Blackflcgs - Tumblr Posts
@blackflcgs is being a fucking fucker.
The twist of her thin lips made the sneer into something more like a snarl, fierce and livid and disgusted all at once. Spitting out a glob of blood and mucus onto his boot, Anne wipes her mouth with the back of one hand, not bothering to stand from where she sits panting. Her left arm remains wrapped around her aching ribs, shirt still muddy from the dead fucker’s boot print.
“I had that under control, Ed.” The name fires past her lips like a bullet from a gun—something so despised as to be disposed of quickly, lest it prove snakelike and willing to bite back.
"Why does it always gotta be us to do this shit?"
Anne snorted incredulously, flicking her sweat-sticky hair off her face with a hard toss of her head. It fans out curtain-like, a red slash preceding those sea glass eyes, hard and cutting and only slightly softened with amusement.
“Doesn’t have t’be ‘us.’ Started as just me, ye glory-stealin cunt, and I’m fine endin it that way too. —Sides, en’t like the rest a’ these daft, lazy fuckers know their letters. Sail us right t’fuckin India left t’their own.”
Ⓜ️
Send a Ⓜ️ (or an M, if you can’t see the emoji) for a starter based on a song I can’t stop listening to.
Song: Beggin’ by Måneskin
“—fuck’s sake,” Anne whispers under her breath. Ed sits like a marionette with his strings cut, slumped and lifeless, in the gloom of the captain’s quarters. He hasn’t moved in hours, knowing him—just sitting, staring. “Disassociating,” as she’s heard it called. She wants to be gentle. Tactful. Their relationship is in its infancy and she doesn’t want to throttle it, or him, unless she has to.
But he can’t sit about mourning the dead ‘less he plans to increase their stock.
If Ed were Jack, Anne would march over to him, cuff his ear and shake him violently back into the swing—but Jack’s gone, abandoned her with an “old friend,” and Ed isn’t Jack, besides. He’s been churlish and mopey but not as hopelessly inept as Jack, even without his…mate. So Anne approaches him both more gently and less patiently than she otherwise would. She drops a small pouch of rings, gems, and other previous things into Ed’s lap before seating herself with all the comfort and cheek in the world on his chair’s arm. She has a part to play here, one helped by audacity and rage: he’s got one, too, if he ever gets off his arse to play it.
“Why’ve we got good shit, but don’ embrace it?” Anne is careful to give the man the illusion of privacy by staring at the window rather than him—watching his reflection closely, keenly, while seeming only to watch the listless ocean waves outside. “Dwellin on the dead and gone’s only goin t’get us killed,” she continues, speaking not only to Ed now. “Broken men,” and women, “don’t stand e’en the devil’s chance if gettin int’ Heaven—an’ we’re well behind e’en that. May’s well meet up later again in Hell with a good story and no sad endins.
“But that only happens when ye get off yer arse an’ start makin stories.”
@blackflcgs gets me 🏴☠️
“Shit!” Anne dove left, fumbling to free her sword of its sheath: the snake struck right, going for Ed instead. This shit is the exact reason Anne hates the fucking jungle.
“Look out!”
"Do you remember when we first met?"
@blackflcgs
“’Course I do,” Izzy replied easily. He could never forget that day, even when he wanted to…And he certainly did not. The day that life as he knew it had started. He looked at Edward curiously, wondering what connection Izzy was meant to make from the invocation. “What about it in particular?” He asked in return, his tone slightly softer than usual. “Or are you just feeling sentimental?”