#ed in a dress

[nadsdraws]

Edward Teach is the prettiest princess that did nothing wrong im his life, ever, I won't be taking questions 🥹

Ed in a dress series: 1 | 2 | 3

[will2150]

Our flag means death as "La Fiancée Hésitante"

Because Ed would look so good in a dress !

[ivory--raven]

Ed wedding topper?? Ed wedding topper in a dress?? Was not ready for this

[oxfordsxbrogues]

Despite everything, he still wears fine things well 💜

(He went through the fucking wringer this season & he deserves to have his Scottish Safehouse Era 😭)

Stede’s Dress

[venusdebotticelli]

I have been screaming internally about Ed and his little wedding toppers since I saw the teaser, so here's the obligatory Ed In A Wedding Dress fic! Also obsessed with the makeover he gave the little auxiliary wardrobe figurine, which isn't something I've seen anyone else discussing yet, so obviously I had to include that too 🔥🙌🔥 {AO3}

He's got a little carved wooden skull somewhere, in his box of shit he brought over from the Queen Anne's, when he decided his unnervingly empty quarters needed more knives. He's also got plenty of scraps of black leather, with the revamping of the crew's gear they've been doing, and plenty of black paint to go around.

His hands hurt from stabbing wood, fucking up the empty shelves, gouging at the table. Must be nighttime, no light filtering through the papered-over windows, only a fat candle burning low. Creeped up on him, it did, deep as he was into his continued redecoration. His hands hurt, but they won't stay still.

The little skull shows up in the little ornate box where he keeps his stash of weed, for some reason. Happy coincidence, that. He packs his pipe as he grabs it, along with the paint and the least fucked-up brush he can find, with the bristles only a bit wonky and not shedding too much from previous abuse. He lights his pipe, and a couple of extra candles for light.

He stabs an iron nail into the underside of the skull so he can hold it without messing up the paint, and goes about turning it pitch black, really getting into all the little details in the carving with a brush that's really too big for it. Not like it matters much, when the goal is to make it all one solid colour. He tries to make the finish as smooth as he can anyway, despite the wrong tool.

He sets it aside to dry, but his hands still hurt, still won't stay still.

He lifts the crate on the too-empty shelf, the one that hides one of the few remaining things that no one can see. (That Ed can't stand to see.) Peeling the little jacket and waistcoat away is easy enough. He grabs one of his thinner knives, more of a scalpel really, that's seen a skinning or two in the past. He digs the tip into every little stitch that holds the tiny clothing together, pulls its pieces apart without damaging them. He traces every pannel onto his leather scraps, cuts them all to shape.

Hands still hurt, won't stay still, so he gets to sewing.

The fat candle burns out, he replaces it with a new one, refills his pipe. The tiny outfit comes together, all black. He hammers in a few of the teeny-tiniest studs in his collection to achieve the right vibe.

The paint on the skull's dry enough to the touch now, so he stabs the other end of the nail into the neck of the mannequin, and dresses him up in his new little outfit. Looks like a right vampire clown now, he does, all tough and scary-looking muppet, perfect fit for Blackbeard's crew. He grabs the crate that hid him and drops all the fabric cuttings and shit into it, kicks it all under the table.

His hands still hurt, still won't fucking stay still. The grey light of dawn is making an attempt to filter in through the windows now.

He grabs his rum and crawls onto the bed nook, ends up passing out still in his leathers, kohl caked on his face.

Izzy looks at the little shelf guy next time he's in the room, jaw doing that angry clenchy thing it always fucking does, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut about it.

(Ed never pulls the lever.)

~✯~

She's all creamy white porcelain skin, bright red curls, pristine dress. His hands itch to crush her in a tight fist, her and her rosy pink bellend both. (The pink bellend's not so pink anymore, kohl rubbed off all over his side where Ed's thumb wouldn't stay still.)

He's not got a brush that's fine enough for this, to get all the little details just right. He grabs a pinchful of strands of his own hair and cuts off about an inch from the ends, secures them to the tip of a thin wooden stick with some glue and string.

He grabs his black paint, some weed for his pipe, lights some extra candles for light.

He waters down the paint for the skin, makes a thin wash that should look brown once dried. It ends up just looking like a kinda dirty wash over porcelain white skin, so he draws his tattoos over it to hide it a bit, snake on his arm, hawk on his chest, beard on her face. He darkens her hair, mixes some chalk into the paint to make a muddy grey for highlights. He adds some shading to the cleavage.

Some of the skin-wash run off to stain the skirts around the hand area, but aside from that spot the dress still looks too fucking bright, too blue, too nice and proper.

With the thick undiluted paint, he lines the folds of the dress, shadows under some ruffles, follows some of the seams. He darkens the flowers and lace around the collars, on one of the sleeves. He draws asymmetric black shapes on some areas, makes it look cool and intentional, like the asymmetry of his jacket.

She looks as right as he can make her. He still wants to crush her in his fist, hurt his hand with the porcelain shards. Her and the bellend both.

He buries them both in the crate under some leather scraps, kicks them back under the table.

(Ed brings them out some nights, when his hands hurt and won't stay still, when his eyes won't close no matter how much they ache, run dry.)

~✯~

Ed sees the dress during a raid, inside a trunk in the quarters of one of the posh passengers on this ship. It's mostly sky blue, with accents of lavender, all soft pastels and delicate lace, opulent silk. It conjures up memories of a painted little figurine, probably long lost in the mess and confusion of everything that's happened since.

He asks for Fang's help to carry it back to the ship and hide it where Stede won't see.

He doesn't do all the work in one night, hoping to numb his restless hands. Instead, over the course of a few weeks, Ed enlists the help of Frenchie, Fang and Wee John, with occasional contributions from Jim, the Swede or Pete, and they work only until their hands tire with the satisfying ache of a job well done, in stolen moments that won't make Stede suspect a thing and ruin the surprise. He doesn't smoke while they work, this time, not wanting the smell to soak up into the fabric, but they do come together for a smoke and a laugh afterwards, once they're done with their secret project for the day.

They add a studded harness of black leather around the bodice that gives some visual interest and does some real favours to his cleavage. They cut off the right sleeve, a ruffle of black, purple and silver lace draped over the shoulder in its place, matching the one they use on the cuff of the left sleeve, finishing off just under his elbow. They add a layer of sheer black lace over the skirts, still showing the shimmer of the blue silk underneath.

They've properly tailored it to his body, too, and when Ed finally sees himself in the mirror with it, it hugs his shape just right. A perfect fit.

It looks even better on the day, with flowers and ribbons threaded through his curls, his short beard neatly combed and trimmed. In the bright light coming in through the clear windows, he uses the detail brush he made with his own hair to cleanly line his eyes with a sharp wing of kohl, adds a hint of rouge to his lips.

The purple cravat Stede gifted him is tied around his neck, the tails framing his hawk tattoo, with his favourite pearl necklace layered on top. He has to marvel once again at just how fucking good his tits look in this dress, a hint of chest-hair peeking enticingly over the lacy neckline. His eyes water a bit, but he holds back the tears, not wanting to ruin his eyeliner just yet.

Stede doesn't bother containing his tears when he finally sees Ed, an awed gasp that turns into the brightest smile Ed's ever seen, even with the waterworks. He looks gorgeous and glowing in a new suit of red silk, with golden accents and a matching golden waistcoat that really bring out the shine of his perfectly tousled curls. The crew's smiling faces surround him as he makes his way to Stede, where he stands before Oluwande. There are some more teary eyes among the crew too, but Ed wills himself not to cry yet.

Ed stops to face Stede, as his hands come up to hold Ed's.

His hands finally still, held steady, safe in their cradle, no longer hurting. His eyes spill over, tears running freely into his smile.

[intotheelliwoods]

maybe poptart or sprout in a fun outfit? or a halloween costume if you haven't done that already

What if Poptart was Finn... for Halloween..... hm?

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday!!!! More FMA!

He’s fucking tired.

In Xerxes, he’s Van Edris. In Xerxes, he’s the son of a former slave, having narrowly escaped being born into his father’s fate by virtue of him being awarded freedom by the time of his birth. In Xerxes, he’s an uncommon commodity, an alchemist with a skill that hasn’t been seen since his father fucked off to who knows where.

In Amestris, he’s Edward Elric. In Amestris, he’s the son of Trisha Elric who was born free and died free because while there are lots of different forms of freedom, in Amestris there’s one that everyone shares. In Amestris, he’s unknown and unremarkable and no one gives a fuck about what he does.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says flatly.

This is what he gets for visiting his father’s country. It’s just fucking unfortunate that the really good alchemical texts are here.

He should have let Al (Van Altun, as they know him, even though the two of them having been using their Amestrian names almost their whole lives, regardless of what country they were in) do it. They’re not nearly as weird about him.

Pakor is alright, as far as kings go. He’s freed a lot of people, is poking at the laws of ownership that has governed his country for centuries to see if he can do anything about them without getting beheaded for it. He’s also known Ed since he was a barely able to walk, back when his father still made court appearances and brought the family along with him. Former slave against most talented alchemist in the country, and people tended to politely ignore the former. Hell, Ed’s been counting on the same thing since he was twelve.

Of course, now it’s coming back to bite him. People say he’s a genius, but if he was really smart he would have stayed far, far away from court. Like in Amestris, perhaps.

“You’re fluent in both languages,” Pakor says, coaxing.

“So are you,” he says accusingly. “We’re speaking Amestrian right now!”

Pakor sighs and switches to Xerxian. “You also speak Xingese and Drachman. You’re a difficult man to keep secrets from.”

“I’m also Amestrian!” he shouts. “And free, might I add! You can’t sell me off to slavery just to get some intel!”

“It’s not like we’ll brand you,” he says, affronted, and Ed is reminded that alright for a king is still pretty shitty. “We just need someone to do a little – double checking. To ensure the situation in Amestris is as it’s advertised.”

“You want to gift me to the Fuhrer to spy on him and you’re, what, just hoping he doesn’t notice that I understand everything and know everything and am, oh yeah, one of his citizens? I’ve been to Central before! With my luck, I’ll get recognized the first day here and then run out of Amestris! And, again, Amestris doesn’t have slaves! The leader of the country really can’t have one.”

Pakor sighs. “You’re very dramatic, Edris. It won’t be so bad. Here, I’ll say you’re my personal slave and that you’re on loan. It’ll be for cultural exchange purposes. He speaks Xingese, so you can communicate in that language without letting on you know Amestrian.”

Ed pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is a stupid fucking idea.”

“If you do this,” Pakor says, “I’ll give you the key to the royal library.”

Ed slowly lowers his hand, eyes narrowing. “I’ve been asking you to let me in there for years.”

“I figured I’d need to bargain it away eventually,” he says. “I was hoping you’d marry one of my daughters for it.” Having even light court obligations is bad enough, he’s in no way stupid enough to marry in. “You’re very difficult, you know. I’m your king. I shouldn’t have to bargain with you.”

“Tough shit,” Ed says, because Pakor may have known him for nearly twenty years, but that knowing goes both ways. Besides, he can’t piss him off because then he and Al will stop reparing all their shit bridges and infrastructure. “Fine. But if I lose my Amestrian citizenship over this, I’m going to be pissed.”

“Noted,” Pakor says brightly.

Uhg.

It doesn’t help that everything he’s heard about Fuhrer Mustang makes the man sound insufferable.

[saltpepperbeard]

is this anything

[livwifeofkarl]

I love you. I know. I know that.

[wishfulsketching]

im obsessed with scholl aus sooo may be nigmobs in school au? nerdie ed and goth diva oswald

School AUs are a great way to play with characters even tho I have happily left all school related media behind me (mostly)

I'll give you a twofer: what I imagine gotham universe nygmobs as kiddos

One wants to stand out, one wants to blend in

And here's more high school AU type of desings, more modern type of setting

They would burn the school down in a week after meeting

[nadsdraws]

POV: you are Izzy and Ed is asking you if he looks hot enough.

Is this a scene from my Stripper Ed fic? Maybe, quite possibly.

Ed in a dress series: 1 | 2 | 3

[sugashook]

commission

[blakbonnet]

Most beautiful precious bride for @gbweddingweek ♥️

[hqbits]

they’re so cute it’s SICKENING !!!!!!!!!

[aha-my-villainous-thoughts]

Who else has been listening Chappell Roan on repeat? Guess who's Hot to Go 💋

I am obsessed with dressing him up in little outfits like he's my baby doll cutie pie pop princess. Ed would absolutely love Coachella and he would be dancing all night, the best dressed in the pit 💜

[xoxoemynn]

Really miss Taika Waititi starring as Edward Teach. 💔