#izzy hands as a mouse

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

what if it was fang pushing ed to be blackbeard again? how would my opinions change if ed did this to another character?

bold questions indeed.

for starters, if it was fang in 1.10 who confronted ed in his cabin and said “be blackbeard or else. you being soft and singing a song is a worse than death and i think you would be better of dead” i would mostly be very confused bc nothing abt fang’s prior characterization would suggest he thinks those things or has a problem with ed not being blackbeard. i would probably say something like “why did they suddenly make this friendly samoan character deliver these incredibly cruel lines when it would make more sense for that one short mean white guy to say this stuff. i don’t understand why this writing decision was made but it feels kinda racist to me. i thought they were building towards something with izzy’s character this season but it’s like they suddenly swapped his personality with this side character who didn’t really have a lot of screen time this season but who seemed really on board with the whole talent show idea”

and then if ed proceeded to cut off fang’s toe and feet it to him i would wonder if maybe the writers/showrunners didn’t want to show that violence happening to a white masc character for some reason, and that’s why they suddenly changed the characterizations around so drastically. i would definitely be pretty critical of this very strange writing decision

but if we’re discussing “what if fang took izzy’s narrative role in the story” i probably would also be squinting at the choice to cast a fat samoan man as this asshole antagonist killjoy guy who’s a dick to everyone around him and whose job in the story is to push ed into being a racist caricature of himself. ed’s perception of himself/blackbeard as a hyperviolent monster is deeply informed by the colonial society he lives in. the nine gun smoke head picture of blackbeard that stede showed him was printed in a book published by colonial society, the art of himself that ed stabbed against the wall at the end of 1.10 was produced by racists in colonial society. i would feel really weird about fang holding that drawing up to ed and saying “this is blackbeard” and i would feel even more weird abt this casting decision when the toe scene happened

so yeah i guess technically to answer the questions of “what if ed did this to another character?” and “what if he did this to fang?” i would not feel the same way about the toe scene as i do watching it in canon. i would probably not have the same “he fucked around, he found out” opinion if fang took izzy’s place in the story bc i would mostly be critical of the choice to make fang’s job in season one to uphold toxic masculinity and racist colonialist depictions of ed.

[candescentdibromoindigodreams]

My winter gift by the magical @toboldlymuppet finally delivered

Should I reconsider asexuality...

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Devil Wears Armani 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you’re the CEO’s new PA and you find the work too much to handle. (short!reader)

Characters: Tony Stark, this reader is known as Georgie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

---posting to the correct blog lol---

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

After the week you’ve had, the need for a strong drink is irresistible. You’re almost there. Friday. You just need to make it through the day. There’s only one obstacle in your way. Mr. Stark. 

You bring him his ritualistic cafe au lait just after noon. He has an airpod in his ear, chattering on a call as he clicks around his floating computer screen. You keep your head down, making yourself invisible as you place the cup on a coaster. He leans back in his white leather chair as he speaks, reaching quickly for the coffee. 

“Yeah, Rogers, maybe, I don’t know about you but I’m not looking to invest right now. I got enough eggs to hatch...” Stark sips as he rests his other hand on his thigh.  

Before you can retreat, your eyes flick over and see the moving image on the monitor. You don’t react. You just backpedal and return to your desk, gently closing the door as to not disturb your call. You might commend him for multitasking if it wasn’t so inappropriate. 

You cup your chin and zero in on your screen, fighting the images seared into your eyes. The woman’s ass spread wide as the man... nope. Not today. 

Mr. Stark’s reputation is less than pristine. Everyone knows how he is but he’s the CEO. Who’s going to say anything? Or do anything? Coming into the role, you expected a demanding workload and a finicky boss, but not everything else. Not the blatant disregard for others and brazen lack of shame. 

You glance over at his door before you dare to take out your phone. You lay it next to your keyboard and keep your hand under your chin. You look down as you press to unlock and read the messages from the other girls. Izzie can’t make it, she’s out in the field, but the others are down. Awesome. 

You scroll through the gif catalogue and send a celebratory reaction. Mr. Stark’s door startles you and you slide your phone up under your monitor stand to try to hide it. You put your attention back to the calendar and swoop your mouse around the pad. 

Stark approaches as he slurps loudly over the brim of his cup. You feel the weight of his gaze and meet it shyly, pushing your glasses up your nose as you sit up. You can’t quite smile as your jaw locks up. 

“Sir?” You greet him in confusion. 

“So, Friday,” his brown eyes dip down to consider the depths of the mug, “got any exciting plans?” 

You look left then right and back at him. Your brow twitches in surprised confusion. Mr. Stark never asks about your personal life. He only ever talks about his private jet and high-life getaways to locations you could never dream of. Your cocktails are meagre compared to his elite lifestyle. 

“No, sir,” you say. “How about you?” 

He smirks and tilts his head. He slowly prowls around your desk and you swivel your chair to face him as he nears the corner to your right. You tilt to look up at him. 

“Ah, the usual, there’s this sweet little blonde thing down in Barbados waiting for me,” he chuckles as his eyes rove over your desk, “no dates? No... partying?” 

“Sir, I... just errands.” 

“Uh huh,” he clucks and reaches for your mouse. Nope. He swerves and swipes up your phone as it lights up beneath the stand. Shoot. “Social hour, huh?” 

“No, sir. I just shut off an alarm and forgot--” 

“You’re a bad liar, stop it,” he warns as he brings your phone up and reads the messages popping up, “girls’ night?” He looks at you over the cell, “that sounds like more than errands to me.” 

“Well, sir, I didn’t think... it was important.” 

“Must be if you’re texting at work,” he tosses the phone at you and you catch it as it lands in your lap. “You been to Barbados?” 

“Barbados? No?” You answer dumbly, no expecting the question. 

“Wanna go?” 

You hesitate. Is this some trick? It’s like when he was taunting Walker last week, baiting him into giving answers that made him look stupid.

“Sir, maybe one day, I guess, I never thought--” 

“No thinking. I know you’re not that fucking simple,” he reaches to poke your forehead and your recoil. “Don’t get too fucking crazy tonight, sweetheart, jet takes off at six. In the morning.” 

You frown and shake your head. He can’t mean what you think. 

“Should I have your luggage--” 

“Be there,” he demands and gulps back a mouthful. He slams down the empty mug on your desk and backs up, “if you’re still thirsty, they got cocktails on the plane.” 

He turns and strides away, whistling as he checks his watch. He sighs as he approaches the office door, pausing, “when Odinson gets here, make sure he has everything he needs.” He glances back with a smirk as you peer around your monitor, “and smile, sweetheart, you got nice lips.” 

You stare after him as he closes his office door and you sit back. You chew your thumb and look down at your phone. You sniff as you watch the others messages stream over the screen. Now you know better than to have your phone out at work. Now you get to do overtime. Fun. 

You rub your cheek and roll close to your desk. You’re not going to miss tonight, even if Mr. Stark wants to take away your weekend. You’ve been waiting for this and you need the boost before you face whatever he has planned.  

A message blips up in the corner and you click it, not daring to ignore Mr. Stark’s icon. The window spreads over the screen and the message floats over the reply bar. ‘Don’t forget a bikini’. 

Huh? 

[calicobigamy]

Essence of a Babygirl (a tumblr joke essay)

Babygirl, the term has spiked in popularity, but what is a babygirl? Is the term a bit more complicated than at first glance? What is the essence of a babygirl? Today I will be answering these questions. 

Urban dictionary describes babygirl as thusly:

“A term used towards grown fictional men who have the fandom in a loving chokehold.”

A Mashable article titled The internet's 2022 horny dictionary defines babygirl as

“... a term of endearment for when a man is being cute, comfortable in his masculinity, or weak in an evocative way.”

These descriptions are wholesome. They create an avenue of masculinity that can be vulnerable and attractive at the same time. A term for a type of masculinity that creates room for a multi-dimensional character in fiction. Various fictional characters have been affectionately dubbed as “babygirls”. One of the most well known being Leon Kennedy from the Resident Evil franchise. 

However the term is also used to describe characters that are remarkably not wholesome. Characters like Izzy Hands, played by Con O’Neil from the incredible show written by David Jenkins called Our Flag Means Death and Marvel’s Loki, played by Tom Hiddleston, have been called babygirls. This must indicate a spectrum of “babygirlness” that scales from wholesome to not wholesome. 

A good babygirl can be seen at a glance, but what makes these other characters part of that babygirl spectrum on the negative side? As my colleague (@robogart) and I studied the issue we realized that negative babygirlness included more nuance. 

We created a study group to determine what attributes make up a bad babygirl. Included in our study was: Izzy Hands (Our Flag Means Death), Gal Dukat (Deep Space 9), David Xanathos and Oberon (Gargoyles), Anders (DA2), Yami Bakura (Yugi-oh, 4kids Production), King of All Cosmos (Katamari), Patches (Fromsoft), Ratagin (Great Mouse Detective), and the Six Fingered Man (Princess Bride). 

The five characteristics that we found amongst all of the babygirls we picked from various media were: being decidedly not wholesome, pathetic, emotionally unhinged and dastardly, but all in all containing some kind of charm. 

We went through and put all of our babygirls to the test with our system. The results were surprising, with Izzy Hands coming out decidedly less babygirl than we predicted and Ratagin being the epitome of babygirlness. 

What did these tests show about babygirlness on a whole? The spectrum ranges from morally good characters to bad, but all share a few common traits. However they express their vulnerabilities, either as completely unhinged or emotionally accessible, we as the audience are captivated and find “their weakness evocative”. Another aspect that is continuous through the spectrum of babygirlness, whether good or bad, is that a babygirl is secure in his masculinity however he chooses to express it. Babygirls on either end of the spectrum do end up having a “loving chokehold on their fandom”. Those people in the fandom are not necessarily of quantity, but of quality. Especially for the baby girls on the “bad” end of the spectrum. 

In conclusion a babygirl can be summed up as a fictional male character that is evocative in his vulnerability and at the same time confident in his masculinity regardless of his moral compass.

Co-Written with @robogart

THANK YOU FOR READING ALL THE WAY TO THE END OF THIS SILLY LITTLE ESSAY!

Please feel free to copy and paste the bad babygirl diagram and see where you babygirls fit!! I am excited to see your favorites!!

[collinrobinsonsglasses]

Too Soft to be a Pirate

Masterlist

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

Summary: A slow burn with Izzy Hands that follows along with the episodes of Our Flag Means Death. I am slowly adding chapters as we speak. There are a lot of interactions with other crew members and the captains. There is so much fluff and pining. I just like to imagine what it would be like to fall in love with Izzy Hands while he's still grappling with his feelings towards Edward.

Chapter 1- Little Mouse

Chapter 2- A Damned Man

Chapter 3- A Gentleman Pirate

Chapter 4- Discomfort in a Married State

Chapter 5: The Best Revenge is Dressing Well 

Chapter 6: The Art of F**ckery

Chapter 7: Drunken Confessions

Chapter 8: Wherever You Go, There You Are

Chapter 9: The Chaos of the Kraken

Chapter 10: Fun and Games

Chapter 11: The Curse of the Seafaring Life

Chapter 12: Ex Marks the Spot

Chapter 13: Calypso's Birthday

Chapter 14: Man on Fire

Chapter 15: Mermen

[total-drama-brainrot]

TD World Tour AU, where Noah doesn't tell Owen that Alejandro is an eel in London... In Area 51, Noah is accidentally splashed with an alien truth potion (which wears off after a few days) and he talks to Owen... Owen asks Noah what he truly thinks about Alejandro, and Truth-Potion Affected Noah says this: "I have mixed feelings for Alejandro. He's a brilliant, interesting guy and I like him, but I don't trust him. He's like a slippery eel dipped in grease, swimming in motor oil. Basically, Heather with social skills. Wait a minute, why am I telling you this?!"... What if Alejandro secretly heard Noah call him all those conflicting things + Alejandro also learns that Noah is affected with an alien truth potion? 👽

Alright, you got me. I'm an absolute sucker for truth potion plots, especially when the character(s) effected by them are usually either pathological liars or incredibly secretive- of which Noah absolutely falls into the second category, given he shares so little personal information.

I'll gloss over why Noah declined to shit-talk Alejandro in London (though there's so many ways this change in behaviour could be justified) since the focal point of this hypothetical centred around their time in Nevada, so let's start from the beginning of the Area 51 challenge.

Area 51:

Before we start, it'll have to be established that no one was eliminated in London. Let's say that the majority vote went towards Duncan (team CIRRRRH voted him out immediately because they found his re-admission to the competition unfair, I guess. I imagine he'd also vote himself, if not as a plan to escape the competition he'd been actively skiving from, then just as an act of spite) but Chris instead claimed it was a rewards challenge- much like he does in Greece- because he doesn't want to let Duncan slip away again so soon.

I see no reason to alter the first part of the challenge- the sneaking into Area 51 portion- since team CIRRRRH's course of entry is fairly straightforward. Noah's presence doesn't make much of a difference to how it would play out; the majority of them throw their rocks and run, Owen gets lasered over the fence and Owen-napped, ect ect.

When both teams have managed to make their way into the Black Box Warehouse, Noah immediately suggests they should prioritise rescuing Owen. Tyler's quick to agree, since he's a firm believer in the "no man left behind" mentality (and he probably makes a not-so-subtle jab towards Noah for his chance of tune compared to London, where both he and Owen did leave Tyler behind) leaving Duncan and Alejandro to split from the group- Duncan in search of Gwen, and Alejandro just takes the opportunity to finally be free from his 'incompetent teammates' and prioritises finding an artifact.

Noah and Tyler come across the contraption Owen's trapped in, Tyler punches it in a futile effort to break it open, and the face hugger cube drops into Noah's hands. This is where the point of divergence comes into play; Tyler has his E.T. moment with one of the face huggers, but Noah- who's a tad bit more observant than Alejandro, and used to dodging surprise attacks from his various older siblings (and Izzy)- anticipates his own face hugger attack and promptly starts a game of cat-and-mouse with a taser alien hot on his heels.

The commotion of which attracts the rest of his team. Alejandro and Duncan arrive on the scene to see Tyler being electrocuted by an alien and Noah running in circles evading another.

Duncan attempts to rip the face hugger from Tyler's face, finding success at the cost of sending Tyler trampling into Owen's captive contraption (essentially taking Alejandro's canonical place in this scene) and inadvertently freeing Owen.

Meanwhile, Alejandro swipes up the nearest box he can find and snags the alien chasing Noah, who's still very loudly panicking as he flees, and succeeds! The alien is swiftly captured into the box, netting team CIRRRRH their artifact, and Noah promptly goes careening into the nearest tower of junk in his face hugger-fuelled hysteria. This causes another box to topple from the peak of the tower, landing directly on Noah's head and spilling its contents onto the bookworm- glass vials filled with a mysterious, luminescent cobalt blue liquid shatter into pieces drenching Noah in whatever they contained. (i.e. truth potion.)

Owen has his false-amnesia moment, characterised by his Joker makeover, and Alejandro enacts his revenge post-hypnotic suggestion after being addressed as "Al" one too many times.

Noah, understandably, swiftly objects to Owen's treatment and demands that Alejandro snap him out of it. Alejandro concedes, and Owen's brought back to himself. At least, for a moment, before the fatigue of having his mind messed with sends Owen into near-catatonia (the same as canon), meaning he has to be ferried through the Warehouse and back to the Jet by Alejandro and Duncan.

Things carry on canonically from there; Noah's just sort of there for the most part, though there'd be a minor hint to his newfound proclivity for honesty. Something along the lines of him giving an uncharacteristically honest answer to Owen as to who he's voting- Tyler, of course, since he was the one who ultimately threw the challenge for them... and also because Tyler still holds some resentment towards Noah for what happened in London, and Noah feels guilty about it every time he looks at the jock. Wait, why did he say that?

Sometime between this and the elimination scene, Noah wipes the truth-goop off of himself, but not before the effects have already started.

Tyler's voted out, yada yada yada.

The Jet:

Thus begins the start of "Picnic at Hanging Dork". Team CIRRRRH, consisting of just Alejandro, Duncan, Owen and Noah, are slumming it up in the Economy Cabin. Alejandro tries to rally his team by asking how to break apart Courtney and Heather's tentative co-operation. Owen suggests having Alejandro seduce Heather, since it worked for both Bridgette and Leshawna. Duncan makes his "Babe Olympics" comment. Noah pipes up that playing with someone's feelings is pretty scummy, even for someone competing for a million dollars.

Alejandro takes Noah's reluctance towards his methodology poorly; he hadn't spoken up before, when Alejandro had utilized the same strategy against other girls- and even Owen noticed that, so surely Noah did too- so why was he to outwardly against him using the same tricks? Duncan agrees, and offers ''his'' idea of having Alejandro flirt with Courtney to throw both her and Heather off their games (since Heather has an obvious crush on Alejandro), and things follow canon.

Then, the scene between Alejandro and Courtney happens. Noah scoffs at the display from the side lines, prompting Owen to ask him why he's so against Alejandro's plan.

"I mean, you never said anything before, when he flirted with Bridgette and Leshawna." Owen comments, light-hearted in nature but with an underlying questioning tone.

Noah's eyes flicker with a cobalt glow, easily mistaken for a trick of the light, and he speaks without even thinking.

"Yeah, because I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Bridgette was happenstance, and Leshawna's whole deal could've been a coincidence, or some massive misunderstanding. But this?" Noah extends an accusing hand out towards a smug looking Alejandro, then pans it over to a flattered Courtney, "He's outright toying with Courtney's feelings after she was cheated on in front of an international audience. It's scummy."

Owen nods in understanding, momentary contemplation evident in the pouted curve of his lips, and he chimes in.

"Does that mean you don't like Al?"

"I never said that."

"Well, how do you feel about him, then?"

Again, a flash of blue light against the hickory backdrop of Noah's eyes, and he responds thoughtlessly.

"I guess I have mixed feelings about him. On the one hand, he's slippery, like an eel dipped in grease, swimming in motor oil. He's like if you took all of the worst aspects of Heather, wrapped them up in a pretty package, and gave them social skills..." He holds his hands out before him in a scale-like manner, with the left tipped downwards and tie right raised by his chin. Then, the two hands swap positions.

"And on the other hand, he's brilliant. I've never met anyone as talented as Alejandro; he's smart, he's athletic, he's funny. It's almost unfair just how perfect everything about him is- even his face is perfect. It's ridiculous! Infuriating, even. It's so hard to dislike him, even when I know he's bad news, but that doesn't mean I trust him."

Owen stands slack jawed beside his best friend, both impressed and stunned at the raw honesty of Noah's tirade. Noah, now a little more aware of himself, realises that he's said more than he intended to- more than he thinks he's ever spoken in one go throughout the entirety of Total Drama. He's not usually one for speeches, after all, let alone honest ones.

He's always been the type to play his cards close to his chest, so why...?

"I, uh, didn't mean to go off like that."

And he also didn't mean to admit it, either. What was going on?

The look Owen gives him is, in a word, vivid. The blonde has a shit-eating grin stretching across his face, a sort of elated smugness practically glowing from his features.

"Sounds like someone has a cruuuush!~"

What? No? No! Not at all, where would Owen even get that idea?!

Noah splutters to correct Owen's assumption (to disastrous results, because he does sort-of has a crush on Alejandro, so the truth potion doesn't allow him to outright deny it), and in his preoccupied state he misses how a calculating pair of sage green eyes never seems to stray from him.

Alejandro has a lot to think about in regards to a certain cynic, it seems.

[steddie-my-love]

You’re Our Kid

Dads!Blackbonnet x Daughter!Reader

Cw: Angst, (light) Canon Typical Violence, Harsh self image, not being beta read

—

Izzy Hands was pissed off. Granted, Izzy Hands is always pissed about everything but today was unlike anything the crew of the revenge had seen so far.

In these past few months he had watched Blackbeard, the most feared pirate in the world change before his very eyes. He was cheerful, having people call him ed and falling for Stede Bonnet. It wasn’t right.

Pirates weren't supposed to have attachments. The only thing you could trust was that they were always plotting against each other. Always ready to stab each other in the back or the side. But now ed had a kid and the whole world was upside down.

“Izzy” you called running onto the deck to greet the man “Sorry i’m late, i was helping frenchie with making dinner and I lost track of time. Are you ready for sword practice?”

He looked you up and down with cold eyes. Despite the hours of work you were still happy, still smiling, still the thing that had turned the most feared captain on the seven seas soft.

You had to go.

“Okay kid. We’re going to start with dueling technique” he rasped, drawing his scabbard from his waist and cleaning off the blade. “You’re going to have to face down all sorts and it’s your job to find your way out of it without help.”

You nodded dutifully, listening as the grizzled man eyed you up and down like a cat eyeing a mouse.

“The key is to catch your target off guard,” he continued “never expect a fair fight and never expect backup. In this life you only have yourself to rely on.”

In a sharp movement, Izzy swung his sword, cutting your wrist as your sword spun out of your hand. You glimpsed to the side to see where it had fallen but in the second you had looked away it was already too late.

You fell to the deck, head slamming against the wood hull. The world spun as you looked up, the sun stinging your eyes as you blearily looked at the world. Any mercy that Izzy had shown before had fallen away and as you stared up at what he really was; he was a killer.

Your sword was too far away. “Ste-” you started to call, desperate for some, any kind of help but were cut off as the the sharp point of izzy’s sword began to dig into your neck.

“Oh no you don’t” Izzy sneered “you don’t get to call for their help every time you’re stuck. Do you really think that they care for you? That they see you as anything but a nuisance? You are a passing fancy, and once they get bored of you, they’ll cast you off just like everything else.”

Izzy raised his arms again, scabbard in hand. This time the blow was meant to be deadly. You raised your hands to your face, waiting for the cut of the blade.

“IZZY” a booming voice called from behind the man. Izzy turned his gaze to see Ed running at him full speed, eyes practically glowing with rage as he disarmed his first mate and tackled him to the ground.

As the men fought, you could feel stede hoist you up to your feet. “Its okay my dear, you’re safe now. We’ve got you” he said gently.

The world seemed to sway as the blonde lifted you up. Closing your eyes, you let your head fall against his chest. Everything seemed to hurt and the world was fading further and further away from you.

“My dear i need you to stay awake” Stede said, tenderly stroking your jaw until your eyes opened again. His eyes seemed wilder than you had ever seen before, usual silky timber thick with anxiety. “What did he do darling? What happened?”

You blinked your eyes blearily, your pupils moving in and out of focus. “Me n’ Izzy were training. Said i made you two soft and that I had to go. Next thing I knew I was knocked to the ground.”

Stede’s heart had never broken more than in that moment. You looked so broken, and could not seem to stop shaking beside your best efforts.

“You son of a bitch” Ed snarled, finally pinning Izzy to the ground “what the fuck did you think you were doing? You could have killed her!”

Izzy’s face hardened “I’m doing what has to be done. What you don’t have the courage to do.”

If Ed hadn’t been mad before, he was furious now. He saw your crumpled form clinging onto stede to stay up, the fear in your eyes as you watched ed’s wrath come forward in unholy waves.

“You’re lucky I didn't kill you right here, right now.” Ed spoke, voice dangerously low, his face pushing into Izzy's “If you ever so much as think about hurting my daughter I won't stop at the toes next time.”

Ed pushed himself off, signaling to two of the crew to secure the first mate. “Lock him up in the brig. Bastard needs some time to rot”

It was just as he said this that your legs finally gave out, the world fading to inky black as you faded down into oblivion in the care of two leatherbound arms.

—

The gentle rocking of the boat stirred you from your sleep, your eyes opening to the dim captain’s quarters. Gingerly, you began to raise your head up off of the couch but tendrils of white hot pain reached up your neck.

“Don’t move darling” Stede cooed, pushing your hair back out of your face. “Ed’s gone to fetch some broth and a towel for you. Just relax”

Your head swam, a million questions floating through but one seemed to break through.

“Where’s Izzy?” you asked, your voice tightening suddenly.

Stede’s brows furrowed in confusion “Well, the boys threw him in the brig but i figure Ed wants to throw him in to the bottom of the ocean”

“You should let him out. He was only trying to protect Ed, I wasn't on my mark. I’ll be ready next time.” you spoke, fingers twisting into the fine blanket draped over you.

“He tried to kill you y/n. That man is not walking free any time soon”

“He was right, Stede!” you said, voice cracking as tears began to fill your eyes.

“Right about what little sparrow?” Ed’s voice called from the door.

Silent tears began to stream down your face, the weight of izzy’s words seeming to suddenly flatten you.

“Izzy said i was a bad influence on you. That my being here softened you and that you were better off without me. That you would move on just like everyone else does” you said barely above a whisper, unable to say it any louder before the tears overtook you.

When you looked to the side you expected two sullen faces in stark agreement, but as you looked to the men they had wet eyes taking in everything you had just said.

Ed was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat as it had tightened up. “Is it okay if i touch you y/n?” he asked gently.

You nodded, unable to speak without devolving into a stream of tears. Ed picked up your legs to sit on the couch, slipping them back over him as he took his position on the couch. Stede stayed at your side on the floor, watching you.

“Izzy may have known what i wanted when i was a young man” Ed started, choosing his words carefully as he traced patterns onto your calves “but he hasn’t understood me for a long time. This ship, Stede, You- that’s all I want now.”

You nodded your head slowly “So am i-”

Ed gave out a short laugh “Are you my kid? I’d say in all ways except biologically, yes.”

“And you’re also my kid” Stede interjected, brown eyes darting between the two of you “and as long as me and ed are alive your home is right here with us.”

“Good, that’s exactly where i want to be” you said.

And as the ship sailed on, taking you to unknown places and adventures you knew that there was nothing that would tear the three of you apart.

[thesmokingguns]

Izzy's Favorite Pussy

Mother had a lot of people coming into our home lately. 

Late at night they would clumsy come into the house, rousing me from the nap I would take in anticipation for her arrival. 

These foul smelling beasts would sometimes see me and say things like ‘I like your pussy’ or ‘Can I pet your pussy?” laughing at their own jokes with a  grotesque, loud sound that was desperate.

It wasn’t anything like the tinkle of laughter that mother would give me when I shit in their shoes. 

Terrible things. 

They closed the door to our bedroom, used their feet like weapons when I would dart out of the bathroom trying to save the floor from their inability to aim in the human litter box.

Untrained swine. 

Men would come over a few times a week and make mother yowl in a sound that made my claws come out and then she would send these hairless mammals from our home with promises to ring them. 

But it was only my bell that she would ring when she gave me belly pets since I was her sweetest little prince. 

And then she brought home a man who bent down to untie his shoes when he came in, helping mother from her heels and laughing when she looked at him. He saw me and greeted me as one should. 

A very kind Pst Pst Pst sound escaped his lips as he held out a hand letting me know that I could use this offered scratch post if I so choose. And since he had asked so politely I strode over and let him run his fingers through my fur. 

He was a good man and itched the perfect spot between my ears. 

Mother also approved of him enough that after she yowled for him and he came out to get a cup of water she asked him if he wanted to stay. 

The man left the door open to the bedroom and didn’t lock me out. 

He knew who ran this house. 

After day the man visited more. Brought me new treats of dried salmon and a little mouse toy that he would let me play with but also would use when he played with me. 

This man I knew was destined to be my father. 

One day his things started appearing in our home and he sat on the couch, those funny little things on his face moving as the pink flicker of his tongue made weird sounds. 

But I appreciated that he talked to me, tom to tom. 

And I knew that mother had finally found us father. 

[maximwtf]

izzy x reader fluff plpease. maybe first kiss????. i am thinking maybe starts off in angst where the reader is rly tired and distancing themself but izzy finds them and is really nice and supportive and shit. bonus points if reader runs off at some point to hide in stede's closet.(idk i find the idea of reader who wears black all the time secretly fucking loving stede's pastels to be amazing) sorry if this made 0 sense

Izzy Hands x Reader

Words: 2440

Google docs pages: 4

Warnings: self doubt, drinking, that’s about it?

Opening: You’re doubting your skills as a pirate, making you distance yourself from anything that reminds you of the life given to you. Izzy notices this, and tries to change your  mind. 

AN// Reader can be any gender. Thank you so much for this request! A good ol’ angst with comfort at the end !! I’ll probably take a small break from ofmd after this because the urge to write a couple of genshin fics is high because I can’t find anything else but smut for that fandom. And while I can certainly live with that, I must add some angst into the mix (as I usually do :”D) Requests are only open for genshin for a bit !^^

“Skilled enough to keep running…”

Being a pirate wasn’t just a title given to some that automatically turned you into the stereotypical barbarian. While it did sometimes awfully seem like some were born to a life such as this, you felt more like a scared mouse at times. That was an underestimate, not even at times. Most of the time. Sailing, cleaning the decks, cooking, sharpening swords and all the other small tasks you usually took were easy. But whenever a more serious situation came about, you froze. You were useless. 

What kind of a pirate doesn’t know how to hold a gun properly without having your hands shake like you were going through an internal earthquake? Or one that didn’t know how to have a proper grip of their sword, so that the opponent could just smack it out of your hands? All of that and more was the norm for you. And no one even dared to tell you how useless you were. 

You would have left this life a long time ago if you could have. But where would have you even gone? You had no home, other than the sea. And you couldn’t be at the sea without a ship. And a captain you could never be, you barely survived as a crew member. At times it felt like the others just pitied you, making them not want to tell you that they saw the way you struggled to even handle a sword. And it wasn’t like you hadn’t asked for lessons for both guns and swords. But even those hadn’t helped. Something in you told you to keep running whenever something bad was about to unfold. 

So you scurried away like a mouse whenever you felt useless or when the rest of the crew handled a battle perfectly fine without you fiddling with a sword in their way. Without even noticing you started doing this even when there was no need for it. 

The evenings usually spent with the crew; talking, drinking, and laughing turned into you sitting at the bow of the ship alone. Watching as the waves hit the ship and as the droplets joined back into the huge body of water. The nights usually spent with Izzy, arguing over who would eventually take the look out shift, when both of you knew you’d sit in the crowsnest together the whole night turned into you hiding away until he gave up looking for you before making your way to the mast. At least you were in no one's way. 

And oddly enough, most of the changes didn’t bother you. After all, it felt like this was how things were meant to be. But those look out shifts became something you soon started to miss. Especially when you had to wait for him to stop looking for you before going to the mast. You could hear him search for you, even if he was never loud with it. You knew the first mate would never admit to willingly spending those hours with you. So it hurt to ignore him like this. 

But as time went on, the man became more persistent, a trait you admired. Of course he had noticed that your absence wasn’t simply exhaustion from the small tasks you always insisted on doing, saying that it was the least you could offer. Which he never understood, because in his eyes you had potential. Like raw marble that hadn’t been shaped into a statue yet. But every time he had tried to teach you, you had shied away. 

So he took it upon himself to catch you and ask what was going on. Not only for his own sake, but the captains had been asking about you and what kind of a first mate would have he been if he didn’t know where the crew was. Especially when one of them had seemingly disappeared, apart from the cleaning still being magically done. Knowing it was you. 

So another night, he looked for you as had become a habit. And as per usual tradition, you were nowhere to be found. No amount of lantern light on the murky deck would have given out where you could have been, and searching the whole ship at such an hour would have been a waste of time. But this time you made a mistake. 

While trying to shift positions in the comfort of a deep shadow, you slipped onto the wet deck. Not badly, but enough to make a noise. If it hadn’t been for the lantern in the first mate’s hand, you wouldn’t have been able to tell that he was coming towards you. His clothes blended so well into the night. But so did yours, something you thought was boring. Though, it gave an advantage and allowed you to slip away for a moment, still aware that the first mate wasn’t stupid. He’d sniff out your tracks like a bloodhound in no time. Especially with where you were now. 

Stede’s quarters, the lights now dim and the soft snoring of the other captain audible every now and then. Izzy wouldn’t have to do more than peek through the small window to see you here. The dim lights even cast a shadow on the wooden flooring, determining your presence. 

Your heart was pounding, just like it always did when you fled from a fight. And you did so now even when you knew the person after you was someone you should have had respect for. Pouting, you realised you should have never stepped a foot on a ship. Who by accident disrespects the privacy of their captain and the commands of a first mate? 

Biting your bottom lip to keep the thoughts at bay and the tears far away, you pushed a closet door open, slid between the soft fabrics and closed the door the best you could. You crouched down, sitting alone in the closet like a scared child. A fast breath escaped, determined not to call it a sob. That would have been the last straw for you, if you cried now they might as well have you thrown overboard tomorrow morning. 

But even if the tears never came, the sob was heard. The door opened, but no one stepped in. He was smart enough not to barge in, unlike you. After what sounded like he had determined safe entry, the first mate finally stepped in. He called you silently by name, knowing the outcome but still tried. To his usual style, a few curses left him as Stede’s breathing pattern changed momentarily. Soon the dim light of the lantern shone right towards the closet, a straight line of light making its way right beside you through a crack. You didn’t feel like trying to run anymore. “Fucking, get out of there.” A snappy whisper came from the other side of the door, making you hug your knees. What a stew you’d brewed for yourself.

A groan rumbled from Izzy’s throat as he slowly opened the closet door, shining the light in only to find the person he’d been looking for at the bottom of it. He wanted to be mad, to tell you that he wasn’t a nanny and you weren’t a child. But the sight of you made him hold back slightly, offering you a hand. “Get up.” He said silently, you staring up at him before taking his hand. 

He led you out on the main deck, making sure to close the cabin door silently not to wake up Stede. He stayed silent until he’d brought you to the railing to which he leaned on, as a deep sigh left him. He brushed back his hair, leaning back ever so slightly as he turned to look at you. You held yourself, gaze avoiding his, not sure if he was mad at you. 

He’d always been better at you at the whole pirate thing, not that you’d known him for more than a year at maximum. But for some reason he chose to spend time with you. Which you’d never understood. Wouldn’t have it been more entertaining for him to talk to someone who understood him? “You know, I’ve fucking hated being here too.” He started, breaking the silence with a comment he was hoping to land somewhere near the reason why you’d been avoiding him. And the attempt somewhat worked, gaining your attention as your eyes finally moved to his form. “After Stede came along, and his…crew” He left the terms ‘fucking useless’ out for now, adding them in only in his inner monologue. You took a step closer, leaning on the railing, copying his mannerisms. “But you’re not useless.” You sighed, turning to look at the water, not wanting to see how he looked at you after. “I was to Edward for some time.” He replied, turning to one of the wooden containers on deck, rummaging through it, knowing there were a few bottles at the bottom of it. And he was right, of course. “You don’t need someone to be useful. I can’t even be useful to myself.” You shrugged, feeling somewhat better now that you were talking to him again, though still tense. “What use is an unused first mate?” He asked, giving you a look as he seemed to notice you weren’t picking up on what he meant, now that he’d finally caught up with the problem. It had been the fact that you kept fleeing after every minor failure. The first mate opened the bottle, the cap of it falling somewhere on the deck, the sound of it slowly rolling away as the ship swayed audible for a moment. 

You turned to look at him once more. “But you’re still skilled. Surely there is someone who’s in need of someone like you.” Izzy sighed, wanting to groan out of slight frustration because he wasn’t used to comforting people, but he kept that to himself. And he told himself that it was simply because you intrigued him, still a part of him knowing it was because he actually cared. But that was an emotion yet unknown to him. “At some point in sailing with the same crew, they become too close to leave behind. No matter how they treat you.” ‘That's family for you’, you thought to yourself, not having many other family dynamics to compare this to. But then again, he was correct. And something in you had known that this whole time. That’s why you hadn’t left the crew, but instead turned to hiding away. Because the crew had formed into a family. 

You fell into a silence, a comfortable one. Izzy followed along, offering you the rum bottle to drink from, not knowing many other ways to ease the feelings he knew all too well. He hadn’t been born with a sword in hand either, and he had the scars on his back as a reminder of who he had had to become in order to survive and live the life he’d been given. But if he could offer you an easier way to ease into this life, he could try. Wouldn’t have been the first time for him to find someone who just needed a little sharpening. 

You took a swig, placing the bottle on the railing, still holding the neck of it. You saw the crew in a better light now. Being able to kill someone wasn’t something that gained you respect and made you useful, that was only a skill most here knew only to survive and protect the family they’d found. The more you thought back to what you usually did for others, they always seemed to be thankful. It was the small tasks, the ones that no one else bothered to do that made the crew respect you as one of their own. But one thing was still unclear. Why did Izzy care? 

You handed the bottle to him, tilting your head. “Why do you care? Care enough to come look for me now..?” You asked, confused. Sure, you’d spent time with him and he was by far the only person from the crew you knew this well, but by the way he acted towards others you would have never guessed he would have been the person to come looking for you so persistently. The first mate took the opportunity to shut himself up before anything slipped past him by taking a long swig from the bottle. Though, eventually having to put it down. He cleared his throat, extending his time to think of an answer even he didn’t know. The air was tense now that he’d used all his getaway cards. 

A breath of the cool night air and he spoke. “Because I feel something for you”, shattering the silence from earlier. You stared at him, watching him take another swig, all words gone from your mind. Your mouth hung agape, wanting to tell him you felt the same but none of that came out. He’d helped you enough for tonight, you didn’t want to watch the poor man suffer any further. 

You took a hold of his hand, the one grasping the bottle oddly tight. Your touch eased the hold, making him turn to you. “And if you still want, I can-” He attempted to escape, but you knew by now how that always ended up. No one could run for forever, no matter how skilled they were. You gently took a step closer, awkward but still somehow leading. He wasn’t resisting, so you got closer. Still no words in mind, you thought this would have told him more than any of your stuttered words could. You kissed him, awkwardly, but it was the meaning behind it that mattered. It didn’t last long, not as long as similar actions in the future did. Yet he would continue to look at you with the same expression he had on his face now. One of melancholic surprise, like he was sad yet still caring. Confused. You both had something to work on, together. 

AN// Shoutout to clocks and time fr, it’s 5am again :”D Anyway I’ve healed from a fever and what I think was a sinus infection or still is??? Not sure man but I’m still holding on, trust. We'll see whatever ache attacks me next :"DD If this was proof read funny, I apologise. I'm tired xd

[lilyrizzy]

From my own cloud: Daniel on the phone struggling to articulate the issues they're having (before anything is ever public)!

Sorry mate this is kinda different than what you asked for but it ran away with me... Hope you like it anyway! Thank you to @catofthecanals289 for helping me with the ending, ly girl

Cw: implied past trauma but like everything is so vague, nothing specific!

Calling home has always been like pressing on a bruise. One already turned yellow-green at the edges, the pain long gone and replaced with a dull ache. A reminder of hurt more than the real thing.

Outside on their balcony, the November night is colder than the temperatures Daniel usually subjects himself to, but inside Max is sleeping. Picturing his mum as her tinny voice chatters away in his ear, it's easy. Halfway across the world, sunny's on and feet up, his dad lighting the barbecue in the yard. Both of them warm, the way he hopes Max is too, buried in their bedsheets.

"How's Izzy, how's Isaac?" Daniel asks, running through all the obligatory questions. He's not uninterested in the answers, just- It's more that the answers never change. "How's Michelle? Dad?"

Everyone is fine, fine, fine, fine according to his mum, and everyone is more 'worried about you Danny'. Her questions are always the same as well. Is he eating enough, is he sleeping enough? Did he see the photo Michelle posted on 'the cloud thing,' and didn't Daniel think it was cute?

Except-

"Are you really not coming home for Christmas?"

The bluntness shouldn't startle him, not after years of living with Max, of more spent growing up with his mum.

You'd like each other, he thinks not for the first time, if you really got to know each other.

He kind of wants that more than anything. To explain Max in a way that would make her love him too, but he knows the eyes through which she sees Max are different to Daniel's in a way that's impossible to resolve.

If he knew how to, he'd explain that Max can drag a laugh out from the belly of him in a way that no one else can. Most of the time without even meaning to. That he's honest in a way that is very rarely cruel, and so when he does come out with some cutting remark you know it's deserved. That when he first moved Jimmy and Sassy into Daniel's apartment, he slept belly-down on  the floor in front of the sofa which Sassy hid underneath, hand holding a battered felt mouse out to her, so she will know of course, that this is home now.

That Daniel maybe thinks he knows what love, deep fucking life-changing love is because of Max.

"Yeah mum, I'm really not coming home for Christmas," he says instead because he also knows what it's like to listen to someone- Michael usually- wax poetic about their partner and think can't you just get to the fucking point already, mate.

There's a disapproving pause that Daniel uses to consider how dirty the grout between the tiles of their balcony is. To contemplate how and where he could hire a jet wash from, so Max doesn't have to do his workouts with Brad an inch away from what he is increasingly worrying might be black mould.

"I don't think it's very healthy, Daniel," she says evenly, and it's showtime if his full name is being used. "The two of you alone in you're apartment, no family, no-"

"Mum," he interrupts, the words muffled around the nail bed he's chewing on, "Max asked me to stay, I'm staying. It's not really up for like, discussion."

"Sweetheart, we just- Issac and Izzy were so excited to have you home."

He laughs, not mean or anything it's just- Funny.

"Come on," he tries, aiming for lighthearted but no doubt missing the mark enough to have him flaming out and into the boards, "you can't plead with me to leave good old bachelor Ric behind me and then throw a wobbler you guys are no longer number one."

"Can't you bring him home with you?" She tries stubbornly as ever, and Jesus what is that saying about men marrying people that are like their mothers?

"No," he says, shaking his head though she can see it. "Mum, please- He asked me for this. Don't try to make me feel guilty for giving it to him."

"He should think about what you want too, honey," she rounds, and it's a close call to Daniel throwing his phone off the balcony and into the sea, but- It's not fair. It's not her fault.

After all, there are other things he can't explain. How Max still flinches sometimes when Daniel reaches for him in bed, then says sorry so quickly in a miserable-sounding voice, it's like he believes he's running out of chances. Like he's not the fucking, heart line on Daniel's palm, the artery pumping his blood, or whatever else the shitty love songs on the radio talk about.

"He does mum, he-"

Rubber screeches against glass as the door behind him slides open, and before Daniel has even turned all the way around Max is saying his name like a question. Stood in the doorway in Daniel's too-big merch, he would look like every one of Daniel's romantic dreamings come to life if not for the tightness of his jaw, and the height of his shoulders.

"Hey baby," he says, voice softer than anything he's been using so far on the phone. He tries not to cringe. "Just talking to mama, is everything-"

"Can you come back to bed?" Max interrupts a little desperate sounding. Shifting from one foot to the other, he won't quite meet Daniel's eye. Instead, they focus on a spot behind Daniel, the shine of the inky sea in the moonlight most likely.

Daniel doesn't hesitate. He knows what Max's nightmares look like. Wishes he could siphon them from Max's brain into his own, one less hurt for Max to feel, one more way to know him better.

"Mama, I gotta go," he says, and he can hear her protests even as he presses the button to end the call.

In Daniel's arms, Max presses his face to the hollow of his throat, lips catching against the stubble there as he says, "sorry." Then, "I woke up and I wanted you here."

It's not always like that. Some nights, he wakes up from sweating and writhing and Daniel knows not to touch.

Now, he kisses Max's forehead, leads him back to bed and tells him the same as always.

"I'm always here, Maxy. Promise."

[mybedroomceilingsbored]

hi mouse how are you

hi izzy!!

you're so sweet to ask, thanks!! i've been better, honestly :) it'll be ok tho

beyond furious at my state, tbh. if i see one more fucking maga hat there will be blood. (Also, my hands are an entirely different color than they were 48 hours ago, and i'm legitimately worried abt passing out from stress at rehearsal later). we'll get through it, tho 🙃

be very glad you're not in the us rn!!

how're you doing?

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Good Dreams

The Motherfucking Gallaghers Masterlist

CW: Referenced past child abuse / past withholding food as an abuse tactic, child of whumper

Kieran and Jax belong to @comfy-whumpee and, as always, are used with their permission and oversight. The format of this piece is heavily inspired by Morg's Echoes, which you should go read right now. I'll wait.

-

Izzy Gallagher wakes without a gasp, or a cry. She doesn't sit straight up in bed, or flail around. Lying perfectly still on her side, her eyes simply pop open all at once.

Heart in her throat, she holds her breath and listens. 

She can still feel the cobwebs she had been pushing through, desperate to escape the canvas-covered furniture in the monster room in her mother's house. It's been ten years since her father took she and Jamie to the train station and saved them, seven years since the trial sent Savannah Marcoset to prison, life without possibility of parole, a prayer Izzy turns to when she is most frightened… but she still remembers the feel of dusty cloth beneath her fingers and the grime that would settle on her cheeks, cut through by her tears. 

Then she hears it. 

There's water running in the kitchen, a subtle sound, but Izzy follows it out of bed, padding on awkward long legs in her short pyjama bottoms and sweatshirt into the hallway, arms crossed in front of her as if trying to disappear into the dubious safety of her own body and the oversized cotton she wears.

Her mother's fingertips brush the back of her neck. Even after waking, Savvie is still reaching for her, wailing why ever did you cut off all your beautiful hair?

Izzy steps out of the dark hall and into the soft yellowed light of the kitchen, searching for her father to chase the memory of her mother away. 

Kieran, glass of water in hand, turns to look at her with crinkly wrinkles starting at the corners of his eyes and a soft smile. He wears a jumper in dark forest green over black pyjama bottoms, has some gray in his hair, and everything in him is love. "Hey, Izzy. Did I wake you?"

"No." Her voice is still husky and deep with sleep. "I woke up and then heard you."

Izzy swallows and stops in the doorway, leaning towards him but the memory of her nightmare keeps her from holding out her arms. She's fourteen, she's too old for this, but...

She had a nightmare, she is still trembling and frightened, and she wants one of her fathers to hold her. 

A much smaller Izzy Gallagher wakes with the tiniest whimper, throwing herself from her blankets and fleeing the dream on her hands and knees. She crawls across the living room. past where her father and brother lay on the makeshift bed on the floor.

Jamie, already nearly as big as his sister even though he's three years younger, curls against Jax's side, making little snuffly noises with his nose, still stuffy from a cold he's getting over. 

Izzy can be very, very quiet, when she needs to be. 

She can be as silent as a mouse, moving quick as a blink. Her daddy's sleeping face stays relaxed, and his body isn't all blocky like wood, how he is sometimes when he hears something and has to remember Mommy isn't here. 

Her dream keeps trying to grab her back, to make her think about the big long table, her itchy lace dress and too-tight shoes, plates and plates of food all around that she isn't allowed to eat. Her dream tries to make her remember her mother's hands closed tight around her arms, keeping her in Savvie's lap, suffocating her with hair while her tummy rumbles but the food is grown-up food, too good for children, and Savvie won't let her eat. 

Izzy won't think about that. 

She sees the sofa across the room and remembers there's a space between it and the wall behind it, the perfect amount of space for a little Izzy to curl up in. 

It had been a great hiding spot earlier during hide-and-seek. Jamie hadn’t found her at all and she’d had to come out when he got scared and thought she’d run off and left him alone looking for her.

Izzy would never do that, but he doesn’t know that yet. He’s too little, and it’s her job to teach him. So she had come back out and said, here I am, you were so close! You were so close to finding me! and he had laughed, relieved, his tears drying as fast as they appeared.

Izzy's daddy and her daddy's-... friend… Kieran, who her father promises is not like her mother and never will be, had looked at each other and smiled, a little. Or maybe only Kieran had. 

Izzy had been watching him. 

Kieran nods, slowly, taking her in as she watches him right back. Her sleep-rumpled short hair sticking up in spiky angles, her eyes all brown like her father's, her face all angles and lines. The girls at school are soft and pretty in ways that make Izzy's stomach twist in knots when she tries to talk to them, fingers buzzing with every brush of fingers, but her own face has never seemed soft to her. 

Izzy thinks of herself as always looking like a frightened deer or something. She feels like one now. 

"Tea?" He offers, in his gentle voice. Izzy shakes her head and hugs herself more, her lower lip trembling a little before she bites down on it to stop it, bites down with her top teeth until it hurts. 

His expression shifts, then. He understands what she isn't saying, what she can't make herself say, and he holds his arms out to her.

Izzy runs into them, bare feet slapping on kitchen tile, and he catches her. 

"Do you want to tell me about it?" He asks in a murmur against her hair. 

Izzy can be very small, when she needs to be. She curls into the tiniest ball she can manage in the space between the couch and the wall. She knows hiding, she learned how to be invisible when her mother didn’t want to see her, or when she was angry at Jax and Izzy had to disappear until her mother's rage passed like the Big Bad Wolf. Then she could come out and see Jax, her daddy blown apart like a house made of sticks.

Izzy can read the little pigs book. The other kids read faster than she does, and they read better, but she’s trying. Sometimes they laugh at her but not because of reading. Because she is Izzy Fraidy-Cat, who jumps at every loud sound or has to not cry on purpose when the teacher gets mad. 

But not the reading. No one minds she is slow at reading, and she is always trying to be better. 

She hears the door down the hall open, and freezes in place, brown eyes wide as saucers in the darkness. 

It must be Kieran, her daddy’s-... boyfriend. Not friend, not really, he is something different than that. Kieran is like kissing and holding hands more than friends, he and Jax like-like each other, but he is not another mommy.

There won't be another mommy, not ever ever again. Jax promised her with pinkie swears and crossed his heart and she is sure he means it. He wouldn’t have promised so hard if he didn’t mean it. Izzy's daddy keeps every promise, now that he is allowed to. 

Kieran isn't a new mommy, but he is a boyfriend, which is scary. But… if Kieran is what boyfriends are, then maybe those aren’t so bad.

He moves to the bathroom, and she listens intently. Her knees are almost at her chin and her hands pressed against the sides of her own neck. She doesn’t breathe except in thin quick inhales, lighter than the air she pulls into herself, exhaled all at once.

There’s a pause. Sound of water moving through pipes, running out of the sink. The bathroom door opens again, and she waits for him to go back to bed.

But he doesn’t.

Kieran walks with her back to her room, reassuring warmth beside and behind her. When Izzy climbs back into bed, he pulls the covers down and then up again to cover her. She watches his face, cataloging every bit of warmth he shows that pushes back the nightmare's final touches. 

Then he climbs into bed beside her, seated on top of the covers, ankles crossed at the end. He turns to look at her, leaning against the headboard. She shifts herself up and leans against him, tipping her head until it rests on his shoulder. 

His smile is still in his voice. "Talk to me, love."

Kieran's feet - she can see them moving - carry him to the kitchen. Her own legs are starting to hurt and she closes her eyes shut tight and tries to breathe even less, even though it makes her dizzy. Like hiding from her mother, when she had to be so, so quiet. She and her daddy played the quiet game over and over and Izzy was always the best player, a good helper, keeping hidden until he said it was safe for her and Jamie to be seen again. 

There’s a little light over the sink he turns on, dim as the nightlight Izzy has to have so she can go to sleep. Her mother’s shadow is in the dark, and the nightlights chase her away. 

She and Daddy have talked about how monsters lose their power if you turn on the light to show everyone what they really are. 

Her legs are starting to hurt, all bent like this for so long. Her toes wiggle where they stick out the bottom of her pyjama pants, trying to find a way to be comfortable without being seen.

Water runs again.

She hears her daddy moving in the little floor-bed they made of pillows and blankets. “Kieran.” His slightly rough voice isn’t a question, but it is a question, too. 

“Just a glass of water,” Kieran replies, a voice soft like the rose petals that Izzy runs her fingers over when they bloom outside her mother’s house, and there are roses here, too. No one here thinks it’s funny when she pricks her fingers on the thorns. “That’s all.”

“Okay. Wait." A pause. "Izzy."

“Izzy?” Kieran sounds puzzled, moving closer. She sees his shadow moving along the floor, where he leans over, looking at the puddle of blankets where she had been before her mother found her in dreams and made her say please and thank you but she never says it right, she never has, and she isn't allowed to eat until her mother says she's earned it.

She chokes on her mother’s hair in dreams, it goes down her throat and steals all the air for Mommy and none for anyone else. 

Kieran hums. “Oh. I just came from the bathroom…"

“Fuck,” Her daddy whispers. He's already moving, hands searching almost blindly until he finds Jamie, who makes a little whimpering sound. Her daddy's hands move over his soft straight hair, his warm face, find his back. But his eyes are still on the empty place where Izzy had been. His face doesn't show it, not right away, but Izzy knows how it sounds when he is afraid. “Shit. Where is she, where-"

“I’m here!” Izzy pushes frantically forwards, guilt driving her to wriggle like a worm to get out faster. Her pajamas catch on something at the edge of the sofa-back and she feels it tear but shoves out anyway. “I’m right here! I’m here, Daddy!”

Kieran startles, almost spilling his water, looking at her with slightly wide eyes. Then he relaxes, and smiles. "Oh, thank God. Right here in the room with us."

Izzy doesn’t answer him. He is not her daddy and it is her daddy she has frightened. It's Jax who needs her to help him. 

She crawls right back to him, sees his eyes catch hers in the dim middle-of-the-night mix of moonlight and the soft kitchen light whose shine just barely touches them all here. She sees his shoulders relax, a little, one of his hands start to uncurl fingers from palm. “Hey, kiddo,” He says, a soft exhale sound of relief. 

“I’m so sorry, Daddy.” Tears strike but she tries not to cry them outside of her, embarrassed that Kieran might see. 

Izzy is very, very good at not crying, when she has to be, so that the grown-ups won’t become angry and scream or lock her up or laugh at her. Even though Jax promises they won’t do that here. “I was having a dream, Daddy. I, I-" She swallows back all the things she wants to say. That there was so much food but she couldn't have any, that her mother held her so hard it hurt her, that she was in trouble and scared of being put in the room for time out all night again. Kieran isn't their family. She can't tell him this, can't say it in front of him. Instead, she says, "I… woke up and I wanted to hide. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

Jax’s eyes flicker up to Kieran and then back to her. He knows there are things she doesn't say in front of other grownups, grownups who aren't her doctors or her grandpa or daddy. 

“Makes sense,” Is all Jax says out loud, and opens an arm for her when she makes it to him, sliding it around her shoulders and holding on tight. 

“Good thing tomorrow’s a Saturday,” Kieran offers, kind as can be, his voice gentle and soft. He has a voice like a hug, and she doesn’t like to admit it but she likes him very much. As long as he stays this way and doesn't turn mean later. Maybe he won't. Izzy has started to hope that he is always kind and they can stay friends and boyfriends and whatever forever. 

Not that she'll say it out loud. 

Izzy smiles - she isn’t very good at smiling, but sometimes like now she can’t help it. He sees her smile, and smiles right back at her until she hides her face against Jax’s side and listens to him walk back down the hall to his room, closing the door when he and his glass of water go inside. 

"I dreamed about her," Izzy murmurs, barely speaking. Kie hums, a sign that he's listening, but he doesn't ask for details, just waits. After a pause, she keeps talking. Her throat feels tight. "I dreamed I was back in the house, running and running from her, but every door I opened was the monster room… my, uh, my time-out room-"

"Mhmm." Has she told him about it before? Right now, in the fuzzy middle of the night, she can't remember. If she hasn't, he doesn't ask. 

It helps.

"I couldn't find my way out. It was all cobwebs and dust, and the cobwebs kept turning into her hair, sticking to me, and I couldn't-..." Her voice hitches, and he has an arm around her shoulder and holds her close. He smells like his cologne, and he and Jax smell like home in a deep-down way that she loves. "I couldn't get outside. And I knew… if I could just leave, she couldn't follow me out, but I couldn't escape and she kept getting closer and louder and... she was, she kept grabbing at me..." She swallows. "Then I woke up, just as she caught me."

"That does sound pretty frightening." He doesn't sound like he thinks it was a silly dream, or she is silly for being a fourteen year old still scared of the dark, who still has a little light plugged into the wall. 

"I was so scared when I woke up, but then… I heard you." 

"I'm glad I woke up thirsty, then," He teases, gentle and loving. Kieran rests his cheek on her hair. "A well-timed middle-of-the-night water break."

“I’m sorry,” Izzy whispers again. She is very good at apologizing right away. “That I scared you. I am, Daddy. I am so sorry…" 

“Nah,” Jax replies. "I get it." When he shifts to lay back down, so does she, watching his wide-awake eyes, just like hers, as he looks towards the ceiling. Jamie has never even blinked his eyes open. “Might do the same, if I could, but I can’t fit behind the couch."

He looks at her, and they have the same eyes, and his have a gleam of moonlight and humor and his love for them both. "I’d get stuck. You'd have to put butter on my head to get me out."

She giggles behind her hands at the idea of him stuck back there with his feet out and his hair all covered in butter from the dish. His smile is tired, but she loves it better than any other smile in the world. 

She isn’t very good at going back to sleep after bad dreams, but tonight she lays in her daddy's arms and her bad dream fades away. The rest of her dreams are good ones. 

"Thanks for sitting with me." Izzy's voice is blurred now, lips barely moving. "Sorry for burying you in my mom shit at three in the morning. I know you have work tomorrow."

"That's all right. Maybe I can sneak a nap, hide under my desk and put a sign up that I'm out for lunch."

Izzy smiles at the unimaginable idea of Kieran skiving off without even leaving his office, and snuggles in close. "Hey, Kie?"

She's barely still awake, and it's the only reason she has the courage to say exactly what she is thinking out loud, here, in the dimly-lit dark. 

"Hm?"

"You're a really good dad. Love you." 

"Love you, too," He murmurs back to her, and if his voice sounds a little tight and he blinks his eyes rapidly, she is too nearly back asleep to either hear or see it. 

She feels him press a kiss to the top of her head as he eases her back to lying down under the covers. She misses Jax in the doorway and the question in his eyes. She doesn't see the look they share, the way Kieran smiles and puts a finger to his lips before the two men head back to their own bedroom together. 

The rest of Izzy's dreams that night are good ones. 

@whumptober day 20: Found Family

[jotun-philosopher]

[Image description: Two photographs showing a fluffy tortoiseshell-and-white cat and a white catnip mouse with pink ears. The cat is labelled "Good Omens fandom" in large, bold text. The mouse is labelled "Good Omens S2" in smaller bold text. In the first photo, the cat is delicately tapping the catnip mouse with her front right paw. In the second photo, the cat looks very blurry because she is happily savaging the mouse. The labels in this photo are blurred accordingly. </end ID>]

This is my very first meme! The cat is my dear departed rescue floof Izzy (b. ???, adopted by me 24th November 2015, d. 27th October 2020). She was the bestest cuddlepuss <3 I happened to spot these two photos of her in my archives while musing on how feral the GO fandom are still going over S2 even nine months later and, well, my hand slipped XD

[carrymelikeimcute]

Message in a Bottle

Lucius was fairly certain he was going to die in Blackbeard's cabin. It was actually worse. Somehow.

When he's dragged into the room which (wow, that's new, very sparse) he can't help but notice the bottles heaped in all the corners, rolling with the movement of the ship. Broken glass rattling between them. Even for pirates, that's a bit OTT. He wonders if the intervention banner went along with all the rest of Stede's stuff. Frenchie will be heartbroken if so. He spent ages on that.

Blackbeard dismisses Fang with a glare and forces Lucius over to a table with several fucking knives stabbed into it (bold choice, big statement) and points angrily down at a heap of reward posters, all depicting the same insane looking image of Blackbeard himself (Lucius has done better but he is so not going to admit that right now - he chooses life, thanks all the same).

"You read, yes?"

"Um...yeah," it comes it really squeaky. He coughs, attempts to sounds a little less like the stowaway mouse he is and repeats, in exactly the same voice, "Yes, I can do that."

One black-smeared finger stabs at the pages. "Then read."

"Uh...Reward, 400 dubloons...seems sort of low? Might be the economy, we're sort of behind the times out here, aren't we?"

"The back."

Lucius just stares.

"These, keep appearing, in our path - started fishing them out. I know what that is," he points at the picture. "I know what it means. But no one fucking does this - messages in bottles? What the fuck? I want to know what sort of...threat, this is. So. Read. The. Back."

Lucius flips the page over, prepared to be confronted by some overly wordy Navy drivel - seriously, none of them can swim but they've all got a fucking thesaurus? He's not really listening to himself as he starts reading, more focused on keeping Blackbeard in his peripheral vision as he paces the room.

"My Dearest Ed...ward..." Lucius stutters to a halt and swears he can actually feel himself leave his body as panic overtakes him, along with the urge to simply shriek.

"It doesn't...you're fucking lying," Blackbeard grabs him by the neck, choking off any attempts at defending himself.

"I'm...not..." he manages to wheeze, then pulls one of the posters towards him. "Look."

He watches Blackbeard's eyes dart between the shape of his name printed on the poster, 'Edward Teach' and the curling scrawl of his name on the back of the one beside it. He follows the letters with a finger - just when he thought picking snake meat off a beard was the most intimate thing he'd ever see.

As if he can't trust his legs anymore, the captain collapses into a chair and looks at the piles and piles of posters. Lucius is kind of impressed - if this is how many they've found God knows how many are still out there. He'd always found Captain Bonnet to be rather a slow penman actually. Though there's no question that it's his note. It's not just the handwriting, it's the gesture. Like something out of a story book - along with treasure maps.

"Do you...should I go on?" he asks, though he's already finished reading the first one (in his head obviously, he's not mad. He's probably the only sane person on board).

Blackbeard, not that he looks much like him anymore, which is making Lucius uneasy because that's how he got him last time, picks up one of the other pieces of parchment as if it's made of porcelain.

"Are they...all like that?"

"I'm going to guess, yeah," he says. "Be pretty surprising if he decided to switch it up with a to-do list for the ship. Or my very overdue performance evaluation, which...I'm still not sure what that would even entail."

One day, he's going to talk himself right onto a blade, he knows that, and not just in the slightly scarey roleplay way he's done with Izzy - but today Blackbeard - Edward - just puts his head in his hands. After a moment, Lucius reaches over and awkwardly pats him on the head.

"There's fuckin' hundreds of them," comes the muffled response.

"I know...he's so dramatic," he commiserates, feeling quite surreal. "Do you want me to get someone? Anyone? Literally anyone else? I'm just not ready to be this person for you right now...on account of the...attempted murder."

"Izzy. Get Izzy we need to head back."

Lucius doesn't sprint to the door, but he does scurry. Still, it's a scurry with a smile.

[collinrobinsonsglasses]

Too Soft to Be a Pirate

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

I have never written fan fiction before, but over the past few weeks these amazing blogs have been absolutely keeping me fed:

@raggedy-dxctor @run-me-through-but-not-like-that @stedefxckingbonnet @dragon-kazansky @gonzo-rella @izzyhandswhore @seafoam-inserts @hard-to-be-the-bard @brwnicons

Thank you all for your amazing stories and for your inspiration. I figured I would give this a shot. I am hoping this is going to be a series. I really am writing it for myself and if someone else likes it too that's a win. It's a slow burn. The slowest burn of all time.

{Masterlist}

{Next Chapter}

Summary: The story of how you end up in Blackbeard's crew.

Chapter 1: Little Mouse

You stood on the quarterdeck, your arms resting against the weathered wooden railing of the ship as you gazed out at the vast expanse of the sea. The rhythmic dance of the waves was a peaceful distraction from the anxiety that had weighed on your chest all week. You had followed your best friend to a life on the sea, and along the way, you had fallen for him. You thought he had fallen for you too. As the moon hung low in the night sky, casting its gentle glow over the ship, your mind couldn't help but wander to the tender moment you and your best friend shared your first kiss under the same moon. But now, you could see he was falling for someone else on the ship, and the pain was like a storm surging within you.

He had barely spoken to you all week, despite living on the same ship. It’s hard to avoid someone on a ship unless you’re really trying to. Your loyalty to him and the promise you made to stand by his side kept you here. You actually grew to love a life on the sea, but it was tearing your heart apart to watch the person you loved fall for someone else.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the figure approaching from behind until a strong hand gently rested on your shoulder. For a second, perhaps out of pure habit, you felt your stomach fill with butterflies at the sight of him. But reality came crashing back, a cold pit settling in your stomach as you remembered why you were out here alone in the first place.

"Hey," he said stoically, "I've been looking for you." 

“That’s a surprise”, you shot back, before taking a deep breath to regain your composure. 

As the moon ascended, casting a cool, silver glow over the ship, your best friend's gaze settled on you. You could sense the frustration in his eyes as he took a deep breath, preparing to speak.

"Listen," he began, his voice a mixture of regret and pain. "I think you realize I’ve found someone else, and it's difficult when you both are here” His voice hardened, and he continued, "They mean the world to me, and I don't think it's fair to anyone involved for you to stay on this ship. I need to see where this goes, and it can't happen with you constantly by my side."

You reluctantly tore your gaze away from your friend, tears welling up in your eyes. His words stung, but deep down, you knew he was right. This ship, once a safe place, no longer felt like home. In a soft voice, you whispered, "I’ll leave at the next port we dock in, I’ll find a new ship"

As if acknowledging the weight of your decision, his strong arms enveloped you.. You leaned into the hug, your eyes closing as you sought safety in the warmth of his embrace, as you were so accustomed to doing. You felt his breath against your ear as he whispered “That’s not soon enough. I’m sorry, but you’re getting off the ship now”. The arms that were gently holding you wrapped tightly against your waist, squeezing the wind from your stomach, as he hurled you towards the edge of the ship. As you tumbled backward, his whispered words still echoing in your ear, the sea greedily welcomed you. The waves wrapped around you, their embrace tinged with the sting of saltwater, and you descended into the depths of the ocean.

The next moments were a blur. Amidst the crashing waves, you remember fighting the tumultuous current and trying to keep your head above water. After a while it was impossible to tell how long you’d been treading water. It felt like hours. Before you could truly process what was happening you felt your body being lifted into a dinghy. The next few moments were hazy and felt like flashes, 

Your eyes fluttered open to find two formidable pirates peering down at you. One of the men had a long white beard, but what drew your attention the most were the gentle depth of his eyes. Soft and understanding, they betrayed a kindness, immediately putting you at ease. The second man had sharp, calculating eyes, locking onto you with an intensity. 

“Ivan. Look what I found when trying to catch some fishies” the man with the beard exclaimed. You slowly sat up on a large ship, adorned with black sails. You noticed the ship was empty on deck, except for the two men still staring at you. 

“Izzy is not going to like that you brought them aboard” Ivan remarked with a hint of concern in his voice. 

"I am so sorry if I’ve caused you any trouble, Thank you for helping me" you murmured apologetically, still trying to process what was happening. As your body realized it was on solid land, no longer at the will of the sea, exhaustion overtook you. Your eyes began to close as strong arms wrapped around you once again and the quiet sound of the continuing conversation between the two men lulled you to sleep. 

When you awoke again, you found yourself nestled behind some barrels and quickly assessed that you were likely in the galley. Your clothes had dried and you were wrapped in tattered blankets. Eventually, the two familiar faces from the previous night greeted you. They introduced themselves as Ivan and Fang. They handed you a few pieces of bread and a cup of water before beginning to speak.

“We’re keeping you here until we figure out what to do with you” explained Ivan. “Fang is worried that Izzy is going to throw you right back into the ocean if he finds out you’re here”. 

“Okay” you whispered. Not having the energy to ask any follow up questions. You felt numb and shrunk back against the barrels wanting to feel as small as possible. As the men stood up to leave you grabbed both of their hands and thanked them again. Lost in your thoughts, you failed to observe the softening of Fang and Ivan's expressions at the gentle squeeze of their hands. 

These interactions continued over the next few days, with both Ivan and Fang stopping in to bring you food. There wasn’t a lot of conversation exchanged between the three of you. You admired how both the men seemed to look out for each other and now for you, for some reason. 

Two days passed, then one night Fang slipped into the galley, maneuvering behind the barrels to join you. “You mind if I sit here with you?” he asked gently, “Captain is playing knife parade again. I don’t like that game”. 

"Please do," you said, shifting to make space for him to sit. "What's a Knife Parade?"

“Oh, it’s a game where the Captain chases you around the ship with a knife, screaming that he’s going to kill you,” Fang explained matter-of-factly, but you could sense the fear in his eyes. 

“That’s terrifying” you frowned, squeezing Fang’s hand. “I would be hiding back here too”.

Fang flashed a smile, then playfully bumped his shoulder into yours. "I knew it was a good idea keeping you on the ship. You seemed too innocent and helpless to leave behind”

"I feel like that's not a positive thing," you chuckled, exchanging a smile with Fang.

 “I think it is. I knew you wouldn’t be a threat", he said back to you gently. “You’re too nice to be a pirate”

"I could say the same thing about you," you began, but your words were cut short by the abrupt sound of the galley door being flung open.

"Fang! Your Captain is looking for you," a gruff voice called out, interrupting the moment, and the man's eyes narrowed as he spotted both of you sitting on the floor. "What the fuck is this?"

Fang swiftly rose to his feet, his demeanor taking on a more rigid stance under the scrutiny of the man. You, too, slowly stood up to meet the intimidating figure before you. He wasn't overly tall, but still taller than you. He wore leather trousers and a leather waistcoat. His green eyes were piercing into you. Despite the fear you were feeling, you couldn’t help but notice the striking handsomeness etched into his features. 

"I found them tossed overboard, boss. They weren't going to last much longer," Fang explained.

The man scrutinized you, assessing your perceived threat level. "You know the rules, Fang. Blackbeard doesn’t allow pets on board," he sneered, casting a mocking smirk in your direction.

"Blackbeard?" you whispered in disbelief as the man seized you by the arm, forcefully pulling you away from the safety of the galley.

“How the fuck did you not know whose ship you’re on. I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be that clueless” he muttered, casting a disdainful look at you. 

The next few moments you were being pulled across the length of the ship with Fang following closely behind. Ivan's nervous gaze caught your attention, but you averted your eyes quickly, not wanting to draw him into the unfolding scene. The captain's cabin door was forced open abruptly, and your body was forcefully yanked to the ground. You gathered you had finally met Izzy. It became clear why Fang and Ivan had been hiding you from him. 

“Look at what I found, Captain,” the man said smugly. “Fang was hiding a little mouse below deck. Sneaking them food”. You shot a glare at the man who had forcefully brought you to your knees.

The imposing figure standing before you was a tall man with piercing brown eyes, tan skin, a long curly beard that added an air of ruggedness to his presence. His long salt and pepper hair cascaded down, framing his face. Like the rest of his crew, he was dressed in dark colors, and the unmistakable gleam of a gun and a knife at his side hinted at the formidable reputation he carried. Blackbeard looked you up and down with a measured curiosity before speaking. "Leave us," he commanded sternly, then, directing his attention at Fang, mumbled, "I'll deal with you later."

“Captain,” Izzy said with a condescending tone, “Do you think that’s wise?” 

“Izzy. They’re fucking tiny. What do you think they’re going to do?” Blackbeard scoffed, rolling his eyes at his first mate. 

Izzy left in a huff, and Fang trailed behind him. As Fang closed the Captain’s door he cast a pleading look at you, his eyes betraying his worry about what was going to happen. The knot in your stomach tightened at his look of concern. 

As the door shut, leaving both of you alone, you noticed Blackbeard's face soften. He reached out his hand to you. "Here," he whispered, lifting you to your feet. "Sit down, little mouse," he said, guiding you to a chair in front of his desk. Blackbeard's eyebrows furrowed, and he stared at you for a while, as if formulating a plan for what to do next. “Have you worked on a ship before?” he asked. 

“Yessir,” you answered quickly, “For a couple of years”. 

"Do you fall off ships pretty often?" Blackbeard asked, raising his eyebrows and giving you a sarcastic smirk.

As you allowed yourself to finally think about the event that brought you to this point, the emotions you had been suppressing for the past few days began to overflow. Tears started streaming down your face, and you hurriedly tried to wipe them away. “Um”, you stammered, “I didn’t exactly fall. I got pushed off the ship”. 

"What could you have possibly done to deserve that?" Blackbeard asked, his expression a mix of confusion and curiosity.

You gave up trying to wipe your tears, your voice shaky as you continued. "My friend knew about my feelings for him, but he started seeing someone else. I guess he wanted me off the ship as quickly as possible, so he pushed me overboard."

“Shit” he muttered, lips pursed, squinting in contemplation. "You got dumped... quite literally, right off the ship." He glanced down, noticing your distress, and knelt beside you, gently patting your hands that rested on your lap. "Breakups can be rough, mate. I once had a guy stab me after I broke up with him," Blackbeard chuckled, “Calico Jack”, his eyes glancing away as if lost in that particular memory. “Luckily, he missed all the important bits”

Blackbeard stood back up in front of you and walked back around behind his desk, his eyes glancing off, like he was in deep contemplation. "Iz would probably want me to throw you back overboard to teach Fang a lesson. That would be the usual," Blackbeard mused. “But we’ve lost quite a number of our crew in raids lately though and I’ll be honest, I’m tired of the usual. It’s fucking boring.” 

You looked at Blackbeard curiously as he mulled over different ideas. This wasn’t the pirate you had envisioned from the stories you had heard during your time at sea. He was more charming than you expected him to be, yet you sensed how quickly he shifted from one emotion to the next. He seemed tired and disillusioned with the life of a pirate. . 

"You can join the crew, little mouse," Blackbeard said decisively, a smug grin accompanying his words. "I need you to do me a favor. First mate Hands is going to be waiting outside those doors for my decision. I need you to tell him something for me."

You exited the Captain’s cabin and found the first mate exactly where Blackbeard predicted he would be. “First mate Hands?” you said cautiously, “Blackbeard wanted me to tell you that I’m the newest member of the crew, and it’s your job to keep me alive, Captain’s orders”. 

The first mate glared at you with a look of disdain. “Fucking twat”, he muttered, heading back into the cabin you had just left.

You locked eyes with Fang and Ivan on the deck, and gave them a small grin. You rushed over to them. “The captain said I could stay,” you said with relief. 

Fang and Ivan visibly relaxed, and Fang gave your arm a playful nudge. "Well, look at that—the friendliest pirate on the seven seas," he remarked with a grin.

{Next Chapter}

[gydima]

🎶✨when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favourite followers (positivity is cool)🎶✨

Thank you for the ask, @izzy-b-hands! Here are five songs I've been enjoying a lot lately.