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doormatty3 · 5 months

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Sinner's Salvation: Chapter 1 (Ed Warren x Reader)

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Summary:

[Ed Warren x Female Reader] [Ed Warren x You]

You don't believe in the supernatural and superstition. Witchcraft and demonic occurrences are nothing but quackery to you. But when the room starts spinning, days start blurring into each other and shadows start dancing in every corner you wonder what is wrong with you. No doctor can tell you more about your condition - each and every one is insisting that you are fine and perfectly healthy. Seeking alternative help, you stumble across Ed and Lorraine Warren. They promise to help you, rid you of the demon that has taken hold of you - to drive it out. But you didn’t know what you signed up for and what an exorcism by Ed Warren entails. OR: Ed shows you how well he can possess your body - and your cunt

Wordcount: 8019

Chapter: 1/2

Warnings: 18+, description of violence, dirty thoughts, flirting, religious imagery

A/N: Peer pressure is strong - so here is another Patrick Wilson fanfic. This first chapter is pretty much swf, the smut is in the next one. And belief me…it is filthy. Anyway I need Jesus or Ed to exorcise me.

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CHAPTER 1

Your head pounds as you try to busy yourself with the magazines on the glass table at your doctors’s waiting room. Headaches and migraines have been intermittent companions throughout your life - coming and going over the years with an emphasis on going.

However, for the past few weeks, they were persistent and overstayed their welcome.

What began as a dull ache that had settled in the front of your skull had slowly morphed and spread through your whole head until it felt like constant and pervasive pressure was applied to your temples, squeezing your mind between its fingers restlessly. The dull throb had escalated into a sharp, blinding stab, like invisible hands transforming into relentless claws.

It was at this point that you resolved to consult your doctor. Those headaches were out of the ordinary, deviating from their usual form and you were yearning for some relief and an explanation as to what was causing them. Because you were sure that it wasn’t just migraines or stress.

You sink back into the uncomfortable chair of the waiting room as you find yourself desperately seeking some solace from the sharp pain throbbing at your temple. The mix of the flickering fluorescence overhead and the bright daylight seeping in through the window seems to intensify your discomfort so you close your eyes to drown out one sensation. But the lack of one sense amplifies the other, so you hear the murmur of hushed conversations and discussions as well as the rhythmic ticking of the clock that has never seemed so loud as it does at this moment.

You bring your right hand to your head and rub your thumb in circular motions over your temple while your fingers rest on your forehead. Despite your best efforts, it does not really help against the throbbing ache and only provides some short-lived relief.

Each passing minute elongates your stay in the room, marked only by the clock’s relentless ticking.

On any other day, you would have read something or watched the other people sitting in the room but the headache makes everything tiring and painful.

Suddenly, your name echoes through the waiting room, your head jolts up and your eyes fly open. The doctor’s assistant meets your gaze with an expectant look and gestures with her hand, saying: “Please follow me”.

As you rise from the unyielding chair quickly, the ticking clock and flickering lights momentarily fade into the background when spots dance in the edges of your vision - a new side effect of your headaches. You blink a few times to regain your composure and balance.

The corridor leading to the treatment room is long and sterile - occasionally a colorful picture on the white wall breaks up the monotonous path. The echo of your footsteps sounds loud in your head and you feel the sharp stab in your temple with every noise.

With a smile and a nod, the woman opens the door to the doctor’s room: “He’ll be with you in a couple minutes. Feel free to take a seat”.

“Thank you”, you mumble quietly and pull out a chair to sit down.

The room is adorned with medical charts, anatomical diagrams, and informational posters that detail various parts of the human body. Anatomical models of organs and skeletal structures stand on shelves, their detailed features catching the sterile light.

You lower your eyes to your hands and away from the bright lights in the room when the door to the room creaks open.

“I’m sorry for the wait, dear”, the doctor enters the room, shutting the door gently and taking a seat opposite you, “What brings you here today?”

“I wake up with headaches almost every morning”, you admit, your voice carrying the weight of fatigue and frustration, “It started a few months ago and hasn’t gotten better - only worse.”

The doctor, a mix of empathy and expertise, leans in, pen poised over a notepad, ready to capture the nuances of your struggle.

“Tell me more about the nature of the pain. Is it sharp, dull, pulsating?”, he inquires, his eyes focused on yours, seeking a clearer picture.

You take a moment, searching for words to convey the indescribable sensations.

“It’s like… a relentless pressure, sometimes sharp and stabbing, and it just lingers throughout the day. It’s not just the pain; it’s the way it clouds everything else, like a persistent shadow”, you explain, your frustration evident in the furrow of your brow.

And then you add, almost as an afterthought: “I usually have migraines, but this headache feels different. It’s like a stranger invading my headspace, and nothing seems to help.”

The doctor nods thoughtfully, his brow furrowing in a half-hearted attempt at concern.

“I see. How would you rate the intensity on a scale from one to ten? And have you noticed any specific triggers or patterns that coincide with these headaches?”

You take a deep breath, appreciating the opportunity to provide more insight into the daily struggle you endure.

“The intensity varies, but at its peak, I would rate it around an eight or nine. It’s not just the pain…”, you trail off for a second, blinking your eyes rapidly against the throbbing of your head, “It’s the relentlessness of it, like a drumbeat in my head that refuses to fade away.”

The doctor scribbles a few notes, but his furrowed brow remains a mere semblance of genuine concern and you cannot help but wonder if he takes your concern seriously.

He continues, without looking up: “Triggers or patterns - have you noticed anything specific that seems to bring these headaches on? Certain foods, stress, lack of sleep, perhaps?”

Your mind races to pinpoint potential triggers, hoping to offer any helpful information.

“No, I don’t think I can pinpoint any specific trigger. I’ve tried tracking my diet, but nothing conclusive… I know stress can make it worse, but that just doesn’t seem right. It almost feels like they have a mind of their own.”

The doctor’s nod is accompanied by a distant sound of acknowledgment: “Understood. We’ll note the variability. Have you observed any changes in their frequency or duration recently?”

You pause, considering his question. “Yes, they’ve become more frequent, and the duration seems to be stretching out. Sometimes lasting for days.”

As you share your experiences, the doctor’s responses remain mechanical, lacking the depth and engagement you hoped for.

He takes down a note on his pad, his expression somewhat detached.

“Thank you for sharing that. We’ll explore this further. In the meantime, have you experienced any other symptoms alongside these headaches? Changes in vision, sensitivity to light, or nausea, perhaps?”

You take a deep breath before responding: “Yes, there have been moments where I see shadows dancing at the edge of my vision, and light, especially bright light, seems almost intolerable.”

“Well, headaches can be tricky. I’ll prescribe you some pain medication for now. It should help take the edge off. Let’s see how that goes before jumping into more tests.”

The doctor’s demeanour remains distant, his response lacking the reassurance you were seeking.

A pervasive disappointment sets in as you absorb his words, rendering you speechless. The doctor’s lack of genuine concern leaves you disheartened.

With a brisk movement, he rises from his chair, with a faint smile gracing his lips as he extends his hand toward you.

As the doctor withdraws his hand, he nods almost imperceptibly, a silent acknowledgment that punctuates the end of the consultation. With a parting glance, he pivots and makes his way towards the door, the echo of his footsteps emphasising the hollowness of the room. The door creaks open and then closes, leaving you sitting alone as you try to comprehend what just happened.

The initial hope for understanding and empathy begins to waver, replaced by a nagging question: are your headaches truly as severe as they feel, or are they being downplayed by the doctor’s lack of concern?

The doubt grows as you leave the examination room, and a wave of self-questioning accompanies you. Perhaps you’re exaggerating the pain, or maybe others endure worse without seeking medical attention. The once vivid description of your headaches starts to blur, muddled by the doctor's detached response.

This self-doubt, however, doesn’t entirely quash the very real and tangible pain you feel daily. The clawing at your temples persists a constant reminder that, regardless of the doctor's reaction, your struggle is genuine.

_____6 months later_____

The moment you pry your eyes open, you instantly regret it when a familiar surge of pain flares up and radiates through your head. The once-tolerable discomfort, only triggered by encounters with brighter lights, now manifests even at the gentlest touch of illumination.

The blinds in your apartment are drawn almost entirely shut in a deliberate attempt to shield you from the outside world. Only a handful of thin, feeble stripes of light manages to illuminate the room, casting delicate patterns on the floor. The room around you remains shrouded in a semi-darkened veil.

As you lay there, contemplating the day ahead, you can't help but wish for a respite from the relentless screaming in your head. With a groan, you push yourself up, your movements measured to avoid exacerbating the persistent ache.

The dull glow of a digital clock on the bedside table reveals the early hour, a reminder that the day has just begun, yet the promise it holds seems elusive under the weight of your current state. You’d much rather not have to open your eyes at all and retreat into the comforting embrace of darkness and the inevitability of facing the day ahead.

The current intensity of the throbbing headaches promises a rather bad day ahead - maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.

The cool surface of the floor meets the soles of your feet offering a momentary distraction from the pulsating discomfort in your head as you navigate the dimly lit space. The few rays of light filtering through the partially closed blinds create a chiaroscuro effect, casting shadows that dance along the walls like fleeting memories.

The weight of uncertainty presses down on you, adding an undercurrent of fear to the pulsating discomfort in your head. The unknown, wrapped in shadows, looms over your thoughts, intensifying the ache that reverberates through your skull and manipulating the threads of your mind like a malevolent puppeteer, weaving a twisted dance of uncertainty.

With each step, you can’t shake the feeling of being adrift in a sea of questions, with no clear answers in sight.

You lower yourself into the desk chair in your office, facing the computer. With a heavy sigh, you rest your head in your hands, succumbing to the pounding in your head that seems to be intensified by the soft glow of the computer screen.

A sense of worry washes over you as you contemplate the missing fragments of time. There are moments when waking up brings with it the haunting realisation that whole days have slipped through the sieve of your memory. You recall mornings when you’ve donned shoes and proper clothes, yet the specifics remain elusive, lost in the fog of an obscured consciousness.

Unexplained bruises are scattered across your body like cryptic symbols etched into the canvas of your skin. The morning light sometimes reveals these marks - random, and varied in size. Some bruises are inconspicuous, while others are more pronounced, a stark contrast against the pallor of your skin. You know that it may very well be a nutritional deficiency or just your clumsiness in general.

It's plausible that during the night, you inadvertently collide with objects or navigate your dimly lit apartment and stumble into furniture, while the pain is obscured by the prominence of your persistent headaches. Which rhythmic persistence feels as if someone else is dwelling within, an unwelcome tenant navigating the labyrinth of your thoughts.

Once again you google your symptoms just as you did before in hopes of finding something that provides you with the answers you so desperately seek. The tapping of keys echoes in the quiet room as you type in the details of your affliction.

The search results hold a plethora of possibilities, ranging from the mundane to the foreboding. Your eyes sweep across the information, revealing a spectrum of potential explanations.

Predictably, illnesses such as cancer or a brain tumor show up in the results. But you recall a recent and disappointing visit to the doctor during which you talked about the results of brain scans that were completely normal and unremarkable. The lingering sense of unease that clings to your every thought has not been dispelled by that and still remains.

As you delve deeper into your online search, the glow of the computer screen casts an ethereal light on your face, accentuating the furrowed brow that accompanies your contemplation when the search results take an unexpected turn.

Among the medical explanations and everyday ailments, there is a collection of pages adorned with ominous symbols, discussing the supernatural, and invoking the paranormal.

A skeptical scoff escapes your lips at the absurdity of such notions. The idea of demonic involvement feels like a fantastical escape from the reality of medical concerns. You dismiss these supernatural threads as mere distractions, remnants of an online world where fiction and reality often blur. But you cannot deny that you are intrigued and fascinated by those weird demonic and paranormal things.

So you decide to dive deeper and steer your thoughts in a different direction than your medical condition.

You stumble upon Ed and Lorraine Warren. Their names are etched in the annals of supernatural and demonologist lore, their photographs capturing a certain gravitas that transcends the ordinary.

As you delve into their stories, a mix of fascination and skepticism grips you. The tales of haunted houses, malevolent entities, and their seemingly fearless pursuit of the unknown unfold like chapters in a dark, mysterious novel.

The images of the Warrens show a tall, imposing couple that exudes an aura of authority. Their gaze seems to pierce through the screen as if they have encountered unknown forces that your brain cannot comprehend. Both exude attractiveness and Ed, in particular, captivates your attention with his clear blue eyes and a soft, reassuring smile.

As you sink deeper into your exploration, you come across intriguing details about the Warrens, including snippets about their artifact room.

Further research reveals that Ed is a non-ordained demonologist officially recognized by the Catholic Church and Lorraine, on the other hand, is described as a gifted clairvoyant.

Notably, you discover that the Warrens are scheduled to speak at a university near you in a few days, where they will delve into topics surrounding demons and the supernatural. This upcoming lecture piques your interest, as it offers the possibility of gaining insights on the topic you’re interested in and steering your thoughts in a different direction.

The next day unfolds with a disconcerting air that hangs over every moment. As you move through the routine motions of your day, a persistent sensation gnaws at the edges of your consciousness - a feeling that someone might be in your apartment, an invisible presence tracking your every move. The shadows seem to linger, conspiring to elongate and distort as if concealing the secrets of an unseen observer.

Unease settles in, and the weight of the unknown intensifies. Your senses are on high alert, hyperaware of subtle sounds and fleeting shadows. Paranoia casts a veil over your perception, transforming the familiar surroundings into a labyrinth of uncertainty. The notion that you are being followed, and watched, becomes an inescapable undercurrent.

As you sit down at your computer to continue your Google search about Ed and Lorraine Warren, the mysterious feeling of being watched persists and the noises in your apartment become more pronounced.

Suddenly, you hear a distinct tapping sound, like fingernails lightly brushing against a surface. Your head jerks up, and you glance around the room, searching for the source.

You decide to investigate the source of the sounds. Slowly, you get up from your chair and start to explore your apartment. The creaking floorboards and faint whispers add to the tension in the air. As you move from room to room, you can’t shake the feeling that someone - or something - is with you.

Jesus, you think.

Delving into the Warrens’ cases has genuinely left an impression on you. Despite your rational certainty that you'll discover nothing unusual, a small part of you wants to make sure that you are truly alone, so you look into your bedroom.

The room is dimly lit, and shadows dance on the walls, creating an unsettling atmosphere and you half expect to come face-to-face with an intruder.

Of course, the room is empty. You shake your head at your antics and the weird games your mind sometimes plays at you. So you return to your computer, determined to focus on your research.

As you delve deeper into their history, you come across tales of unexplained occurrences and inexplicable events. The line between the paranormal and the ordinary becomes blurred, and you can’t help but wonder if there's a connection between your eerie experience and the stories you’re reading.

The distinct creak of the front door opening sends a shiver down your spine, intensifying the unease that had settled in the pit of your stomach. Your head jerks up instinctively, eyes widening as you try to discern any movement or sound that may follow.

Slowly and cautiously, you ease yourself out of the office, your senses on high alert - your mind cannot have made that up again, it feels too real.

Each step is deliberate, the floorboards beneath your feet protesting with muted groans. The dim lighting in the hallway casts long, wavering shadows, creating a macabre dance of darkness that seems to come alive with each flicker.

As you make your way to the kitchen, you can't help but notice the play of light and shadow, accentuating the contours of the furniture and giving the surroundings an otherworldly quality. The eerie atmosphere lingers, and every sound, whether a distant whisper or the faint rustle of curtains, contributes to the unsettling symphony. Your heart pounds in your ears, the rhythmic thud echoing relentlessly as adrenaline courses through your veins.

The air feels charged with tension as you navigate through the space, acutely aware of your surroundings. The kitchen, once a place of familiarity, now holds an unfamiliar weight, and you find yourself glancing over your shoulder, half-expecting to find a presence lingering in the shadows.

You look around for a potential weapon in your kitchen. Your eyes land on a set of sharp kitchen knives neatly arranged on the counter. You grab one, the cold steel offering a reassuring weight in your hand. Gripping it tightly, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as the blade reflects the gentle glow that is emanating from the windows.

Your mind races with possibilities, ranging from a potential intruder to something more otherworldly. Your eyes blink rapidly, a reflex under the stress, and you can feel sweat building as your apprehension grows.

With the knife in hand, you decide to cautiously approach the area near the hallway that leads to the front door. Every step is deliberate, and the creaking floorboards beneath your feet seem to echo in the silence. The shadows play tricks on your imagination, making you question whether the movement you see is real or just a product of your heightened senses.

As you reach the entrance, you notice that the door is slightly ajar. The chill in the air sends a shiver down your spine. Holding the knife in a defensive stance, you push the door open, ready to confront whatever or whoever might be on the other side.

To your surprise, the hallway appears empty. The dimly lit corridor stretches out before you, devoid of any immediate threat. However, the feeling of being watched persists, leaving you on edge.

A shiver runs down your spine as you turn towards the living room, and your eyes widen with a mixture of fear and surprise.

In the dim light, you make out the silhouette of a figure standing in the shadows. The room seems to hold its breath as you lock eyes with the unexpected visitor.

Your grip tightens on the knife, your instincts urging you to be prepared for whatever may come. The figure remains still, a mysterious presence cloaked in darkness. Panic and curiosity wrestle within you, but you muster the courage to speak.

“Who’s there?”, you demand, your voice wavering slightly, betraying your inner turmoil.

The figure doesn’t respond immediately, maintaining an unsettling silence. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you start to discern features - the outline of a person clad in big, dark clothing wearing a hood. The air in the room feels charged with tension, and the quiet seems to amplify the beating of your heart.

A surge of fear courses through you as the stranger inches closer in the dimly lit living room. Your panic intensifies, and without thinking, you unleash a scream, a mixture of fear and warning, hoping to startle the intruder or whatever presence stands before you as you feel your whole body shaking.

“Who are you? What do you want?”, you shout, your voice echoing through the tense silence. The sudden burst of sound reverberates in the room, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

The stranger freezes momentarily, their movement halted by your unexpected reaction. The dim light casts uncertain shadows on their stance, making it challenging to discern their intentions. You maintain a defensive stance, clutching the knife tightly in your hand.

In the wake of your scream, a heavy silence lingers, broken only by the sound of your own rapid breaths. The stranger remains silent, their next move unclear.

“I don’t want to hurt you! Please just…go”, your voice is shaking and the fear that settled itself in your core is palpable.

Suddenly, the stranger surges forward and in a split-second response to their move towards you, fear and adrenaline drive you to react instinctively. Without hesitation, you thrust the knife forward, aiming for the center of the oncoming threat. The blade makes contact, sinking into the stranger’s stomach with a sickening resistance.

The stranger gasps, a guttural sound escaping their lips, and their momentum falters. The reality of the situation hits you, and your eyes widen in shock as you release the blade and stumble back. You watch their hands instinctively clutch their injured stomach before inevitably collapsing onto the ground.

Time seems to stretch as you assess the situation, your mind racing to comprehend the events that have just happened.

You stand there, breaths coming in ragged gasps, staring at the figure now on the floor. The dim light accentuates the stark reality of the situation - their blood on the knife, their blood splattered on the floor, and their blood staining your hands.

A wave of panic grips you, and you feel the onset of a panic attack tightening your chest. The reality of the violence you've just inflicted crashes over you, and a whirlwind of emotions - fear, guilt, and shock - threatens to overwhelm your senses. Bile rises at the back of your throat, adding to the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

The heavy silence in the room is broken by the sound of your laboured breathing when you realise the gravity of the situation. You just stabbed someone.

You step closer to the figure on the floor, your hands are trembling and your mind is in turmoil. Your gaze falls onto the knife. It is still stained with their blood and lodged in the stranger’s stomach like a macabre focal point that rhythmically rises with their rattling, shallow breaths.

You hover over the figure and you reach out to grab the protruding knife with your bloody hands in a motion that you cannot stop. Your hand closes around the handle and you pull.

The knife emerges from the stranger’s stomach without much resistance but with a wet squelch and a deep, pained groan. Blood follows the blade out of the wound, drenching the stranger’s clothes as you watch mesmerised.

A few seconds tick by before you sink to your knees and lift the blade again as if pulled up by invisible strings.

The knife plunges into the stranger's chest, and a sickening resistance, a visceral clash of flesh, bone, and muscle, courses through your hands. The figure beneath you convulses, and the room is filled with the gut-wrenching sounds of their laboured breaths and pained noises, and the air is heavy with the metallic scent of blood, a salty tang settling on your tongue.

As you continue to stab in a mindless range, the blood pools over your hands, coating them like a warm embrace. The stranger beneath you convulses in response to each stab, their breaths growing more ragged with each passing moment.

Your frazzled breathing is loud in the room when you snap out of your frenzy. A sudden realisation grips you as the weight of what you've done settles in and the knife hits the wooden floor with a loud clink.

The dim light flickers, casting an eerie glow on the tableau of violence before you.

The dark clad, hooded figure that lays motionless on your floor in a pool of deep red blood surrounding them, drawing a macabre outline.

You reach out to the stilled stranger's form and tug the hood down from the stranger's head.

A jolt of terror courses through you as you reveal your own face staring back at you, eyes wide in terror. The shock is overwhelming, and you stagger back, falling onto your hands. The surreal horror of the revelation sends a scream tearing from your throat.

But then, as abruptly as the situation unfolded, you wake up screaming. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you're drenched in a cold sweat. The remnants of the dream cling to your consciousness, leaving you disoriented and unsettled.

As the realisation sets in that it was all a nightmare, a wave of relief washes over you. The room is bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, and the familiar surroundings of your bedroom reassure you that the disturbing events were only figments of your imagination. The oppressive shadows, the metallic tang of the knife, the haunting echoes of the chilling act - all dissolved into the hazy realm of dreams.

You extend your arm to hit the light switch for your bedside lamp, flooding the room with a brighter light. However, the sudden change triggers a throbbing headache, and spots dance before your eyes. The harsh illumination contrasts sharply with the peaceful moonlight, leaving you momentarily disoriented as you navigate the transition from the dreamworld to the stark reality of your lit room.

Abruptly, you raise your hands, a quick and anxious gesture, checking for any signs of harm or scattering of remaining blood. When you see nothing but spotless skin you take a moment to collect yourself, breathing deeply. Yet you still rub your hands together, attempting to rid yourself of the lingering sensation of phantom blood that appears to have permeated your skin.

The digital numbers on your clock glow faintly, spelling out the hour: 3 am. The unsettling residue of your nightmare clings to your thoughts, a haunting aftertaste that refuses to dissipate.

As you consider the option of getting up, you notice the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the distant sounds of the night outside. The weight of the bedsheets feels heavier than usual, as if reluctant to release you from the lingering grip of the dream's distressing scenes. The room, while familiar, carries an air of unfamiliarity, as if the vivid dream has cast a subtle shadow over your reality.

The intensity of your frustration grows as you realize that even your dreams have become a source of distress. The pervasive discomfort of constant head pain during waking hours now seems to extend its unwelcome influence into the realm of your sleep, turning what should be a respite into yet another source of anguish. The feeling of being trapped in a dual nightmare, both waking and sleeping, causes tears to well up in your eyes.

In all the months of your illness, you have never felt so completely and utterly lost and afraid.

A sob escapes your throat, and tears stream down your face as you succumb to the overwhelming weight of despair. You just want to get better - because this state is not living anymore, it is merely existing.

You recall the Google search from the day before - about Ed and Lorraine Warren being at a university for a lecture.

Maybe they can help you tackle whatever this is. Conventional medicine has failed you, leaving you desperate and adrift, and at this point, with nothing left to lose you are okay with anything. After all - it cannot get worse.

_____

The lecture hall at the university is packed, filled with an eager and diverse crowd, spanning different ages, all buzzing with anticipation as they gather to witness the renowned Warrens deliver their lecture.

Ed and Lorraine take their place on the stage, positioned behind a podium. You find yourself nervously seated in the middle of the audience, the bright lights exacerbating your headaches, the dull throb syncing with the beat of your heart as you feel anxious. Your attention shifts to the front, where Ed and Lorraine stand and you let your eyes rank over them.

Ed, with his impeccably styled short auburn hair, is dressed in a light grey three-piece suit paired with a black shirt and a tartan tie. Lorraine’s attire is a black vest over a light blue ruffle blouse and a long skirt carrying a matching tartan pattern, echoing Ed’s tie.

It’s a subtle reflection of their devotion to each other, you figure. Both of them emanate an undeniable attractiveness that seems to reel you in and you understand why they are so successful in what they do.

As they stand behind the podium, Ed exudes a grounded demeanour, his voice breaking the silence and resonating through the hall: “Fear is defined as a feeling of agitation and anxiety caused by the presence or imminence of danger. I don’t care if it’s a demon, a ghost, a spirit, or an entity - they all feed on it.”

Despite Ed’s composed presence, Lorraine appears unfocused, her eyes scanning the crowd as she nervously plays with her rosary.

The room is illuminated by a large screen, displaying rough film footage featuring a gaunt, despondent man in his late twenties - rail thin, eyes black like his hair, and skin pasty white. A Catholic priest stands beside him, murmuring Latin in a barely audible tone.

“Maurice here was a French Canadian farmer with nothing more than a third-grade education - yet after being possessed by a demon, spoke some of the best Latin I had ever heard - sometimes backward. He had been molested by his father, who also exposed him to bestiality. Evil found its home in this man because he was conflicted, and forced into this - he never had a choice. He thought he was saving his wife by shooting her - like his father did to his mother”, Ed informs the audience as the film unfolds before them.

You experience a mix of unease and captivation in Ed’s presence, marvelling at how he commands the room. His bright blue eyes gaze into the audience as he speaks, intensifying the dull throb in your temples as you concentrate on the lecture rather than the charismatic man on the stage.

Shifting your focus from Ed’s figure, you fix your gaze on the screen displaying the possessed man, Maurice, writhing in agonising agony.

Lorraine interjects as the film plays: “If you look at his eyes, you can see them tearing blood onto his shirt.”

You witness Maurice’s white T-shirt morphing into a canvas of dark crimson, accompanied by anguished screams.

“And upside-down crosses started appearing on his body”, Lorraine’s soft voice narrates as Ed lifts Maurice's shirt in the film, revealing two inverted crosses pushing out from the inside.

A sense of disbelief floods your thoughts - how is that possible?

Your headache pulses, prompting you to massage your temples as you watch Maurice’s struggle. The shocking scenes inadvertently bring back memories of the unsettling nightmare from the previous night. You blink rapidly, attempting to dispel the lingering thoughts and bring your focus back to the stage.

Ed takes charge, saying: “That’s good, Drew, why don’t you hit the lights.”

As Drew obediently follows Ed's instruction to turn off the projector, the room is bathed in light once more.

The harsh contrast between the vivid reality around you and the haunting scenes you’ve just witnessed on screen intensifies the unease. You notice others in the audience shifting uncomfortably in their seats, exchanging glances that reflect a shared sense of disquiet.

Ed’s silhouette becomes more pronounced against the darkened backdrop, and his next words pierce through the silence, undeterred by the discomfort permeating the room, as he begins to explain the significance of the possessed man’s ordeal.

His voice, a steady and authoritative cadence, cuts through the residual tension: “What you’ve seen tonight is not an isolated incident. Demonic possession is a very real and insidious force that can take hold of a person's soul.”

The rational part of your mind grapples with scepticism, but the visceral memories of Maurice’s screams and the grotesque symbols etched on his body make it challenging to dismiss the possibility outright.

Ed’s blue eyes, still holding the attention of the room, seem to penetrate the shadows of doubt. As he delves deeper into the supernatural narrative, your unease mingles with a growing curiosity.

Your attention is drawn to Lorraine, who still appears notably on edge. Her eyes nervously traverse the audience, revealing a subtle unease as her husband, Ed, steers the course of the lecture. It’s as though there's an undercurrent of tension beneath the surface, and Lorraine’s apprehensive demeanour suggests an awareness of something lingering in the air.

You wonder what she may be searching for or if that is normal for her - Ed doesn’t seem to be bothered by it.

“So, what happened to Maurice?”, a young man seated in the front row blurts out loud.

Ed responds with gravity in his tone: “Well, he tried to kill his wife but instead he shot her in the arm and then turned the gun on himself. Maurice had a very troubled life with little to live for...and not even an exorcist you bring him back.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, evoking a sense of sympathy for Maurice. The nonchalant demeanor with which Ed addresses the grim outcome leaves you intrigued and a bit unsettled. You can’t help but wonder about the myriad experiences the Warrens have encountered, considering their seemingly unshaken composure in the face of such dark tales.

As Ed turns to roll up the projector sheet, your attention briefly wanders. At that moment, you find yourself discreetly appreciating his form – his broad frame, strong shoulders concealed by the suit, and his ass that is pronounced by his tight pants.

“Which brings us to the three stages of demonic activity”, Ed declares, pointing emphatically to each word written on the blackboard. He begins to pace around the room, his gaze sweeping over the faces of the assembled audience.

“Infestation, oppression, and possession. Now, infestation: That’s the whispering, the footsteps, the feeling of another presence… which ultimately grows into oppression - the second stage. Now, this is where the victim, and it’s usually the one who's the most psychologically vulnerable, is targeted specifically by an external force. Breaks the victim down. Crushes their will. And once in a weakened state, leads them to the third and final stage: possession.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air, emphasising the ominous progression of these stages.

Ed’s eyes, still holding the attention of the room, sweep across the assembled audience, and he opens the floor for questions: “Are there questions?”

A smattering of eager arms shoot up, and you find yourself sinking deeper into your chair. While you too have a question, the nature of it – perhaps delving into the experience of possession – could raise suspicions, causing you to hesitate.

Ed acknowledges a male student in the front row with a subtle nod, indicating his readiness to entertain the question.

“I’d love to know what scares you the most?”, the student inquiries, his curiosity evident.

Ed’s demeanour shifts slightly, breaking into a small but genuine smile at the inquiry. His gaze is momentarily diverted from the audience to meet Lorraine’s. In that brief connection, it’s apparent that Ed’s gaze is filled with love, a sentiment that practically emanates from him, adding a layer of warmth to the otherwise intense atmosphere. Lorraine, still appearing unfocused and nervous, scans the room with vigilant eyes, seemingly attuned to energies beyond the visible.

“Being married to a clairvoyant - there’s not a whole lot I can get away with”, Ed responds, his smile widening as he adds a touch of humour to the gravity of the topic, “But there is just a base level of respect for everything we deal with.”

You can’t help but find Ed’s smile endearing and attractive. The way the skin around his eyes crinkles as he smiles toothily adds a touch of charm to his already charismatic presence.

As Ed shares this insight into his personal life, the room absorbs the shift in tone, the lecture momentarily transitioning into a more intimate and conversational atmosphere. The male student nods in response, seemingly satisfied with the candid revelation, as the audience gains a glimpse into the intricate dynamics of the Warrens’ unique partnership, accentuated by the palpable love that underlies their connection.

You raise your hand into the air since you thought of a question that won’t arouse suspicion among the gathered crowd. The odds of being chosen appear slim, given the multitude of raised hands, but you decide it’s worth a shot.

Yet, the moment your hand ascends, Lorraine abruptly grinds to a halt.

She suddenly stops cold - her smile vanishes, and her fidgeting with the rosary stops as her eyes lock onto yours with unexpected intensity. Under the weight of her unyielding, scrutinizing gaze goosebumps rise on your arm, and an unexpected chill ripples through you.

Simultaneously, as if in synchrony with the abrupt cessation of Lorraine’s movements, a searing flare of pain erupts in your head. It feels as though an unseen force is ruthlessly clawing its way into the recesses of your skull, compelling your hand to instinctively seek solace on your throbbing temple.

Breaking free from Lorraine’s gaze, you shift your attention towards Ed, attempting to regain a sense of normalcy.

However, Ed, too, has pivoted his attention from the audience to his wife. His gaze remains riveted on her, a pronounced crease forming between his brows as he meticulously follows the direction of her unbroken stare.

Your breath catches in your throat as you meet his eyes - bewildered and tinged with concern. As you lock eyes with Ed, a sensation akin to lightning strikes courses through you. The connection feels electrifying, and for a moment, the world seems to narrow down to the intensity of that shared gaze.

He takes in your form, trying to make sense of why his wife froze on the spot.

As he registers your hand that’s still suspended in the air, Ed’s tongue darts out to wet his lips before finally breaking the silence: “The girl in the fifth row. What’s your question?”

The exchange with Lorraine felt like an eternity when in reality it must have only been a few seconds. Strangely, it appears that no one else in the audience has noticed it.

Before you speak, you discreetly clear your throat. The disconcerting encounter with Lorraine has thrown you off balance.

“How do you protect yourself against the evil forces? Are there specific precautions you take?”

Ed Warren takes a moment to compose himself before addressing your question. The room falls into a hush, and all eyes are now fixed on you and Ed, with your heart still racing. The intensity of Ed’s gaze momentarily threw you off balance.

He responds with a serious expression: “Well, that's a good question. When dealing with the paranormal, it’s crucial to approach it with caution. Lorraine and I always ensure to say a prayer for protection before any investigation. We also use blessed religious artifacts, such as holy water and crosses.”

Lorraine, still visibly affected, nods in agreement, her gaze somewhat distant. You wonder if the people in the audience noticed her strange behavior or if your mind is just playing tricks on you.

“In addition to that, we have a network of clergy and experts whom we consult for guidance. Spiritual strength and faith are crucial when confronting dark forces. It’s about maintaining a balance between understanding the supernatural and respecting the spiritual realm”, Ed continues.

His intense gaze remains on you as he concludes the ghost of a smirk on his lips: “Well, rooms and artefacts can be blessed - but people cannot.”

“Thank you”, you nod and try to fake a smile.

Some part of you had hoped for a more detailed approach on how to deal with the unsettling experiences you’ve been facing. You doubt that you can just pray the persistent headaches and unexplained occurrences that have been plaguing you away.

The audience appears satisfied with the response and begins to murmur amongst themselves. Ed picking up on the collective mood, smoothly gestures for the next question, effectively shifting the focus away from the brief moment of tension.

Despite the outward calm, your mind is racing. You remain deep in thought, contemplating the practicality of the advice given.

You feel Lorraine’s gaze lingering on you, still scrutinising you but no longer frozen.

Ed occasionally diverts his attention from the audience, his concern evident in the subtle furrow of his brow and the way his eyes linger on Lorraine. His glances toward his wife carry an undertone of protectiveness, a silent reassurance seeking confirmation of her well-being as you wonder if it was a good idea to speak to them.

When your eyes meet Ed’s, there is an inexplicable intensity that steals your breath for a moment. The connection feels charged with unspoken questions and a shared curiosity about the peculiar reaction Lorraine had toward you. The exchange is profound, but it’s repeatedly interrupted, the moment broken again and again as Ed diverts his gaze back to the audience or checks on Lorraine.

You sense that Ed is wrestling with his own thoughts, wondering why Lorraine reacted in such a way, and, truth be told, you share the same curiosity.

As your headaches intensify with each passing moment, you find yourself yearning to escape the persistent gaze. The desire to leave this space becomes increasingly urgent as the weight of the unknown, coupled with the growing discomfort in your head, becomes almost unbearable.

“Well, that concludes this seminar; our time is up”, Ed declares, prompting the attendees to rise, and you join the collective movement toward the exit.

Just as you’re about to step through the doorway, a gentle, small hand is placed on your shoulder. The unexpected touch startles you, and you instinctively turn around. There stands Lorraine, her eyes carrying a mix of concern and kindness, and her voice holds a soothing quality as she speaks.

“Can we talk to you? Please, just stay behind”, Lorraine requests, her tone gentle but with an underlying seriousness.

The weight of her words feels like a sudden rush of cold water, and you can’t help but wonder if she has picked up on something you may not even fully understand yourself. A conflicting mix of desire for help and an underlying fear grips you in that moment. Despite the uncertainty, you decide to comply, nodding in acknowledgment and watching as the room empties.

As the door closes behind the last departing seminar attendee, you find yourself alone with the Warrens in the now-empty room. The weight of both Ed and Lorraine’s gazes fixated on you becomes palpable, creating an atmosphere charged with unspoken questions. It’s an unnerving feeling, like being under a microscope, and you can’t help but shift uncomfortably under their scrutiny as the pounding in your head reaches its peak.

Ed, ever perceptive, notices your discomfort and steps forward, breaking the silence.

“You don't have to be scared”, he reassures you with a calming tone, “My wife, Lorraine, she... well, she sees things that I cannot. And right now, she sees that something is bothering you.”

Lorraine, standing beside Ed, remains silent but her eyes, keen and perceptive, seem to penetrate to the core of your being. It’s both fascinating and unsettling, knowing that she possesses abilities beyond the ordinary.

Ed continues: “We’ve encountered many individuals who’ve faced unexplained phenomena, and sometimes, it helps to talk about it. Lorraine has a unique gift, and she might be able to offer some insights.”

As the conversation unfolds, the weight of your distress becomes increasingly apparent to Ed and Lorraine. Their expressions soften, recognizing the urgency of your situation.

“We understand that you’re going through something, and we’d like to help. Our home is a sanctuary, and Lorraine’s unique insights might bring some clarity to what you're experiencing”, Ed’s voice is marked by genuine concern as he reassures you.

Lorraine, who seemed to exude a calm and reassuring presence during the conversation, her demeanour a blend of empathy and understanding, gently adds: “Sometimes, being in a different environment can make it easier to open up and address these issues. We’ve assisted many people facing similar challenges, and we are here for you.”

The persistent throbbing in your head intensifies, and shadows seem to dance in the periphery of your vision as you stand before the Warrens. The pain becomes a tangible force, urging you to seek relief and answers. The sincerity in their words, coupled with the promise of potential resolution, convinces you to accept their invitation. Despite the lingering uncertainties, the hope of finding solace from the unexplained phenomena that have haunted you is a powerful motivator.

As you agree to visit their home, you take a moment to scrutinise Ed and Lorraine up close. The subtleties in Ed’s mannerisms captivate you - the way his hands flex when he explains something. The fluid movements of them, enticing your gaze to trace the contours of his rather large palms.

His lips curl in a subtle but genuine smile, revealing a warmth that contrasts with the gravity of the situation.

You notice that Ed is not clean shaven but instead, a carefully groomed short stubble graces his jawline, framing his face in a way that accentuates his features. The stubble adds a rugged charm, underscoring a sense of authenticity and strength.

You find yourself feeling a different kind of pull - a quiet and unexpected attraction to Ed.

As you stand near him, you catch a whiff of his intoxicating scent, a distinctly manly fragrance that envelops you like a comforting spell. It’s a blend of woodsy notes and subtle hints of spice, leaving an indelible impression that adds an intriguing layer to the enigmatic connection blossoming between you.

A momentary hesitation causes you to instinctively bite your lip, a nervous habit that betrays the complexity of your emotions. In that fleeting instant, you catch Ed’s gaze flickering down to your lips, lingering longer than appropriate.

The attraction to Ed catches you off-guard and the unspoken connection, heightened by your response and Ed's subtle acknowledgment, adds a subtle tension to the air.

Not only is the situation at hand graver and darker but he is also married - and his wife is standing right beside you.

A twinge of guilt creeps in as you become keenly aware of the poor job you are doing to hide the magnetic pull you sense toward Ed.

Next chapter

#patrick wilson #patrick wilson x reader #the conjuring #insidious #patrick wilson smut #ed warren #fanfiction #ed warren x reader #ed warren smut #lorraine warren #aquaman

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skrifores · 5 months

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I have seen the point being made that you don’t have to be in a romantic relationship for some behaviour to constitute domestic violence. I’m seeing this said with regards to Our Flag Means Death and what some people perceive as domestic abuse on Ed’s part - that him not being romantically involved with Izzy shouldn’t mean behaviour between can’t be considered domestic abuse.

It is an excellent point that in many places, the definition of domestic abuse isn’t restricted to intimate partners! It is often widened to consider any violence, coercion and emotional harm taking place within a home environment. Under this definition, children can be victims of domestic abuse by their parents, it can occur between siblings, even roommates - especially with a live-in landlord situation. And of course, the Revenge as well as being a workplace is ultimately where the characters live.

I think it’s very clear that the show is a workplace comedy about pirates, but if you want to apply the definition of violence, coercion and emotional harm within a home environment to your reading to the show, that can be done.

Of course, I would be surprised if you genuinely view it that way and still made it as far as even watching Season 2, given the way what you consider to be domestic abuse in this fictional setting happens so very often with little to no moral consequence, and is often intended to be taken as a joke.

I mean. In the very first episode, the crew talk about killing Stede, and begin to plan for this, including lighting him on fire.

Jim threatens Lucius and actually physically locks him in a small wooden box in the second episode for what seems to be quite a long time.

I think in 4, Izzy pulls on Fang’s beard and it really upsets him. He also talks pretty openly about the intention to kill the Revenge crew, though I’ll let that go at this stage since he doesn’t really live there so much as being there for the purpose of murdering them and stealing their stuff. Still, poor Fang, that looked like it hurt.

While we’re on Izzy, he does also actively try to kill Stede by stabbing him, and he then he goes and does the olde worlde equivalent of calling the cops on him on the intention of having him executed, which seems pretty fucked up on the ‘violence’ part of our DA definition but also hits pretty hard on coercive control since he’s doing this to get Ed to behave differently.

He does prevent the Navy from executing Ed, which is nice, but he does point out that he regrets this, which, ouch, emotional harm. If we’re doing real world definitions, “I should’ve let the cops I called on you murder you” is the sort of thing that would make me feel pretty fucked up. And we all know what it means when someone tells you to watch your step.

But it’s not all about Izzy! (It’s really not, guys, there’s a whole TV show here!) Buttons bites Lucius - who ends up needing the whole finger gone! And he’s a visual artist!

Even my darling man Roach tries to eat the Swede, and I’ve gotta say, I don’t think they were on that island long enough to justify murder.

And who could forget Mary?? Wonderfully written character, love her, but, she does with malice aforethought attempt to kill her spouse in his sleep with a skewer. She was right to do it, in my opinion, but y’know, even without broadening the definition beyond partner relationships, murder of your spouse is pretty classic domestic abuse.

So, y’know, the point I’m getting at really is that if your definition of domestic abuse is violence and control wherein the perpetrator and victim share a significant aspect of their lives like living space - that’s a fine definition in real life. It is the one I use, in real life. But if you apply it to Our Flag Means Death, I really don’t understand how you stomached watching the first season or why you came back for more.

And if you only apply this definition with regards to Ed’s behaviour, but not the rest of the characters, I do wonder why that might be.

#our flag means death #ofmd fandom #ofmd #ofmd season 2 #trigger warnings #domestic abuse #warning for domestic abuse #domestic violence #crew of the revenge #izzy hands #edward teach #stede bonnet #apparently I woke up this morning and chose discourse #I don’t know why #but there we are #the izcourse

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ladyluscinia · 7 months

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Ok. Ok. Time to put my thoughts in order about S2 and we're starting at literally the first scene because whoo boy is there a lot going on that I like.

So. Stede's Fantasy Pirate Rescue aka this show having no illusions about Stede's fuck ups and where the story-driving conflict is coming from (*cough* Stede and Edward themselves *cough*)

It opens with what frankly a concerning amount of fandom seemed to view as the solution to all the problems of S1 - namely a Stede vs Izzy swordfight. Stede is really going all in on his dashing pirate hero fantasy. He has the beard. The sword skills. He gets his sword knocked out of his hand (again) but this time it ends on a witty one liner and stabbing Izzy with a concealed knife before artfully claiming his cutlass. He even dramatically kills him! And, villain defeated, there's Ed running through the surf to embrace him! Everything is perfect and wonderful and conflict free - and it all collapses back into reality with Wee John literally farting all over it.

Pete even openly mocks his moaning "Ed, Ed" in his sleep!

Because it's a fantasy! A ridiculous one at that! And the truly fantastical bit isn't even the reunion, or Stede's heroics. No... The part that's absurd, that even Stede can't make himself believe in his own subconscious mind, is that there's a convenient external villain to all of this and he and Ed can just pick back up where they left off.

Fantasy!Izzy and Fantasy!Ed are basically barbie dolls in this dream, but you can watch Stede's awareness that this is truly just a comforting fantasy slipping through.

Fantasy!Izzy gets cast as the villain because why wouldn't he? Stede has disliked him going back to that conversation at Spanish Jackie's where he basically offloaded a bunch of his own issues on this random pirate guy for having bad vibes, Izzy did betray him specifically to the Navy, and the last thing his crew would have been able to tell him about was Izzy ordering his stuff tossed and rowing them to an island (on Blackbeard's orders, but that's easy enough for Stede to ignore). He's even got him putting on a villain voice!

But the line. The only fantasy character line in this entire dream that connects with the situation in reality instead of sounding like stock NPC responses. Stede defeats his villain and The Villain / Fantasy!Izzy / Stede's subconscious looks up from his knees and reminds him:

"I never made you leave him. You did that yourself."

And Stede kills him for saying it! Goes back to the comforting script where he demands to know where Ed is and Izzy calls him a twat! Shut up, subconscious, Stede needs to rescue his damsel!

And his damsel barbie doll is so happy to see him! Fantasy!Edward's lines are the most disconnected, NPC babble. It's hilarious 🤣

Fantasy!Ed: "I knew you'd find me, babe"

Stede: "You're not mad?"

Fantasy!Ed: "I knew you'd find me, love"

Stede: "So we're good? About everything?"

Fantasy!Ed: "Fucking love the beard, mate".

Can I mention how much I love the repetition there? Zero engagement in the conversation, totally amps up the NPC vibe.

Stede is begging his own dream to reassure him that he didn't hurt Ed that bad, to tell him Ed will be so happy to see him it will fix everything, and he doesn't get what he's looking for. Because it's not true. The show in fact laughs in the face of that interpretation. Stede's making up a idealized "fix" (being a dashing hero) for the BlackBonnet relationship, and even Stede knows it's bullshit.

Edward and Stede's relationship issues and personal struggles have a bodycount this season (R.I.P. Ivan 😭) and it's immensely satisfying that so far no one is inclined to pull their punches on this fact or foist the blame elsewhere.

Not even Stede's subconscious!

#our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd 2x01 #stede bonnet ofmd #stede bonnet #blackbonnet #ofmd meta #ladyluscinia

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izzysillyhandsy · 6 months

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My predictions for the S2 finale (also, 100% wish fulfillment)

I'm so intrigued by this quote from David Jenkins regarding the dream sequence in S2E1:

"Stede, Blackbeard, and Izzy are on an arc together. Whether they're in stories together or not, their ultimate arc is together. I think, by the end of this season, the last episode, that first scene will be gratifying. I won't say why, but their fates are tied together."

(Just to get this out of the way, because I have seen posts worrying about it (and for my own peace of mind): if the last episode mirrors the first one and that "scene will be gratifying", in no way can I see Izzy dying - gratifying would be a really weird way to describe Izzy's death, although some antis might see it that way ;).)

But let's look at the dream again.

Stede looking all piratey-tough, beard, earring and all. Izzy standing between Stede's and Ed's happiness, and Stede knifing and stabbing him without the slightest bit of remorse. Stede and Ed running towards each other on a sunset beach. Izzy dead, forgotten and out of sight.

Combined with this quote (referencing "A Star is born") from the same article:

"... to watch Stede — spoiler, but he becomes a real boy, and he becomes a notorious pirate. To see Ed try to process that, Ed's more like Jackson Maine, and then Stede's doing a Gaga, and he's blowing up."

and the scenes from the trailer and teaser where Stede and Ed are running/fighting towards each other on (I think) the same beach...

My prediction for the show's finale is:

While Ed's still on probation, Stede, with Izzy's help, gains respect in the pirate community. "The Gentleman Pirate" becomes a thing, and Ed finds this difficult to deal with. Yes, he wanted to give up pirating and run away with Stede to China, but being overshadowed by him in his own field of expertise? His life's work? By an amateur?? (and Stede not only has his crew, but he has his Izzy too now?)

Maybe there is another separation, maybe Ed goes away to chill somewhere, maybe there is a fight between Stede and Ed.

Then Price Ricky comes back, and he wants Stede (and piracy in general) dead. Izzy has some undercover part where he's talking to Ricky over a candlelight dinner and is seen wearing a Navy jacket later. At one point, he gets severely injured (as seen in BTS photos).

The showdown is happening on the beach. But instead of Stede killing Izzy and then running towards Ed, Ed is coming back to help Stede and his crew out when the battle seems lost and Izzy is hurt/dying.

It could be framed like the scene in episode one - Ed coming from one side, Stede seeing him and running towards him from the other, both fighting Navy guys left and right. With their combined effort, the battle is won.

But instead of Ed and Stede having only eyes for each other, this time around there's also Izzy, and they won't let him die (maybe with help from a certain bird? Or is this to out there).

I can even see a bit of jealousy going on with Ed regarding Izzy and Stede.

In reversal of the dream though, Izzy will be the one bringing Ed and Stede together (through giving Stede a sense of self-worth, through talking to Ed about his feelings of envy/fear about his unloveableness because Izzy knows him and I think Ed really cares about his opinion, etc.)

In the end, the conclusion could be that they're all in it together. Ed and Stede co-captain, and Iz is their shared first mate.

(and then the three of them ride off into the sunset)

#ofmd #ofmd season 2 spoilers #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd speculation #edward teach #stede bonnet #izzy hands #maybe a bit of wishful thinking on my part #but like the gist of it is I think supported by what we know already #maybe not the overly fanfiction-y parts #shared first mate yeah right ;)

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extraterrestrialechos · 10 months

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I have watched Episode 8 possibly more than any other episode and it's so vital what Jack's saying and what he thinks he's doing, which is completely centered around pointing out Stede's from outside their world and pointing out Ed he's wallowing in unsustainable excess.

Jack: Just for the two of you, huh? Hornigold'd shit himself.

Jack: That's a real pirate! Not like one of these store-bought types.

We're soon provided the information Jack genuinely believes he's been acting with Ed's full support and consent since back at the dramatics on deck.

Jack fully believes he shook Ed out of whatever weird, seemingly uncharacteristic funk Ed has gotten into.

Jack: Best thing that could've happened to you, if you ask me. Like when I heard that you'd shacked up with him, I said... Ed: Where'd you hear that? You didn't just happen upon us, did you, Jack? Jack: Took you long enough. The old Blackbeard woulda seen me comin' a mile away.

Jack: I figured you were on to me when I lured you to Blind Man's Cove, seeing as its distinguishing feature is that... Ed: It's impossible to make an escape.

Ed, otoh, had a good reason to want to show Jack, who he cared about, they could both be a part of Stede’s love in — he wanted to believe that there was room for Jack in muppet land, and a different future for both of them than they’d ever imagined.

That was so far from Jack’s reality he never conceived it was happening and believed they were co-conspirators in a completely different series of events from the one Ed was living.

Chauncey makes a similar point to Jack's in the next episode:

Chauncey: I'm afraid the offer doesn't extend to you, Bonnet. After all, the King was only referring to real pirates. He's from my world, not yours.

That Stede isn't part of the fabric of that world is pivotal to the thrust of the thing, because it's not just about Ed and Stede. The crew, who Oluwande assured in the first episode would come to kill Stede next if he didn't say he killed Nigel on purpose, and who'd all just reassured Jack would probably still mutiny on Stede in the future, decide at this moment that Stede, admittedly a work in progress, is worth standing up for.

And shortly after, Ed chooses to give up everything he's worked so hard his whole life for, a career and huge prestige and "more riches than you can shake a fucking stick at," to go into an unknown, barefaced future with Stede.

Despite Jack not believing Ed would throw away what he built from nothing, what they were stabbed and ground down to nothing and treated like dogs for a chance to aspire to, despite that Episode 8 exists to let Ed see the risk he's taking.

Throughout, Izzy builds up reminders of the bonds he forged with crewmen who believe in the him he chose to show them that he has to choose to separate from:

Ed: No, Izzy, we're not doing this. Izzy: No, you're not doin' this, so I must.

Izzy: Remember though, you said when you made me first mate, "Above all else is loyalty to your Captain." You're my captain, and I was never gonna stand by and let you destroy yourself for that... twat.

Izzy fully believes throughout he is doing what Ed (who at the start of this had repeatedly, disturbingly expressed suicidal ideation in Episode 4 leaving us with two long shots of Izzy standing stunned and shaken after he walks out) pledged him to do. To hold the outfit together and keep Ed's reputation secure.

There's nothing nefarious about the sad henchman sitting in prolonged denial.

Izzy: The plan is very much alive. He promised me.

But Fang and Ivan have now seen through the thing, too, and so they remind Ed of the sacrifices they've made to be a part of this outfit the three together. And still Izzy is careful not to speak in front of them when he offers to help secure their normal,

Izzy: I'll happily end it.

We can assume here, and when Ed couldn't do it and Izzy steps in, that what Izzy knows after all these years is Ed doesn't kill people face to face. How many other people has he dispatched to shore up the occasional slack for the continued honor of sailing with the most brilliant sailor he's ever met?

It is my strong opinion that diminishing these character’s belief in the Ed they’ve known for years and the loyalty they display diminishes the enormity of the choices we see Ed make and risks he taking putting his life and heart in Stede’s hands.

These are men he chose to forge bonds with through his own actions, and the resistance to change they put up comes out of having traveled well worn paths with the Ed who made himself king of the ocean who is suddenly exhibiting erratic and, to them, totally unprecedented behavior.

Ed returns to an Izzy whose faith is at last broken, and swiftly and expertly resecures his place of power. Even devastated himself that his start at a different life a part of him privately yearned for left him so completely bereft.

#ofmd meta #ed teach #izzy hands #calico jack #extechos

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finchers-ipad · 5 months

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Can u share any Tyler hcs you never shared before :D!!!!!!!? If u have any. He’s always on my mind!!

i have a few bouncing around in my skull rn:

-he has this weird mysterious past that he doesn’t really talk about, not because he doesn’t want to necessarily he just doesn’t think about it. this would lead to really funny situations where him and the narrator are lying in bed or something and the narrator traces his fingers on a scar on Tyler’s chest and say “where did you get this, did you have surgery or something?” and tyler would nonchalantly say “nah i got stabbed by this guy” the narrator would look exactly like this emoji upon hearing that: 😧. this works in another situation like tyler walking in on the narrator reading and the narrator would be like “did you know that in Spain they have this holiday where they throw tomatoes at each other?” tyler would just be like “uh yeah i lived there for 2 years” like it was common knowledge.

- he would love to go to concerts/shows even if it’s an artist he doesn’t know. when he was younger he attended a lot of punk shows and thats kind of the environment he hung out the most. thinking about of the narrator and Tyler would both love radiohead (semi based on the fact that Brad Pitt and Ed Norton love radiohead but i do feel like radiohead is a common ground in Tyler and the narrators music tastes) and how they would go and see them live in 2003.

- i feel like he is a sentimental person but would rather die than openly show it. he keeps little rings that Marla leaves at the house, takes polaroids often and either puts them up around the house or has a pile of them, keeps little doodles that the narrator makes while he is on the phone etc.

- he’s definitely attempted to brew his own beer before in the basement of paper street just to keep himself occupied and maybe sell it. after waiting four weeks for the beer to be ready and hyping it up to the narrator, they both take a drink and immediately throw up. he learns to stick to soap making.

- this is kind of more of a soapshipping thing but this is what i have been thinking about lately. i don’t know how this would work in terms of film switching from reels to digital and how that would kind of put Tyler out of a job BUT, let’s just say he gets paid to sit on his ass in the projection booth and click play. he is forced to watch ‘twilight’ when it comes out as apart of his job and thinks it is the worst film he has ever seen.

he basically sprints home to tell the narrator about it “man i kid you not he is this old vampire dude but in the body of this young guy trying to fuck this 17 year old it’s weird” and the narrator doesn’t believe him on how bad and cringe it is so Tyler sneaks him into work to watch it, and they laugh the whole way through to the point where you can hear them both laughing IN the theatre. and they go back to watch it like 3 more times taking a drink every time something awkward happens to the point where they are blackout drunk.

#ty for the ask!!#did i have to google radiohead tour dates and how long it takes for beer to brew for this….maybe #fight club #tyler durden #soapshipping #tyler x narrator

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strangermarvelss · 2 years

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this is music!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: you and eddie discover just how different your music choices are

Warnings: fluff, angst if you squint, eddie being a child

Request?: No

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: here’s a quick little fic about eddie being a diva over his music. that pretty much sums it up. - sava

“I mean, what are you even looking for?” Eddie asks Robin, carrying over a handful of his cassette tapes.

Nancy and Steve were still in the upside down, Nancy showing the signs that Max did when in the trace caused by Vecna. Robin, Eddie, and yourself managed to get out right before and seeing Steve on the other side shaking Nancy furiously was not how you were expecting the rest of the night to go. You were worried, along with everyone else. We couldn’t afford to lose anyone else in Hawkins, it was taking a toll on the town and you were scared what could happen to Vecna if he killed more and more kids.

“Madonna, Blondie, Bowie, Beatles. Music! We need music!” Robin exclaims, holding up his Iron Maiden cassette. Uh oh. You knew this wasn’t going to be taken well by Ed-

“THIS. IS. MUSIC!” He yells, snatching the cassette from her hands and waving it as he spoke. Eddie was passionate about music, whether it’s playing it himself or listening. He was in the minority with his love of metal in the town of Hawkins, one of many things they used to throw the word “freak” in his face, which was just cruel. The way his eyes would light up as he listened to the latest Metallica album was one of your favorite recent memories…before Hawkins had yet another threat on its hands. So when people bad mouthed one of the few things he loved most, it was like a stab through the heart for him.

“Eds, you know that’s not what she meant. Now here, maybe there’s something here she’d be interested in,” you say throwing a pile on the bed. Eddie looks over your shoulder as you and Robin look through the pile, his face scrunched. The day would come sooner or later where you’d reveal the secret stash of tapes you kept at Eddie’s trailer, and, considering the circumstances, now was as good a time as any.

“What about Queen, do you think she likes them? Oooh, wait, I found a Blondie tape!” You say, holding both tapes up in Robin’s view. She nods and you both jump from the bed and rush towards the opened gate that sat upon the ceiling of Eddie’s living room.

“Steve! We have some music that doesn’t suck!” Robin shouts at him.

“Robin! Be nice!” You scold her. She holds her hands up in a surrender pose, and you hear and fall coming from the ceiling. You both look up to see Nancy laying in Steve’s arms on the floor of Eddie’s trailer in the Upside Down. Steve looks at your guys and gives you a thumbs up, with you letting out a sigh of relief. She was okay.

For now.

You walk back into Eddie’s room and he’s sitting on his bed with his arms crossed. You nod at Dustin and the rest of his freshmen friends to head out, silently asking for time alone with your boyfriend. Slowly, you approach the bed and sit on the edge, looking at him with a guilt face.

“Are you okay Eddie?” You ask, placing your hand on his leg, which he shakes off. You let out a slightly annoyed sigh and turn your body more towards him so you can see him. You watch as he grabs at the tapes you had placed on his bed with a huff. Even in world-ending circumstances, Eddie could be as dramatic as ever and find a way to throw a fit. Most of the time you found it to be cute, watching his features contort as he passionately went on and on about whatever got him into a tangent. However, now was not that time.

“These tapes are not mine, Y/N,” he says, looking up to you again.

“Yeah, I know.”

“So…why are they here?” He asks you, putting them back down in the pile you had made. You give him an “are you serious” look, not being able to tell if he genuinely thinks they just appeared in his trailer. He only gives you a waiting expression in return, confused as to why you haven’t spoken yet.

“I brought them over here for when I’m hanging out at the trailer when you’re not around. No big deal,” you explain calmly. You practically lived with Eddie at the trailer he shared with his Uncle Wayne, not really wanting to spend much time away from the man you loved most, given your history and status throughout the town.

“No big deal? Y/N, what about my music? Do you not like it?” He asks, standing from the bed. You let out a small sigh and hang your head.

“Yes but sometimes I want to listen to the music I like most. Metal and rock are great and all, but I do like pop music too, Eddie,” you admit. You hear him scoff.

“And why didn’t you tell me this?” He turns suddenly, this eccentric dramatics coming out in full swing. You stand from his bed and get closer to him, softly cupping his face. He begins to look away from you, but you gently tilt him back to look at you.

“Eds, I promise it’s not the end of the world that I like a different music genre. We don’t have to be the exact same, because that’s what makes it nice to be with one another. Can you honestly tell me that you’d like being with me if I was exactly like you?” You ask him, your nose touching his. He lets out a quiet huff and meets your gaze. You watch the mess of curls slowly nod in understanding, feeling his soft lips press to your cheek. You bring your hand up to cup his cheek for a moment and brush his dirty face with the pad of your thumb. After being in the upside down for so low, both of you needed a shower and a change of clothes.

“C’mon, everyone’s probably in the living room waiting on us. Plus we should get this back there so Steve and Nancy can make it back into our normal dimension without breaking anything,” you tell him as you rise from his stain-filled mattress. He rises as well and the two of you are closer, him pressing another kiss to your cheek.

“Okay, let’s go sweetheart. Oh and please don’t make me listen to Rapture. Like ever. I hate that song.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #dustin henderson #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #robin buckley

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stevesbipanic · 1 year

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I was thinking about Steve wanting so bad to take Eddie to a date but totally struggling with it, so he buys tickets for a concert of a band that he saw the name in some tape on Eddie's bedroom. Obviously Steve has no ideia of what that band is playing, or maybe he doesn't even pronounce their name correctly, but he wants to make Eddie smile

Steve was struggling.

He'd been trying to take Eddie out on a date for weeks but he could either never get the words out or Eddie would invite Robin or Nancy as well or just think they were hanging out. He'd tried the movies, and dinner and even skull rock of all places. Hell he asked Eddie on a picnic to Lovers Lake but nothing, Eddie wasn't picking up what Steve was throwing down.

It's not like Eddie just wasn't into guys, Eddie had come out to Steve when Robin had come out to him and told him Steve was cool with it. Steve had even come out to Eddie so it wasn't like Eddie could think Steve was just into girls!

He had to go big, he was running out of options here and—

"No, Robin, I can't just say I like him!"

—which is why he'd taken drastic measures.

He had been walking past the music store on his way to work when he saw a poster about a band playing in Indianapolis next weekend. Now Eddie had been educating Steve on the wonders of metal since he got out of hospital so Steve knew this was one of the band's Eddie had a poster of up in his room but he didn't think he'd played Steve any of their songs. That didn't matter though, if Eddie liked them then Steve was going to take him to their concert.

He knows he made the right decision when he shows Eddie the tickets.

"Holy fuck, Stevie, I didn't even know you listened to these guys!"

"Yeah well you show me so much metal stuff I was bound to branch out," Steve had lied through his teeth of course but he didn't want to take that big smile off of Eddie's face.

Steve allowed Eddie to dress him in his clothes, not that it took much convincing since Steve often stole Eddie's clothes when he slept over. He even let Eddie stab his eye with eyeliner after seeing how hot it made Eddie look.

"Damn you looking fine, sweetheart."

Steve had blushed the whole drive to the city. Steve had to admit it, he had fun. Sure the concert gave him a bit of a headache, and he was sticky and sweaty by the end of it, no doubt that his eyeliner was running a bit, but Eddie had glowed. It didn't matter that Steve didn't know any of the songs, he was too busy watching Eddie anyway.

"Thank you for this, Stevie, I had an awesome time," Eddie said as they wandered down the street back to Steve's car.

"Of course, Eds, had to take you to a Möterhorn concert."

"Möterhorn? Hang on, Stevie do you even know what band was playing?"

Steve looked sheepish, "Not really, but I'd seen their poster on your wall once."

"Oh sweetheart you didn't have to do that just for me, they're Möterhead by the way. Can't believe you went to a metal concert you didn't even know the name of, my boyfriend is stupidly sweet."

"Boyfriend?" Steve squeaked out blushing.

"Um yeah? I mean haven't we been dating for weeks?"

"YOU KNEW THEY WERE DATES!"

"Of course I knew they were dates, Stevie."

"But, but you would sometimes invite Robin and Nancy?"

"Yeah? Nancy is still nervous about being bi and wanted to go on some double dates, I thought Robs would've told you."

"You haven't even kissed me!"

"I thought you were shy about dating a guy for the first time!"

"I can't believe this!"

"Well, if you want me to kiss you so bad I can rectify that?"

Steve didn't answer instead pulling Eddie in by his jacket, kissing him soundly. When the boys pulled away they looked like a mess, eyeliner smudged and breathless.

"I guess your boyfriend is stupidly sweet after all."

#ty for the prompt ❤️#stranger things #stranger things s4 #steve harrington #st4 #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things season 4 #brief ronance #ficlet #fluff

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ourflagmeansgayrights · 7 months

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ofmd s2e1 rewatch where i pause to jot down my thoughts and other random shit

not quite a reaction post bc i've already watched the whole thing. not quite a liveblog bc it's one post and it's probably gonna take me a full hour to get through a 28 minute episode at the rate of pausing and typing i'll be doing

s2e1, s2e2, s2e3, s2e4, s2e5, s2e6, s2e7, s2e8

anyway, pirate time:

i love how much fun con is having choking on his own blood

dream!stede's extremely teary face right before he takes off running down the beach is doing psychic damage to me

also dream!stede's stupid ridiculous outfit with all the long ribbons and shit...

ed and stede make contact so hard shjfkhsgjkfd the loud OUGH sounds from both of them

also the return of ed's old beard! i didnt expect to see her at all this season, so that was a surprise.

"babe" "love" im tearing out my own hair

stede has yet to learn that ripping ass near your beloved can be a love language

stede is a terrible fucking roommate just deal with wee john's gas in silence like the rest of them. goddamn.

WHO HAS THE OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH TRAMP STAMP. WHO IS THAT.

i like when the background OST is familiar to me lol the little strings when stede starts his letter throwing me back to s1

olu: that–that's the swede the swede: Im the swede roach: he's single ;) me: *pissing my pants with laughter*

also the direct confirmation that the swede literally doesn't have a name. incredible

shjkfhdhfkj the crew encouraging him. stede's "it's okay" and roach "be brave" im CRYINGGGGG

stede doing customer service is something that can be so personal. "reservation?" "eat my fuckin' shit" "right! walk-ins, then" average restaurant experience

the random background guy saying "my favorite hand!" abt getting stabbed in the hand is making me giggle. i love the humor on this show

why does stede have so much shoulder movement going on when he's walking through the bar. whore behavior.

"this is for mom!" sorry but i want to know more abt whatever's going on there

also the purple mohawk. dope.

buttons is so distressed LET HIM RETURN TO THE SEA THESE CONDITIONS ARE INHUMANE

"i know the odds of you finding this are slim but so were the odds of us finding each other in the first place" IM RIPPING OFF MY OWN SKIN

also stede's lil sad hopeful smile after throwing the bottle... i care him

i love how they make this wedding fucking suck so we don't feel too bad abt the whole massacre thing. "the natural condition of humanity is base and vile. it is the obligation of people of standing, such as yourselves, to elevate the common human rabble through the sacred transaction of matrimony" if i was at a wedding and the officiant said that i'd also start killing people probably

yayy murder montage :)

FANG BREAKING THAT GUY'S SPINE OVER HIS KNEE

the whole cake scene is so fucking funny im sorry. i love u jim drawing the line at attacking a shitty wedding. i love u archie who wasn't here for the good old days so you dont really see a problem with how things are. i love u frenchie with ur box in ur brain that u never open again. i love u fang it's gonna get better i swear. i love u frenchie again bc u just took the cake right out of fang's hands while he was fucking sobbing hfjhgkjhdkjkf

I MISS IVAN JUSTICE FOR IVAN. wish they could've said he'd just fucked off somewhere instead of dying but i think that would've raised the question of why hasn't anyone else fucked off since they all seem so miserable

very relieved that stede isn't taking the racist/antisemitic caricature drawings of ed to make like a boyfriend scrapbook like some people were theorizing. would've been overkill if after episode 4 from last season stede still didn't realize that ed hated these sorts of depictions of him.

INTERESTING DETAIL THO the background music in this scene is "a pirate's life" aka the song frenchie sang in the pilot. it's an instrumental version obviously but yeah i recognize that tune

also more cool background ppl with dyed hair man i love this show

zheng yi sao flirting with olu is so good. he deserves it.

how nice of ed to offer his drugs to the crew. sharing is caring.

also it's so funny to me that the thing izzy is tormented by is ed saying "you can't do the job, someone else will" the toe thing's happened three times and apparently that was fine but the thing the show edits together right before izzy breaks down into the most pathetic aheemheem whimpers isn't any of that it's ed threatening to fire him

also they cut ed throwing knives at izzy!! what the hell.

releasing the clip of izzy crying kinda ruined it for me when it came time to watch it in the show bc i watched it several times since it dropped and now seeing it in context i was like "ok i've seen this already fast forward." i mean i didnt fast forward through it but i did kinda zone out bc i've seen this bit already. this post kinda sums up my thoughts on it

"trifling ingrate plan" dshkjfshgdskhfjkhgkjh

"SEMI-CLEAN WATER"

JACKIE CALLING THE SWEDE "BOO CAKES"

"i know that guy we had breakfast together!" "you'll be having a lot of breakfasts-es together" "oh, okay" i fucking love this whole dynamic like i can tell they're writing the swede out of most of the episodes for budget reasons (sorry nat faxon) but by god do they give him such an excellent fucking send-off. can't wait to see him again when he's in his trophy husband number 20 era

roach is upset abt not being able to cook, buttons is tied up so he doesn't go running back to the sea (i assume). stede you are not giving your crew the environment they need to thrive.

olu being an optimist :)

buttons opens his mouth to drink the rain and in the background u can see roach yanking the rope around buttons back fhdjskgfjhgkjfh STEDE YOUR SEA WITCH CANNOT THRIVE IN THESE CONDITIONS

stede tries to make things sound good in his bottle letters to ed but out loud he says his actual insecurities... it's so fucking tasty tho that he thinks ed could be doing better without him and THAT'S why he's been stalling so much. not afraid for his life even a little bit he just assumes he's not wanted. brb i have to cry now

"im sorry if that's a little bit creepy" "you are creepy" in this scene where they're soaked from the rain. ofmd said this prince ricky guys is creepy and wet.

stede's fucking FACE when prince ricky says "you're my hero" his fucking "clearly you dont own an air fryer" face I CANT STAND HIMMMMMM (affectionate)

prince ricky "these rubes" "men of our standing" yeah i cant fucking stand this guy (derogatory) i love how he's barely even in this episode

stede's face when the swede is talking abt how happy he is with jackie... my man believes in love so much im gonna cry

also in what fucking way does the swede owe them a life debt. roach and buttons literally tried to eat him

izzy's "you know me better than anyone knows me and i daresay the same about you" this is literally so false i dont even know where to begin. izzy in e6 being like "if i didnt know any better i'd think maybe ed might possibly maybe be actually enjoying bonnet's company" while ed and stede are giggling and making each other friendship bracelets. this guy doesn't know ed at all.

also i cant get over how izzy wont make eye contact he's like staring blankly into the middle distance delivering these lines so flatly until he goes to say "i have... love for you" and in that moment he looks like he'd rather ed were feeding him more toes.

"im worried about you, we all are" not gonna lie my dude you've had a weird way of showing it thus far. where was all that worry when you told him he was better off dead than wearing a robe and singing songs?? where was that fucking love then?

and NOW izzy wants to talk it through. izzy literally voted to make blackbeard great again and now he wants to give open communication a chance???

lmao there's a limit to how many characters can be in a bulleted list so here's fucking. part two. on the same post:

ed asking everyone if the vibe is poisonous and fang cant stop crying and ed's face is just like "eh good enough" im fdhksgfkjtdkh

anyway ed with a loaded gun under his chin talking to himself is hurting me so fucking much actually. ed my beloved babygirl for whom i would die. this poor traumatized man. yes he is making this workplace toxic as hell but god. GOD. im gonna throw up.

the way ed is so fucking casual about shooting izzy in the leg. just calm and jovial as he promotes frenchie to first mate. stepping over izzy all crumpled on the floor. everything about this is so fucking good. i mean it's horrible for ed and everyone around him but for me watching the show this shit is DELICIOUS. i love when the pirates get violent and unhinged i love when this shit gets fucked up. ed's mental state is so bad right now and it is causing me severe anguish but also it is so tasty. fuck.

anyway frenchie trying to turn down the promotion fhjkghdfjkhf

the cut to the swede performing the husbandly duties is INSANE. COMPLETE TONAL WHIPLASH. I LOVE THIS SHOW.

"fuck those hammies up!" spanish jackie i love you

black pete why are you so fucking loud AND WHY WOULD YOU JIX IT LIKE THAT???

why is prince ricky so small. he's like a full head shorter than stede. also this guy is insufferable i love how stede just fucking abandons him fhjkgdhkdfghkj

"the calf muscle is the most mysterious of alllll the muscles" what the FUCK does that even mean. oh swede i will miss you

NOSE REMOVAL FUCK YES. I LOVE THIS SHOW.

obsessed with the swede playing dumb. the dramatic gasp. "wow, so bad!" fhjsghdkjf

"aint you that soup bitch?" "im the money bitch" i love women.

sfdsjkh spanish jackie being into double-crossing. and slapping the swede's ass on the way out. i love this show

i love how zheng says "this much indigo is worth three times what i paid" while spanish jackie and the husbands are still like, right there. and they just don't hear that bit. incredible.

OUGH the back of jim's weird rope armor looks like a ribcage that's so cool

i love how jim is so fucking bad at telling this story. i love how the monkey's paw comes into it. i love fang asking them to do the voice. i love archie trying to hold back her laughter i love jim and fang giggling together I LOVE THIS SHOW

ed's fucking voice breaking through his whole convo with frenchie. im tearing out my own teeth

HEY DID YOU GUYS KNOW THEY HAVE POST-CREDITS SCENES IN THIS SEASON?????????? WHAT THE HELL

i take back what i said about jim being bad at telling this story their version is so much fucking better. squeaky voice "I pray to you, Dark Lord, to make me real flesh! I want to be real flesh!" IM FUCKING OBSESSED. JIM I WOULD DIE FOR YOU

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randomduckwandering · 8 months

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MY THOUGHTS ON THE LAST EPISODE OF OFMD

FIRST ON THE AGENDA THEY GOT TOGETHER OMG THIS HAD TO GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET

Anywho next is

MARY.

She has to be one of my favorite characters

AND SHE DESERVES THE BEST

The fact that she lived as widowed wife and made herself a career and found an healthy relationship where she actually loves her partner IS MAKING ME GENUINELY CRY

ALSO BLACK BEARD

MY POOR GUY WAS LEFT HEARY BROKEN

I UNDERSTAND STEDE THOUGHT THIS WAS FOR THE BEST BUT HE HURT HIM SO BAD I THOUGHT MY HEART WAS GONNA BREAK

IZZY WAS SO DONE WITH HIM AND I GET IT HE WANTS TO BE A PIRATE AND HAVE BLACK BEARD BACK ALRIGHT

I cant help to hate him sometimes and then others not cause he looks like a scruffy raccoon. I cant 😭

AND THEN

STEDE REALIZING THAT WHAT HE HAD WITH ED WAS LOVE OMG MY HEART

AND I CANT TELL IF IM WRONG OR NOT BUT DID BLACK BEARD REALLY KILL LUCIUS BEACUSE IM GOING TO GO CRAZY IF MY FAVORITE CHARACTER DIED.

HE WOUDNT DO THAT RIGHT GUYS.

THE LITTLE HEART BEING STABBED TOO UGH ITS KILLING ME I NEED THE NEE SEASON YESTERDAY

I CANT SEE MY POOR GUY CRY EVEN IF HE MIGHT OR MIGHT NOT HAVE KILLED LUCIUS

AND HE DID ABANDON HIS CREW AND SPLIT UP OLI AND JIM AND THEN STEDE SHOWS UP LIKE

🙋🏼‍♂️

THIS SERIES BROKE MY HEART ESPECIALLY SINCE I WATCHED IT AFTER THE SEASON FINALE OF GOOD OMENS 😭

I FEEL LIKE I JUST GOT STABBED

Anyway I wanna watch more shows or movies so if anyone has any recommendations i would love to hear them and i would post about them!

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theclaravoyant · 7 months

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AN ~ For @fictober-event’s Fictober 2023 prompt: “Okay, show me.” Set during s2, written pre-airing, insp. by the official trailers. No spoilers beyond those. Masterpost of my Fictober OFMD fics

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death Characters & Relationships: Stede Bonnet, Izzy Hands, background Ed x Stede. Tags: Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Izzy Being A Prick

Training

The sword clatters to the deck at Stede’s feet. He looks at it, and his eyes trail up to Izzy’s sneering face.

“Pick it up.”

Stede puffs his chest. “I think we’ve already proven who can best whom in that particular contest.”

Sure, it had taken him getting pinned to the mast through his guts. And sure, Izzy wouldn’t fall for that particular trick again. But something about Izzy’s constant judgment makes him want to be a real bitch about it.

Izzy is unfazed by said bitchiness. Maybe he’s used to it by now. Maybe he sees it for the bluster it most definitely is. Itching to raise his own blade and teach this ponce a lesson, he steps up to Stede. Right up to Stede. Closing right in on his personal space in a deliberate - and unfortunately, highly successful - attempt to make him uncomfortable.

“What are you going to do,” he prods, “if you’re stuck down below. Or on a beach. Or anywhere you don’t have your fancy cherry mast to do the work for you?”

“Edward’s already shown me-”

“A real swordsman won’t slap you on the arse and smile like a schoolgirl when you cut your little fingies.” Izzy’s voice is laced with loathing. He remembers that supposed ‘swordsmanship lesson’. The two of them moaning and screaming like horny cats. Bloody infatuated fucking Blackbeard and stupid fucking Stede Bonnet. “What. Are you going. To do.”

Stede bristles. He can smell Izzy’s breath - can practically feel his overpronunciation-spit. And he decides, fuck it.

He shoves Izzy as hard as he can, dives for the sword that lays at his feet, and executes a surprisingly solid roll across the deck toward some cover. Beaming, he gets back to his feet and braces himself for the battle, but he doesn’t have time to get further than that before Izzy is on him. Relentless. Hounding. Chasing him with such a thorough thrashing that it’s only seconds before he’s rounded up against the side railing - where there’s nothing high enough or solid enough to pull the gut-stab trick again - and then slammed onto his belly before he can blink.

Izzy’s wooden leg crushes down between Stede’s shoulder blades, pinning him to the deck. His other foot presses Stede’s sword hand until his fingers smart and he lets go. Izzy’s right, he thinks. He’s a child. What the hell is he doing?

“You should’ve stayed home playing house, Bonnet.”

That’s all you’ll ever be.

“I can do better.”

Stede curses himself as soon as the words are out of his mouth. He’s an idiot. Izzy’s blade is all too close to all the wrong organs right now and he curses his foolhardiness and squeezes his eyes shut and waits for death. Pain. Something.

After a long moment, Izzy sighs wearily.

“Okay,” he says. “Show me.”

The pressure lifts from Stede’s back and he cracks one eye open.

“What?”

“I said, show me. You think you’re ready to be a pirate? Grow a fucking pair and show me."

Izzy steps back, baring his teeth, but giving Stede the space to collect himself and his weapon and return to a somewhat ready crouch. He watches Izzy closely. Something about that sparkle in his eye has changed. Sure, he still wants to kill him, but it seems that he’s decided beating the life out of him repeatedly is going to have to do.

Stede bows his head, just slightly. Just enough to show that he’s grateful. He might not be feeling that way for much longer. It’s going to be a long day.

“En guarde,” he says.

Let’s go.

#fictober23 #stede bonnet #izzy hands #ofmd #our flag means death #prompt me stuff #clara's fic tag #ofmd s2 #ofmd spoilers

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pukner · 10 months

Text

Baz | part one

a steddyhands twt thread turned oneshot

|| Rated Gen || Stede and Ed take a brief vacation to visit Stede's family, and find a surprise.

part one / part two

They decide to visit Mary. Well, Stede decides to visit Mary.

Or, Stede gets a letter by extremely confusing means (why is fucking Jackie playing messenger) and receives word that in his absence (read: death), his wife's gone and married some bloke named Doug.

Ed doesn't feel anything about it either way, really. Stede's gone and worked himself into a tizzy (heh, like Izzy. Wait no, don't think about Izzy) and he's all guilty for ignoring his kids or whatever.

Ed doesn't get it. In his experience, the best dad is one you don't have to see.

He's a bit antsy about leaving the crew behind, to be honest. Not the most functional lot, this. Not without-- Well. Not without Iz.

Stede doesn't get it. "Honestly," he says, mouth pursed in that unhappy way of his, "Izzy was hardly the only competent member of our crew."

"Besides Oluwande and Jim," Ed says, flatly, "Yeah, he was."

"Lucius can write--" Stede offers.

"So can that molly we ran into last week. So can--"

"...molly?"

"The-- he tried to sleep with you? Asked you for a drink and then I stabbed him?"

"Oh, goodness--he was a courtesan?"

"Mate, don't say--"

Alright, so the conversation gets a bit derailed. He imagines Iz standing between them and snapping at them to Fucking Stay On Track or something, but they wouldn't be having this conversation if he was here, would they? If he hadn't slipped away unnoticed the second Stede returned--

if Ed had just paid attention, if Ed hadn't gone so profoundly off the rails in those last days before Stede showed back up, if he hadn't--

Ed tastes blood when he wakes up some nights. He wonders if Izzy does. He wonders if he's dead. He talks to Stede about it, some nights.

And he understands, is the bizarre thing. Stede looks at his worst moments, the tar leaking out his mouth, the I Maimed My Dearest Friend And Also Tried To Kill Lucius of it all, and says, "Alright, that's fine. You're terrible but so am I. We can be less terrible together."

They end up going to Barbados, in the end. He talks about Iz again, as they walk. It's a nice island. Very breezy. Sunny. It's like he's hemorrhaging all his feelings.

Stede listens, and murmurs, "I don't miss him like you do, dear, but I miss him all the same."

Then, because Stede's fundamentally a bitch, he adds, "Even though he was an irritating little man."

Ed doesn't like that. Not the thing about Iz, he absolutely is irritating and little, but the fact that he's talking in the past tense. Then Ed realizes that he did the same.

They meet Mary and her Doug. They're great. She's kind of a bitch, and Ed thinks immediately that he can never let her meet Jackie, or Anne, or Mary (the other one, Read). He also meets some broad in an eye patch that he immediately clocks as a threat.

The kids aren't home.

"You just let them run around with some stranger?" Stede says, appalled.

Stede gets appalled a lot. It's his whole thing. Ed's sort of wandering around and picking at stuff they have lying around. Paintbrushes, cushions. A doll lying on some fancy sofa.

Place looks nice. Dying was a good parenting move on Stede's part.

"He isn't a stranger," Mary's saying, in that patient tone that all women have when they're thinking of murder, "He's our neighbor--"

"Well," says Doug, coughing into his hand.

"Alright, so he lives in the woods, but he's a perfectly nice--"

"He watches the children when I'm having showings--"

"What on earth are you showing?" asks Stede, sounding unreasonably baffled.

"...my art, Stede."

"Ah. Well, what about Doug?"

"I work," says Doug, brightly.

"Some people do that, Stede," says Mary, pointedly.

"I work!"

"I doubt that," says Mary, which is fair. Ed doesn't think what they do qualifies as work.

They bitch at each other about this guy. Apparently he watches the kids. He's teaching Alma how to swordfight. And teaching Louis how to sew? What the fuck.

"--sword fight!" Stede says, shrilly, "Mary, that's hardly appropriate--"

"You literally ran away to become a pirate," says Mary, flatly.

"...fair," says Stede.

They hear a lot about this guy over tea.

He helped get rid of a nasty pirate situation, apparently. He's good with a sword, despite his limp, the cane he needs. He grows excellent beets? Has a nice flower garden. Knits up a storm. Kind of a wanker, very crabby, but soft on kids. The kids love him, apparently.

"--Alma's developing quite an interest in sailing, thanks to Baz," Mary is saying, and Ed drops his fork.

Oh.

He looks at Stede, panicked, and then when Stede doesn't give him the panic eyes back he realizes Ah He Doesn't Know. Stede isn't Jack, or old Sam. He doesn't know.

He looks at Mary, just then, and spies out a sly little smile on her face. It's a schemer's smile, this one. He's seen it on Jack often enough. Oh, he can never let her meet Annie. He's already afraid of the implications of her knowing Jackie.

Stede decides, before Ed can say his thing, that he's got to meet this Baz bloke.

Ed can't speak, on account of the phantom taste of blood in his mouth. He looks down at his plate, at all the meat he's pushed to a side.

part two

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run-me-through-but-not-like-that · 2 years

Note

Firstly your writing is phenomenal, I just keep rereading all your Izzy stuff over and over. You really nail his character. I've honestly read just about every Izzy hands x reader there is and I've yet to see reader stopping Izzy from getting banished? Like imagine the reader like challenging stede to a duel where if they win Izzy stays but if they lose they're banished too and that's a big deal for Izzy since no one ever defends him. Could lead to like a really emotionally charged confession and like maybe some angst from Ed not doing anything and Izzy being embarrassed but also feeling like he's not worth fighting for? But like he does and reader shows him that? Idk but I'd love to read something like that from you. Sorry if it's like way too specific!

A Grand Gesture:

Word Count: 4333

You were growing antsy, watching Izzy load his things onto the dingy he'd be rowing away on, facing his banishment. This was ridiculous, you had thought so since Izzy challenged Stede to that fucking duel, but you knew you couldn't just let it happen.

So, what were you supposed to do. There had been a duel, this was the outcome. It didn't matter what you said or did, nothing could overrule that...except maybe...

"Captain Bonnet" you turned to your captain, the man still slightly hunched over with his bandaged abdomen. Only Stede could get stabbed and still win a duel. "I challenge you to a second duel" you announced before you could talk yourself out of it, talk some sense into yourself.

The crew's attention was suddenly on you, confused frowns on their faces. Izzy tossed a bag into the boat before turning to you, brow furrowed in confusion. What the fuck was Bonnet's crew up to now?

"What? Why?" Stede looked at you with wide eyes, completely bewildered. Surely, he had heard you wrong.

"This whole thing is ridiculous and since nobody else is going to do anything about it, I will. If I win the duel, Izzy stays. If I lose, he get's banished like you agreed, and I'll go too for disrespecting the outcome of your previous duel" you set the stakes of the deal, keeping your chin up and shoulders squared.

"...as honourable as your challenge may be, I am wounded. It would not be a fair fight" Stede reasoned, not wanting to fight a crew member he liked but also knowing he was at a disadvantage at the moment.

"Alright...then we wait until you've healed or you can have somebody fight in your place. Your co-captain perhaps?" you suggested.

Izzy's eyes widened as he looked at you. You would really fight Blackbeard for him?

Edward seemed surprised too, as did most of the crew. They had no idea why you were offering to duel for Izzy's stay on the ship, but now you were will to go up against Blackbeard for him? It was out of hand, did you have a death wish?

"I...don't think that will be necessary" Stede chuckled, sounding unsure of what exactly was going on. "Alright, if we were to wait until I have better healed, what do you suppose we do about Izzy's loss in the meantime?" he asked. It would be cowardly to ask Edward to fight for him and he didn't want to seem like a coward in front of Ed.

"Well, his stay on this ship depends on the outcome of our duel so I suggest he stays until we find out what his fate it" you shrugged.

"Yeah, guess that makes sense" Edward agreed, looking at Stede to see what he thought.

Stede looked at Edward for a moment, seeing that his co-captain seemed to support this idea for some reason. "You don't have to do this" your captain turned back to you. He had no idea why you would think you had to do this, especially for Izzy, but you seemed very determined.

"I know. Do you accept the duel?" you asked, having made your decision.

"You're sure? I already defeated Izzy" he reminded you, straightening his posture.

"On a technicality" you rolled your eyes. Admittedly, you were a little impressed by Stede's manoeuvre, impaling himself against the mast to win the duel. It was brave, stupid but effective. But it was still a technicality.

"Still...plus, I've been trained by Blackbeard himself" he was trying to talk you out of it but you had made up your mind, it wasn't going to work. You couldn't back down now.

"And I've been trained by Izzy" you shrugged and Stede did feel a little nervous about that.

Most of Edward's lessons had been playful, teasing. He had learnt quite a bit but even Edward admitted that he hadn't taught him enough. Stede imagined that Izzy's lessons wouldn't have been half as playful as Edwards, he probably pushed you to the limit, taught you to fight ruthlessly and will skill.

"Your mind cannot be changed?" Stede asked one last time.

"It cannot" you insisted.

"Then yes, I accept your challenge. Once I am more healed, we shall duel" Stede nodded, earning a few murmurs from the crew.

They could decided whether they were more irritated to have Izzy on board longer or excited to see how the next duel went. They hadn't seen much action lately...

"I look forward to it captain" you nodded politely, wanting him to know that your challenge didn't come from a place of disrespect.

Tensions were high in the ship after the captain accepted your challenge, nobody really understanding what just happened. Izzy more confused than anyone. He had waited until the sun began to set and the crew began to finish up for the day, until you had headed down to your cabin.

"What the fuck are you playing at?" Izzy growled as he barged into your cabin, the door slamming behind him.

"Excuse me?" you cocked an eyebrow at him, not too taken back by his anger but a pretty annoyed by how he barged in. I mean, you were putting yourself on the line for him and he couldn't even thank you.

"What do you get from this, from challenging Bonnet?" he questioned, genuine confusion in his eyes.

"I don't think you should have challenged him. I think you're punishing yourself but I can't quite figure out why" you told him honestly, "I don't want you to leave the ship, Izzy. It's as simple as that. You belong here and I hope that you'll agree in time, that you can be happy here."

Either Izzy didn't appreciate your honesty or thought you were messing with him because he instantly pulled a face. "Belong here, happy here? This place, this crew, it's fucking awful" he protested.

"Doesn't have to be. Gonna keep you around, make you see that" you shrugged. You didn't want to argue with him. You were doing him a favour, you hoped he would realise that in time.

"What if I leave anyway?" he asked stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest. He was being petulant now.

"I'll be offended. I challenge my captain to a duel, for you. Offer my own banishment as his reward, for you. Do all this to protect you from your own actions, and you would leave anyway" you scoffed, knowing it didn't really matter. You trusted he would respect the outcome of your duel no matter what happened. "Anyway, that only matters if I win...which I do plan on doing" you added.

Izzy watched you with a frown. You were doing all of this for him and he just couldn't understand it, he had no idea why you would do anything for him, never mind something with such a high risk.

"What if you have to kill him?" Izzy questioned with a little less bite this time. It was a genuine question, he knew you liked Bonnet just fine, knew that you weren't one for nonsensical violence. A duel could result in a death, they usually do.

"I honestly hope it doesn't come down to that. Hope I can get him to yield or render his sword unusable" you confessed without hesitation.

"What if he doesn't, what if you can't?" he prompted, as if he was trying to get you to change your mind.

"Then it's a duel. I like the man, I really do but he knows how duels work and I don't plan on dying. I still hope he yields" you were pirates, it was a risk that came with the job. It would hurt either way, so you hoped you could find another way to end it.

"He won't" Izzy told you, sounding certain. "He won't yield, not in front of Blackbeard, he's trying to impress him" it almost sounded like a warning.

"Then I better render his sword unusable" you shrugged.

"You'd really do it. Kill him...for me?"

The question was intense, thickening the air around you both, but your answer was even more so.

"I would."

"...fuck" Izzy let out a shaky breath, suddenly turning on his heel, pulling the door open and making his escape.

The time in which Stede had been healing had been a strange one. A few members of the crew had questioned you, asking you what the fuck you thought you were doing and if you had lost your mind. They were nearly rid of the annoying little pest and you go and make sure he sticks around, what were you thinking?

Izzy wasn't sure how to behave, he was still technically the first mate until Stede won your duel. So, he continued to play his role. Continued as if everything was normal. Hell, things hadn't been normal in a long time now.

The days passed quickly and soon enough, Stede had approached you and declared that he was ready to accept your duel.

And now here you were, standing opposite your captain on the deck, the crew standing around to watch.

"Last chance to change your mind" Stede offered, waving his sword around.

"Thanks, but I'm good" you gave him a small smile before readying your own sword.

The two of you took your stances and you waited for Stede to strike first until you realised that he wasn't going to. So, you were the first to strike. He blocked your attack, not as well as he could, a little clumsy but it did the job.

With every strike, you aimed for his sword, not for his flesh. You tried to strike with force, to keep making him take steps backwards, to try to be somewhat imposing. Maybe get him to give in without having to actually hurt him.

You blocked and deflected each of Stede's strikes, never letting him get too close to you.

Various cheers and shouts came from the crew around you, some giving advise to Stede whenever he seemed at a loss, some shouting at you to stop playing with him.

Throughout the duel, Izzy remained silent but couldn't take his eyes off of you.

When he had first stepped foot on the Revenge, you had known how to handle a sword without hurting yourself but you didn't stand a chance in a real fight. You had caught Izzy practising his swordsmanship by himself one night and had pleaded for him to train you until he eventually gave in.

Now, you were a decent fighter. Certainly better than Bonnet after his training, but Izzy was sure you still wouldn't stand a chance against himself or Blackbeard.

Edward stood beside Izzy, occasionally glancing down at him, always finding him focused on you.

Despite your impressive improvement, Izzy was more focused on your motivations behind the fight. There you were, duelling your captain in front of your crewmates, fighting in his honour. He still couldn't understand why but he was in awe. He had fought for Blackbeard for years, killed for him whenever he needed too. He had never expected the same in return, and now here somebody was doing the same for him.

It fell quiet aboard the Revenge when you managed to work Stede into a corner, the tip of your blade touching his throat.

"Yield, Captain" you demanded softly, more like a request.

For a moment it looked like Stede might but then he looked towards Edward, his expression calming as he looked back at you. "Not a chance" he cleared his throat. Izzy was right, he wouldn't yield in front of Edward.

You just sighed as Stede pushed your blade away, seemingly giving him an opening to attack, only to parry his strike and lunging backwards.

The two of you continued to fight, making used of the whole deck, crew members occasionally having to scurry out of your way.

You glanced around the deck, needing a new plan. Then it came to you.

Slowly, throughout the fight, you began to corral Stede towards the railing of the ship. He didn't seem aware of what you were doing.

Once you reached the railing, admittedly too close for comfort during a duel, the crew began to grow a little worried. You surely wouldn't pushed Stede overboard, would you? You certainly seemed determined about something.

Taking a step back, you let Stede strike at you, only to catch his blade with your own. You swivelled your sword, forcing him to twist him arm uncomfortably and loosen his grip on his own sword. With a forceful slash to the side, you sent his sword spinning into the waves below.

Once again, you pointed your blade towards Stede and paused.

"Does...does that mean they've won?" Frenchie whispered to the larger man beside him.

"Think so, yeah" Wee John nodded.

"Yield" you demanded, a little more breathless this time.

"No need, it seems...you won" Stede pointed out, slowly raising his hands in surrender, declaring your victory.

You nodded and lowered your sword, "t was an honour duelling with you, Captain."

"I am certainly glad that you're a member of my crew" Stede chuckled awkwardly. "Well, you've won. That means...you and Izzy are welcome to stay aboard the Revenge" he declared, keeping his end of the deal just like you knew he would.

"Thank you" you nodded again, sheathing your sword.

Turning away from Stede, you glanced around the crew until you spotted Izzy, seeing him watching you with an unreadable expression.

You gave him a small nod as Edward left his side, encouraging and reassuring Stede as they both headed towards the captain's cabin.

Clearing his throat, Izzy called for the crew to get back to work and walked off. You decided against following after him, he didn't look like he was in the mood to talk.

Later that day, once the sun had set, you were sitting in your cabin polishing your sword. Perhaps one day this would make for a good story, how you fought the Gentleman Pirate and won.

There was a knock on your door but before you could call out, whoever it was had already opened it and stepped inside. You definitely hadn't expected Blackbeard to enter your little cabin.

"Blackbeard, sir..." you looked up at him, uncertain.

"Thank you...for keeping Izzy aboard like that. He's an ass sometimes but I kinda need him here" that wasn't what you were expected him to say, you had expected him to chastise you for disrespecting your captain or something.

"Yeah, well, somebody had to do something" you shrugged, the words muttered under your breath.

"Fair, I deserve that" Edward sighed, knowing he had failed his first mate even if he caused this trouble himself. He continued, "thanks, for being there for him. Never was good at that."

"...no problem" you assured him and you meant it. You didn't mind being there for Izzy when he needed it.

Edward nodded, unsure of what else to say, patting your shoulder in a grateful and friendly manner before leaving your cabin. Not bothering to shut the door behind him.

You let out a sigh, placing your sword down and standing from your cot. It was late and you were tired after the day's events.

You lazily shrugged off your jacket, tossing it to the side, completely unaware that you had company.

Behind you, in your doorway, stood Izzy. He hadn't been caught yet, he knew he could still leave but he refused to let cowardice win. Announcing himself, Izzy cleared his throat.

You jumped a little at the sound, spinning around but relaxing when you saw Izzy standing in the threshold of your cabin.

"Hey, Izzy. Can I do something for you?" you asked. He didn't seem angry but you honestly couldn't tell how he was feeling.

"Still don't really know why you did what you did but I suppose I should thank you" Izzy spoke.

"You were only hurting yourself, wouldn't let you do it" you shrugged. Even if he couldn't see it, you only wanted to look out for him.

"I wanted to give you something, as a...thank you, I guess" he approached you, only now did you noticed the fist clutched by his side.

"You don't need too-" you began to protest, having no idea what he might gift you but knowing you didn't need it as a thank you.

Interrupting you without saying anything, Izzy held out his hand and uncurled his first, presenting the ring that sat in his palm. You couldn't help but gawk at it, your gaze shooting up to his necktie, seeing that the silver ring that usually sat there was indeed missing. It was definitely the same one.

"Iz...you really don't-" you continued to protest, a little overwhelmed by the gift. It felt like too much.

He didn't listen though, grabbing your hand and forcing the ring against your palm.

"Nobody...fuck, nobody has fought for me before. Not like that, not even Edward. You deserve this" Izzy insisted.

It felt you speechless and Izzy didn't know what to do with that. You could thank him, hell, even laugh at him at least he would know how to respond. Instead, he just gave you a brisk nod and began to leave.

Snapping out of your shock, you called out to him, clutching his ring in your hand, "Izzy, wait!"

Thankfully, Izzy stopped, taking a breath before he turned back to face you again.

"I was honest, about why I challenged Stede. I want you to stay. I think time on the Revenge will be good for you if you let it be" you tried your best to answer his questions. "But, I guess there are some more selfish reasons" you admitted.

"Fucking knew it" Izzy seethed, tempted to take the ring back. Of course you hadn't been thinking about him, of course you got something out of this and you only did it for yourself. He should have known, shouldn't have doubted himself. That how it always was.

"I would have missed you, Izzy" you confessed. Izzy paused, looking at you, his initial surprise slowly morphing into anger as he assumed you were messing with him. "I'm serious, I didn't want you to be banished. If you remember the deal I made, either you would stay or I would leave with you" you continued, before he could fight you on the matter.

"That part never made sense to me" he admitted after a short pause. He never understood why you would risk banishment when it just was necessary. "To fight for me is one thing, to sacrifice yourself...why?" he asked, almost desperate for an answer, for some reasoning.

"Really? You really have to ask?" you couldn't believe how oblivious he was, you thought he would have at least suspected something by now. "Alright...fuck. The rest of the crew know it already, everybody knows it after I challenged my captain" you sighed before making your confession, "I care about you, Iz. Like...a lot. I happen to really like you and seeing you punish yourself, seeing you getting yourself banished...it would have hurt to see you go."

Izzy couldn't formulate a response, he didn't even know what he could say that would be enough. Instead, he returned to you, entering your cabin properly again and taking your hand in his, the one that clutched the ring.

He clasped his hands over your closed fist. "Keep it. I want you to have it. Don't make me regret it" you understood the confession in his actions, perhaps your feelings weren't completely unreciprocated.

"I won't. I promise" you assured him, a flash of determination passing behind your eyes. "I won't let you down" you promised.

Your words actually managed to pull a smile from the man, probably the first you had seen from him. It made you smile in return. He had a damn nice smile.

"I trust you won't" he actually sounded like he meant it, and he really did. Izzy wasn't one to put much trust in people but he felt like he could trust you.

With a smile, you looked down, fumbling slightly with the ring and trying it on each of your fingers. It didn't fit any of them but you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Ah...shit" you sighed, it was disappointing, you would have loved to wear his gift.

"Here" Izzy spoke in the softest tone you had ever heard from him.

Looking back up at him, you saw him undoing his neck time. You watched, silent with awe filled wide eyes, as he carefully wrapped the fabric around your neck. He took the ring from you, slipping it onto the fabric and beginning to tie the knot the way he usually would.

"This...uh, kinda feels like some sort of grand gesture" you commented with a quiet, awkward laugh. You hoped he would address it and not shrug it off.

"I think duelling your captain is a pretty fucking big gesture" Izzy scoffed as he finishing tying the knot, securing the ring. Once he was done, he didn't move away from you.

"It was" you responded shamelessly. It was no secret among the crew, they all figured it out, so you thought it was only right for Izzy to know too.

"Then guess this might be too" he whispered.

Well, that sounded like a confession to you...

Perhaps it was a little rash, perhaps too sudden, but you couldn't help it. You cupped his face in your hands, leaning in to kiss him. Your excitement died quickly when Izzy didn't respond to it, his hands remaining by his sides.

"Fuck, shit, sorry. I thought...I'm sorry..." you apologised quickly as you pulled away from him, taking a step back.

You really thought you had been reading things right, apparently not...

Izzy didn't say anything and that only made you a little more nervous. He just stood there, assessing you. You were about to apologise again but didn't get the change.

He took a large step towards you, closing the distance again and clutching your face in his hands. Pulling you back into another kiss, this one more desperate than the last.

Oh okay, so he just needed a second to catch up?

You instantly responded to the kiss, clutching his shirt in your hands.

"Going to keep fighting for you Israel Hands" you promised when the kiss broke. Izzy looked at you in pure awe, another genuine smile on his slightly flushed face.

"Y/n, excuse-oh...ah, now I see what you challenged me" Stede's voice instantly shattered the mood, you and Izzy pulling apart and turning to your captain.

"Stede" you warned with a sigh.

"Fuck off, Bonnet" Izzy seethed. Could this man never give him a fucking minute of joy?

"Apologies" Stede held his hands up in surrender, smiling slightly. "Just came by to make sure there is no bad blood" he explained himself.

"Yeah, no worries, no bad blood. Can you give us a minute?" you assured him quickly, trying to shoo him out of the room.

"Yes, of course, sorry about that" Stede apologised, nodding at you before leaving, doing you the favour of pulling your cabin door shut.

"Stupid fucking Stede Bonnet" Izzy muttered to himself, his expression having hardened again.

"Hey, Iz" you placed a hand against his arm, making him look at you. "Play nice, yeah?" you asked. You didn't need him starting another fight right after saving his ass from banishment.

"Fine, whatever" Izzy sighed, reluctantly agreeing.

A few days passed since your duel and your victory, meaning Izzy remained on board. There was some tension but that wasn't completely new. The crew wasn't afraid of him anymore, far from it really, and Izzy had to endure quite a bit of teasing about how he had lost to Stede Bonnet and had to have you stand up for him.

But the teasing started to die down, though he still received the odd comment about it.

It didn't matter much though, he could get over it. It was made worth it by your new found connection. Seeing you go about your day, proudly wearing his necktie and ring like it belonged around your neck. He had seen Lucius teasing you, tugging playfully at the fabric. You had just smirked as you batted his hand away and straightening the necktie out again. You obviously had no intentions on hiding it or downplaying it.

Despite the teasing and obvious lack of respect from Bonnet's crew, Izzy was able to hold his head a little higher. They had always made jokes at his expense, never really respected him, but now there was somebody proudly on his side. You wore it like it was an honour.

You were proud of it, proud of Izzy and to be with him.

Standing up on the quarterdeck, Izzy looked out over the crew, realising he couldn't see you among them. He was about to go looking for you until he felt a hand against the back of his shoulder.

"Stop scowling, you're making everyone nervous" you chastised playfully.

"Probably worried you're going to start another fight" he hummed, looking at you with a slight smirk.

"Aw, I'd only do that if they disrespect you" you assured him and a part him thought you might actually mean it.

"I'll write you a list" Izzy scoffed slightly. You would have to fight most of the crew.

"I'll sharpen my sword" you promised, putting a smile back on his face.

"Don't you have to take stock of the rations with Roach?" he asked, mocking irritation.

"God, it's all work no play with you" you groaned fondly. "Alright, I'm on it, Boss. I'll see you later" you apparently didn't know the meaning of professionalism before you blatantly pressed a kiss to his cheek before skipping off to get on with your chores.

Izzy bit back his smile, catching the way the sun glinted off of the ring by your neck.

#izzy hands x reader #izzy hands #ofmd izzy #ofmd #our flag means death #israel hands x reader

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