Jack Sparrow;

🪐 — jack sparrow ;

      Jack didn’t spend this much time in taverns across both civilised and non-civilised ports alike not to know when there was some sort of disturbance in the usual behaviour of the crowd, and certainly with every brief glance upwards from the logbook on his table, the source of whatever ruckus this was yet appeared to be getting ever closer to his table. He didn’t notice the cause at first, not until one quick survey of the room drew his eye to a sudden flash of white — and even then he was content to dismiss whatever he’d seen as a trick of the light. It was unfortunate, then, that the next time he glanced up that so-called trick of the light had become a fully fledged, peculiarly dressed human-looking man, scrambling through the throng of patrons towards his table with a look of what could only be described as astonishment, as if he had suddenly become the most interesting person in the room. Jack could concede that in this moment right here, he was not. “ I… would happen to be, yes. ” Mouth open, Jack blinked a few times, before dragging his gaze slowly across the bloke’s entire visage, just to be sure. Nothing changed. He was still standing there. Dressed in that. “ But… I do not recall accruing any significant tailoring debts and, even if I did, those debts are, ” he made a show of poking his thumb through a hole in his shirt sleeve, “ not mine. ”

              THE GLEE STEDE FEELS  when his suspicions of the man’s identity are confirmed spreads across his face with no attempt made to stifle it. he breaks into a grin, his hands even clapping once together in delight. it wasn’t every day that one got to meet a pirate of such legend, after all  —  &  entirely by chance no less !  truly, this was his lucky day. but the next words confuse him, stede’s brow furrowing in bewilderment.  ❝ tailoring debts ? ❞  he repeats, eyeing the tatty edges of jack’s sleeves. even so, it takes him another moment to understand. but when he does, stede releases a chuckle, his hands smoothing the lapels of his elegant brocade overcoat.  ❝ oh no, my good captain. i’m no tailor — though i shall happily take your guess as a compliment. ❞  &  though jack didn’t seem to have any malice in his tone  — more abject astonishment  —  stede is still reminded once again that he stands out among these kinds of men. but he refuses to allow the thought to take hold of him, drawing himself up until his spine is straight  &  his jaw is set before he speaks again. ❝ i’m actually a pirate very much like yourself  — though i haven’t yet got half as many adventures under my belt as you do. ❞ his smile comes more gradually than before,  &  the lace trim of his sleeve flutters as he places his hand on the back of the chair opposite of jack’s seat in a clear request. to seat himself at a table without permission would be horribly impolite,  &  stede was still a gentleman, in spite of everything. ❝ in fact, i had wondered if you might be willing to recount some of your most daring tales for me ?  i should very much like to hear about your travels from a primary source, as it were. ❞ a moment’s pause, stede patient as he waits to see if jack will acquiesce to his presence. ❝  &  i’ll gladly see to it that you don’t go thirsty while you’re speaking, of course. ❞

“I love you despite you, despite myself, despite the entire world, despite God, despite the Devil, who also has a hand in this. I love you, I love you, I love you. Whether I’m happy or unhappy, gay or sad, I love you. I love you, do with me what you will.”

— Juliette Drouet, from a letter to Victor Hugo written c. February 1833

🪐 —open prompt  sent by  @starfrckled​​  ( edward teach )                    ❛   i  just  want  myself  back .  ❜

          A SOUL IN TURMOIL  bringing themselves to tia dalma’s door searching for help or healing was no rare sight. the humans never changed; always distraught over some slight, always concerned only with easing their own pain. self-centered to a fault. but then, she could understand the need to do seek any means necessary to ease ache of a broken heart.  &  no matter how he tried to hide his wound, the truth was obvious to one familiar with the signs. especially when he asked her of davy jones,  &  the part of the legend where he had plunged a knife into his own chest to stop the pain.                        ❝ well then, you will have to know who it is that you are. ❞  her eyes catch him in their gaze  &  holds him there. &  the goddess leans forward in her seat, elbows on the table  &  hands clasped together tightly. the candles around her hut all flicker at once, sending shadows dancing ominously across her face. there is no trace of a warmth or humor in her tone when she speaks. ❝ so, are you the kind of man who would rather be without a heart at all, edward teach ? ❞  the syllables of his name are drawn out, exaggerated, ending in a flash of dirty teeth that is closer to bared fangs than anything resembling a smile.

i am insane <3 PRINTS

🪐 — edward teach​ ;

it still disorients him a little to have such an unyielding presence at his side.   someone he can trust to watch his back without fear of being thrown to the sharks for a coin or two.  there had never been someone like that in his life before,  and yet he found him while bound and bleeding on a british vessel,  headed for the gallows  —  life is funny like that sometimes,  he supposes.  edward hadn’t hesitated then,  back on his ship,  once the haze of pain released him enough to let him be conscious for more than a few minutes at a time:  izzy was to be made part of the crew from the get go,  and no one had better dare raise a single protest on the matter.  then harris died not long after that and the choice to replace his first mate had been so damn easy,  as easy as breathing.  who else other than the man who had freed him from the english and abandoned his post to follow him?  israel hands,  former british navy officer turned pirate,  now acting as his first mate.  

both the memory and izzy’s words bring a smile to his lips,  but edward is a little distracted  —  fingers tapping idly against his knee,  thoughts racing away from the recent event.   ❛  what?  uh,  yeah.  sure.  ❜   he seems to be miles away.  he agrees that they need to tell the men it had been their captain to kill the fellow,  but distantly,  like his ears are full of water.  an idea,  half formed and so sudden his head nearly spins with it:  they need something to mark their first raid together by.  and they need it now.   ❛  actually,  yes.  i need you to come with me quick.  ❜   grinning widely,  edward springs to his feet and reaches out to wrap a hand around his first mate’s wrist,  feeling half mad with anticipation as he heads towards his cabin.

( … )

❛  stay still for me,  mh?  captain’s orders.  ❜   he is holding a big needle close to his face,  after all,  grin replaced by a rather serious expression as he makes some experimental moves with his wrist,  still well above the skin.  edward straightens his back again,  balancing his weight on the mattress while his knees are positioned on either side of izzy’s hips,  effectively pinning him between himself and the bed.   ❛  this your first tattoo,  mr hands?  ❜

         I NEED YOU  edward says, grin dazzling as strong fingers curl around his wrist,  &  izzy’s world goes hazy. all doubts vanish from his mind as he follows edward into his cabin, a little flip in his stomach. there’s a chaotic energy to his captain that he only gets when his blood is up, adrenaline still buzzing through his body.  &  izzy revels in it, drinks in every moment. he always does as edward tells him without complaint or question, but at the order to get on the bed  &  lie back, his head spins. he almost passes out, but still he scrambles to comply, graceless as he stretches himself out on his back.  &  then a moment later edward is straddling his hips, tools clattering beside them,  &  izzy stops breathing.                                                                   whether he’s in heaven or hell, he can’t say. izzy has survived this long only by keeping a vice-tight control on his both body  &  his mind, but edward’s heat  &  weight pressing him flat back against the bed threatens to shatter his resolve to pieces. but he says stay still  &  izzy complies instantly, his thoughts going foggy  &  his body calming unconsciously under the commanding tone. the needle is large  &  menacing, ink welling darkly at its tip,  &  izzy can see that he means to place his mark just below his eye, just where the tears would fall if he ever were to let them.                               this will hurt, he knows,  &  the pain is a promise. to wear edward’s mark so plainly for all to see was a gift,  &  he would accept it as such. he will not flinch; he will make his captain proud.  izzy steels himself, swallowing around the thick lump in his throat. &  his hands need to take ahold of something, so they fist in the sheets below him, gripping tight enough for his knuckles to go white. ❝ yes, captain, ❞ he breathes, his voice hoarse  &  scarcely above a whisper.  ❝ my first. ❞  &  god is he grateful that edward is the first man who’s gotten beneath his skin; hopes he is the only one who ever does.  ❝ thank you. ❞

🪐 — james barnes​ ;

her touch comes as if he is delicate, contains a delicate nature that he has learnt not to expect, a difference to every other touch he remembers. there’s a soft, bashful nature to the way he smiles, gaze wandering down to watch where her fingertips lie, gentle and unblemished when he can only see his own in shades of red. a better man might draw away, might not let her be tinged with the darkness he knows still resides within his chest, but he’s developed a need to hear her laughter, to let it wash away the remnants of sins that still live in his bones.       ❛  it’s not quite that simple. a nice thought though.  ❜

       FROWNS DO NOT COME EASILY  to her face,  the muscles moving slowly to take on the unfamiliar position of her brow furrowed  &  her lips downturned. james often had an air of melancholy about him that even her sunlight disposition could not always shake him from.  &  suddenly birdie feels that it would be selfish to even try. perhaps she is asking too much of him. perhaps she is only making it harder.  &  the last thing she wants is to cause him any more pain  — james has been through quite enough already. ❝ well, i’ll tell you what is simple; ❞  she says, one hand carefully interlacing her grip with his while her other extends a bit higher. her fingertips are soft when they touch his jaw, softly lifting  &  turning his face until she can look at him directly, her eyes alight  &  hopeful when they link with his.  ❝ when you come back, ❞ birdie refuses to say the word if aloud.  ❝ just know that i’ll be here waiting for you. ❞