Naomi Hawkins :

🪐 — naomi hawkins​ : 

       The liquor selection was shit, the music was loud, the floor felt sticky even to the soles of her sturdy combat boots, and yet to Naomi it was all simply part of the charm of the moment. Sneaking out with people who were decidedly not her college friends, using fake IDs to buy alcohol and enjoying a night out away from campus and sororities and all that other nonsense. Viv would be proud, even if she’d turn her nose up at the music being played. “ It’s all we can afford, right? ” she laughed, shrugging as the glass was handed to her. Lazily, she leaned in as Brian slung an arm around her shoulders. She’d scold him for the presumption later. “ The more I drink the better they sound. You managed to score a gig here yet? ”

                THE ALCOHOL HITS HIS SYSTEM FAST, cheap whiskey admittedly no worse than good stuff once it’s down the hatch.  &  brian can already feel his blood rushing a little faster, his heart pulsing along with the music’s racing bassline.  ❝ i mean, it’s good enough to get drunk on,  &  that’s what matters, right ? ❞  he acquiesces, raising his half-empty drink in a kind of mock toast, clinking his glass with hers. he notices absently that naomi has’t pulled away, still tucked neatly under his arm, even leaning against him a little,  &  mentally takes note of her willingness to be close as a small victory.  &  she’s right as well — with every sip, the loudly thrashing band on stage seems to get a little bit better. so he keeps sipping, his free hand trailing casually over naomi’s arm. ❝ not yet — gio’s been sending our tapes around to all the cool bars to try to get us some better gigs. it’d help if we had a regular singer though. hard for bars to book a band with an incomplete lineup, you know ? ❞

🪐 — lil starter for  @starfrckled​​  ( sae-byeok )

        ❝ COULD YOU BRING OUT ANOTHER BOTTLE OF CHAMPAGNE ? ❞  katiana called from her lounge chair on her vacation rental’s enormous back patio, empty glass raised up. it’s phrased as a question — a polite request to the untrained ear — but both of them know that it’s more like an order. after all, katiana was well-practiced at being waited on. &  she liked sae-byeok well enough  ( at least, as much as she liked anyone ),  but it was painfully obvious in everything from the way she carried herself to the way she spoke that she was not used to the heiress’s extravagant lifestyle. luxury did not suit everyone; it was still to be seen if sae-byeok belonged here.  ❝ oh  &  maybe that box of macarons, too, while you’re at it. ❞

🪐 — lucius spriggs​ ;

@musecraft​  (   as izzy   )  says:  I can’t take that from him. not even if he’s happier like this.

the thing with lucius is that he is good with other people’s feelings.   he might not look it,  for all his sarcastic remarks.  so he is quick enough to wipe the silly grin from his mouth and drop the urge to just tell that impossibly angry little man to just ask the two lovebirds for a threesome and be done with it.  lucius rolls his eyes,  and shots out a hand  (   which stops before actually touching izzy,  because he doesn’t want to lose his whole hand,  thank you very much   )  before izzy can scoff and leave.  they might not be friends,  but lucius is not a dick,  alright? 

❛  okay,  okay,  wait.  are we really doing this?  it’s fine  —  good.  just thought you were a more bottle it up type.  ❜   god,  this pirate gig is getting weirder and weirder and he hadn’t really thought he would have to become a relationship councilor,  but here he is.   ❛  you know what’s your problem,  izzy?  you’re here talking to me when maybe,  just maybe,  you should be talking to him about what’s bothering you about it?  i mean,  really talk to him.  ❜

     HE SHOULD HAVE THROWN HIMSELF OVERBOARD rather than let himself come to this, his thoughts just spilling out before he could stop them.  &  he would have given himself to the sea, if  blackbeard  edward had not explicitly forbidden it. he had considered doing it anyway, but in the end he found couldn’t disobey his captain’s orders. control was everything to israel hands; it was how he had survived this long, after all. but here he was, baring his heart to lucius without so much as the slightest provocation  ( aside, of course, from catching a glimpse of edward  &  stede taking their morning tea hand-in-hand ).  he had even lost the ability to take his own life into his hands — for even this had been given over to his captain in the end. his captain said that he still needed him here, so here was where he stayed.                             ❝ oh would you shut the fuck up, ❞  he spits,  &  it’s to himself  &  the boy both.  how had he come to this ?  izzy hands, reduced to a pitiful fool moaning about his feelings like the rest of bonnet’s ridiculous crew. love had ruined edward,  &  so it seemed love had ruined him, too. maybe he belonged here, among this pathetic lot. still he glares at lucius, trying to muster whatever remained of his formidable presence. ❝ you don’t know anything about us, you got me ?  you don’t understand what we had. ❞  still, an undeniable element of truth rings in lucius’ words as izzy glances over to where edward  &  stede are standing astern, en rapt in a conversation, an easy intimacy about them. it’s a flagrant display of their affections that izzy can barely stand to look at,  &  certainly can’t imagine himself participating in. moments like that simply aren’t meant for someone like him.

🪐 — test muse starter for  @trickstercaptain​​ 

         THE PORTSIDE TAVERN IS CROWDED with ruffians  &  rabble rousers of all stripes, each more fearsome to behold than the last. stede stands out in a place like this, his stark-pressed lace cravat nearly glowing white against the backdrop of salt-sprayed wool, cracked leather,  &  threadbare cotton. perhaps he should not be drawing quite so much attention to himself; many an eye follows him as he pushes his way through the tightly packed men,  &  even more heads turn to cast glares upon him when he accidentally elbows someone’s tankard of ale. even then, he barely manages an apology, his attention entirely fixated on the lone figure seated at a table in the corner. of course, he can’t be certain this stranger is the man from all the tales he’s heard, but he certainly looked the part.  &  as he draws near stede becomes all the more certain. finally, he reaches the edge of the table, only slightly ruffled from the ordeal of making it through the crowd. ❝ hello there good sir, i’m terribly sorry to interrupt you, ❞ he says one hand absently smoothing his silken jacket as pale eyes peer curiously at the other man. ❝ but you wouldn’t happen to be  jack sparrow,  would you ? ❞

🪐 — edward teach​ ;

stede’s fingers move ever so slowly,   like he is confronting a wild animal ready to pounce on him  (   he kind of is,  in a way   ).  but it’s the way he calls him ed that gets through to him,  in the end,  seeping rage out of him in big greedy gulps.  he lets it happen,  too tired to hold on to the anger and violence that kept him standing  —  barely  —  during all these weeks.  he lowers the blade without much of a fight,  then takes a ragged breath for what seems to him the first time in forever when it clutters to the wooden floor in a heavy thud.  because he was never going to do it,  was he?  he couldn’t push it any deeper than that.  and he already knew that from the start,  which is why they are away from prying eyes,  from voices demanding stede bonnet’s ultimate demise.  well,  only one really.  but izzy isn’t here to witness this pathetic failure,  and that’s all to the better.  edward is pretty sure he wouldn’t even bother with challenging stede to a duel,  this time.

he doesn’t want to deal with this right now.  all that’s left of the fire burning in his stomach earlier has dimmed to dying embers,  and without that he just feels drained,  chilled to the bone and more alone than ever.  shoulders finally sag and he bends his head,  as much to drag his gaze away from stede’s almost mournful expression as to attempt to hide the tears welling up in his own eyes.  tangled strands of hair fall forward, obscuring his view,  partially hiding stede from sight.  oh,  he knows he’s still there,  stubborn to the core,  just can’t see what he is doing very well anymore. 

❛  isn’t this your chance to make me pay for what i did to your crew?  it’s what you’re here for,  isn’t it?  ❜   it’s the only thing that makes any sense to edward,  the only way his mind can fill in the blanks and name a reason for stede coming back here.  he has tasted violence all his life,  it’s his own fault if he had thought he could have something kinder,  for once.  he should’ve known better.

     THE BLADE LOWERS A DEGREE AT A TIME, stede’s breath held close in his throat. he can see it when the fight goes out of edward, his head falling forward as the knife hits the floor. his face is hidden behind long unkempt hair, but the shift in tone of his voice is unmistakable. gone is its sharp edge — now there is a note of sorrow to his voice that stede has never heard before.  &  that worries him, his brow furrowing at edward’s words. oh how he yearns to reach out  &  touch him, to wrap him in a warm embrace  &  hold him close as the apologies he knows are owed flow from his lips. the distance between them is painful, an unpleasant prickling at stede’s skin. it is torment to be so close  &  not close that final gap, takes all his strength not to step closer or reach out.                             but he hasn’t been forgiven yet. he hasn’t earned the right to touch edward again.  &  stede won’t push himself where he isn’t wanted any longer. if edward can’t forgive him — then stede will not force him to endure his presence beyond tonight, even though it would break his heart to leave his side now he’d finally made his way back.

                                                                                   ❝ to the crew ? ❞  the words are said with confusion, his sad smile disappearing as he recalls finding them on that tiny spit of land, scorched  &  dehydrated  &  nearly mad from the exposure. but he couldn’t truly blame edward for that; he had been their captain, after all,  &  it had been his fear  &  failure alone that had put them there on that deserted rock. stede is the only one that requires absolution. ❝ oh, ed, no, ❞ he says, his voice choked with regret.  ❝ no, of course not. that’s not — that was my fault, not yours. it’s all my fault. ❞  tears begin to well in his eyes,  &  stede drops his gaze to the floor, shaking his head back  &  forth a few times to try to keep his composure.  ❝ i came back because . . .  because . . . ❞  &  then he has to force himself to look up at edward again, tears or not.  ❝ because i never should have left you there alone in the first place. &  i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, edward. ❞