polite menace

polite menace. that’ll be my brand. every legendary pirate needs one.

                                   stede bonnet of our flag means death                                             highly selective and private                                                     written by quinn

hand  is  gentle  yet  firm  as  it  comes  to  press  upon  the  others  mans  chest  ,  pushing  until  his  back  is  once  more  cushioned  upon  the  veritable  mountain  of  pillows  he’d  foraged  from  throughout  the  room  .  “  easy  there  ,  mate  .  crew’s  just  fine  .  ”  despite  himself  ,  a  smile  creeps  up  the  corners  of  his  mouth  as  he  gazes  down  at  the  pallid  features  of  his  SOULMATE  .  even  thinking  the  word  sends  heart  thudding  ,  throat  clearing  as  he  hastily  pulls  hand  back  from  the  warmth  of  the  gentleman  pirate’s  sternum  . 

 “  they’re  all  waiting  on  the  deck  for  news  that  you’ve  woken  up  .  very  hard  headed  bunch  you’ve  got  .  ” words  are  uttered  without  malice  ,  perhaps  even  a  touch  of  amusement  as  edward  shifts  to  lean  against  the  wall  at  his  back  . 

“ yes, ”  stede agrees with a breathy laugh,  holding his injured middle all the while.  “ i encourage them to be themselves and speak their minds. ”  sometimes to his own chagrin,  he thought,  remembering jim’s comment as stede stood at the gallows.  nonetheless,  he could take criticism,  and he would rather his crew feel comfortable enough to be honest with him.

                                     @litehouse​     ───      modern  au  ! 

              getting  too  old  for  this  shit  .   a  passing  thought  ,  though  entirely  true  as  he  drops  from  the  fire  escape  ,  boots   thunking  quitely  against  the  pavement   as  he  lands  .  only  way  he’d  been  able  to  escape  jack’s  call  for  a  game  of  whippies  ;  as  if  they  were  still   twenty  year  old  kids  ON  TOP  OF  THE  WORLD  .   cold  winter  air  is  a  welcomed  ,  gloved  fingers  fishing  for  pilfered  cigarette  as  he  steps  out  from  the  darkness  of  the  alley  &  into  the  flickering  streetlights  ahead  . 

               he  had  always  loved  new  york  at  night  .  a  sea  of  bright  ,  colorful  lights  &  noise  was  perfect  for  him  !  brings  a  smile  to  his  face  as  he  lights  the  stick  and  takes  in  his  surroundings  ;  eyes  catching  on  a  man  who  seemed  to  be  pulling  the  same  desperate  escape  as  him ,  though  dressed  far  better  than  he’d  even  attempted  for  the  grammy’s  ,  and  caught  in  jack’s  less  than  delicate  attentions  .  how’d  the  fucker  even  get  out  here  so  fast  ?    “  jackie  !  leave  the  poor  fucker  alone  and  get  back  inside  .  ”  harsh  words  ,  barked  as  an  order  as  he  approaches  though  eyes  are  warm  and  smile  apologetic  as  he  looks  to  the  stranger  .  only  speaking  again  once  a  grumbling  jack  stumbled  back  into  the  hotel .  “  sorry  ‘bout  him  ,  mate  ,  we  never  got  him  trained  properly  .  ”    

          while the alley off of a busy new york street isn’t any quieter than the party stede stepped out of,  it’s a different kind of noise.  the sound of traffic and the hustle and bustle of a busy city is one happening around him,  and not one in which he participates;  the din of polite laughter,  business talk,  and meaningless chatter takes much more out of him.  and it has been taking for a long time.

        no sooner had he been able to breathe and clear his head,  did a clearly inebriated man approach from further down the alley,  throwing a few barely-disguised,  mocking insults in stede’s direction.

"everyone else is more important than me."  you're deathly afraid of being selfish. you're also deathly afraid of being forgotten. all you want is to be somebody's favorite person, but that feels like a far off dream. you try and make yourself interesting so that people stick around you. it doesn't feel like that's working. you want to hang out more with your friends, but it seems like they're always busy or that they have better friends than you.

tagged by: @kraekns​

fervently

you crave a hug that cracks your ribs... the feeling of your wandering soul being crushed back into the bones that can't seem to hold it. you need a hand gripping yours so tightly you almost fear it may leave a bruise, a reminder that you are here. and that you are not alone.

Stolen from @ofthehighseas