#warm dip

[everything-is-as-it-was]

Hey, hey- could you hold something for me for a sec please? Yeah, no, my pockets are all full just- yeah, there you go.

[retroautomaton]

💥🚦🎲

[wirlibirb]

a short work that i made feverishly after reading the echo garden twice in a row

i wanted to make something that represents a main melody, layered over by warmer, drier (?) feeling tones.

[mochiipudding]

[darlingeames]

‘You’re Blackbeard?’

Ed – Blackbeard, for Christ’ sake – pops his head out of the wardrobe into the cabin to see if whoever called for him left, then turns back to Stede.

‘Yep. Blackbeard. That’s me.’

Stede, still holding the stupid fucking pants, openly gapes. He thinks for a split second that he should be careful what he says next, how he acts – he knows the man in front of him is incredibly dangerous. But he doesn’t feel it. So it doesn’t matter.

‘But I just asked you, and you said you work for him.’

Ed. Short for Edward fucking Teach.

He vaguely remembers seeing all that leather surrounded by smoke before he lost consciousness, Ed’s voice saying I’ve heard all about you.

‘Techincally, that’s not not true, you know,’ Ed says, and he looks a bit smug. Like he’s proud of his little trick. ‘You could say that being Blackbeard is my job.’

This man is incredibly peculiar, Stede thinks. He grips his pants tighter, which Ed seems to notice.

‘Since you already got up, even though really, you should take it easy, or your guts will spill out, take it from someone who’s been stabbed countless times before, you probably want to get dressed, I’ll leave you to it–’

And Ed starts to get out of the auxiliary closet, but then he turns back.

‘Wear those pants, the colour’s gorgeous.’ And, to Stede's absolute dismay, Ed winks at him.

Left alone in his secret closet, Stede thinks that any rational man would probably at least entertain the possibility that Blackbeard would lock him in said secret closet and steal his crew and ship – but then, Ed was so kind, and he could have killed Stede in his sleep anyway if he would have so desired, so the thought passes so fleetingly through Stede’s mind that it leaves behind no trace.

Stede does indeed put on the pants, and a white shirt and the black cravat, because he felt the need for something to counterbalance the redness of his flesh where the noose had choked him.

He barely stepped out of the closet when Ed turns from looking up at the chandeliers. 

‘What other cool stuff do you have in here?’

So Stede shows Blackbeard his library.

Stede has a feeling, the moment an unknown man, with incredibly kind, large brown eyes wakes him up from his feverish nightmare. He feels, more than he thinks, that of course, this is exactly the way it should be. If it had been Lucius or Olwande sitting on his bed, warning him not to get up too fast lest his guts spill out, he would have felt disappointed, and he would not for the life of him been able to pinpoint exactly why. But Ed, who works for Blackbeard, and who looks exactly like someone who would work for Blackbeard, assures him that he might be a decent pirate since the Spanish didn’t manage to kill him yet, and takes an interest to Stede’s best robe and he can’t tell silk from cashmere but he keeps rubbing it between his fingers, and Stede knows nothing about this man, and the part of him that has been reading pirate stories all his life yells that it might be a trap, they are pirates, for fuck’s sake, they screw each other over all the time, he could be lying for all you know and your crew is either dead or imprisoned and you’re this close to being thrown overboard – but it’s such a distant tirade, and Stede can barely hear it over the sound of his robe rustling between Ed’s fingers, and he’s been dying to tell someone just how much fun he’s had while having the Revenge built. 

So really, it’s no choice at all.

‘Can you keep a secret?’

It turns out that pirates do lie and do screw other people over, even if it’s such for a bit of fun – Ed says No, I’m Blackbeard, and Stede thinks Christ alive, did I really bring the actual Blackbeard into my auxiliary closet that nobody but us knows about and showed him my fucking summer linens, how has this become my life, and stares in horror at the back of Ed’s head, at the unruly mess of salt and pepper curls, and thinks of the worst. But Ed shows no sign of it meaning anything at all – doesn’t call back to whomever it was that was looking for him, and doesn’t start laughing at Stede –

In seconds, quick as silver, the two images in Stede’s head become one – this is Blackbeard, he knows he is, just as he knows he’s not in any real danger, just as he knows the sparkle he saw in Ed’s eye when he opened the secret door was real.

He’ll never look at him and think Blackbeard. That word still conjures up the fantasy version of Black Pete’s stories, the one in his books, the smoke and the glowing eyes and the nine pistols, and the ruthlessness and bloodthirst. That Blackbeard has never had anything to do with his Ed, the man that woke him up and seemed thrilled with all of Stede’s idiosyncrasies, from his clothes to his two chandeliers and his books. In this world, it’s one of his biggest failings – he’s never been able to look at Edward Teach and see what he should have seen. What his crew saw. What Izzy had tried so hard to preserve. He had taken one look at the man and Stede, in his feverish, incredibly embarrassed state, hadn’t seen the leather and the tattoos and the years upon years of having the sea as a home, he saw kind eyes, he felt a warm hand, and he didn’t meet Blackbeard, he met a man that made the simple act of breathing easier.

[chicoryblue]

Wanna join?

[pourablecat]

A very rushed doodle I did for IronNia in a low-stakes Hogswatch Exchange in our cozy little discworld server~

WHICH, BY THE WAY, is here! Join us!

The prompt is Hogswatch in nightwatch! The result is a little Hogswatch party with the original watch, just after Guards! Guards!

[lloyd-007]

[spicyliumang]

Saw this meme and it pretty much sums up my exact feelings towards Zhao

[fumiko-matsubara]

A warm-up portrait of Ritsu 🌸

It had been an extremely busy week and I finally have enough time to sit down and draw 😧

[recipeshub24]

Cooking Homemade meal using this perfect Recipe- YOU WILL LOVE IT😍😍

Cheesy Garlic Chicken Wraps Cheesy Garlic Chicken Wraps 🌯🧄 (recipe below) **Ingredients:** - 1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into strips - 1 tbsp olive oil - 3 cloves garlic, minced - 1 tsp Italian seasoning - Salt and pepper to taste - 1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese - ½ cup grated Parmesan cheese - ½ cup... 🍕🍟🥪 ✅ Don’t miss out, Get The full Recipe Here 🥙🥡🍖

[fmab]

saladrifter wip.......................... one day ill learn how to paint backgrounds. Im insane but in my brain they have a slow, genuine, and earnest romance forming over the course of several months/years after kindling Something during season of the deep.. Theyve re-met at the right time after both growing from who they once were during the dark age. Of course this means they get to go on plenty of on the ground scouting missions to old iron lord/warlord ruins to root out any scorn and identify any last strange traces of ahamkara that might cause problems.... and get to hike and camp together along the way <3

[dullahanblorboposting]

Surely listening to Lord Enver Gortash call me his 'nearest and dearest' just one more time will fix me.

Surely.

[aforests]

Finally drew something

[planetsallalign]

🥖🥖🥖

[viric-dreams]

I'm still figuring out the speech patterns for the rest of the gang, but I do have somewhat of a read on the oldest two:

Ockham's vocabulary is marginally bigger in writing than spoken speech, because heshethey has more time to think when putting together a letter. Ockham did not have to write at all in English before landing in London, and when faced with the strange and myriad ways that Londoners open and close their letters Ockham's given up on trying to parse the connotation behind all of the greetings and just decided to just translate directly. Londoners also tend to be a bit finicky about names, so in hishertheir experience, a professional title or just "friend" is usually inoffensive enough. Don't even get himherthem started on orthography.

In speech, Ockham's more likely to fall back on a Flemish word if heshethey doesn't know the English one. Hopefully the idea gets across regardless. Ockham's spoken sentences also tend to be shorter. Often, spoken conversations are easier because hishertheir face and body language can do a lot of the heavy lifting (not that Ockham's especially outwardly expressive). It always seems to surprise people how comparatively expansive hishertheir nautical vocabulary is (which Ockham does not understand--of course it would be, Ockham spent years working on an English-speaking ship). There are also several instances where Ockham will know that an expression or idiom doesn't actually translate into English but will still insist on using it anyway, either because it sound better, or because Ockham's simply going to will it into English himherthemself through attrition.

If a character speaks either French, German, or Dutch Ockham will instantly and gladly switch. Of those three, Ockham's German is somewhat imperfect, but still better than hishertheir English.

-

Roberts' writing is formal and impersonal, but to the point. Most of the time he's writing reports, or following up on work-related matters. There's no one he would address by first name. The Commodore's invited him to do so on multiple occasions (as he's done to several of his fellow peers in the early days... but since becoming the Commodore, none of them will call him by his first name, even if he suggests it). The Commodore's the only person who calls him by his first name to his face, a holdover from even before the Fall (anyone else doing that feels uncomfortably intimate). He always signs his letters off with full title.

Roberts has a tendency to frame sentences as commands, intentionally or not. His tendency to speak loudly also adds to that effect. The more out of his comfort zone he is or closer to the end of his tether, the quieter he gets. When the word "please" starts to slip into his speech, it's a sign to tread carefully. Push too far, and it turns to anger. This is one of the rare times you'll hear profanity out of his mouth. It's not utilised particularly creatively, but the rarity of seeing him truly livid and the accompanying raised voice and body language gets the message across regardless.

Nite shares most of these speech/writing quirks, however, he's much quicker to try to turn to first names and familiarity, often more quickly than others are comfortable with. He'd like for people close to him to call him Nicholas, or any sort of nickname or pet name. His register remains polite, but often more friendly and less impersonal.