INBOX CLEANUP /@immobiliter As Villanelle Sent To Katiana :

🪐 — INBOX CLEANUP /  @immobiliter​  as  villanelle  sent to  katiana  : 

                   ❛   yeah,  you’re  living  the  life .  ❜

     ❝ YOU MEAN WE ARE, ❞  katiana corrects.  &  she gives a cool smile, interlacing her arm with the other woman’s as they stand at the terminal gate with brand new matching designer luggage sets in hand.  the flight crew is preparing her father’s jet for boarding,  &  they will be the only two passengers on the flight.  &  though they had only just met, katiana saw no reason she shouldn’t act as though they were  the best of friends already.  not that she knew what it was like to have such a thing in reality,  but she imagined that a trip like this would be much more fun with someone like that at her side.                         but in her experience, travel companions were girls she had never met, usually just above her own age,  &  the assumed daughters of the various high-ranking men in her father’s political orbit.  katiana privately thought that they might be secretly there as glorified babysitters  —  paid off to report back to her father about her behavior while she was abroad  —  but to voice it aloud would color the trip with a tension that would undoubtedly cause stress wrinkles in her flawless skin.  no, if this was meant to be a vacation, then denial was far preferable.  so why not lean into the act ?         ❝ you’re  flying with me now,  so you can consider it  our life  for as long as you stick around. ❞  that was the deal, wasn’t it ?  it certainly didn’t seem like her companion actually wanted to be there.  which katiana actually thought was a little insulting.  after all, what kind of person would turn their nose up at a month at a shared luxury villa on the italian coastline ?   ❝ have you ever been to italy before ?  it’s stunning, you’re going to absolutely fall in love with it. ❞

Rhys Darby as STEDE BONNET in Our Flag Means Death.

🪐 — IZZY HANDS  for  stede !

The truth of things was that Izzy had a handful of ideas of where Ed might have gone. Stede was right when saying that Izzy of all people would have the best chance of figuring out where the heartbroken captain had gone. After all, Izzy had known him the longest and the best even if there was still parts of who Ed was that he needed to work on. More and more izzy was realizing how wrong he’d been to try to contain Ed to his own expectations. Contain wasn’t the right word. Izzy couldn’t impose his will on Edward even if he wanted to but their bond led Ed to trying to fit Izzy’s ideas as much as Izzy tried to fit what he thought was expected of him. What a fucking mess they were. Maybe Calico Jack was right. He’d said it many times that friendship was not made for men like them. Not made for pirates. In their younger years when Izzy followed Ed around like a lost dog, Jack had rolled his eyes at the young swordsman’s devotion and admiration.

The familiar spiral of negative thoughts had started to swirl around Israel’s head, only to be shaken a bit by the question about Lucius. Izzy’s heart skipped a bit. In truth, the young man had grown on him. He couldn’t say he hated the man but obviously he’d also never admit to liking him either. The first mate had felt mixed emotions the night that Blackbeard pushed Lucius overboard. Of course there had been the intense pain, fear and humiliation of having his toe cut off and fed to him but even that he’d focused on less since it had meant that Blackbeard was back. Or at least he’d thought.

The Kraken was a terrifying force and had put izzy back into his place. Lucius’ demise had further made it clear that the soft Ed was gone but at the expense of a crew members life. For all Izzy’s many faults he did care about the crews well-being when he was in charge of them. That included this rag tag bunch of idiots.

Clearing his throat and avoiding eye contact for now, Izzy made himself get back on his feet. This was not a discussion to have sitting on his bed. He grabbed his cane to help with the process. Hands ran his tongue against the underside of his teeth to feel the slight roughness as he thought of how best to answer this. The truth. Right ?

“I’ll stay. You won’t be able to find Edward without me and — I’m not ready to leave his service unless he dismisses me himself.” Or kills me, thought Hands. A pause as Izzy fussed with the cuff of one of his sleeves. “The night that Blackbeard did this,” he gestured to his foot. “He — he pushed Lucius overboard and — I guess the lad wasn’t a strong swimmer,” he said carefully, brow furrowed. Izzy actually looked troubled by this. “I’m sorry. Mister Spriggs is dead.” Taking a slow breath, Izzy was focusing on Stede’s face now as the man took this in. “He was a pain in the ass at times and a shit manual laborer but — he was a good lad. I’m sorry he’s gone.”

   THERE’S SOMETHING OMINOUS  in the way that izzy hesitates.  stede has always known him to be dangerously decisive, rarely in need of an extra moment to consider anything.  & while he also has yet to see the man looking anything akin to happy, the expression on his face turns somehow darker still at the mention of lucius.  for a moment, it’s as though he’s lost in a storm of his own thoughts.  &  when he pulls himself slowly to his feet with the aid of his cane, weight noticeably imbalanced as he leans on his uninjured foot, stede feels a sickening lurch in his stomach, certain before the words leave izzy’s mouth that the answer will not be a pleasant one.              while he isn’t surprised that blackbeard’s first mate chooses to return to his captain no matter the consequences  ( that much has already been made abundantly clear ), stede still isn’t entirely prepared for the way the next words land on his body like blows.  he had expected something like this, but the impact is heavier than expected, forcing him to stagger backward a step  &  brace himself against the door of izzy’s cabin.                                         it is his fault  —  lucius had been his scribe, bidden to stay close enough to the action to record everything.  he had only been placed in danger’s way in the first place by his orders.  that much could not be denied by anyone.  &  besides that, it was the most solemn duty of the captain to protect his crew.  instead, he had left them all.  &  so his death was on stede’s hands.  &  for as sharp  &  bitter as the guilt is over the harm he had caused edward,  &  his crew,  &  even izzy,  this is far worse.  even now, in spite of the harm, through it stede was coming to understand izzy in a way he had thought impossible before now.  &  he would surely be forgiven for endangering the crew in due time, if he proved himself to them.  perhaps he could even mend the damage he had done to edward’s heart, if given the chance once they found him.  but this cannot be undone, no matter what he does or how long he lives.  there is no forgiveness for this.               it takes a long moment for stede to gather himself enough to remember that he is not free to grieve as he would be if he were alone. he can’t say how long it’s been since izzy fell silent, but he does not need to be told that this is not a reaction befitting of a captain.  &  stede draws himself back upright, squaring his shoulders again with considerable effort.  ❝ a good lad  —  indeed he was, ❞  he agrees, his voice unsteady in spite of his best attempt.  &  a trembling hand smoothes at the wrinkles in his linen shirt.  though it does little good, the material hopelessly creased after the days spent at sea in a rowboat.  this too, is just one more thing that he had ruined beyond repair.                           ❝ thank you for telling me, mr. hands.  i’m  —  i’m very sorry to hear that he was harmed because of me. ❞   &  then his eyes flicker down again, lingering to the bandages on izzy’s foot.  ❝ i never suspected he would  —  i didn’t know this would happen.  &  for what it’s worth,  i am sorry, too  for the pain that my actions caused you. ❞ 

it’s the way stede literally didn’t care if he lived or died at the beginning of the series, as shown by him saying “that’s a tough question” when asked by olu if he wants to live.  stede left mary  &  his children because he wanted to have a story of his own to tell,  &  if he it ended in his death, that was honestly fine in his mind, because it’s not like they actually wanted him around or would miss him. it’s the way he does not argue,  &  even says he “completely agrees” when chauncey tells him that he’s “a monster, a plague, who befouls beautiful things,”  &  doesn’t even try to physically defend himself from him, likely would have let himself be shot if he hadn’t tripped. &  it’s the way that this complete  &  utter lack of self-worth is ultimately what ends up hurting ed in the end, because stede genuinely believes that no one  —  even ed,  &  yes,  even after the beach scene  —  could possibly be hurt or even disappointed by his absence.  so it’s fine  &  actually better if he doesn’t go  &  meet up with ed, since he was only holding him back anyway &  nearly, in chauncey’s words, “brought history’s greatest pirate to ruin.” 

🪐 — JAMES BARNES  for  birdie !

panic is a clawing beast;     the answer he knows she wants is ash on his tongue, too thick to fall between the teeth even if he knows it would soothe, even if he knows the moment would end faster, without casualties. the rest of the drying up provides a welcome distraction, too methodological, too precise for it to happen naturally, wiping out the pan from dinner like it’s weighted, like the domesticity could be a salvation. he’d meant honesty when he’d offered it, expected that @musecraft​​ would understand when the words don’t come, that there’s pasts locked away because that’s the only way he knows how to breathe; all he can offer her is the truth away from the aching. it takes a moment, the too - loud ticking of the clock reminding him that he’s been silent too long, that he’s holding on to the words out of fear that they will shatter the peace. 

❛   i don’t know.   ❜        at least that’s honest. elbows lean against the kitchen counter, a stance more casual than the way his stomach churns inside him.       ❛   my mom did. she believed in every bit of it, had all the proper traditions for the holidays. when she died, dad kept them up but without the heart of it. i don’t remember ever asking him really. and when i came back, rebecca was too far gone to tell me anything about it, but her kids had traditions. still do, they invite me over sometimes.  ❜      but he’s a stranger to them. he’s a name that was martyred, something that the pride has disappeared from, too complicated to exist comfortably in the lives that they have built. none of that answers the question, but it buys time, gives him a moment to think about what he should say, work through the feelings and come up with something close to an answer.        ❛   i like being there. i like taking part in other people’s traditions because sometimes they remind me of being back there, and sometimes because it’s the only thing that the army didn’t get. but i don’t know if i believe in it, not anymore.  ❜ 

        THE ONLY THING SHE WANTS  from james is  the truth.  this is a touchy subject for some, she knows  —  faith inspires passion,  &  so many people are so convinced their version of god is the only one that can exist.  &  birdie knows that he goes to synagogue,  that there is some part of himself that has a relationship with the spiritual.  james tends to be closed off about things like this, but she can’t help but be curious.  she just wants to know everything about him  —  including this, even if they disagree about it.  &  james is so convinced that all he has to offer the world is violence, that bloodshed is the only thing his hands are capable of, in spite of the gentleness he has always shown her.  so it makes her wonder who he is within those holy walls  —  if he prays when he visits,  &  if he believes when he does.  but birdie can finally understand that if god does exist, then it appears differently to everyone.  &  if synagogue is where james finds it,  then who would she be to judge him for that ?       so birdie listens closely as he speaks, leaning back against the opposite countertop  &  patiently waiting for @destage​ to find the right words.  &  when he does, she nods, her wide eyes never falling from his face.  she can understand his passion better as a reflection of the love of his community  —  &  as connection with others, which he so desperately needs  ( he is still a human, too, after all ).  but birdie also notices the absence of true faith, the lack of conviction when it comes to a higher power beyond that.  &  she crosses the tile floor on feet clad in mismatched socks  &  curls into him in the way that’s become so natural to them.  both hands tuck around his waist  &  slip up the back of his shirt,  &  birdie rises to her tiptoes so she can nuzzle her face into his throat, lips touching a feather-light kiss just above the pulse point there.  ❝ i get that.  thank you for telling me. ❞  her fingertips trace little patterns over his spine in an attempt to soothe him, swaying slightly back  &  forth between her feet as she clings to his solid  &  steady form.  ❝ it’s still  a big deal  for you.  &  i hope you know that i support you going. ❞  &  then birdie pulls back from her embrace just enough to peer up at him, a soft smile on her lips.  ❝ but it’s not  the only thing  they didn’t get.  they didn’t get you.  you know how i know ?  because you’re still here. ❞   her small hand splays wide over his chest, blue  &  yellow paint flecked across her knuckles  &  under her fingernails.   ❝ right now, with me.  you’re right here, james. ❞ 

Psst ilu