WHEN EDWARD SMILES, He Looks Like The Man Hed Been When Izzy First Met Him. The Silver Streaking His

    WHEN EDWARD SMILES,  he looks like the man he’d been when izzy first met him.  the silver streaking his hair  &  the creases that form when his lips curl make no difference ; he still has that same glint in his eyes that refuses to go out.  & regardless of all that has happened since then  — &  everything he might have said to the contrary — izzy did not regret his decision.  he would choose to save edward again, every time, no matter what the consequences might be.  &  when he playfully jostles their hands ( the idea that he might not talking about stede leaving him breathless ), izzy can only hope that ed knows how he feels.

          but in spite of all they've discussed recently, all the agreements they have come to in hopes of moving forward together, there is still a lingering sensation of guilt.  in the quiet moment where they sit with their fingers entwined, izzy hears the memory of his own voice returning to haunt him.  &  even when edward dismisses him from his post, izzy doesn't move, eyes downcast  &  shadowed.  hoping that he knows is no longer good enough ;  edward deserves to hear the truth.

        ❝ ed — ❞  he starts, voice soft  &  low.   ❝ you know, when i … when i said that i should've let the english — ❞  he breaks off.  he can't even bring himself to say it a second time, even now. &  after a beat he gives up  &  moves on.  ❝ i never should have said that. i'm sorry. ❞  &  slowly, as though it's a real challenge, izzy drags his eyes up from where their hands are still curled tightly together  &  back to ed's face.  ❝ i didn't mean it. you know that, right ? i didn't mean it. ❞

his gaze doesn't drop,   it holds fast to izzy's face,  nearly unblinking.  for years,  for two whole decades   (  un-fucking-believable!   ),  edward had looked at his first mate without really seeing the whole of him,  the answer that was nestled right there,  between unflinching devotion and fierce protection.  edward had suspected,  at the very least,  yet in the end failed to connect two very important dots:  this is not something he had clearly seen before,  on the deck of a ship or in more or less clean taverns,  a passing fancy.  this is a larger than life feeling,  almost,  and edward has finally learned to feel comfortable enough in his own skin to not bolt away from it in terror.  nah,  he runs towards it and doesn't let go.

he smiles a bit to himself,  then,  but it gets comically dispelled by izzy's words.  he opens his mouth in protest   (   you little—   ),  in fact,  only to begrudgingly close it shut on the basis that izzy hands is,  unquestionably,  right.  as he often is.   '  yeah,  alright.  stayed out of trouble this time,  though,  didn't I?  '   his smile returns,  shifting into a grin with no small amount of mirth to it.   '  knew there was someone important waitin' for me here.  '   he gives their still joined hands a little shake,  as if to say yeah it's you,  feeling absolutely mad with giddiness under the moonlight and loving every second of it.  which is why it takes him a couple more minutes to actually get to what got him climbing up to the nest in the first place.   '  hey,  you should get some rest.  i'll take the watch.  '

Olivia Gatwood, from Life of the party

IZZY ALWAYS HAS A PLAN,  &  tonight is no different.  as he descends silently belowdeck  &  makes for the brig, the only step left to execute is don't get caught.  he didn't know exactly what would happen to him if his majesty's finest apprehended him in an attempt to free a pirate they had taken prisoner.  but after the brutality he had witnessed them inflict upon the beautiful young man they had captured by chance, izzy had not been able to stop himself from taking the risk.  it had been all he could think about then — when he'd screamed, when he'd doubled over, when the soldiers had laughed  &  taunted him  —  how to get the man off this ship before they could harm him again.  &   izzy is quite sure that he can do it, but he has to act quickly.  so with a stolen key  &  no hesitation, he opens the cell  &  steps inside.

an injured predator can be dangerous,  &  izzy remembers well how quickly the man had thrown himself at the leutienant when he’d attacked his mother's heritage.  but while there is a sword at his belt, izzy makes no move for the blade.  it is not meant for this man.  instead, his hands extend, palms up to show that he means no harm. ❝ no tricks.  i swear it.  on my mother.  ❞  his tone softens when he speaks of her, as it always does.

the dim light in the brig makes it hard to assess the scale of the man’s injuries.  but he had heard the crack of the rifle against the bone himself,  &  he can imagine the pain must be immense.  izzy can help him up the stairs  &  across the deck, but the plan will fall to pieces if he can't hold himself upright enough to row.  ❝ listen, i have a tender rigged  &  waiting for you.  i’m on deck watch tonight, so no one will see you leave.  i can help you get up the stairs  &  into the boat,  &  you should be able to put enough distance between yourself  &  this vessel before daylight if you row hard  &   travel with the current.  but you have to go now. ❞  &  then he extends his right hand, a clear offering of help.  ❝ it's ok.  you can trust me. ❞

he must have lost consciousness,   between a rifle smashing against his knee and officers dragging him carelessly to the brig of one of his majesty's damn ships.  at the very least they weren't laughing on their way down,  nobody was:  the agony rippling through his bones had triggered the worst of his temper like a dynamite fuse being lit.  even bound and with nausea threatening to empty his stomach right there on deck,  edward had scratched,  bitten,  and attempted to throttle at least one blue coated bastard   (   no such luck,  the fellow's still breathing   ).  the whip he could have endured,  he's tasted it a few times on hornigold's ship,  the sneers too   (   boring,  unoriginal,  the same old drivel that could have been directed at any pirate   ),  but then it had gotten personal.  then they thought it would have been funny to tell him that a cage is the only fit place for someone like him.  and his mother both.  to make it absolutely clear it wasn't about pirates anymore.

the sound of a door closing causes his head to snap up from the floor,  where he was laying curled around his knee,  and agony jolts through him anew as he scrambles to sit with his back to the wall.  vision blurs and then doubles,  but @musecraft 's voice makes it above the ringing in his ears enough to be heard:  hey, how badly are you hurt? can you move? you think you can walk?

'  fuck —  '   the first thing out of his lips is a pained gasp,  followed by a few shaking breaths.  he almost wishes the man would bludgeon him in the head and return him to blissful darkness.   '  stay away from me.  '   he manages to hiss a weak warning,  finally.  but even with pain clenching his jaw leeching his face of color,  he doesn't remember this one being among the laughing bastards above deck.  edward has learned to analyze a dangerous situation quickly and he's sure of it,  as much as he is sure that his knee is utterly fucked.  brows furrow then,  and he blinks in a desperate attempt to clear that awful fog from his eyes.   '  are you trying to fucking trick me?  '

      ❝ I NEVER SAID i don't love you. ❞ the baron should know by now exactly how carlisle feels for him, & so his anger does not dissipate with the obvious ploy for pity. if anything, it only runs hotter. ❝ it's like you don't even listen to me when i speak. i may as well discuss moral philosophy with a brick wall. you think you know everything one could possibly ever know already & that no one could possibly have a valid argument if it's from a viewpoint you don't want to consider. it's infuriating. you infuriate me. ❞ & yet, when he considers taking the suggestion & leaving, the idea is repellant to him. something nameless keeps carlisle here, an unseen tether compelling him to continue arguing with this man who he knows will never agree with him. for yet another long night just seems more bearable if they are together — even if they find themselves once again at each other's throats.

100  —  the chain  by  fleetwood mac - from @musecraft​ (carlisle) for baron

“ Go back to hiding in the shadows with your rats. Damn your lies. If you don’t love me now you have never loved me.”

BLACK LADIES IN FANTASY

naomie harris as tia dalma/calypso in pirates of the caribbean: dead man’s chest (2006) & pirates of the caribbean: at world’s end (2007)

i saw a post awhile back that talked about how as you become a better writer, you also become more able to recognize ' flaws ' in writing — including your own. so it can actually become harder for you to actually write, because you're so critical of what you're putting down that you stifle your creativity before it even has a chance to get up on its feet. so while you're technically a better writer than you were before, you're actually writing a lot less because you're fighting against your own inner critic the whole time. & i think that's a big thing for me lately, tbh. at the risk of sounding cocky, i'm a good writer, & i know i can write some really readable yet evocative scenes. but the flip side to that is that because i know i can write incredible things, that means that i don't want to post ' average ' things. so i get really in my head about making sure what i put down is ' good enough. ' but the only standard for ' good enough ' is also only in my head. & i just become my own worst enemy because i feel i could always do ' better. ' & like, when i think back to me when i was first playing around with fiction writing over a decade ago, like, yeah her stuff was pretty predictable & relied on a lot of tired cliche's but you know what, she was learning & having fun ! & sometimes that's more important than making sure your writing is technically flawless, you know ? so consider this a reminder to me, but also to you, oh dear rp writer who is often too critical of your own work : this is tumblr rp. you're not going to win a pulitzer for anything you do here. literally the only goal in writing here on this site is to have fun. so don't take it too seriously that it stops being fun.