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Edward Teach - Blog Posts
“Living my best life <3”
“Lucius is drowning.”
“This ain’t about him.”
*translate the comment from Polish*
what a beast, the catfish is also nice
oh..............
"You make Stede happy"
Ed and the ineffable 60s gals
See the best and only accurate crowley playlist btw (can confirm i was their plants):
OK, so it's like this:
Jim Jiminez, our lord and savior the canonically nonbinary pirate.
Izzy Hands -> Trans man
Edward Teach? Bigender boy/girl.
Stede Bonnet? Something is happening to that alleged-cisman's gender. No one knows what, especially not Stede.
Spanish Jackie -> Trans woman
They started filming for season two of ofmd. I’m ok….completely fine.
Waking Up Beside The Two Of You
Edward Teach x Reader x Stede Bonnet
Summary - The Reader wakes up in the arms of their boyfriends.
Warnings - nothing, I think, just fluff
Word Count - 439
A/n - Gender Neutral Reader. Not Requested.
--------------------------------------------------------------
A calming purple cloud swam around your head as you rode on the back of a dolphin through the sky. You were dreaming, you knew that, but you didn’t want this fantastical fiction to end. Though, you did wonder what was going on around your sleep-ridden form.
A few voices drifted in and out of your ears. It was Ed and Stede. You could tell that it was them even in your dreamy state. Conversations about pirates and plans were being had by the voices, causing the dreamworld you were in to shift to a fanciful version of the pirate life. Just you, Stede and Ed sailing a flying ship through the purple clouds. Occasionally, one of you would pull the other into each other's arms and dance and kiss on the deck while sailing to your next adventure.
Some sunspots began to shine through your dream and some of your partner’s conversations began to echo in your mind more clearly. You knew that you were beginning to wake up now.
“What if we created a multi-barrel cannon? Multiple barrels for multiple shots meaning more damage.” Ed gestured.
“Revolutionary!” Stede whisper-shouted slightly louder than he and Ed had wished.
“Shush! Don’t wake them up, man!”
Despite Ed’s statement, you stirred. Most of your dream world disappeared into the darkness, but the images of your boyfriends remained in your mind. With your eyes still closed, your arms stretched out into the air, and you felt a hand on each arm caressing your skin.
“Good morning, dear.” Stede welcomed you as soon as you opened your eyes.
“Mornin’, love!” Ed winked at you before continuing to speak.
“Finally joined us in the world of the awakened, I see.”
“Good morning Blackbeard and The Gentleman Pirate.” You often teased them with their pirate names, especially as cheeky morning hellos and nighttime goodnights.
“Did you sleep well?” Stede asked genuinely.
“I had very interesting and pleasant dreams. What about you two?”
“We were just planning out some brand new weapons.” Stede was very excited, more than usual one might argue.
“Well … I don’t know if it’s new, but it will scare the life outta our enemies, I’d say!”
“You must tell me what you are planning!”
“After breakfast you two. We have to be all ship shape … ahhhh … before we get to the pirating.” Stede lept out of bed excitedly while you and Ed shared a jokingly-annoyed look about Stede’s horrible pun. The three of you, once fully out of bed, then ventured over to Stede’s secret wardrobe in order to get dressed before enjoying your breakfast and morning together.
"when you leave, sick of me, i'll let you go without a word. i'll gather armfuls of azaleas to spread along your path."
Inspired by Rolling Quartz lyrics (the song 'Azalea'), a painting of Edward Teach in his post-breakup era. The designated robe, the silk and an armful of azaleas of course - and the painting :)) who could forget it
Also i'm stupid and posted this on the wrong tumblr account, but uhh i can't be bothered to repost now <33 (find me on twt at azaleasncoffee and on tumblr at mikrokosmopolitan as well)
"damn your love, damn your lies" Ed has me all up in my feels, I haven't drawn this much in a while
I continue to rotate selkie!Izzy
Following on from a tiny Hot Potato I tossed back and forth with the wonderful @carrymelikeimcute...
Ed destroyed Izzy's coat during the Kraken era.
He regretted it So Fucking Much as soon as he started wanting to live rather than... trying to push Izzy and the others to kill him by abusing them as much as humanely possible.
But he still fucking destroyed it.
Izzy isn't going to leave him over this (even if Ed simultaneously thinks he should, for Izzy's sake; and can't bear to let him go). But there's this awful sadness when he looks at the sea now, and it makes Ed's stomach knot all the way up into his throat.
Buttons has the perfect solution. If Ed goes on a quest to find the real Goddess Calypso, she'll be able to give Izzy a new coat! So the Revenge crew sail away on a new mission, bound for Tia Dalma's grotto........
I just want semi-broken-up (but trying to fix things, but should absolutely go their separate ways) Edizzy having one last adventure together 🥺 I think I'd prefer it to end with them saying goodbye for good, with Ed waving to a happy chubkins seal who swims off into the bright horizon after the Revenge and her crew! Because they were Izzy's family, goddammit, and he deserved to stay with them.
Blackhands break up fic where Izzy is a selkie who gave Ed his coat and swore to never let him drown. Every time Ed's gone into the water and been unable to fend for himself, Izzy pulled him out.
But the Trauma Crew demanded that Ed give the coat back as part of his rehabilitation reparations. Ed did so, though a part of him remains secure that Izzy is still his in every way that matters. Until Izzy almost dies and sails off with the Revenge crew, leaving Ed on land. Izzy, half dead, heard Ed talking about possibly burying him on land with him and Stede, and that was The Last Fucking Straw. They are Over with a capital O.
But after a couple months, when Ed's bored of the innkeepers gig, he decides he wants to see Izzy again. So, obviously, he jumps into the sea and waits.
And waits. And waits.
From there, it can go one of several ways: either Izzy never comes and Stede pulls a sobbing Ed out of the water who's finally realised that he and Izzy are broken beyond repair and he's lost his oldest friend, OR Izzy shows up and is massively pissed, but hugs a snuffly sad Ed and tells him a gentle but firm goodbye and that next time, he's on his own.
Or Ed literally drowns and his last thoughts are of Izzy coming to save him, but Izzy never does :3c
horrid morning ideas
Came Back Wrong dark!fic with Izzy getting revived after a month underground
only it's told from Ed's perspective
and you don't know if Izzy actually came back wrong or if Ed is just unable to accept that there's a happy ending here/is trying to convince himself this isn't HIS Izzy so he doesn't have to actually put in the work to properly apologise and make amends/is freaking out because Izzy is starting to critically think about everything Ed did to him and realising that, no, he didn't deserve to be abused like that, and Ed cannot handle the thought that Izzy might CHOOSE to leave him and would be in the right to do so -
I want Ed spiralling deeper and deeper into uncertainty, questioning his own judgement, leaping to wild conclusions, spying on Izzy to try and compile evidence, the works!
And then you have Izzy - who's either slowly coming to terms with the fact that what Ed did to him and the crew was never Izzy's fault, and starting to put distance between him and Ed because he wants to return to his real family, the crew... OR WHO LEGITIMATLY CAME BACK WRONG AND THE TWISTED THING WEARING HIS BODY IS TRYING TO MENTALLY DESTROY ED
But we as the audience don't know and Ed sure as fuck doesn't~
>:D
horrid little brainworm
Frenchie is still green at the start of the Kraken era.
He isn't, by the end.
But back then, when it all begins - when he isn't used to the sting of kohl-mixed sweat dripping into his eyes - he makes mistakes. Lots of them. Simple little things - fluffing a knot in the rigging that has their sail unfurling midway through the dogwatch, goods left unstowed to roll with the list of their ship.
Most of the time, Izzy yells himself hoarse for five minutes, then shows Frenchie how to fix it, interspersing his lecture with expletives. Whatever. That's fine. Let the little man scream - he's not the scariest thing aboard anymore.
Never was, really.
But then Blackbeard (Ed? The Kraken?) stomps out of his cabin, hair a black thundercloud, and snarls 'which one of you men is responsible for that fucking mop', pointing to some cleaning equipment Frenchie forgot to pack away.
And everything goes still, as if they're becalmed.
[CW: whipping, abuse, non-explicit mentions of Frenchie's past locked-box traumas]
No one says Frenchie's name - not even Izzy. He just ducks his chin and refuses to look his captain in the eye. But the eyes of every other crewmember jump guiltily to Frenchie, at least once - and Blackbeard is too smart to miss such a tell.
"A ship needs discipline," he says. "Isn't that what you always tell me, Iz?"
"I'll attend to it," says Izzy, voice scratchier than ever. Frenchie knows this is a bad fucking situation - memories battering against the inside of his locked box, trying to get out - but somehow he can't feel fear. Can't really feel anything.
"With the cat," says Blackbeard. "Give the culprit fifteen. Really make the lesson stick."
Ah. There's the fear.
Frenchie's breath stifles itself halfway up his throat, as screams sneak through the keyhole of his box, along with the crack of a whip -
No. No, no, no. He can't. Not again, he can't -
Izzy glances up. Frenchie expects him to grin, all vindictive sadism - but whatever he sees on Frenchie's face has his mouth pulling into a tight line.
"Yes, sir," he says, though Frenchie barely hears over the dull roar of his heart.
He casts his gaze about, looking for an escape. Over the side? They're too far from land, but fuck, if it isn't tempting -
Jim fondles their knives, glaring mutinously at Blackbeard's back as he returns to his cabin. They don't spring after him (though Frenchie selfishly wishes they would). They're well aware - as is everyone - that right now, with Blackbeard black-eyed and bloodthirsty, they'd lose.
Izzy swallows. Shuts his eyes. Then calls for Fang to fetch the cat.
Frenchie loses time then. Scarcely a blink passes before Fang reappears above the deck, the strings of the knotted whip scraping the floor like the tentacles of a shrunken sea-monster.
They're flaky with rusty residue. Old, dried blood.
Frenchie's fingers twitch in the chords of the first song his Ma taught him. No rituals or superstitions will save him. Nothing will. Because his old crew are marooned, almost certainly dead, and his new crew are - with the exception of Fang and Jim and Ivan - fucking monsters.
He's going to be whipped (again). He's going to shred open all those old scars. The box is going to open, and -
Oh, God. Oh God. Fifteen lashes is survivable (Frenchie knows, he knows) but he's still not sure if anything of himself will emerge from the other side.
He's still frozen, staring at the whip held in Fang's big hands, flat out like he's presenting it to Izzy. Only... Izzy doesn't take it.
No, Izzy moves to stand in front of the mast. Walking stiff, with a bit of a limp. While Frenchie's reeling, struggling to process what's happening, he yanks off his shirt. And - fuck, his back is almost as ugly a sight as Frenchie knows his own would be, if he could bear to study it in a mirror.
A few of the crew draw shocked inhales. Most don't look surprised.
Frenchie is one of the latter group. Sound travels, on a ship.
"Um," says Fang, cat dangling limp. "Boss?"
Izzy grabs the hawsers wrapped around the mainmast. Heaves a deep breath. Rests his forehead against the wood.
"You heard the captain," he croaks. "Fifteen lashes."
Fang's eyes are moist - though they are more often than not, nowadays. "Boss - "
"The captain wants the culprit disciplined," Izzy says. His muscles flex beneath their coating of scars. Bracing himself, Frenchie's mind supplies. For the oncoming pain. Not that any amount of tensing is ever enough. "First mate's responsible for maintaining a tidy deck."
This turn of events finally settles into Frenchie's bones. The whip's not for him, thank everything. His key slides gratefully into the lock of his box and turns, ensuring it's shut tight.
Still, sickness churns in his guts. Last week, sleep eluded him. He'd intended to skulk above decks and breathe the sea air to clear his head. He never made it - because who should stagger out of the captain's cabin, so dead-eyed he didn't even notice Frenchie lurking in the shadows of the galley door, but the Revenge's thrice-cursed angry gremlin of a first mate?
Izzy hadn't looked much like a gremlin then, though. Doesn't now, either. Just looks. Tired. And old. And bruised to shit beneath his shirt, and not all of those lash marks are old, weathered scars, and -
Frenchie's fingers twitch more rapidly, pressing through their imaginary chord sequence.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit -
"Fifteen lashes," Izzy reminds Fang. "If you can't do it, anyone else is free to step up. I'm sure there'll be fucking volunteers."
Frenchie eyes Jim. They and Izzy aren't exactly friends - not when Frenchie has heard them mumble a word that sounds horrifically close to 'Oluwande' in their sleep.
But Jim stays right where they are. Hand on the hilt of a knife. Ivan emulates, and, well, Frenchie's feet have damn near put down roots. He couldn't move from this spot if he was ordered to.
Fang's tears well over, and his hand shakes on the whip handle to the point where Frenchie thinks he might drop it.
A clash from the great cabin has them all jumping - all but Izzy, who rests his cheek on the mast like it's a particularly splintery pillow, eyes drifting shut. Blackbeard barges back out, sousing the air with body odour and smoke and self-hatred and whatever the fuck else he's been marinating in.
"What's the fucking wait?" he demands. "I expected way more screams by now." He halts, frowning at the sight of Izzy, stood where Frenchie ought to be (because fuck, he shouldn't have left that mop and bucket out; how many times has Izzy told him - ). For a moment, the harsh line of his brows crumples on itself in something that could be mistaken for regret. But then that dark sneer crawls onto his lips, the one with which the whole crew is becoming familiar. "Can't pick who gets the privilege, eh? Well, lucky for the lot of you, that's what a captain's for."
He stalks forwards, feline-graceful. Frenchie scuttles from his path. When Blackbeard snatches the whip from Fang (not seeming to notice his whimper, his flinch) Frenchie fully anticipates that he'll turn on Izzy, not him.
He certainly doesn't expect Blackbeard to smile, cold and white as a toenail moon, and thrust the whip towards him, hilt first.
"Oh, no." Frenchie raises both hands in surrender. "No, no, no. I couldn't. Awful with a whip, me. Wouldn't, um..." There's the noise of it again, slithering out through the keyhole of his box. The swish. The crack. The scream. "Wouldn't be able to strike hard enough," he stutters. "No upper body strength, yeah."
Blackbeard doesn't approach Frenchie. Just keeps the whip held out towards him, like the accusative finger of a god.
"You give him fifteen," he says, gently. "And make each one count. Or I give him fifty."
Against the mast, Izzy makes a sound - not quite a whimper. Worse; it's far too much like relief. His hands don't shake, but only because they grip the hawser tight as rigor mortis.
Fifty can kill. Has killed before. Frenchie's seen it.
But Blackbeard doesn't want Izzy dead, right? Who would he torture then?
Blackbeard's blank, lifeless eyes pour into Frenchie's.
Who indeed?
Fuck. Frenchie swallows dry. He tells himself it's for self-preservation that he unsticks his boots from the deck and shuffles forth to take the whip. Not for Izzy. Not like he likes the angry little prick. Man's vicious as a cat and thrice as cursed.
Maybe, if Frenchie tells himself that, it'll make this memory easier to lock away with all the rest.
"Ready?" he asks Izzy, softer than he intends. Izzy twists over his scarred shoulder. He looks at Frenchie - really looks at him - for what feels like the first time. Not even glancing to his left, where the Kraken lurks.
Frenchie can't decipher his expression. Pity, for whatever made him offer himself up in Frenchie's place? Frustration, that Frenchie prevented Blackbeard from whipping him into the grave? Misery and fear - no, that's far too sane for a guy like Izzy.
Izzy turns back to the mast.
"Give me your worst," he says.
Frenchie breathes in, breathes out, and obeys.
chained dog
chained dog
morning fic concept........
Izzy finds a kitten that has snuck aboard the Revenge, during the Kraken era. Knowing Ed is in a Destory All Joy And Love state of mind, he keeps the kitty a secret and looks after it, with the intention of releasing it on shore when next they reach port (if they ever reach port again).
Of course, the rest of the Trauma Crew decide to get involved >:3c
Yoooo, I can't write for shit(especially in English), but i desperately need an angsty wing fic about toxic edizzy, where Ed clips Izzys wings (you know, like the horrible thing, where people clip the (parts of) wings of birds, so they can't fly away. All the angst, misunderstandings, mutilation feels, the weird loyality/love Izzy has for Ed, Eds obsessive love? Something for Izzy. The crew finding out that Izzy is missing parts of his primary and secondary feathers, when he is forced to(or accidentally) spread his wings where they can see it. (When folded, you can't always see if a birds wings are clipped).The crew adopting Izzy as a part of their friend group. Ed trying to justify Izzys clipped wings (its not always a one and done thing, they grow back, so maybe someone else, Hornigold? Started clipping young Izzys wings and then ed kinda took over after the mutiny?) And maybe with enough time they grow back and Izzy has to relearn how to fly, or Izzy is to mutilated in the end and its really fucking sad because he will never fly again? I have SO MANY FEELINGS about this!!!!
Yoooo, I can't write for shit(especially in English), but i desperately need an angsty wing fic about toxic edizzy, where Ed clips Izzys wings (you know, like the horrible thing, where people clip the (parts of) wings of birds, so they can't fly away. All the angst, misunderstandings, mutilation feels, the weird loyality/love Izzy has for Ed, Eds obsessive love? Something for Izzy. The crew finding out that Izzy is missing parts of his primary and secondary feathers, when he is forced to(or accidentally) spread his wings where they can see it. (When folded, you can't always see if a birds wings are clipped).The crew adopting Izzy as a part of their friend group. Ed trying to justify Izzys clipped wings (its not always a one and done thing, they grow back, so maybe someone else, Hornigold? Started clipping young Izzys wings and then ed kinda took over after the mutiny?) And maybe with enough time they grow back and Izzy has to relearn how to fly, or Izzy is to mutilated in the end and its really fucking sad because he will never fly again? I have SO MANY FEELINGS about this!!!!
Every day I wake up and think:
“At some point Izzy realised how out of control things had gotten, and started putting himself in between Ed and the crew, as much as he could. Especially when Ed was too drunk/high to even know what he was doing. Cause Izzy doesn’t want the others to suffer more for his mistakes.”
“They are all bonded through shared trauma now.”
And every day I cry like a baby.
"I have... love for you, Edward" what a fantastically fucking unhinged way to confess to anybody. The clear reluctance. The pause, the averted eyes. "I have it" like it's some fatal disease, something he's carrying, something he wishes someone would take away. Perhaps even something he wishes could be....................amputated, one might say
Can a dog have two masters?
happily ever after
Okay but that whole genre of steddyhands fics that were like "edizzy used to hook up on the reg in the early days but they pulled every wrong bdsm move in the book and when Ed tried to be softer or give aftercare Izzy spat at him like a feral cat and ran off (even though he really wanted that gentleness), and that's what made Ed pull away" no longer ring true at all for me
(they didn't quite line up with my character interpretation before either, but pre s2 I figured that was all just personal taste without canon backing)
Izzy would absolutely take anything Ed gave him, even if he'd never dare ask for softness aloud
Ed never even realized that Another Way was possible until he met Stede, and even after Izzy had come to represent everything Ed hated about the roughest parts of himself and piracy (even when that wasn't true).
You see in order to think Izzy deserved affection or even a thought outside of Ed's immediate whims and desires, he'd have to see Izzy as a person and an equal. Which he never has.
(I think a lot about a post I saw back when the season started airing, along the lines of "Ed would never treat Stede like this." No, he wouldn't.)
and oh god, I need Stede to come in and see this broken to fuck dynamic constructed over decades for everything it is. for someone to finally offer a love that doesn't hurt. I need these three assholes to figure out how to stop digging in the knife.
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