Stede/Ed/Izzy, Izzy + Mary & the kids — Stede's old family gets along with Izzy more than him

Set months after the reunion and the three of them getting together, Stede decides it's time for Ed and Izzy to meet his old family. He's been sharing letters with Mary and his kids and they're interested in meeting his 'boyfriends'.

Ed's as charming as ever and is is quick to befriend Mary, Doug, and the children. Izzy however, to everyone's surprise, is turning out to be the favorite. He and Mary get along like a house on fire (and share many anecdotes of Stede fucking Bonnet), Doug enjoys Izzy's eye for detail and practicality, and the kids are enamored with this gruff little man who's blunt with his words but just as gentle in action (who also stabbed their once absentee father that one time).

Ed finds it endearing, knowing that Izzy is charming and friendly when he feels comfortable. Stede is obviously happy to see his loved ones get along. Of course! Except that he feels envious of Izzy's rapport with his family, that both his children are more excited to have Izzy's attention than his. That Mary seems to gravitate to Izzy more.

Without meaning to, Stede lashes out at Izzy. Things are said, feelings are hurt, and Ed's not letting anyone back on the ship until they sort this out.

+ Inspired by all the uncle!Izzy fanworks out there. + Mary and/or the kids may get along with/relate to Izzy more but it doesn't diminish their own affections for Ed and Stede! + Ed's holding their collective single braincell.

Fill: None

Reading Mary Wollestonecraft in preparation for class tomorrow and this paragraph hit me right in the feels.  It’s written 72 years too late for Stede to have read it, but someone should use the David Jenkins’ school of historical accuracy and write a fanfic in which Ed finds this in Stede’s library.  Or Mary gifts it to Stede?  Stede is surprised to find a book on Mary’s bedside table and when he picks it up, it falls open to this page.  I don’t know how, I just need Stede to read these words and be seen.

“A brutal attachment to children has appeared most conspicuous in parents who have treated them like slaves, and demanded due homage for all the property they transferred to them, during their lives. It has led them to force their children to break the most sacred ties; to do violence to a natural impulse, and run into legal prostitution to increase wealth or shun poverty; and, still worse, the dread of parental malediction has made many weak characters violate truth in the face of Heaven; and, to avoid a father’s angry curse, the most sacred promises have been broken. It appears to be a natural suggestion of reason, that a man should be freed from implicit obedience to parents and private punishments, when he is of an age to be subject to the jurisdiction of the laws of his country; and that the barbarous cruelty of allowing parents to imprison their children, to prevent their contaminating their noble blood by following the dictates of nature when they chose to marry, or for any misdemeanor that does not come under the cognizance of public justice, is one of the most arbitrary violations of liberty.”

Title: A Treatise on Treasure Or: The Observed Effects of Risk and Romance on the Dread Pyrate and a Gentleman Scholar by S.M. Bonnet Author: unencryptid [AO3] [Twitter] Artist: vicoyote [Twitter] Beta reader: LalaLovesCakes [Twitter] Characters: Stede Bonnet, Edward Teach, Wee John Feeney, Doug, Mary Allamby, Louis Bonnet, Alma Bonnet, Izzy Hands, Crew of the Revenge, Blackbeard's Crew Relationship(s): Stede Bonnet/Edward Teach (Gentlebeard) Rating: Explicit Additional Tags: Canon Era-Alternate Meeting, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Homesteading, Fake Science and Medicine, Blood and Injury, Illnesses, Recovery, Alcohol Use/Abuse, Recreational Drug Use, Minor Character Death, Choking (brief), First Time, Inexperienced Stede Bonnet, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sex, Bottom Stede, Top Ed, Unsuccessful Sexual Coercion, Bathing, H/C, Desert Island, Verbal Abuse (minor and brief), Attempted Kidnapping, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caretaking, Competent Stede, Life-Affirming Sex, No Stigma of Homosexuality or Divorce Warnings: None Summary: Armed with a library's worth of blank journals and more marmalade than experience, Stede happily sets sail for a year's worth of blue sky research--but all Stede's meticulous planning for his expedition to a small, unnamed aisle in the middle of the ocean failed to account for the presence of one of the Caribbeans fiercest natural predators.

Pirates.

Blackbeard is equally shocked to find an interloper on an island after Queen Anne's Revenge anchors to take care of a torn sail. It's not unheard of to stumble upon some poor marooned bastard after rowing a shore, but they're usually half mad with hunger and meaner than a snake-- not impeccably groomed gentlemen that shouted him for disrupting butterflies.

Priceless discoveries abound. Wordcount: 116k Link to art masterpost Link to story

OFMD Stede Bonnet as a Macaroni: Wealth, Gender and Sexuality in the 18th Century Fashion World

Historical Inaccuracy in Our Flag Means Death? Never!

Historical inaccuracy! I hear you cry. A Macaroni in 1717!?! It is true macaroni fashion was really a late-18th century fashion trend, seemingly reaching its peak in the 1770s. However Our Flag Means Death is nothing if not historically inaccurate. Stede’s costumes seem to take inspiration from across the 18th century rather than worrying about what would have actually been worn in 1717.

Early 18th century suits tended to have round necklines, loose-fitting sleeves with wide cuffs, long waistcoats that stoped just above the knee, and coats with full skirts just a little longer that the waistcoat.

[Left: Matthew Prior, oil on canvas, c. 1713-1714, by Alexis-Simon Belle, photo credit: St John's College, University of Cambridge, via Art UK.

Middle: Matthew Hutton of Newnham, Hertfordshire, oil on canvas, c. 1715, by Johannes Verelst, photo credit: National Trust Images, via Art UK.

Right: William Leathes, Ambassador Brussels, oil on canvas, c. 1710-1711, by Herman van der Myn, photo credit: Colchester and Ipswich Museums Service: Ipswich Borough Council Collection, via Art UK.]

As the century continued we get standing collars and turned down collars but round necklines were still around as well, sleeves got tighter with smaller cuffs, the waistcoats got shorter and the coats lost their skirts.

[Left: Thomas ‘Sense’ Browne, oil on canvas, c. 1775, by Nathaniel Dance-Holland, photo credit: Yale Center for British Art, via Art UK.

Middle: Sir Brooke Boothby, oil on canvas, c. 1781, by Joseph Wright of Derby, photo credit: Tate, via Art UK.

Right: David Allan, oil on canvas, c. 1770, by David Allan, photo credit: Royal Scottish Academy/National Galleries of Scotland (Antonia Reeve), via Art UK.]

Stede’s collars are inconstant some are rounded but others are turned down and Ed’s purple suit has a standing collar. Many of Stede’s coats have wide cuffs, but most have little skirt to them. His teal suit from the pilot has a bit of a skirt but its paired with a short waistcoat.

Most of Stede’s waistcoats are short with the exception of his suits from both the wedding portrait with Mary and the the family portrait. Both suits are very straight giving him a boxy appearance and are pretty different from most of the suits we see him in.

All in all I don’t think they were aiming for historically realistic clothes but with the collars, short waistcoats, and lack of skirts I get more of a late-18th century vibe.

So what was a Macaroni?

A Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue (1785), defined macaroni as follows:

An Italian paste made of flour and eggs; also a fop, which name arose from a club, called the maccaroni club, instituted by some of the most; dressy travelled gentlemen about town, who led the fashions, whence a man foppishly dressed, was supposed a member of that club, and by contraction stiled a maccaroni.

The macaroni club was said to have comprised of young men who had gained a taste for French and Italian textiles on their Grand Tour (a traditional trip taken tough Europe by upper class men when they came of age). The earliest reference to the club is from a letter from Horace Walpole to Lord Hertford on the 6th Feb 1764:

at the Maccaroni Club (which is composed of all the travelled young men who wear long curls and spying-glasses),

In his book Pretty Gentleman: Macaroni Men and the Eighteenth-Century Fashion World Peter McNeil suggest the club was actually Almack’s. Almack’s was a private club at 50 Pall Mall that was attended by prominent Whigs including Sheridan, Fox and the Price of Wales. (p52) While the name may have originated from the men at Almack’s it was soon used to describe any man who followed the associated fashion trends.

So what were these trends?

Hair

“Still lower let us fall for once, and pop

Our heads into a modern Barber’s shop;

What the result? or what we behold there?

A set of Macaronies weaving hair.”

~ The Macaroni by Robert Hitchcock

Probably the most iconic aspect of macaroni fashion was the hair. “It was the macaroni attention to wigs that caused most consternation” explains Peter McNeil. The macaroni hair “matched the towering heights of the female coiffure, with a tall toupee cresting at the centre front. The wig generally had a long tail at the neck (’queue’), which when folded double was called the ‘cadogan’, all of which required regular dressing with pomade and powder, sometimes in the colours of pink, green or red.” (p45)

The height of the macaroni hair was a point of particular fascination in macaroni caricature exaggerating it beyond what the macaroni were probably actually wearing. Compare below Tom’s hair in the satirical print What is this my son Tom to the self portrait of Richard Cosway, who was satirised by Mary Darly as “The Miniature Macaroni” (a reference both to his height and his career as a miniature painter).

[Left: What is this my son Tom, print, c. 1774, published by Sayer & Bennett, via The British Museum.

Right: Self-Portrait, Ivory, c. 1770–75, by Richard Cosway, via The Met.]

The way Stede usually wears is hair is not particularly macaroni nor particularly 18th century for that matter. The exception to this is his wig from The Best Revenge Is Dressing Well though even this doesn’t have the iconic macaroni hight.

Interestingly both Stede and Ed are wearing flowers in their hair. While there are certainly depictions of women with flowers in there hair I’m not aware of this being a trend in mens fashion at all. However macaroni were known for wearing large nosegays.

While the tall hair was certainly iconic not all macaroni wore their hair tall. Joseph Banks, who was satirised as “The Fly Catching Macaroni” by Matthew Darly, is depicted in his portrait with a fairly typical 18th century hairstyle. Its not the hair alone that makes a macaroni, it was just one aspect of the fashion.

[Sir Joseph Banks, oil on canvas, c. 1771-1773, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, via Wikimedia.]

Suit

“If I went to Almack’s and decked out my wrinkles in pink and green like Lord Harrington, I might still be in vogue.” ~ Horace Walpole to Lord Hertford, 25 Nov 1764

Menswear of the period consisted of the same basic elements; shirt, stockings, breeches, waistcoat and coat. What differentiated the macaroni from others was the fabric, cut, colour and trimmings of the suit. “At a time when English dress generally consisted of more sober cuts and the use of monochrome broadcloth,” explains Peter McNeil “macaronism emphasised the effects associated with French, Spanish and Italian textiles and trimmings”. Popular amongst macaroni were brocaded and embroidered silks and velvets, sometimes further embellished with metallic sequins, simulated gemstones and raised metallic threads. Popular colours included pastels, pea-green, pink, red and deep orange. (McNeil, p30-32)

Far from wearing “monochrome broadcloth” Stede likes a “fine fabric” and dresses in a range of colours, we see him in teal, pink, purple, green, white, red, peach &c.

Tightly cut French style suits known as habit à la française were popular with macaroni. (McNeil, p14) Stede’s suits vary somewhat in cut but some are very French. The peach suit Stede wears in We Gull Way Back particularly has a very macaroni feel to me. Compare it to the English suit (left) and the French suit (right).

From the back you can see the English suit has more of a skirt to it.

Both Stede’s suit and the French suit are somewhat plain but have been paired with a floral embroidered waistcoat, while the English suit has a matching plain black waistcoat.

[Left: English suit, wool, silk, c. 1755–65, via The Met, number: 2009.300.916a, b.

Right: French suit, Silk plain weave (faille), c. 1785, via LACMA, number: M.2007.211.47a-b.]

Fabric covered button’s were common in the 18th century, you can see them on both the French and English coats above. In contrast Stede wears a lot of metal buttons. Steel buttons were popular amongst macaroni, a trend that was satirised in Steel Buttons/Coup de Bouton.

[Steel Buttons/Coup de Bouton, print, c. 1777, by William Humphrey, via The British Museum.]

Pumps and Parasols

“Maccaronies who trip in pumps and with Parasols over their heads” ~ Mrs Montagu

High heels had been popular amongst men during the 17th century. The Royal Collection Trust explains:

In the first half of the 17th century, high heeled shoes for men took the form of heeled riding or Cavalier boots as worn by Charles I. As the wearing of heels filtered into the lower ranks of society, the aristocracy responded by dramatically increasing the height of their shoes. High heels were impractical for undertaking manual labour or walking long distances, and therefore announced the privileged status of the wearer.

(Royal Collection Trust, High Heels Fit for a King)

In 17th century France Louis XIV popularised red-heels by turning them into a symbol of political privilege, which in turn spread the fashion to England. But with the sobering of menswear in England around the turn of the century the high heel and the red-heels went out of fashion. (see Bata Shoe Museum Toronto, Standing TALL: The Curious History of Men in Heels)

The high heel had a bit of a resurgence in the 1770s with macaroni fashion. The Natural History of a Macaroni snipes that the macaroni’s “natural hight is somewhat inferior to he ordinary size of men, through by the artificial hight of their heels, they in general reach that standard”. (Walker’s Hibernian Magazine, July 1777, p458)

Red-heels were reintroduced to England by young men returning from their Grand Tours. A young Charles James Fox (satirised by Mathew Darly as “the Original Macaroni”) wore such French style red-heeled shoes. The Monthly Magazine recalls a young Fox as a “celebrated “beau garçon” with “his chapeau bras, his red-heeled shoes, and his blue hair-powder.” (Oct 1806) and The Life of the Right Honorable, Charles James Fox recalls him in his “suit of Paris-cut velvet, most fancifully embroidered, and bedecked with a large bouquet; a head-dress cemented into every variety of shape; a little silk hat, curiously ornamented; and a pair of French shoes, with red-heels;” (p18) And in Recollections of the Life of the Late Right Honorable Charles James Fox B.C. Walpole recalls him as “one of the greatest beaus in England,” who “indulged in all the fashionable elegance of attire, and vied, in point of red heels and Paris-cut velvet with the most dashing young men of the age. Indeed there are many still living who recollect Beau Fox strutting up and down St. Jame’s-street, in a suit of French embroidery, a little silk hat, red-heeled shoes, and a bouquet nearly large enough for a may-pole.” (p24)

Compare the French style red-heeled shoes of Louis XIV to Stede’s red-heeled shoes.

[Left: detail of Louis XIV, oil on canvas, c. 1701, by Hyacinthe Rigaud, via Wikimedia.]

However most macaroni were depicted wearing the more standard late 18th century low-heeled bucked shoes. Where they distinguished themselves was the size and decoration of the buckles. “Such buckles could be set with pate (lead glass) or ‘Bristol stones’ (chips of quartz), or diamonds if you were very rich.” Explains peter McNeil, “The new macaroni fashion was for huge silver or plated Artois shoe buckles which the Mourning Post claimed weighed three to eleven ounces.” (p90)

While certainly not as iconic has his heels Stede also wears these sorts of shoes. Compare below the shoes from a macaroni caricature to Ed wearing Stede’s shoes (I couldn’t get a good shot of Stede wearing them).

[Left: detail of How d'ye like me, print, c. 1772, published by: Carington Bowles, via The British Museum.]

“A great many jewelled accessories accompanied the macaroni look”, writes Peter McNeil, “They included hanger swords, very long canes, clubs, spying glasses and snuff-boxes.” (p68) Tragically we don’t see Stede with a fashionable dress sword or a cane but we do see him with another accessory popular amongst macaroni; a parasol.

Popular in France parasols/umbrellas were adopted by the macaroni. They were popular amongst both men and woman in France but in England they had a feminine connotation. (McNeil, p129) In the 1780s as umbrellas became more popular amongst men there was a cultural pushback to the perceived gender transgression. On the 16th of August 1780 the Morning Post complains of of the “canopy of umbrellas” bemoaning that “the effeminacy of the men, inclines them to adopt this necessary appendage of female convenience”. On the the 4th Oct, 1784, the Morning Chronicle published a letter complaining of “that vile foppish practice of sheltering under a umbrella”. The author of this tirade writes that while “the ladies should be allowed to secure their beauty and persons from the heat of the sun, or the inclemency of the weather,” because “it is natural, and has a striking effect”, that “to see a great lubberly cit, bounce from his shop, with a coat, hat, and wig that are not together worth one groat,” sheltering “from the influence of the solar beam” was “intolerable.” However:

The macaroni being of the doubtful gender, may in part claim a feminine right; his dress is too delicate to bear an heavy shower, perhaps his person is so too; but a coach, if a clean one is to be found would serve his purpose much better, as there would be less likelihood of his being washed away into the kennel, which he deserves to be kicked into for his d-----d affectation.

Wealth

Born from rich young men returning from their tours with a taste for French and Italian textiles macaroni fashion was expensive. Certainly a working class man would not be able to afford Stede’s wardrobe. Both the sheer amount of clothes he has as well has the fabrics those clothes are made of are indications of wealth. However to say that Stede’s wardrobe is only an indication of wealth would be missing part of picture.

Most rich upper class English men (including colonial) wore plain monochrome suits. Even amongst the gentry macaroni fashion was not the norm. Compare bellow George Washington (left) who was a wealthy planation owner, but notably not a macaroni, to Richard Cosway (right) who was a famous macaroni.

[Left: George Washington, oil on canvas, c. 1796, by Gilbert Stuart, via Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts.

Right: Detail of The Academicians of the Royal Academy, oil on canvas, c. 1771-72, by Johan Zoffany, via The Royal Collection Trust.]

In spite of the expense macaroni fashion was not exclusive to the upper classes. “Macaroni dress was not restricted to members of the aristocracy and gentry,” writes McNeil, “but included men of the artisan, artist, and upper servant classes, who wore versions of this visually lavish clothing with a distinctive cut and shorter jackets. Wealthier shopkeepers and entrepreneurs also sometimes wore such lavish clothing, particularly those associated with the luxury trades, such as mercers and upholsterers -” (p14)

It was possible to copy certain aspects of macaroni fashion on a cheeper budget. The hairstyle in particular was achievable without braking the bank. And there were ways to replicate the effects of certain expensive fashion trends for cheeper prices. For example patterns could be printed rather than embroidered.

[Left: printed waistcoat, cotton, c. 1770–90, via The Met, number: 35.142.

Right: embroidered waistcoat, silk, c. 1780–89, via The Met, number: 2009.300.2908.]

The Town and Country Magazine complains “we now have Macaronies of every denomination, from the colonel of the Train’s-Bands down to the errand-boy.” (McNeil, p169) The Morining Post mocks macaronies that couldn't financially keep up with the trends:

The macaronies of a certain class are under peculiar circumstances of distress, occasioned by the fashion, now so prevalent, of wearing enormous shoe-buckles; and we are well assured that the manufactory of plated ware was never known to be in so flourishing a situation.

(14 Jan, 1777)

In 18th century England, class was about more than just how much money you had. It was about pedigree. “English society was particularly alert to those whom it felt were using clothes to achieve a social status they did not merit” explains McNeil. Richard Cosway was a famous macaroni from modest background. Born to a Devonshire headmaster he was sent to London to study painting at 12. He became a very successful miniature painter and grew rich from the patronage of the Prince of Wales (later George IV) and Whig circles. In Nollekens and his Times J.T. Smith writes of Cosway:

He rose from one of the dirtiest boys, to one of the smartest of men. Indeed so ridiculously foppish did he become that Mat Darly, the famous caricature print-seller, introduced an etching of him in his window in the Strand, as ‘The Macaroni Miniature Painter’

(McNeil, p105-14)

But it was not only the Darlys that satirised Cosway Hannah Humphrey mocks Cosway as a social climber in A Smuggling Machine or a Convenient Cos(au)way for a Man in Miniature which depicts him standing under the petticoats of his much taller wife Maria. In the background there is a picture of Cosway climbing a ladder that rests upon a woman (she is believed to either be Angelica Kauffman or the Duchess of Devonshire). Below this reads:

Lowliness is Young Ambitions Ladder, Whereto the climber upward turns his Face But when he once attains the upmost round He then unto the Ladder turns his back, Looks unto the clouds - scornin [sic] the base degrees By which he did assend. Shak. Jul. Caesar.

[A Smuggling Machine or a Convenient Cos(au)way for a Man in Miniature, print, c. 1782, by Hannah Humphrey, via The British Museum.]

Another famous macaroni not born into the aristocracy was Julius Soubise. Brought to England from the West Indies as a slave he was taken in by Catherine Hyde, the Duchess of Queensbury. She gave him a leisured childhood, in which he was taught to play and compose for the violin, was taught to fence by Domenico Angelo, and learned oration from David Garrick. “Macaroni caricatures of Soubise parodied a foppish upstart whose outfits and entertainments, financed by the Duchess, affronted both racial and social expectations of an African male.” Writes Petter McNeil, Soubise was satirised as “a Mungo Macaroni” an “offensive term meaning a rude or forward black man.” (p118)

[Left: A Mungo Macaroni, print, c. 1772, by Matthew Darly, via The British Museum.

Right: The D------ of [...]-- playing at foils with her favorite lap dog Mungo after expending near £10000 to make him a----------*, print, c. 1773, by William Austin, via Yale Center for British Art.]

The expense of Stede’s wardrobe is a key part of the narrative. Stede has nice fancy luxurious things. Ed wants nice fancy luxurious things. Ed was born a poor brown boy and while he may be rich now he can never truly change his class. He could be as rich as Richard Cosway or Julius Soubise but to the gentry he will always be that poor brown boy.

Gender

As we have already seen in the tirade against men using umbrellas the macaroni was perceived as being of “the doubtful gender”. (The Morning Chronicle, 4 Oct, 1784)

The Natural History of a Macaroni writes that there “has within these few years past arrived from France and Italy a very strange animal, of the doubtful gender, in shape somewhat between a man and monkey,” that dresses “neither in the habit of a man or woman, but peculiar to itself”. The author states that “they are in no respect useful in this country”:

that the minister of the war department would give orders to have them enlisted for the service of America: we do not mean to put them on actual duty there. Alas! they are as harmless in the field, as they are in the chamber, but they may stand as faggots to cover the loss of real men.

(Walker’s Hibernian Magazine, July 1777, p458-9)

A “faggot” being “A man who is temporarily hired as a dummy soldier to make up the required number at a muster of troops, or on the roll of a company or regiment.” (see OED)

[The Masculine Gender & The Feminine Gender, etching with touches of watercolour, c. 1787, Attributed to Henry Kingsbury, via The Met.]

The macaroni wasn’t just considered effeminate because of the way they dressed but also because of their interests and the way walked and talked. Famous for playing fops and macaroni, the actor David Garrick did a lot to establish the character of the macaroni in the public mind. In his poem The Fribbleriad Garrick mocks the men who were offended by his performances asserting, perhaps accurately, that they were offended because it was them he mocked. He portrays a group of angry effeminate men meeting in order to seek revenge on him for his portrayal of them:

May we no more such misery know! Since Garrick made OUR SEX a shew; And gave us up to such rude laughter, That few, ’twas said, could hold their water: For He, that player, so mock’d our motions, Our dress, amusements, fancies, notions, So lisp’d our words, and minc’d our steps,

The macaroni had become more than simply an effeminate man, he had become a new sex. Something not quite man or woman. Something in-between. A new description of a macaroni asks the question:

Is it a man? ‘Tis hard to say - A woman then

          - A moment pray -

So doubtful is the thing, that no man

Can say if ‘tis a man or woman:

Unknown as yet by sex or feature,

It moves - a mere amphibious creature.

(McNeil p169)

Sexuality

Much like today in the 18th century effeminacy was associated with homosexuality. Men who had sex with other men were known as mollies. A Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue (1785), defined a molly as “A Miss Molly; an effeminate fellow, a sodomite”. In the History of the London Clubs (1709), Ned Ward characterises mollies as follows:

There are a particular Gang of Wretches in Town, who call themselves Mollies, & are so far degenerated from all Masculine Deportment or Manly exercises that they rather fancy themselves Women, imitating all the little Vanities that Custom has reconcil’d to the Female sex, affecting to speak, walk, tattle, curtsy, cry, scold, & mimick all manner of Effeminacy.

“By the 1760′s,” explains Peter McNeil, “too much attention to fashion on the part of a man was read as evidence if a lack of interest in women”. (p152) 

Macaroni were often portrayed as incapable or simply uninterested in sexual relations with women. This attitude is expressed by Mr. Bate in the following dialogue from The Vauxhall Affray; Or, the Macaronies Defeated:

Mr. Fitz-Gerall: I always though a fine woman was only made to be looked at.

Mr. Bate: Just sentiments of a macaroni. You judge of the fair sex as you do your own doubtful gender, which aims only to be looked at and admired.

Mr. Fitz-Gerall: I have as great a love for a fine woman as any man.

Mr. Bate: Psha! Lepus tute es et pulpamentum quæris?

Mr. Fitz-Gerall: What do you say, Parson?

Mr. Bate: I cry you mercy, Sir, I am talking Heathen Greek to you; in plain English I say, A macaroni you, and love a woman?

Mr. Fitz-Gerall: I love the ladies, for the ladies love me.

Mr Bate: Yes, as their panteen, their play-thing, their harmless bauble, to treat as you do them, merely to look at

While lack on interest in woman does not necessarily mean attraction to men, Matthew Darly takes the implication there in his 1771 set of macaroni caricatures which induces a print entitled Ganymede, a reference to Zeus’ male lover of the same name. Ganymede is believed to be a parody of Samuel Drybutter who had been arrested for attempted sodomy in January 1770. Darly also includes the character Ganymede in Ganymede & Jack-Catch. Jack-Catch is a reference to the infamous English executioner John Ketch. In the print Jack-Catch says, “Dammee Sammy you’r a sweat pretty creature & I long to have you at the end of my String.” Ganymede replies, “You don’t love me Jacky”. Jack-Catch is holding a noose with one hand and stroking Ganymede’s chin with the other. Jack-Catch is soberly dressed in typical 18th century menswear, while Ganymede’s dress is distinguished by his lace ruffles and styled wig. The print is not only suggesting that macaroni are sodomites but making a joke of the execution of them. The punishment for a sodomy at this time in England being death by hanging.

[Left: Ganymede, print, c. 1771, Matthew Darly, via The Met.

Right: Ganymede & Jack Catch, print, c. 1771, Matthew Darly, via The British Museum]

An anonymous letter to the Public Ledger (5 Aug, 1772) says blatantly what others had already implied. “The country is over-run with Catamites, with monsters of Captain Jones’s taste, or, to speak in a language witch all may understand, with MACCARONIES”. The writer warns macaroni who have “escaped detection” as sodomites and “therefore cannot fairly be charged” that they have not avoided suspicion:

Suspicion is got abroad-the carriage-the deportment-the dress-the effeminate squeak of the voice-the familiar loll upon each others shoulders-the gripe of the hand-the grinning in each others faces, to shew the whiteness of the teeth-in short, the manner altogether, and the figure so different from that of Manhood, these things conspire to create suspicion; Suspicion gives birth to watchful observation; and, from a strict observance of the Maccaroni Tribe, we very naturally conclude that to them we are indebted for the frequency of a crime which Modesty forbids me to name. Take warning, therefore, ye smirking group of Tiddy-dols: However secret you may be in your amours, yet in the end you cannot escape detection;

Bows on His Shoes

18th century shoes were typically buckled, laces and ribbons were simply unfashionable. As mentioned previously macaroni were distinguished by the size and decoration of the buckles. So are Stede’s bows simply ahistorical? Well there are references to 18th century men wearing laces and ribbons.

Towards the end of the 18th century laces started to come into fashion. Appeal from the Buckle Trade of London and Westminster, to the Royal Conductors of Fashion (1792) complained that despite how “tender and effeminate the appearance of Shoe Strings” the “custom of wearing them has prevailed.”

Perhaps the most intriguing reference is that of Commissioner Pierre Louis Foucault’s papers where he details the surveillance, investigation and entrapment of "pederasts” in Paris. It is important to note that the word “pederasty” was used synonymously with “sodomy” in the 18th century and did not denote age simply sex. An Universal Etymological English Dictionary (1726) defines “A pederast” as “a Buggerer” and “Pederasty” as “Buggery”.

Foucault and the men working with him identified particular clothing worn by men seeking sex with other men that he called the “pederastical uniform”. In Foucault’s papers men are described as being “attired in such a way as to be recognized by everyone as a pederast”, “clothed with all the distinctive marks of pederasty”, or simply “dressed like a pederast”. This “uniform” generally included “some combination of frock coat, large tie, round hat, small chignon, and bows on the shoes.” Jeffrey Merrick in his article on Foucault speculates that these men dressed this way to signal to each other. However when questioned by police they would understandably deny such a purpose, one man when questioned about his outfit responded that everyone “dresses as he sees fit”. (Jeffrey Merrick, Commissioner Foucault, Inspector Noël, and the “Pederasts” of Paris,1780-3)

Conclusion

I’m not saying Stede is intended to be a macaroni. If that were the case they would have given him the iconic macaroni hairstyle. However the costuming team has clearly pulled from fashion trends that were associated with effeminacy and homosexuality. While OFMD is evidently wholly unconcerned with creating period accurate costumes the costumes are still clearly inspired by historical fashions. Perhaps the curtains really are just blue but maybe Stede wears bows on his shoes because he’s gay.

Disney Parks Animatronic Tournament Match ups: Round 1

Should start tomorrow!

Bracket A/Tier 1:

Hondo Ohnaka vs Beast

Davy Jones vs Disco Yeti

Lava Monster vs Kylo Ren

Anna (Hong Kong version) vs Mr. Potato Head

Jack Sparrow vs BB8

Stitch vs Hopper

Lumiere vs Sven

Belle and Prince Adam vs Tiana

Stunt Spiderman vs Clawhauser

Wheezy vs Tiki Room Stitch

Rocket Raccoon vs C3PO

Shaman of Songs vs Elsa (Hong Kong version)

Ursula vs Lieutenant Bek

Dragon under castle vs Olaf

Hatbox Ghost vs Lantern Belle

Albert vs Dwarves in Mine Train

Bracket B/Tier 2:

Madame Leota vs Fantasmic dragon/Murphy

Giant from Sinbad's Storybook Voyage vs Swedish Chef

Finale conductor Sebastian vs Big Al

Roger Rabbit vs Br'er Porcupine

Dreamfinder vs Constance Hatchaway

Redd vs Munchkins

Skippy vs DJ R3X

Singing Geese vs 1900 Patricia

Daisy Duck vs Mary Poppins

Trixie vs The Five Bear Rugs

Jack Skellington vs Carnotaurus

Buzz Lightyear vs John

Aladar vs Zazu

RX-24 vs John Wayne

Max, Buff and Melvin vs Teddi Berra

Iago vs Panchito

José vs Uh-oa

Sun Bonnet Trio vs Br'er Raccoon

Figment vs Little Leota

Horned King vs Roz

Malestrom trolls vs Donald Duck

Abraham Lincoln vs Q’aráq

Statler and Waldorf vs Gene Kelly

Marshmallow vs Wicked Witch of the West

Will Rogers Jr/Lasso cowboy vs ExtraTERRORestrial Alien

Farming bunnies vs Frank

Timekeeper vs VR Grandma

Luggage Scanner Droids vs Railway end Mickey

Scuttle vs Bean Bunny

S.I.R.(Tim Curry robot) vs Liver Lips Mcgrowl

Buzzy vs Phantom

Ellen Ripley vs Sonny Eclipse

Bracket C/Tier 3:

Hitchhiking Ghosts vs Blue Fairy

Mr Bluebird vs Hag with apple

Richard the pineapple vs Sea Serpent

The Muppet Penguin Orchestra vs The Lost Safari

Horizons Robot butler vs Girl with goose

POTC Donkey vs Goat with dynamite

Jessica Rabbit vs Tiki room birds

Evil queen in window vs dancing Ariel

Puffins vs Mickey Mouse Review Alice

Little Red vs Unnamed laundry girl

Computer engineer woman/Foxy vs Indiana Jones snake

Hula Girls vs Disappearing butterfly

Splash Mountain finale chickens vs Sauropod

Tiger with umbrella vs Br'er Fox and Bear end scene

Donald's butt vs Drunk hats stealing pirate

Xenomorph vs Sally

Drew Carey vs Figaro

Rover vs Nemo seagulls

Exercise Patricia vs Tiki room Jose

Rosita vs Small World hippo

Darla vs POTC prison dog

Beating heart bride vs Barnstormer chickens

Boothill Boys/Vultures vs Ballroom dancer ghosts

Pansy, Poppy and Petunia (Splash opossums) vs Pig pirate

"Here kitty kitty" pirate vs Evil queen turns into hag

Skeleton ship pirate vs Small World cowboy

Singing birds of paradise vs Primeval World diorama

Jungle cruise elephants vs Barker Bird

Uncle Orville vs Granny ghost

Carlos' wife vs Energy dinos

Rabbit family with carrot vs jungle cruise hippos

Dirty foot pirate vs FSU gopher

now that i’m grown i’m scared of ghosts | gentlebeard

read it here, or read it on ao3 <3

akdkwf i feel like this one is WAY worse than the last fic i posted, so everyone be nice about it. i wanted to write hurt-comfort so bad and i was thinking for ages about what to write, but then i realised i obviously had to inflict pain onto stede. go me :,)

but if anybody has any ideas for more fics like this please tell me!!! i’d love to get inspiration from other people <33

title is from “would've, could’ve, should’ve” by taylor swift x

2k words — hurt-comfort and whumpy, nightmare fic, mentions of stede’s trauma, panic attack, vomiting

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

He had never seen so much blood.

Of course, that was a hard statement to make as a pirate — but Stede wasn’t sure, now, if he had ever truly been one.

But he really hadn’t ever seen so much blood before. He didn’t even know that someone’s head contained so much of the stuff. He couldn’t look away.

Chauncey — or what was left of the poor sod, anyways — was splayed out on the floor in front of him, his head fired open by the gunshot, bleeding out into the damp greenery beneath him. Stede’s stomach lurched as he stared, but he couldn’t look away. Even as he heard himself scream — a deep guttural noise that he felt as it ripped itself from his chest — he couldn’t look away.

It was his fault. His fault.

People kept dying and it was because of him.

Nigel was dead, Chauncey was dead, Izzy had almost died, and he had essentially killed Blackbeard — “You even managed to bring history’s greatest pirate to ruin.” — and who’s to say it wouldn’t happen again-

Chauncey’s body shifted and Stede felt himself scream again, stumbling backwards. Just as he had seen visions of Nigel — impaled by his sword, talking to him — Chauncey lifted his head, or what was left of it, and Stede felt cold with the horror that flooded him, then, as Chauncey lifted the gun once more, aiming at him.

“The Stede Bonnet reign of terror ends toni-”

Stede was rigid as he flinched awake, his heart in his throat, breathing so rapidly that he was near on hyperventilating. It took him a moment to blink and recognise his surroundings, but it was the warmth of Ed beside him that grounded him. Asleep beside him, hugging most of the covers, Ed looked peaceful.

He didn’t even realise that he was crying until his chest hitched, painfully so, and Stede had to wipe his eyes as his vision blurred over with his tears. It wasn’t a conscious decision to get up and out of bed, he just started walking, out of the Captain’s quarters and out towards the deck.

He used to do it a lot, when he was a child. Sneaking out into the garden at night when he was upset to look at the stars. It always calmed him. A habit he had picked up again since going to sea, he went out when he was feeling upset to stargaze. Sometimes it helped. Distracted him enough from the plagues of his mind to calm down, and by the time he had named as many constellations as he could remember off the top of his head, he was calm enough to return to bed.

But as Stede reached the edge of the deck, gripped the railing with such a tight grip that his knuckles went white and his hands shook, he could tell that this time the stars wouldn’t help. In fact, being outside on his own probably made it worse. Stede gasped for air, sobs erupting up and out of his already sore chest, and he could do nothing but hold onto the railing and cry.

He felt like a child, and whenever he felt like a child, he thought of his father.

“A weak-hearted, soft-handed, lily-livered little rich boy. That’s all you’ll ever be.”

He was right, annoyingly and embarrassingly so. If his father could see him now he’d just be disappointed. Ashamed. Regretful.

What had he become? A façade of a pirate who had nothing other than a string of deaths and mistakes haunting him.

He couldn’t even say that he had the accomplishment of being a father, after he had left Mary and the kids to chase his silly little dream. Of course, the second time he had left her he did it right, but he often thought about his old family sometimes, his children.

And Ed… he had messed up so many times on that front. Sure, now they were stronger than ever, they were something, but it didn’t change the fact that Stede had fucked up. He had left him, and Ed had become… become The Kraken, which in itself had caused so many unnecessary horrors.

Like Izzy’s leg…

Stede could remember the first time he had realised just what had happened. Saw the look on Izzy’s face — the grief — and realised that he had pushed Ed so far that he had hurt the person most devoted to him.

And that had been Stede’s fault. Because he had been so guilt-ridden after killing Chauncey.

…in a sick manner, he realised it all sort of came full circle.

Stede leaned further over the railing and his stomach actually lurched that time, his jaw clenching with the will to keep his dinner in his belly. After a moment he gasped around his tears, his face wet and cold, hands shaking, chest aching, lily-livered little rich boy.

“…mate, where are you?”

The distant call from inside the ship was registered, but Stede couldn’t make himself pull away from the railing. He was still making a poor attempt at choking back his sobs, and not throwing up, and it was all too much.

Would it have been better if Chauncey had successfully killed him that night?

“Stede! Fuck, man, I’ve been looking for you all over. Why’re you out here?” Ed’s voice was at that scratchy-deep tone it was at when he was sleepy, and where it usually filled Stede with fondness, it just piled up more guilt. He had woken him up, ruined his sleep. Now he’d have to comfort him.

“Just- just wanted some air!” Stede sniffled, not turning to face him. “Go back to bed, darling. Be there soon!”

Instead of hearing Ed comply, he heard boots knocking against the wood of the deck, growing louder and closer. “You alright, babe?”

The urge to accept the comfort was so strong, so strong he ached with it, but so much had been his fault and he wasn’t… he wasn’t deserving. Stede didn’t deserve anything good, he certainly didn’t deserve Ed.

Maybe Chauncey should have-

Stede did throw up that time. He gripped the railing even tighter, if that were possible, and leaned as far over the railing as he gagged, the contents of his stomach spilling out and into the ocean.

Ed was by his side in a second. His hand was on his back, a firm palm rubbing between his shoulder blades, and he knew Ed was talking, spoken comforts — not because he could hear him, just because he knew Ed. No, he couldn’t hear any of it, not over the throwing up or his sobbing or the sound of Chauncey’s gun firing in his memory or his father’s words or-

“Stede, hey, you’re alright, c’mere, I’ve got you.”

He only realised he was still hung over the railing just sobbing when Ed pried him off of it, away from the cold wood and into his arms instead. Ed was warm, and Stede was selfish as he clung to him, sobbing into the crook of his neck.

“Fuckin’ hell, man, you’re freezing? Why did you come out without shoes you nut? You’ll get sick.” Ed was being so kind — rubbing his back and talking to him and trying to warm him up — and all Stede could do was cry-

*“…lily-livered little rich boy-”*

It was after a minute or so that Ed must’ve realised something else was wrong. Stede felt his grip on him shift, hands on his shoulders instead, bringing him back enough so that Ed could see his face, and Stede could see his.

Ed deserved so much better.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” One of Ed’s hands cupped Stede’s face and the warmth was so nice, he nuzzled into his palm as he continued to cry. “Stede? You’re fuckin’ scaring me, man. Talk to me.”

His chest hitched, breaths nothing more than short sharp bursts, and he really did try to form a coherent explanation for his little tantrum, but all he could get out was a whimpered little sentence;

“I- I had a nightmare.”

Ed’s eyebrows scrunched — perceptive, his Ed was, he could probably tell that it wasn’t just a nightmare — but he didn’t mention it. Instead, he was just pulled into another hug, lips against his hairline, warmth surrounding him, and after another couple of minutes or so he felt like he could finally breathe.

It took him more time than that to calm down, but Ed was patient. He whispered soft comforts to Stede as he worked down from crying, until he could finally breathe smoothly, until there was merely silent tears tracking down his cheeks. Ed had been the only person to ever help like that when he cried. His father certainly had never done it, but then again, fathers weren’t supposed to be kind, were they?

…were they?

“Sorry,” was the first thing Stede murmured, the word muffled against the skin of Ed’s neck as he spoke, where he refused to pull his head from just yet. “Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to cause a fuss.”

“Hey, c’mon, don’t apologise for that shit,” Ed stroked his back again, kissed his hair. “Do you feel any better?”

Stede nodded, huffing out a breath. The breakdown really had taken a lot out of him, he felt so tired — his body lulled against Ed’s, head pounding, chest aching. He was actually feeling the cold, too — so much that he had started to tremble in Ed’s embrace, his teeth near chattering. Ed seemed to notice at the same time, as he wordlessly started to lead them both back inside, and Stede just silently went with him. He wanted nothing more than to lay down again-

Well, he wanted nothing more than to fix all of his past mistakes, all of his problems, but that would never happen. If anything, he’d just end up causing more someday.

His expression crumpled slightly, tears slipping faster down his face.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ed asked as he pushed the door to their bedroom open, ushering them both inside before he shut it again behind him. “The nightmare, I mean.”

He didn’t want to. Stede knew he’d have to explain it to Ed one day — Chauncey, what happened in the woods that night, what compelled him to go back to Mary. But he couldn’t say it yet, not when he would probably just get so worked up again.

Instead, he asked;

“Do you think it would’ve been better if I had died?”

Ed looked mortified. He froze stock-still, no longer walking them back towards the bed, and just stared at Stede for a moment.

“I just mean, I’ve had so many attempts on my life by now, surely I’ve got to give in sometime, right? Make it fair for everyone else?” He tried to joke, sensing Ed’s horror. But the sight of him — face red and blotchy, eyes teary, trembling — probably didn't help.

When Ed finally seemed to catch up with himself, he grasped Stede so desperately by the shoulders it shocked him. “Never fuckin’ say that again, okay?” Ed squeezed his shoulders again, and for a moment it looked like he might cry. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me so don’t- don’t say that.”

Stede’s eyes widened, once again feeling guilty. He was upsetting him. “I’m… I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologise, just… don’t say that. You’re fucking amazing-“

“I’m not.”

Ed scowled at him. “You are. You’re the best fuckin’ pirate out there, you hear me?” He brought Stede closer by the shoulders and kissed him, hard, his mouth hot and his urgency more pressing than any arousal that normally would’ve been in it’s place. “If you weren’t here, if you had died, it would’ve ruined my life, and everyone else’s on this ship. They need you. I… I need you,” one of his hands lifted, stroking Stede’s cheek gently. “Don’t say that, don’t… don’t even make me think about you not being here, okay?”

“Okay.” Stede’s voice was hoarse as he spoke, almost in shock. He had never had somebody care for him so violently before. It was foreign, but also selfishly felt so good.

…he was allowed this, wasn’t he? He was allowed to be happy?

“Tomorrow,” Ed started, only stopping to kiss him on the lips once more, just a gentle press. “We’ll talk about the nightmare, and what’s bothering you,” he kissed him again — kissed him until Stede hummed and nodded in agreement. “But tonight, I’m going to show you just how much you should be here.”

Stede was crying again, big fat tears that rolled down his cheeks, but he was smiling.

Maybe he didn’t believe that he was worthy of any of it, but Ed did. And if Ed did, then maybe — just maybe — Stede would some day have a chance or believing it too.

“I love you.” Stede’s voice was barely above a whisper, but he knew Ed heard it. Saw it in his smile.

Ed kissed him again, sighing. “Love you more.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

comments would mean the world <3 requests are open!

*sigh* ok

So-

Listen-

I-

….

I didn’t want to do this. In fact, I have avoided this particular alternate universe as much as I could. But I got bored in Bio and started writing this dumb little thing instead of making flash cards.

I may fail Biology but I’ll never fail making strangely angsty and intriguingly amusing Our Flag Means Death AU’s.

(Update: I got a C)

This AU is, drum roll please….

HIGH SCHOOL/CHEERLEADING AU!

Yeah, not my best pitch. But hear me out. Or don’t. I won’t know either way. [as]

Sorry, I’ll get to the point now.

Stede Bonnet is a rich kid at a rich private school, King George Academy, until he decides he’s going to the nearest public school, Queen Anne High School. His girlfriend, Mary, only finds out he’s breaking up with her and leaving when her friends message her asking if Stede has a brain tumor or something (sparking the flames of “Stede Bonnet died” rumor)

But Stede isn’t dead! No, no, he just committed social-suicide to…captain the Queen Anne cheer squad??

There’s two problems with this. One, there isn’t really a squad for Stede to captain. I mean, there’s a few students who need the extra credit, a couple that have nothing better to do, and some who need it for their college applications. So yeah, if you count a bunch of weirdos and misfits who have no cheerleading experience whatsoever as a squad, then yeah, Stede’s good to go.

The other problem is that while the school itself doesn’t have a cheer squad, a group of talented students travel to the only top schools and their best games to cheer the teams on. This squad-for-hire is captained by Edward Teach and his head cheerleader, Izzy Hands.

Stede likes to think he and Edward are the same, but let’s get one clear. Edward is a captain because his team is so good that no one sees the need to strap a teacher or coach to the squad. Stede doesn’t need an adult chaperone because no really gives a shit. That lot is a team?? Since when? Ah, who cares?

Got it? Cool.

But by the time Edward and his squad return to Queen Anne, the word has gotten out that a fancy private school twink has built a team that’s attractive in the way that ugly purse dogs are cute. Or something like that. You know, the circulation of the rumor mill at this school is very concerning.

Edward sends the best of his team, Izzy Hands, to check out this new squad.

Total mean girls moment when Izzy approaches Stede with Ivan and Fang, the two of them getting into it and the principal getting involved.

And the principal, who I haven’t put a character to yet but the idea of Spanish Jackie breaking up this fight like the principal in Mean Girls, yk

“Hell no, I did not leave East High for this” or was it north east high? Northeastern high? Someone fact check this quote, please? Thank you.

Anyway, whoever the principal is, they pause bc

Stede Bonnet?? As in father’s the inventor of the toaster strudel, that Stede Bonnet?

Or was it something else?

Who cares; the point is, why is this kid in this principal’s school and why are they just now finding out about it?

That’s not important right now tho because it’s become apparent that this school doesn’t have room for two squads so they make Stede and Edward co-captain one large squad. And since it’s clear this is gonna be a problem, they assign the weird old history teacher, Mr. Buttons, to chaperone.

(If I find the flash card I wrote on, I’ll update with any extra details I wrote that isn’t already on this post)

Riding Free

One Shot: All Hands On Deck Kinktober Day 11: HANDS

co written with @spectre-posts

Summary: Fliss can’t get enough of her Sailor’s Hands…

Warnings; SMUT SMUT SMUT (yeah…no under 18s, NSFW)

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher 

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. Any likeness to real life people/scenarios is purely coincidental. I do not own any characters in this fiction bad Fliss Gallagher and any other original characters. I do not consent to have my work copied/translated onto any other site. If you are reading this story anywhere bar Tumblr, it has been taken without my consent. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

W/C: 2.3k

A/N: I would say I’m sorry about this…but I’m really NOT

Riding Free Masterlist // Main Master-list

September 2022

Frank turned off his truck engine and cracked his neck. That had been a bit of a longer errand than he’d expected thanks to a road closure due to a car accident on the highway.

“Fucking Sunday Florida drivers.”  He muttered, hopping down from his Mitsubishi. He headed up the path and through the side door, greeting Thor who had wandered into the mud room having heard his footsteps.

“Hey boy…” 

After giving him a fuss, he moved through to the kitchen-slash- family room and smiled as he saw Fliss and Mary on the sofa, bowl of popcorn between them.

“Hey…” Fliss looked over and he smiled.

“Hey, honey.” He crossed to give her a quick kiss, “sorry I’m so late back.”

“It’s okay. I saved your dinner when you called.”

“Thanks. You okay, Stack?”

“Yup.” She didn’t turn from the TV.

“Alex in bed?”

“Mmmhmmm.” Fliss nodded, “went down half an hour or so ago.”

Frank sighed, he hated missing bed time, especially seeing as he’d set off almost three hours ago for what should have been an hour round trip, tops. He should have been home, had dinner, and helped put his boy to bed in the time it had taken him to drive across town and back. His eyes then strayed to the TV as Mary laughed.

“What are you watching?”

“She Hulk.” Fliss replied, shoving a handful of popcorn in her mouth. 

“What?” Frank arched a brow.

“It’s a Marvel show.”

“A female hulk? How? I mean-“

“Look, stop asking as you hate Marvel, you won’t like it.” Mary stated, then she giggled, “look, Mom, she’s got Captain America’s butt as a screen saver!”

Fliss paused the screen and smirked as she tilted her head to one side. “Oh yeah…”

“That’s America’s ass.” Mary giggled, saluting as Fliss laughed.

Frank scoffed, “well, seeing as my boy is in bed and you two are somewhat preoccupied with a fictional soldier’s rear end…”

“Errr have some respect for Steve Rogers.” Fliss narrowed her eyes. Frank arched his brow in response before he snorted.

“I’m gonna have my dinner and nip out and do some more work on the Camper Van.”

“You know, you guys have had that thing like almost two years and you’re still doing it up, Dad!” Mary stated the obvious.

“Hey, it works, we’ve been out and used it.” Frank folded his arms, “this is its second do up…I’m merely updating the engine and some of the cosmetics and tu-“ he stopped and narrowed his eyes as Mary sniggered. “What is this? Pick on Frank day?”

“Oh hush.” Fliss smirked, “go and get your hands dirty, leave us to watch our show.”

“Ohhh after this can we start a rewatch of Falcon And The Winter Soldier?” Mary asked.

“Sure.” Fliss shrugged, “but only one episode tonight. You got school tomorrow. And it’s Alex’s first day back at Daycare so we need to be up and ready.”

"Fine... Fine..." Mary sighed, popping kernels in her mouth.

Frank dropped a kiss to Fliss’ head before he made his way back to his truck for the box of spare parts he had been to collect. He tucked them under one arm and headed into his garage and stepped through to the workshop.

“Hey, Wanda…” he patted the shiny blue camper van fondly on the bonnet. He chuckled to himself, he was well aware the name belonged to a Marvel character, and was also a play on the word “wander” which had been suggested by Mary.

He’d spent his time doing the vehicle up, just as he had with his boat and finished it mostly almost seven months to the date since they’d been given it as a gift. 

Since then, they’d had a few goes in it up and down the County. Camping trips , days out and it had worked well enough but as with his boat, Frank had identified further improvements to “pimp his ride” even more. These included a bigger engine, chrome plated fenders and wing mirrors, a state of the art entertainment system and new leather upholstery to replace the current cloth ones that Fliss and her mum had installed as a stop gap measure.

An hour and a half into said engine improvements, or his 'Frank time' as he'd taken to referring to it as,  Fliss came out, his dinner plate in hand.

"Hey Sailor, you forgot something..."

Frank looked round and gave a little chuckle, “shit. Sorry, Cowgirl.”

She popped a shoulder, “it’s okay. Mary’s headed to bed. She told me to tell you she’s calling child services to report you for neglecting your father-uncle duties, and will be referring to you as Frank for the next forty-eight hours as punishment.”

“Huh, could she not just talk to me at all?” His eyes twinkled with humour.

“Well, she pondered that but then decided you’d tell her that wasn’t a punishment, more like a very welcome break.”

Frank pointed at her with a smirk, "Yahtzee."

Fliss laughed, shaking her head. “How long you intending on staying out here? Not that it matters, just figuring out whether or not I can start my weekly lesson plans for the yard or wait until tomorrow morning.”

"You could sit out here and do them, I'll bring up that little table."

“Huh, not just a pretty face are you?”

"Meh, I've been known to have brighter days." He shrugged. "At least sit with me while I eat."

“Alright, you got any beer in that fridge?” She nodded to the back of the workshop and Frank scoffed.

“How long you known me? Course there’s beer in there.”

“Well then gimme one.”

“We are still talking about the beer, yeah?” Frank grinned.

“Pervert.”

Frank laughed as he moved to pull two cold Buds out of the fridge. He popped the caps and handed one to Fliss.

"Why thank you, Sailor."

She took it from him, her eyes straying to his hand and she frowned. “Hey, you’re bleeding.”

Frank looked down at his hand, noticing the knick on his knuckles. He wiped it on the rag, half out his pocket. "It's nothing, grazed it tightening up something."

“Did you seriously just wipe it with that filthy shit rag?” Fliss wrinkled her nose as Frank perched on a stool in front of his work bench. “You’re disgusting .”

He popped a shoulder and sipped his bottle. "Done worse."

Fliss shook her head, “let me see.”

He took a small bite of his meal and passed his hand over to her. "It's nothing."

She took a deep breath and gently took it, twisting her wrist so his fingers lay across her palm. She gently swiped her thumb over the back of his knuckles as she looked at his skin. 

He was currently grubby from the work he’d been doing. And the hand she held was sporting a few healing cuts and grazes, from various minor knocks he picked up at work or around their home and yard. They were dotted across his long fingers and the back of his hand. His blunt nails were dirty, but would be scrubbed clean that night before bed, just as they always were when he came home from work or finished whatever hobby project he was working on.

Maybe once, in a time before she’d met him, they’d been softer and neater, thanks to his previous career as a professor. But now, Frank Adler had well worn and weathered hands. 

And Fliss fucking adored them.

She loved the way those fingers would drum noisily on a surface, indicating he was bored, maybe restless or impatient. How they’d slap his thigh or hers when he had made a decision. Even the way he would crack his knuckles either absentmindedly when deep in thought, or on purpose with a smirk as he knew the noise made her shudder and grimace as she hated it. 

But what she loved the most was how those hands, so tough, rough and calloused from years of manual labor were also as soft and gentle as the man they belonged to.

Five years ago, on a boat out on the open water, they'd held her to him as he'd kissed her tenderly. Three years back, they’d delicately yet ever so safely held their baby boy for the first time in the hospital, and continued to be safe, careful and strong with both her and the kids. 

They could also be a little possessive. His fingers would slip through hers when in public, or grip her hip as his arm slid round her waist, always just tight enough to keep her close, squeezing when he knew she needed reassurance or comfort, or simply wanted to remind her, and anyone else for that matter, that he was there and she was his. 

They were delicate and loving when he trailed his fingers up and down her arm, her neck or her spine. They would dance across her shoulders or skin, heating her from the inside out. 

And of course, there were other things those hands could do, when they were alone…

"Frankie..."

“Yeah?"

Brown eyes met blue from beneath heavy lids and Frank arched his brow.

Fliss moved to stand between his legs, which were spread apart at the knees as his feet rest on the lower rung of his stool. “Put your hands on me, Sailor.”

Frank hopped down and grabbed her by the waist, turning turned their bodies so her back bumped the work bench. "But I'm filthy."

“And?”

A low chuckle bounced that Adam's apple in his throat. Frank cupped her face. He gazed at her and smirked before he dove right in to give her a harsh kiss, filled with tongue.

She kissed him back, her own hands tangling in his hair, nails taking over his scalp.

“Whaddya want, cowgirl?” His lips hovered over hers.

“Your hands…”

“Yes, ma'am." With a grin he kissed her again. “Turn around.”

Fliss smirked as her eyes glowed with mischief. She spun on the ball of her foot and leaned against the workbench. Craning her neck so she could peer over her shoulder, she smirked. "Well?"

“Sassy tonight, I like it.” He grinned as he pulled her back into him. His hands squeezed her hips, before he gripped the hem of her vest top and pulled it over her head.

Fingers glided up her sides and belly until Frank's hands covered her bra covered breasts and gave them a generously hard squeeze.

Fliss sighed, her head rolling back onto his shoulder.

"Again..." she said softly as her arm snaked up Frank's neck.

Frank chuckled, his lips fluttering against her neck as his hands pulled down the cups of her bra. “Like that?” His voice was a raspy whisper as his fingers and thumbs found her nipples.

A lustful moan came out her throat from the depths of her chest, the vibration beating against Frank's chest. "Yep."

“My hands feel good, huh, baby?” He hummed, tweaking a little harder.

"Always so good."

“Want then to make you cum?”

"Oh, yes...." Fliss whimpered.

Frank gave a low grunt as his teeth nipped her neck, his hands working a little harder. With each tweak, pull and squeeze, he could hear and feel Fliss reacting as she writhed and panted. Her head was completely laid back on his shoulder, eyes closed, mouth open.

"Thassit, Cowgirl. Get lost....." he was in her ear.

He could feel himself growing hard in his tasty jeans, his dick pressing uncomfortably against the crotch of the denim. With a nip to hee ear that made her squeal, his right hand traced its way down her sternum to her belly and slipped into the waistband of her lounge shorts.

Fliss gasped and moaned, the feel of his hands on her was one of her favorite things.

"Oh, Lissy," Frank crooned lowly in her ear, "so wet for me."

“Always…” she gasped, her hand tightening in his hair.

With a grunt of satisfaction at the feel of her fist, Frank began toying with her clit. Running circles around it with his middle finger.

Fliss gasped, her hips bucking at his touch.

“Thassit, baby…” his breath was warm on her face. As those nimble fingers toyed with his wife, coaxing her closer and closer, her pelvis started to move, grinding herself against his palm. "Chase it, baby," he dug his heel upward into her clit as he slipped two fingers inside her wet heat.

“Oh, fuck…” her knees buckled a little and Frank moved his left arm across her chest, holding her up as his fingers found her right nipple.

"Fahk, darlin'," he grunted. "I got you."

“You…you always…oh, god…” she groaned, her eyes flying open, “you always..always do…”

"You're there, cowgirl , c'mon."

Her breath was coming in quick, rapid pants, a staccato rhythm as the feel of his strong arms and those hands she loved so much completely overwhelmed her.

“Frankie…Frank…Frank…”

“I gotchu …” he repeated as he kissed her neck behind her ear. He then groaned when he felt Fliss buck violently in his arms. “Atta girl.”

Her walls clamped around his fingers as she cried out into the silence and dim light of his workshop.

"There you go...." Frank said softly as his lips press into her cheek.

Fliss gave a hum of satisfaction as she sagged backwards. Frank gently slid his hand up and out of her shorts, his fingers sticky with her slick as the rest on her belly.

“I can feel you,” Fliss spoke, her voice raspy as she gained her breath. “Poking me…”

“Well, I’m kinda turned on right now…” he replied , with a cheeky grins of his rock hard dick into the small of her back.

With a slow movement, Fliss turned in his arms and gripped at his shirt. She stepped back towards the work bench, a smirk on her face.

“Well, we best do something about it then, huh?”

25 septembre

ce matin je me suis réveillée à l'aube, je suis allée acheter du pain à la boulangerie dans ma chemise de nuit ancestrale et j'ai mangé mon croissant assise dans les dunes en regardant la mer, on voyait bien les pyrénées. puis je suis rentrée mettre mon maillot et je suis repartie à la plage, y avait personne, puis seul au monde m'a rejoint et on est restés assis sur nos serviettes en silence, séparés mais ensemble. quand c. est arrivée il sortait de l'eau et ils ont brièvement discuté, ce qui m'a permis de le voir de près de nouveau. il est très maigre mais musclé, il a l'air vieux, et il a l'accent. je suis retournée à la bouée couvée par son regard et celui de marie, probablement en train de délibérer si j'avais les aptitudes nécessaires pour intégrer leur club des amants de la mer. ça m'a donné du courage, j'avançais comme une fusée. elle nage le crawl elle aussi avec son double bonnet, son masque et son tuba. quand elle sort de l'eau elle le porte sur l'épaule comme un sac à main. quand je suis arrivée à la bouée y avait une mouette perchée dessus, je lui ai dit coucou et je suis repartie aussi sec, j'aime pas trop traîner autour, j'ai peur de la chaîne qui descend dans les profondeurs. en revenant je me suis laissée flotter en chantonnant ma chanson de saturne en pensant à r. qui m'a dit qu'il voulait essayer une instru dessus et je souriais toute seule face à l'horizon pailleté.

hier on a de nouveau eu un de nos échanges où on part d'une image et chacun renchérit dessus avec des mots très imagés très vite et ça pourrait déjà être une performance en soi. ça part toujours tout seul et c'est toujours très drôle. je lui ai parlé de ma passion pour le palais de justice à bruxelles et il m'a demandé si j'y étais déjà rentrée et maintenant j'ai un nouveau fantasme: m'introduire dans le palais de justice avec r. la nuit et explorer tous les étages à la lampe torche du téléphone comme dans une comédie romantiques pour adolescents.

27 septembre

j'ai rêvé de seul au monde, c'était un peu bof, je nageais dans la mer sans regarder où j'allais et je lui suis rentrée dedans, c'était confus et agité et je me suis pas excusée parce que j'y voyais rien, et puis j'étais sur la plage bondée comme jamais et sa serviette était collée à la mienne derrière moi et je me suis retournée pour lui dire je suis désolée de vous être rentrée dedans dans la mer. hier j'ai dit à marie qu'elle avait un très joli chapeau et elle a commencé à me parler de son chapeau mexicain mais j'étais trop occupée à contempler le fait que j'étais en train de lui parler pour écouter ce qu'elle me disait. j'ai appris qu'elle avait 70 ans et que c'est elle qui avait entrainé seul au monde à aller se baigner toute l'année, même en plein hiver. seul au monde a la soixantaine et aux dernières nouvelles il sort toujours avec sophie, mais d'après c. ça va pas durer parce qu'elle a dit qu'elle le trouvait pas très drôle. dans le sens: il a de la place pour qu'une seule passion dans sa vie et c'est la mer, voilà mon avis, mais je sais pas si c'est ce qu'elle a voulu dire.

toujours à narbonne, la vie y est douce. ce matin j'ai fait un sondage sur instagram pour demander aux gens où je devrais déménager et de suite la fille qui était venue me parler à l'entracte de la soirée à la bellone m'a dit de venir à bruxelles avec un coeur et la vie avec instagram c'est bien aussi quand même. bruxelles est en tête mais c'est serré avec sète, suivi de marseille, puis berlin. je sais pas si cette histoire va m'aider à enfin sauter le pas. hier maman m'a appelée pour me dire qu'elle avait regardé les offres d'emploi à sète pour moi. j'ai enfin écrit à c. t. la dramaturge aussi, elle avait bien pensé à moi pour un projet mais depuis il est tombé à l'eau mais elle était trop occupée pour me prévenir. bon, au moins elle a pensé à moi.

28 septembre

de retour sur la plage, je viens de faire coucou à seul au monde en murmurant un petit au revoir imprégné de révérence comme si je m'adressais au grand maître de la mer. en attendant le bus à la gare d'agde une fille avec un sac à dos m'a demandé si le bus pour l'aéroport partait bien à 15h40, elle allait à edimbourg et elle ressemblait un peu à roberta colindrez. j'ai dit j'espère pour vous qu'il aura pas trop de retard et elle a dit oh c'est pas très grave si je rate mon vol, la vie est beaucoup plus belle ici qu'à edimbourg! et je me demande où elle était ces quatre dernières semaines. pourquoi elle était pas sur la plage avec moi? pourquoi y a que des retraités ++ sur la plage quand moi j'y suis? dans le bus tout le monde disait bonjour et au revoir et merci au chauffeur en rentrant et en sortant et il répondait avec plaisir quand on lui disait merci. j'étais toute contente de rentrer chez moi, chez moi à la mer, en sortant du bus. j'ai croisé l'homme hirsute qui habite dans la maison bric à brac avec le vieux bateau dans le jardin et il m'a fait un signe de tête discret et je lui ai fait un sourire discret et puis j'ai levé les bras en l'air de joie, je sais pas trop pourquoi.

Mary/Doug, Stede/Izzy, Ed/Stede/Izzy — AOB Dystopian AU

AOB dystopian AU: Alphas are in charge. They end up being the politicians, the wealthy, they hold all the power. Betas are second class citizens. They have to do all the service jobs. They are the servants and have limited rights. Omegas are the breeding stock. They are property but only Alphas are allowed to own Omegas. Alphas can do whatever they want to Omegas including killing them with zero repercussions.

Stede is a wealthy, eccentric Alpha. He has a reputation for collecting omegas, especially older ones no one else wants. He’s tolerated by his peers but doesn’t really have friends. But he’s starting to get pressure to marry a proper upper class Omega to produce an heir.

He meets Mary, a fiery Omega who is furious at her lot in life but also resigned. Stede chooses her and when he goes to get her he notices she’s very attached to another Omega, Doug, and buys him as well. He takes them home.

Only his home isn’t filled with abused, terrified Omegas like every other wearily house. He has given the Omega’s he’s collected as much freedom as he’s able. They are treated with dignity and respect. He has a trusted doctor on staff that lives there and rabidly loyal betas who help him keep everything going and protected.

Mary learns Stede has no intention of bedding her and she is welcome to have a relationship with anyone including Doug, ::nudge nudge wink wink::

Include any and all characters you want, I’m thinking Stede’s compound is like a small village.

I really want Stede to be with a very traumatized, recovering from horrible abuse, Izzy. He’s so gentle with him and careful and the only person Izzy can handle being around.

Maybe Ed is Izzy’s former owner who hurt him. Maybe Ed is a beta who works with Stede to save Omegas. Maybe something else entirely.

Mary/Doug and either Stede/Izzy or Ed/Stede/Izzy

Fill: None

I don’t think Mary’s gonna be shocked Stede pulled Blackbeard as much as she’ll be like “Wait, you left him to come back here? Steden C Bonnet you better not have put me on Blackbeard’s shitlist!”

Hi lovely! Thanks for the wonderful work ♡ I would like to read some fics where Stede thinks he doesn't like physical contacts (or that he isn't good at it) because of his past experiences with Mary but his surprise to find out sex with someone he really loves (Ed) can be amazing. Thanks for the recs!

You could try these...

Vanilla by kookaburrito [E], [2,490 words]

It seems like everyone on the Revenge fucks, and has much more experience than Stede. Now that he and Ed are together, Stede feels anxious. What if Ed finds sex with him boring? Thankfully, Ed is quick to convince Stede otherwise.

spread your legs love by transtoshi [E], [6,000 words]

stede has never really had sex with anyone besides mary, and is very, very anxious about his lack of experience. ed does his very best to prove to him that really doesn't matter

Better with you by MuppetClownGuy [E], [1,941 words]

“Can I ask you a question, mate?”

Stede looked at Ed, his heart starting to pound faster.

“You don’t have to answer, but I’m curious. Can you tell me what kind of experience you had in bed, y’know, with your wife?”

Stede’s face suddenly became so red, he thought he might explode.

“…are you asking about the sex life I had in my arranged marriage…?”

(Stede Bonnet thought he didn’t like sex, turns out he’s just gay)

What it is supposed to be like by Kininjaknitter [T], [1,411 words]

Ed and Stede navigate what level of physical intimacy is right for each of them after a lifetime of not getting it right.

Token of Courtship by kipli [E], [6,855 words]

“Stede, listen to me very carefully.” Lucius’ voice was firm. Stede stalled in his frantic thoughts. “You need to relax and enjoy this moment without worrying about what you’re wearing.”

“But-”

“He. Will. Not. Care.” Lucius leaned in closer. “He’s been working on this all afternoon and god help you if you’re too busy apologizing for your clothes to let him do as he’s planned.”

Don't you know that I am right here? by RoughWinds [M], [3,255 words]

The crew can't keep their hands (or lips) off of each other, and Stede doesn't understand why.

Until he does.

Playing Pirate by NichePastiche, wisteria_lodge [E], [7,079 words]

Stede thinks he hears a ghost in the auxiliary wardrobe and, like a good pirate captain, goes to investigate. It turns out to be Ed - which only raises more questions.

A Lesson in "Sword" Fighting by NichePastiche, wisteria_lodge [E], [7,184 words]

Stede overhears the crew playing Marry, Fuck, Kill. And now he's got some questions for Ed.

~ Mod C

names, mostly surnames (1)

let me apologise for this partial list of names in the library,  titles available on request...

, Adorno, horkheimer, anderson, aristotle, greta adorno, marcuse, agamben, acampora and acampora, althussar, lajac kovacic, eric alliez, marc auge,  attali, francis bacon (16th c), aries, aries and bejin, alain badiou, beckett, hallward, barnes, bachelard, bahktin, volshinov, baudrillard, barthes, john beattie, medvedev, henri bergson, Jacques Bidet, berkman, zybmunt bauman, burgin, baugh, sam  butler, ulrich beck, andrew benjamin and peter osbourne, walter benjamin, ernest bloch, blanchot,  bruzins,  bonnet,  karin bojs,  bourdieu,  j.d. bernal, goldsmith,  benveniste, braidotti,  brecht,  burch, victor serge, andre breton, judith butler, malcolm bull, stanley cohen, john berger, etienne balibar, david bohm, gans blumenberg, martin buber, christopher caudwell, micel callon, albert camus, agnes callard,  castoridis, claudio celis bueno, carchedi and roberts, Marisol de la cadena,  mario blaser, nancy cartwright, manual castells, mark  currie, collingwood, canguilhem, mario corti, stuart hall, andrew lowe, paul willis, coyne, stefan collini, varbara cassin, helene cixous, coward and ellis, clastres, carr, cioren,  irving copi, cassirer, carter and willians, margeret cohen,  Francoise dastur, guy debord, agnes martin,  michele bernstein, alice, lorraine dastun, debaise, Gilles Deleuze, deleuze and gattari, guattari, parnet, iain mackenzie, bignall, stivale, holland, smith, james williams, zourabichvili, paul patton, kerslake,  schuster, bogue, bryant,  anne sauvagnargues, hanjo berresen, frida beckman, johnson, gulliarme and hughes, valentine moulard-leonard, desai,  dosse, duttman, d’amico,  benoit peters, derrida, hinca zarifopol-johnston, sean gaston,  discourse, mark poster, foucault,  steve fuller, markus gabrial, rosenbergm  milchamn, colin jones,  van fraasen,  fekete,  vilem flusser, flahault, heri focillon, rudi visker, ernst fischer,  fink, faye, fuller, fiho, marco bollo, hans magnus enxensberger, leen de bolle, canetti, ilya enrenberg,  thuan, sebastion peake, mervyn peake, robert henderson, reimann, roth,  bae suah,  yabouza, marco bellatin, cartarescu, nick harkaway, chris norris, deLanda, regis debray, pattern and doniger,  soame jynens, bernard williams, descartes, anne dufourmanteille, michelle le doeuff, de certaeu , deligny, Georges Dumezil, dumenil and levy,  bernard edelman, victorverlich, berio, arendt, amy allen, de beauvior,hiroka azumi,  bedau and humphreys,  beuad,  georges bataille, caspar  henderson,  chris innes,  yevgeny zamyatin,  louis aragon, italo calvino, pierre guirard,  trustan garcia, rene girard, paul gilroy, michal gardner,  andre gorz, jurgan gabermas, martin gagglund, beatrice hannssen, jean hyppolyte, axel honneth, zizek and crickett, stephen heath,  calentin groebner, j.b.s. haldane,  ian hacking,  david hakken,  hallward and oekken,  haug, harman, latour, arnold hauser, hegel, pippin, pinksrd, michel henry, louis hjelmslev,  gilbert hardin, alice jardine, karl jaspers, suzzane kirkbright, david hume,  thomas hobbes, barry hindus, paul hirst, hindess and hirst, wrrner hamacher,  bertrand gille,  julien huxley, halavais, irigaray, ted honderich, julia kristeva, leibnitz, d lecourt,  lazzaroto, kluge and negt, alexander kluge, sarah kofman, alexandre kojeve,  kolozoya, keynes,  richard kangston, ben lehman, kant,  francous jullien, fred hameson, sntonio rabucchi, jaeggi, steve lanierjones, tim jackson,  jakobson,   joeseph needham, arne de boever,  marx and engels, karl marx, frederick engels, heinrich,  McLellen , maturana and varuna,  lem, lordon, jean jacques-lecercle,  malabou,  marazzi,  heiner muller,  mary midgley, armand matterlart, ariel dorfman, matakovsky, nacneice, lucid,  victor margolis, narco lippi,  glen mazis, nair,  william morris,  nabis,  jean luc nancy,  geoffrey nash,  antonio negri,  negri and hardt, hardt, keith ansell pearson, pettman, william ruddiman, rheinberger, andre orlean, v.i. vernadsky,  rodchenko,  john willet, tarkovsky, william empson,  michel serres,  virillio, semiotexte, helmut heiseenbuttel,  plessner, pechaux, raunig, retort,  saito,  serres, dolphin, maria assad, spinoza,  bernard sharratt, isabelle stengers,  viktor shklovsky,  t. todorov,  enzo traverso, mario tronti,  todes, ivan pavlov,  whitehead, frank trentmann, trubetzkoy, rodowink, widderman, karl wittfogel, peter handke, olivier rolin, pavese,  robert walser, petr kral, von arnim,  sir john mennis,  ladies cabinet,  samuel johnson, edmund spenser,  efy poppy, yoko ogawa, machado,  kaurence durrell,  brigid brophy,  a. betram chandler, maria gabriella llansol, fowler,  ransmayr,  novick, llewellyn,  brennan, sean carroll,  julien rios, pintor, wraxall,  jaccottet, tabucchi,  iain banks, glasstone,  clarice lispector,  murakami, ludmilla petrushevskaya,  motoya, bachmann, lindqvist,  uwe johnson, einear macbride,  szentkuthy,  vladislavic, nanguel,  mathias enard,  chris tomas, jonathan meades,  armo schmidt, charles yu, micheal sorkin, vilas- matas, varesi, peter weiss,  stephenson, paul legrande,  virginie despentes, pessoa,  brin,  furst, gunter trass, umberto eco, reid, paul,klee, mario levero, hearn, judith schalansky, moorhead,  margert walters, rodchenko and popova, david king, alisdair gray, burroughs, ben fine, paul hirst, hindess,  kapuscinski, tchaikovsky,  brooke-rose, david hoon kim, helms,  mahfouz, ardret,  felipe fernandez-armesto,  young and tagomon,  aronson,  bonneuil and  fressoz, h.s. bennett, amy allen, bruckner brown, honegger, bernhard,  warren miller, albert thelen,  margoy bennett, rose macauley,  nenjamin peret, sax rohmer, angeliki, bostrom, phillip ball, the invisible commitee, bataille and leiris,  gregory bateson, michelle barrett and mary mcintosh, bardini, bugin, mcdonald, kaplan, buck-moores,  chesterman and lipman,  berman,  cicero, chanan,  chatelet,  helene cixous, iain cha,bers,  smirgel, norman clark, caird, camus,  clayre, chomsky, critchley,  curry,  swingewood,  luigi luca cavelli-sforza,  clark, esposito, doerner,  de duve, alexander dovzhenko, donzelot,  dennet, doyle, burkheim, de camp,  darwin,  dawkins,  didi-huberman, dundar, george dyson, berard deleuze, evo, barbara ehrenrich,  edwards,  e isenstein, ebeking, economy and society, esposito,  frederick gross,  david edgeerton,  douglas,  paul,feyerband,  jerry fodor,  gorrdiener,  tom forester, korsgaard,  fink,  floridi, elizabeth groscz, pierre francastel,  jane jacobs,  francois laplantinee,  gould,  galloway, goux,  godel, grouys, genette,  gil, kahloo, giddens,  martin gardner,  gilbert and dubar, hobbes,  herve, golinski, grotowski, glieck,  hayles, heidegger, huxley, eric hobsbawn, jean-louis hippolyte,  phillip hoare, tim jordan,  david harvey, hawking, hoggart,  rosemary jackson,  myerson,  mary jacobus, fox keller, illich,  sarah fofman, sylvia harvey, john holloway, han,  jaspers, yuk hui,  pierre hadot, carl gardner,  william james, bell hooks,  edmond jabes,  kierkegaard, alexander keen, kropotkin, tracy kidder,  mithen, kothari and mehta, lind,  c. joad,  bart kosko, kathy myers,  kaplan,  luce irigaraay, patrick ke iller, kittler,  catherine belsey,  kmar,  klossowski, holmes, kant, stanton,  ernesto laclau, jenkins, la mouffe,  walter john williams, adam greenfield, susan greenfield, paul auster, viet nguyen, jeremy nicholson,  andy weir, fred jameson,  lacoue-labarthe,  bede,  jane gallop, lacan,  wilden,  willy ley,  henri lefebvre, rob sheilds,  sandra laugier, micheal lowy, barry levinson, sylvain lazurus, lousardo, leopardo, jean-francois lyotard, jones,  lewontin,  steve levy,  alice in genderland,  laing, lanier, lakatos, laurelle, luxemburg,  lukacs, jarsh,  james lovelock, ideologu and consciousness, economy and society, screen, deleuze studies, deleuze and guattari studies,  bruno latour, david lapoujade,  stephen law, primo levi,  levi-strauss,  emmanuel levinas,  viktor schonberger, pierre levy, gustav landaur,  robin le poidevin,  les levidow, lautman, david cooper,  serge leclaire, catherine malabou, karl kautsky, alice meynall,  j.s. mill, montainge,  elaine miller, rosa levine-meyer, jean luc marion, henri lefebrve,  lipovetsky, terry lovell,  niklas luhmann,  richard may, machiavelli, richard mabey, john mullzrkey,  meyerhold, edward braun,  magri,  murray, nathanial lichfield, noelle mcafee,  hans meyer,  ouspensky, lucretius, asa briggs, william morris, christian metz, laura mulvey, len masterman,  karl mannheim, louis marin, alaister reynolds,  antonio  munoz molina,  FRAZER,  arno schmidt,  dinae waldman,  mark rothko, cornwall, micheal snow, sophie henaff, scarlett thomas,  matuszewski, lillya brik,  rosamond lehman , morris and o’conner,  nina bawden, cora sandel, delafield, storm jameson,  lovi , rachel ferguson,  stevie smith, pat barker, miles franklin, fay weldon,  crista wolff, grace paley, v. woolf, naomi mitchinson, sheila rowbotham,  e, somerville and v ross, sander marai,  jose  saramago,  strugatsky, jean echenoz, mark robso,  vladimir Vernadsky,  chris marker, Kim Stanley Robinson,  mario leverdo,  r.a. lafferty, martin bax, mcaulay, tatyana tolstaya,  colinn kapp,  jonathan meades,  franco fortini,  sam delany, philip e high, h.g. adler, feng menglong,  adam thorpe,  peeter nadas,  sam butler, narnold silver,  deren,  joanna moorhead, leonara carrington,  de waal,  hartt, botticelli,  charbonneau, casco pratolini,  murakami, aldiss,  guidomorselli, ludmilla petrushevskaya, ,schulz,  de andrade, yasushi. inoue, renoir,  amelie  nothomb,  ken liu,  prynne,  ANTIONE VOLODINE, luc brasso,  angela greene,  dorothea tanning,  eric chevillard,  margot bennett w.e. johns, conan doyle,  samuel johnson,  herge,  coutine-denamy, sterling, roubaud,  sloan, meiville,  delarivier manley, andre norton, perec, edward upward, tom mcCarthy,  magrinya,  stross,  eco, godden,  malcolm lowry,  derekmiller,  ismail kadare,  scott lynch, chris fowler, perter newman,  suzzana clarke,  paretky, juliscz balicki,  stanislaw 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holmes, bowlby, winnecott,   bollas,  kalschiid,  malan, patrick casement,  anna frued, wittenburg,  liz wright,  fordham, fairburn, symington, sandler,  jung, balint,  coltart,  west, steiner,  van der post,  stern,  green,  roustang,  adrew samuels,  d.l. sayers,  salom, krassner,  swain,  rame and fo,  storr,  cogman,  hessen,  penelope fitzgerald,  cummings, richard holloway,  juhea kim,  glenville, heyer, cartland,  kim, cho,  atkinson,  james,  king, audten,  hartley,  du maurier,  bronte,  thomas, plath, leon,  camillairi, kaussar, fred fargas, boyd,  sjowall and wahloo,  pheby,  morenno-garcia, perrsson,  herron, nicola barker, arronovitch,  karen lord, stephen frosh, ernest jones, flamm o’brien, shin, mishra, chin jin-young and so on to the warm horizon

to feel anything at all

by 2unfit2quit

New account, old character. Needed a blank slate and a fresh start. This was all based on a comment my partner made about Ed being a final dungeon level boss. The rest I just wanna play with without rules or constraints. This may not be for everyone and it's not a full-crew-fic. I have no idea where this is going. Narration is very S-O-C. I want to play with impulses and do something different than I am used to.

Context: Stede is almost 7 months post-split from Mary and downloads a gay dating app. The rest is what happens after. Yeah, that's really it. I also wanted to play around with how long I could string out a first kiss and basically nothing else.

Words: 3311, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Stede Bonnet, Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Israel Hands

Relationships: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Yearning, Longing, Pining, desiring, exercise in extending a first kiss, Coming Out, Divorce, Gay, Oral Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, loosely based, ed as babygrl aesthetic, stede as short king, idk - Freeform, izzy is in this loosely and sparingly

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/44524849

June 11, 1809

Mr. d’Aries waked me at 5. At 1/2 p. 7 went with him and his son in their one-horse phaeton, to Drottningholm. A very beautiful ride; cross four large bridges. Madame D. went last evening with Mr. de Castre. At 11 went to witness the service at a country church, about 1 1/2 miles from the Palace. A neat, pretty, ancient building; low, arched; several pictures; a narrow alley through the middle, and seats (pews) on each side. The women on the left and men on the right; about an equal number on each side; perhaps 150 of each sex. The organ playing when I came in, and they were singing a psalm to the tune we call Old Hundred. Sacrament day. All partook, going up about twenty at a time, men and women promiscuously. The priest and his clerk, or curè,¹ administered. They all returned very much affected; the women in tears, and many sobbing; the psalm going on all the while. I stood in the isle,² no one taking the least notice of me. The musa,³  the principal head-dress of the women. Two very beautiful young women, who were near me, in black, the head a la mode.⁴ Returned to d’Aries, and we went through the garden to see the Palace, he having engaged one of the keepers as cicerone.⁵ Just as we entered the Palace met Countess Bunge and Comtesse Lowenhaupt, Baron Wrangle, Captain Dirden, et al’i.⁶ Went all together into the first salle.⁷ While I was examining a statue, the ladies and their party, with our guide, went out, but whither we could not discover; and after half an hour of fruitless search and inquiry we returned to the gardens, and to that part called Canton; thence home to dinner at 2. Mr. D. exceedingly mortified and vexed that our chaperon had thus left us in the lurch. He expected several persons to dine, but no one of them came. After dinner walked to see Madame de Castre and her daughter. Both of very pleasant manner. The mother very ladylike; nè Polonaise.⁸ Le Mari⁹ formerly in the orchestra of Gustavus III. Both now enjoying pensions. M’lle tout plein de talents.¹⁰ Paints in oil in a manner to have attracted notice and admiration at the exhibition. Pince la harpe superieurement. Danse (comme on dit) comme une ange. Vif. enjouee. 18; jol. taille.¹¹ At 4 Madame de Castre came to take tea with us; but Madame d’Aries rather presumptuously told her we were engaged. She went off and we walked out to take tea with Madame ———; Madame and all the family abroad. Went then to Dr. ———, medecin du Roi,¹² Gustavus IV.; out also; but an elderly lady permitted us to see his pictures. Chez nous at 6. Brought Madame de Castre to sup with us. Before supper went to the tower; in ruins; extensive and picturesque views. After supper saw Madame and M’lle to chez eux.¹³ There are still a few Russian prisoners here; a small hospital. The situation of the Palace and disposition of the grounds very beautiful. Profusion of statues, principally bronze and tout nud.¹⁴ Everything in decay. Two ladies on horseback. One riding al’ Angloise, the other en cavalier,¹⁵ with scarlet waist-jacket and white overalls, a la Turc ou Perse¹⁶; very wide; a round hat with feathers. She had a very fine form, and made an elegant appearance.

1  Burr almost always uses the grave accent for the acute, when it occurs to him to use any accent at all. 2  So in the MS. 3  For Mössa. Swedish for bonnet, hood. 4  In fashion. 5  Guide. 6  For Latin et alii. And others. 7  Hall, room. 8  For née, &c. Polish born. 9  The husband. 10  For toute pleine, etc. Very talented. 11  Plays the harp in a superior manner. Dances (as they say) like an angel. Animated, sprightly (vive, enjouée); 18; pretty figure. 12  Physician of the King. 13  For chez elles. To their home. 14  Probably for tout à fait nues. Wholly nude. 15  Trooper fashion, astride. 16  After the Turkish or Persian fashion (à la turque, etc.).

Isabelle, Thomas’s girlfriend for ghosts character ask please

Isabelle! She's great and deserved so much better than *gags* Francis.

Headcanon A: realistic

As a child she liked to explore the attic of Higham House, and one day she found a diary written by someone named Sophie Bone. She eventually became fluent enough in French to be able to read it, and through it she felt like she got to know Sophie and came to see her as a friend. When she got older and her father started pushing her to get married, and it became clearer how little agency she would have in her own life, Sophie’s words were a comfort to her. She kept the diary her whole life and would often reread it in times of distress.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

As well as playing the piano she was a really talented painter. In the years after her marriage she painted a lot of pictures of Thomas to honour his memory and hung them up all over her and Francis’s family home, meaning that every day Francis had to walk past all these portraits of the cousin he’d had murdered. He became increasingly paranoid, convinced that they were looking directly at him and that Thomas was haunting him from the afterlife, but couldn’t say anything to anyone about it. She didn’t know it, but Isabelle was actually inadvertently torturing Francis for years.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

She never wanted to marry Francis. He seemed nice at first, but she didn’t love him. Her father had been pushing her to get married for years, and the kindness Francis showed the Highams following Thomas’s death basically made it impossible for her to refuse. After they were married he stopped pretending to be nice altogether and turned out to be a terrible husband. He neglected her and allowed her very little freedom. She spent most of her married life wishing she could just run away and be free of him completely.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own

In her later years she found out the truth about what Francis did to Thomas and murdered him by poisoning his dinner. She then told what was left of Thomas’s family how he had really died and what she’d done, and she and Thomas’s two younger sisters worked together to dispose of the body. (Imagine the plot of no body, no crime by Taylor Swift but with badass old ladies in the late 19th century.) She lived another 10 years after her husband’s ‘unfortunate demise’ and finally managed to have the kind of life she’d always wanted (kind of like Mary Bonnet in OFMD ep10.)

Thanks for the ask :)