   basically   a   win,   win   situation.   she   just   has   to   be   careful   on   how   to   approach   this.   she,   after   all,   is   a   stranger   to   sarah.  “-well,   the   situation   is   much   more   complicated   than   you   might   think.”   she   starts.   looks   at   sarah   from   where   she   is   standing.   decides   then   to   sit   in   front   of   her.   levels   with   her.   “-and   if   you   aren’t   guilty   of   the   things   happening,   i   can   help   you   prove   that.   i   want   to   get   to   the   truth.”   it’s   never   fun,   doing   this.   but   if   she’s   not   doing   it   then   who   else   would?   

     IT’S HARD TO TRUST ANYONE  in hawkins, even on her best day.  &  today was definitely not her best day.  sarah had always been disliked by pretty much all of the so-called respectable people within the town limits after her mother had died  &  father had fallen off the wagon  &  right into the trailer park. since then, she’d been a beer baby. trailer trash. the resident weirdo. but whispers  &  snickers were one thing to contend with. now, it would be downright dangerous to show her face in public if she wanted to keep it in one piece. which was why she’d hidden, after, run as far  &  as fast as as she could until she disappeared into the trees, found a dark little grove of woods somewhere far from the trailer park  &  tried to will herself to disappear.                   of all the people who she anticipated might come looking for her  —  ill intentioned or otherwise  —  nancy wheeler was the absolute last on the list.  &  sarah feels a bit like a cornered prey animal at first, her eyes blown wide  &  her heart fluttering in her chest as she glances behind the other girl for any signs of reinforcements. but it’s only nancy, sitting there on the forest floor in her prim little sweater  &  skirt. it doesn’t make any sense, why she of all people would believe her  —  she didn’t do this, but she couldn’t explain it either — but if she does, she might also be sarah’s only hope.  ❝ i’m not, ❞  she says, her voice firm  &  certain in spite of the lingering fear.  ❝ guilty, i mean.  i didn’t — i didn’t hurt her.  i wouldn’t. ❞  the imagery is still fresh, the clean snap of the cheerleader’s jawbone replaying sickeningly in her ears without invitation.  &  sarah shudders, shaking her head back  &  forth rapidly as she tries to rid herself of the the horrible memory, the loose curls around her face wild from her long day in the woods.  it takes a moment for her to still herself, arms wrapping protectively around her torso, but after a few breaths her wide clear eyes land back on nancy, almost not daring to hope for her help.  ❝ you really think you can help me prove it ? ❞ 

the emerald ring that izzy always wears around the cravat at his throat was a family heirloom that belonged to his mother.  miriam was a kind  &  compassionate seamstress who married richard hands shortly after moving to london from her ancestral home near modern-day gaza.  as a child, izzy loved his mother very much  —  she is the only person who has ever touched him gently.  when she died of pneumonia when he was twelve years old, izzy kept her ring for himself.  for awhile, he wore it on his finger.  when he joined the navy he kept it safely hidden in his inside pocket.  only after he joined edward’s crew did he begin to wear it at his throat, always visible  &  yet holding his defensive outfit tightly closed.

whispering very softly into the night :  izzy is trans

                         WHEN THE SUN SETS , NO CANDLE CAN REPLACE IT.

                                independent & private LORAS TYRELL from                                A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE. book canon only.                                    21+ only. beloved by FRANKENSTEIN.                                                est 2014. c : @cavalierfou

🪐 — LUCIUS SPRIGGS​  for  izzy !

The sun was absolutely roasting them that morning. Stede had already made plans for them to dock the ship near shore so they could have a swim to cool off. Lucius of course would be taking the rowboat to shore with some of them because he wasn’t a swimmer. Still, it would be nice to take a dip as long as he could still touch, just to cool off. Yet there was work to do and Izzy seemed hell bent on them getting a bunch of stuff done before they made landfall.  

Lucius had already stripped of his red jacket early on. But after ‘swabbing’ a small section of the deck, and by that it meant pretending to look busy even if he was staying in one place mostly, he’d taken off his shirt as well. It was damn hot and he didn’t need to sweat through his clothing. The crew was taking another water break, passing around a cup and bucket to refill. Lucius took a few heavy gulps before passing it over to Frenchie with a wink after he’d spotted Izzy walking by.

“Oi, Iz?” He said with a bit of mocking familiarity, propping himself up gripping the handle of his mop. “You think you can cool it with all this? It’s like an oven aboard this ship right now. – I think the Swede has sun stroke.” He glanced the first mate over, leather clad as usual. “Do you ever take that off? I’m just saying, if you pass out we’re probably going to have to throw you overboard to cool you off,” he quipped with a little smirk and twist at the hips to look over the side of the ship. “Christ that sounds good right now though,” he mumbled, hand on his hip while he fanned himself, mop handle in the crook of his elbow.

     NO MATTER HOW HOT  the day became, izzy was determined to wear his leathers fully laced, as he always did. he was not the kind of man who would allow something as small as discomfort to sway his well established patterns, even in the midst of the thick stifling heat that had descended upon them in recent days. his only true respite came after dark had fallen, when he could disappear into the small closet that he had taken as his quarters  &  strip it all away to let his skin breathe at it. that was the only place aboard the revenge where he allowed himself to appear anything less than entirely covered, the only place that there were no eyes could catch glimpse of his vulnerable flesh.                             he would certainly not be caught baring himself so flagrantly on deck, as lucius did when he removed first his jacket, then undershirt as well.  &  he was not the only member of the crew who opted for less clothing while they worked, but there was something about the scribe in particular that drew izzy’s eye more than the rest, in spite of his best efforts. lucius’s large frame is all soft curves, not a single sharp edge to be found, yet his arms hint at a certain strength in spite of the piss-poor job they’re doing at swabbing the deck.  &  when he walks by to check on ivan at the helm  &  hears lucius call out to him, izzy turns sharply to face him.  though he does have to force his eyes to remain fixed upward on the taller man’s face, rather than lingering on his broad chest bared to the sun.           ❝ orders are orders, spriggs, ❞  he barks back, spine rigid.  ❝ you lot can have your little field trip after the deck’s been swabbed, the lantern oil refilled,  &  the mainsail patched,  &  not before. ❞  in truth, edward didn’t much care if the deck was swabbed, but then, his captain didn’t care about anything except for bonnet as of late.  &  someone had to see that the ship was taken care of in the meantime, until blackbeard returned to his senses. ❝ it seems to me that the only person whose wardrobe you need concern yourself with is yourself, as you seem to have lost half of your clothes already this morning. ❞