LUCIUS SPRIGGS For Izzy :

🪐 — LUCIUS SPRIGGS  for  izzy :

breath gets stuck in his throat halfway out,   while his brain struggles to comprehend that this is something that’s actually happening.  this meaning getting kissed by none other than izzy hands,  which effectively shuts him up for once.  even rarer,  lucius is also keeping utterly still,  not moving a single muscle of his body  —  it’s not the resisting kind of tension,  however,  it’s just the what the hell do i do kind of it.  because izzy is more complicated than most men he has ever kissed  (   he easily takes the first spot at that   ),  as hard to predict as the weather when it gets all shifty and crazy,  and lucius doesn’t know whether he should do something with his hands or not,  if it’s safe to put them anywhere at all on the other man or if he should just keep them off.  he doesn’t risk it,  in the end,  not with how izzy reacted last time he had touched him.  arms stay down his sides,  then,  as lucius allows the pirate access to his mouth. 

the kiss itself is a bit rough,  beard scraping against skin,  yet lucius doesn’t exactly mind it.  well,  it’s a step up from angry snarls and furious retreats,  at the very least, better than seeing izzy stump on what he wants before he can dare let himself have it.   ❛  okay.  wasn’t expecting that,  like at all.  but i didn’t hate it.  ❜   lips even curl up in something that’s half grimace-half smile,  faint and a bit tentative, bordering on shy. which lucius surely isn’t, especially when kissing is involved. so that means he is nervous, of course he is, he has every and one reasons to be: because lucius hasn’t forgotten the man’s scathing words,  he is in fact well aware of how quickly it all could go spectacularly wrong.  and because this might be a step forward in the general direction of progress,  sure, but it hardly could be considered a miracle.  ❛  let me guess. you’re going to tell me to get lost now? ❜ it comes out maybe a little sharper than intended, but not by much.

     HE DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO DO THIS,  how it’s supposed to work.  the only man he’s ever touched, who’s ever touched him, is edward.  &  that had been so different that it scarcely feels fair to compare the two.  after all, they had not kissed, not like this.  &  lucius is stiff, but he also lets his mouth open slightly, actually lets izzy kiss him.  &  the first mate feels himself flush,  a low simmering heat moving across his skin beneath layers  &  layers of black leather.  he wears it laced to the top, not a whisper of skin exposed below his throat.  &  there is a reason for it, the barrier keeping hands away from his flesh intentionally.  izzy does not like to be touched.  less than a fortnight ago, he had threatened to remove the poor boy’s hand for the crime of laying it on him with a semblance of gentleness.  &  yet, as he kisses him, rough but hesitant, izzy finds himself wishing for gentle hands on him, for lucius to want to reach for him  &  actually be able to find his skin when he does.                                 it’s a mad desire, one that leaves his head spinning,  &  he’s almost grateful that lucius breaks away a moment later so that he can catch his breath.  izzy is left panting, eyes dark  &  wide when they flutter open  &  look up at the taller man’s face, shocked to see that he’s almost smiling.  i didn’t hate it,  lucius says,  &  izzy has to choke down a wild laugh, hoping to pass it off for something more akin to a scoff.  but then the next words have izzy flushing even redder.  shame is a familiar emotion, one that he has had seared into his skin both literally  &  figuratively.  he knows its sickening nausea, its trills of fear up his spine.  but this time it’s different, colored with a different shade of guilt.  it’s not the act of kissing lucius that he feels shame for  —  that had felt entirely good, warm in a way he had never experienced before.  what does make him lower his eyes, hands softening their grip on lucius’s shirt to lay flat against his chest instead, is how he had treated him before now.                  &  the thought makes him feel a little ill.  izzy almost steps away to flee, almost shows lucius that he’s right about him.  but he wants more than anything to prove him wrong.  ❝ no.  that’s not —  i want  — ❞   he wants lucius, wants to be greedy  &  ask for both his lips  &  his hands.  yet the words still stick in his throat.  izzy knows that he doesn’t deserve the things he really wants, not after the way he’s behaved.  but he’s had a taste,  &  now he’s greedy for more.  though he still can’t manage to look lucius in the eye while he speaks, his gaze instead glued to his fingertips where they lie resting against the other man’s chest, his voice is steady despite it’s uncharacteristically soft tone.  ❝ i want... to do that again.  i —  i liked it. ❞  &  it still feels strange to admit it aloud, but the next words fall from his lips before he can even consider stopping them.  ❝ &  i want you to put your hands on me, too, this time.  if ... if you wouldn’t mind it, that is. ❞

🪐 — EDWARD TEACH  for  stede !

breath stutters on its way in,   a quiet yet audible hitch.  a sound just like the one stede compelled out of him on a moonlit night,  what feels like ages ago now  —  edward had almost kissed him that night,  eyes glued to his every movement,  everything in him pulled tight,  leaving him open and tender in a way that both terrified and thrilled him.  he feels the same pull now,  wants to taste that promise on stede’s lips and swallow the sweet bite of it until his insides are lighted up from within,  still edward keeps well enough away from his mouth,  content with just taking hold of his hand,  for now.  he is not quite ready for it,  is all,  to leave himself open like that again so soon.  this  —  their fingers interlocked,  the ghost of stede’s lips on his skin through the gloves —  is good.  is enough.  it has to be,  because edward can give nothing more,  not right now.  but the way he doesn’t pull away says what he can’t through words:  wait for me.  i’m not ready, but i will be.

bars of sunlight announcing the nearing dawn find them like this:  their hands still twined,  the floor as a makeshift bed that can’t be too kind on age weathered joints.  light begins to shine on a new day,  a new beginning and words he thought forgotten rise to memory unsolicited.  what if it’s not a death.  what if life just begins again.  and suddenly edward can’t bring himself to look at stede anymore,  a sick feeling in his chest reminding him how he hardly deserves to.  it’s with eyes cast towards the door that he next speaks,  hands retrieved against his side.   ❛  i’ll take the nest.  ❜   though with how spartan he’s left the captain’s quarters it barely feels like kindness.  edward has been sleeping up there more often than not,  anyway.  he rises to a seated position,  moving slowly through a spreading ache to his knee that he certainly doesn’t wish to alert stede to,  making no move to get up yet.  he tries to stall,  then,  attempting to fix whatever mess of tears and kohl currently adorning his face,  rubbing at the skin with next to no result.  with his attempt obviously failed,  he finally accepts defeat, lowering his voice to a near whisper.   ❛  can you uh..  get it off my face,  maybe?  ❜   he wants the war paint gone for good.  it always felt too thick on his skin anyway,  as uncomfortable as sun dried leather and edward can’t stand to bear it a moment longer.  he has withstood every bit of discomfort in these past weeks,  tight lipped,  refusing even the smallest chance of reprieve from it,  so this request is no small matter at all.  it stands as a clear sign that the ice he has ensconced himself in is slowly thawing under the sunlight. 

       HIS EYES BARELY SO MUCH AS FLUTTER CLOSED  all night.  tired though he is, stede finds it impossible to look away from edward for so much as a moment.  the wooden floor is harsh  &  unyielding, the furthest thing from a featherbed, but he cannot find it within himself to complain about a thing  —  not when edward permits their fingers to remain interlaced.  the leather between their skin a small price to pay for his mistakes. simply to be allowed to hold him this way is a mercy that stede did not know if he would be given again.  yet he does not utter a single word in protest when edward stirs  &  withdraws his hand at last.  stede knows that they cannot stay like this forever; the crew will likely all be waiting to see what state they two are in when they emerge.  &  while nothing is entirely fixed,  early morning light is slowly beginning to chase the shadows away from the corners of the room.                                           stede almost wants to argue when ed mentions leaving the room to sleep in the nest, to insist that he stay in the captain’s quarters with the proper bed.  but there’s an element of resolve in his tone that makes stede remain silent.  perhaps it would be best to let edward set the rules for now.  &  when he uses gloved hands to attempt to remove the streaks of dark makeup from his face, stede is desperate to help.  &  when the request does come after a moment, it raises a gentle smile on stede’s face.  ❝ of course.  wait here a moment, i’m just going to fetch some water. ❞  his limbs crack as he pushes himself to his feet,  but stede ignores the protests of his aging body, crossing to the washroom in all haste.  luckily, there is still freshwater in the vanity pitcher that doesn’t look as though it’s been soiled,  &  he grasps the handle in one hand  &  the small block of floral soap that sits beside it in the other, carrying both back to the main chamber.  yet as he crosses the room, a glint of silver catches his eye,  &  stede bends to pick edward’s knife up from where it had fallen to the floor,  soap  &  blade balancing precariously in his fingers.              with grip full, he kneels again before the other man.  in the growing daylight, edward looks even more exhausted, his cheeks hollow  &  streaked with tear tracks.  but he is still beautiful,  &  still himself, even now.  stede lets himself look for only a moment before his attention shifts to the task at hand.  first he draws the blade, slicing a long strip from the bottom of his shirt without a second thought.  one end of the linen is dipped into the pitcher  &  squeezed out until it is no longer dripping,  &  stede rubs a little of the soap into the damp cloth.  &  then his his eyes return on edward’s face for a moment, nothing but adoration in his gaze.  ❝ hold still now, ed, we’ll have you back in no time, ❞  he murmurs.  &  then both hands slowly rise, the one that isn’t holding the cloth brushing a lock of unkempt hair back behind edward’s ear to make room for his other.  &  with that one, stede presses the lavender scented linen gently to his cheekbone  &  slowly moves back over his skin, wiping the kohl away to reveal the man he loves is still there beneath.

OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH

izzy + looking at people’s lips

🪐 — EDWARD TEACH  for  izzy !

❛  thought you’d be up here.  ❜   he finds izzy in the crow’s nest,  high above deck.  edward is not as fast or graceful as he used to be  (   or young,  for that matter   ),  but he settles beside him just the same.  for a while he just breathes,  slow,  unhurried,  gaze lost to the clouds blanketing the moon from proper view,  simply enjoying the chance to be doing this.  edward feels calmer than he has in months  —  years,  if he has to be honest  —  with izzy at his side and the certainty that he is not going anywhere bestowed upon him like a blessing,  so when he turns and settles a hand just below izzy’s knee the rush of sorrow spearing through his heart is dimmer than it had been a few days ago.  

edward had come back safe and sound from his lone venture like he said he would,  and they had talked,  probably for longer than they ever had.  honesty poured out of each of them in turn,  some hard to hear,  but very much needed.  let’s stop hurting each other,  yeah?  we’ve done enough of that  and  fuck off,  izzy.  twenty years and not a word of this?  he had said that chasing away tears with a startled laugh,  a breath distance away from izzy’s mouth.  which he had kissed soundly,  moments later. 

still,  words now crawl up his throat feeling like pieces of broken glass.   ❛  does it still hurt?  ❜   guilt laden grimace casts the edges of his mouth downwards,  but it’s an important question  (   even if it’s coming in a bit late   )  and edward wants izzy to answer him truthfully.   his hand stays well enough away from his maimed foot,  though it sneaks gently down to his clothed calf,  finally coming to a stop there.

    IT’S A CHALLENGE TO GET UP HERE,  even if you’re uninjured, even if you’re young.  izzy is neither any longer.  but it’s why he knows he likely won’t be disturbed.  &  here, there’s no chance of him running into one of the ship’s many pairs of happy lovers sharing an intimate moment beneath the moonlight.                                  he’s still trying to wrap his head around everything, old dogs  &  new tricks.  edward loves stede, but he loves izzy, too.  &  they have promised each other that things can be different between them.  that they won’t hurt each other any more.  &  even lucius may say that it really is fine with black pete all that had happened between he  &  izzy  — that there was no bad blood between them all, no matter what izzy wanted moving forward.  but regardless of what anyone says, or how kind  &  welcoming they all are, it often just feels that he simply doesn’t fit down there.  no, izzy belongs up here.  sometimes, he fancies himself a black-clad crow, safe  &  solitary in its nest.        but when he feels the rope ladder shift long after bonnet’s absurd bedtime story had fallen into silence, izzy is surprised to see ed climbing toward him. he’s usually retired to the captain’s quarters with bonnet by now, but there he is, pulling himself slow but sure into the nest to sit beside his first mate.  he’s silent for a long moment, but when he speaks, edward’s hand falls onto izzy’s leg.   &  there are at least two layers of black fabric separating their skin, but still he shudders at the point of contact. has to stop himself from leaning into the touch.  &  the wings of the bird tattoo on his throat shifts when he draws a shaky breath. he’s no crow,  &  he cannot pretend to be  —  no, izzy is a swallow,  &  swallows mate for life.                       even still, he has to bite back a lie.  blackbeard would have rewarded him for shrugging it off  &  going about his work while denying the pain.  ut blackbeard is dead,  &  things are meant to be different between he  &  edward now.  &  lucius is forver making him say what he wants, tell the truth. so izzy knows by now how to swallow around the old lump of fear in his throat at  &  unlock his jaw, voice even more hoarse than usual after hours of disuse.  ❝ it hurts, ❞  he admits, tone low as he looks out over the glittering sea.   ❝ but i’ve had worse. it’s only really bad when i stand on it for too long. ❞  &  slowly izzy drags his eyes back to his captain’s face, the moonlight catching in his long hair, gleaming even brighter now than it did in his youth thanks to the streaks of silver that runs through it now.  ❝ &  you, capt  —  ed ?  your knee must be doing fine, for you to climb the ladder like that. ❞

hello hi , just wandering by to remind you that you are a real delight, the cats pjs. i am so happy you are back around and that i get to bear witness to your remarkable amounts of talent. you are the sweetest and most amazing person i have met and i cannot believe you have put up with me for this long. i adore you and will continue to do so forever <3 pls adopt me ilu <3

kenna, i needed this today, you are like a magic wizard of love or something, you always know when i need a lil gas in the tank & just appear to top me off. you simply reuse to let me feel anything less than dearly beloved. i hope you know how grateful i am to you for existing & for literally always being so kind & lovely & supportive, not just to me but to so many people, i honestly don't know how you do it. i hope you know that you are like a light in my life that never goes out, & that i will treasure you to the ends of the earth. i hope you know that the privilege of putting up with you has been one of the greatest gifts that tumblr rp has given me, & that i will put up with you forever without a single complaint. &, respectfully, no, i am not going to adopt you i am going to marry you — our partners can come too it's fine it doesn't have to be a whole thing — & we are all going to live happily ever after & sail off into the sunset on our fleet of soft ships together until the end of our days.

🪐 — EDWARD TEAGUE​   for  calypso !

     “ They think that any culture or state that diverges is degenerate. That we are degenerate, until we speak, dress, act, and worship just like them. ”

    HER LAUGHTER CRACKS, a lightning strike that seems to reverberate through the strange objects in the small cluttered room. the humans all thought themselves so smart, so uniquely able to see the so-called big picture. she almost pitied them  — the blind fools had no idea how small their minds truly were.  ❝ &  how do you prove to yourself that you are above their rules then ?  by creating a book of your own  &  dedicating your entire life to upholding it ? ❞  the laughter comes again, but softer this time, tia dalma’s hand flicking at the empty air near her ear as though at some invisible annoyance.  ❝ have caution, teague, or you may find yourself becoming the very men you claim to hate so. ❞