Indie, Private, Selective Multimusededicated To Women And Nonbinary Characters. Loved By Honey ( 28,

indie, private, selective multimuse dedicated to women and nonbinary characters. loved by honey ( 28, they/them, pst. ) credit.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY STEDE BONNET YOU ABSOLUTE LEO ICON !  🎉🦁🏴‍☠️

black sails meme: [5/7 scenes] any man stood a chance against him is dead. if we don’t try something they ain’t expecting, then we’re all fucking dead.  if any of the men who stood a chance to beat him are dead, then what do you suggest?  “any man.”

OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH

izzy + looking at people’s lips

ROTTEDOLL:            a highly private + selective fandomless original character narrated by blossom. plotting heavy with low activity.

🪐 — 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.