Edward Teach ;

🪐 — 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. ❞

“(..) psychologists say that shame ruins your capacity for reverie by making cracks in the mind where it is dangerous for thought to wander.”

— Anne Carson, Float; “Shame stack”

🪐 — plotted starter  for  @izzyhnds​

      THE REVENGE  SEEMED LIKE A DIFFERENT VESSEL  without edward aboard. stede had fought so hard to return to his ship, expecting to find him there waiting. but instead there had only been a disgruntled izzy hands  &  a sharp sword at his throat. it had been the crew that had saved him this time, demanding a vote for the captaincy. edward’s orders had dictated that izzy be left in charge, but edward hadn’t been seen in weeks.  &  with stede returned, the crew had made their preference clear.                                                                    &  so stede was captain again. but without edward there with him, it was a hollow victory.  &  his sense of unease only grew sharper when izzy stalked away after the vote, visibly fuming. stede didn’t fancy having to worry about a blade at his back every time he turned around,  &  if izzy was going to be part of the crew  — at least while they searched for edward  —  then they would have to talk it through sooner or later.                                     still, talking to izzy hands was a less than appetizing thought. he still hadn’t forgotten the man’s sword plunging into his gut, or the way he had tried to convince edward this was really for the best while the british soldiers loaded their rifles. but edward had asked him to stay with the revenge  &  look after her while he was away doing whatever it was he had to do alone, so clearly he still trusted izzy. certainly he would have his reasons.  &  while stede could not say that the feeling was mutual, he also knew that he was the last person who could judge another for betraying edward’s trust.                 so he made his way down from the deck after the other man, finding his way to the small forgotten space that izzy had taken as his sleeping quarters aboard the ship. ❝ first mate hands ? ❞  he calls, rapping on the door with his knuckles. but stede does not wait for permission before swinging the door open  —  he is the captain,  &  he does not need permission to enter any space aboard his own ship. but the sight awaiting him when he swings the door opens is a surprise: izzy is packing his belongings into a rucksack, as if preparing to vacate his space. ❝ what exactly is it that you think you doing ? ❞  stede asks, standing bodily in the door so that izzy cannot easily slip past him  &  flee.

Val and Mel by Gianna Ragagnin

Anya Taylor-Joy » Saturday Night Live 46x20

🪐 — lucius spriggs​ ;

lucius notices two things.   first,  this is the most he has ever heard izzy speak,  to him or otherwise.  second,  the man hasn’t yelled nastily at him yet  —  but he probably shouldn’t count on his luck to last him too much there.  and well,  for his part lucius rolls his eyes only once,  because he was expecting something along these lines and it’s nothing new to him at all.  there’s plenty of men like izzy out there,  locked in a cage of their own making,  furious at those who are outside of it.  it’s maddening,  honestly.  he doesn’t understand why anyone would want to live like that. 

❛  god,  no wonder you are so—  ❜   lucius would say miserable,  but it turns out he still has some self preservation left.   ❛  angry all the time.  ❜   he lets it out in a breathy little whisper,  pulling at the sleeves of his shirt a bit.  this is the point where he should get up and make himself scarce before izzy comes back to his senses and threatens to make him work or else,  but he has one more thing to say and he is not going to leave here before he does so.  self preservation be damned. ❛  whoever convinced you of that is a real dick.  ❜  

            HE REGRETS HIS HONESTY ALMOST INSTANTLY,  the sensation of vulnerability as uncomfortable as it is unfamiliar. the fear response hits him hard, heartbeat racing as he braces himself for laughter, taunts, sharp barbed quips that catch on his skin. he’s expecting for the weak spot to be exploited the moment it’s revealed,  &  his gloved hand nearly goes to the hilt of his sword out of instinct. but instead of judgement, there is something almost akin to understanding in lucius’s tone, though it’s well cloaked beneath exasperation. &  izzy thinks that will be the end of it, prepares to walk away  &  pretend the conversation had never happened.                                                      but the boy’s next words catch him by surprise, leaving izzy breathless. his eyes go wide as he turns them back on lucius, searching his face for any sign that this is some meanspirited joke. but he finds none there. the scribe is looking him with something almost akin to sorrow on his face. but no, it’s worse than that: pity.  &  he folds in on himself all at once, his high cheekbones flushed with embarrassment. ❝ you just don’t understand, ❞ izzy insists, shaking his head  &  looking away. how could he explain that it hadn’t been just one person that had convinced him of the reality of his lot in life, but rather the world at large, that it had been beaten into him with repeated lessons, each more harsh than the last ?  he would never find the words, no matter how long he searched. so he swallows the pieces, lets them slice through him on their way down his throat, hoping they won’t come up again.  ❝ get back to fuckin’ work, spriggs. ❞