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justtellher · 6 months

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give me peace (in a lifetime of war)

Pops up onto your feed and tosses out a Good Omens fic that just wouldn't leave me alone about the aftermath of that S2 ending. Will be looking to update weekly as much as possible, and I promise you this has a happy ending. You can read below or over here on Ao3. And please come cry, squeal, and flail with me until Season 3 comes out.

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Prologue: what never belonged to angels (never belonged to men)

It starts again as it will end, with a garden. Not the Garden this time–just a perfectly ordinary garden, only really worthy of mention because of its location or the events about to take place within it. Fate, it seemed, had a rather fond attachment to locating major and pivotal plotlines within architected greenspace. They felt it added a certain gravitas to their events.

Tonight, a man stands nervously at the edge of one such space, tan fingers twisting the edge of a dusty robe between them, and draws a shaky breath.

He could do this. He could do this to keep him safe. It was the right thing to do was it not?

Movement across the garden catches his eye, and he traces the fine features of his friend as he comes into view near the pergola, a circle of followers surrounding him filled with easy smiles and gentle laughter as they meet.

Yet one of them will betray him, one of them will send him to his end for the good of them all, and he cannot stand by and let that happen.

Not when it will mean never seeing him again, not when his friend so desperately wants to live and yet resigns himself to this fate. A martyr of his own happiness for the saving of everyone.

He forces his steps through the garden path, skidding slightly on the loose pebbles and soft dirt. Identify him, they said, simply a signal of acknowledgement and they could whisk him away to safety. No more heavenly obligations or marks of death.

The world may damn him for it, but he’s willing to burn if it means making him smile again. For seeing him light and carefree and alive instead of a stone pious effigy.

He meets familiar sandals on the path before him and pauses, looking up into the warmth of his friend’s gaze. Around him the others chatter and laugh, unaware of the slippage of time that allowed him to so quickly arrive here at this moment, this pivot that will redefine everything.

Soft lips smile at him as they have always done. Before he can lose his nerve he leans close and turns his head in a greeting they only ever acted out privately before, a benediction he now makes public, and presses his lips to a high boned cheek.

“Peace be with you,” he murmurs, and feels a small intake of breath from the man next to him. He wishes he knew how to interpret the sound. He pulls back to meet the dark brown eyes he’s lost himself to time and time again, but finds he can’t determine what to make of the swirl of emotions he sees in them.

Has he saved them or condemned them?

Tomorrow, he will know this moment for its loss. For they will call him traitor and years from now will write him into a villain’s story for 30 pieces of silver that he will find in his lodgings. A bargain he never agreed to make, yet cannot disprove, leading to a hangman’s noose he will knot himself gladly. His name an epitaph for betrayal forever more.

Today, he will know it as love and a prayer that he can change the fate of a god.

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Chapter 1: though i know my heart would break (put me back in it)

At first, he plans to drive off and sleep for a good century or two: ignore the world until he finds a way of dealing with the ache that’s growing between his ribs, the tightness filling his chest that’s making him feel like any second he’ll discorporate from the sheer agony of it all.

Until he figures out how to exist without him.

Foolish really, a small voice chides him, and not likely since you haven’t figured it out in the last 6000 years or more. Crowley misses the turn to his flat, but the Bentley makes no move to course correct, and instead he keeps on driving. There’s no point to being in London anyway, really. Not if Aziraphale isn’t there.

The road unfolds before him and the Bentley guides them out of London, across the M25, and north. At some point the radio switches back on and soft classical violin swells through the car; he doesn’t have the heart to turn it off. Afterall, she seems to miss him too.

His face feels wet and his eyes are puffy, and he rubs furiously at both as the late afternoon sky gives way to dim evening light and a familiar town begins to take shape around him.

“No, no, NO. Absolutely not,” he mutters firmly, pulling the steering wheel so that the car is forced to a stop next along the Holyrood park roadside. “Bloody sentimental machine.”

He swings himself out of the Bentley with a sigh and looks around aimlessly, the crisp Edinburgh air filling his senses and reminding him with sharp pang of the top hats, graveyards, and the too- much-laudanum spins of the last time he was in this area of the world.

Grumbling, he throws himself into walking briskly up the hill for want of any other option–willing the mild ache in his thighs as he climbs to distract him, burn soft lips and words of forgiveness from his memory.

He reaches the summit just as the first stars are beginning to show across the darkening sky and drops his body heavily onto some of the flat stones that comprise Arthur’s Seat. An irony he muses, since Arthur very much never made it here–too busy sowing good deeds in the damp wilds of Wessex to bother much with the Scots.

Is that you under there Crawly?

Nothing lasts forever.

His eyes burn again, and he blinks toward the heavens, trying to lose himself amongst the stars that pepper the black blue sky. Stupid angel, how could he not see the pointlessness of the Metatron’s offer, the futile effort of trying to change heaven? His throat burns and he swallows against the lump rising in it. Is this how it’s going to be from now on? He doesn’t know how much of this he can take honestly.

“Aaah,” a shrill shout cuts through the night somewhere over his left shoulder, and Crowley whips around, momentarily considering that perhaps Aziraphale might have been right about the spookiness of places, when he makes out the distinct shape of a woman sliding in the slightly muddy hillside near the summit.

“Blast it, why is this stuff so slippery?” The petite figure pushes herself back upright with a small huff and wipes her hands against the khaki of her trench coat before her eyes fix on Crowley’s with a start,

“Oh hello, sorry, I didn’t realize anyone else would be up here at this time.” She hefts a small rucksack against her back with a shrug, and he notices the tripod telescope jutting from the top zipper. “I’m something of an amateur astronomer, you see. It’s supposed to be a great night for viewing Orion.”

Did you go to Alpha Centauri?

Nah…I lost my best friend.

Nope, none of that. On impulse, he waves a hand behind him and steps aside to reveal his own telescope, miracled (and thankfully undamaged by Shax) from his flat with only a small wobble at the intrusion. Well what else did he have to do now? And for Someone’s sake he needed the distraction.

“Wouldn’t you know? Same could be said of me.” He offers what he hopes is a friendly smile. The woman’s eyes search his face, lingering on his dark glasses, before she gives a returning grin.

“Oh wonderful, it would be so nice to have a partner.”

He nearly lets out an unexpected sob at the wording and tamps it back down, easing himself back onto the rocks with a strangled sigh as the woman sets up her things and settles down next to him. He busies himself with focusing the scope on finding the nebula he knows is hiding in Orion’s sword.

They sit side by side silently for a while, gentle clicks of telescopes adjusting and focusing, and Crowley loses himself slightly in the method of it. He hasn’t looked at the stars in ages–didn’t realize how much he’d missed it.

“They really are spectacular, you know?” Her soft voice pulls him back from his eyepiece to find the woman leaning back on her hands, head tilted up to take in the vibrant Milky Way band that has appeared.

“Yeah,” he agrees, mirroring her pose. Curiosity seeps into him and he can’t control the impulse to ask, “Do you have a favorite?”

She pauses, lips twisting to the side in thought before smiling, “The Carina Nebula.”

It’s easy to grin back at her, pride temporarily easing the ache beneath his chest, “Ah an excellent one if I do say so myself.” He tilts his head back toward the sky, eyes seeking out the rough patch of stars where he feels it live, a trait of his that never quite burned away. “Bit hard to find that one though without something like the Hubble looking.”

Her laugh sounds like a bell in the empty hillside, “I know! You’d think whoever made this place might have had better sense to put it a bit more in the middle of the show. It’s infuriating! You can’t even see most of the universe from here.”

“Yes! Exactly what I’ve been saying!” He stares at her in amazement, feels his face hurt slightly from the force of his smile.

She gives him an impish grin that scrunches her nose before her eyes shift downward with a melancholic sigh.

“You know, until recently I barely looked at the stars,” she pulls her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on the delicate hands placed upon her kneecaps. “I only thought of them as background decoration really.” A sigh. “I’ve been doing that everywhere in my life it seems, not looking, not listening. Too wrapped up in my own plans and successes to actually stop and pay attention to how any of it was going.”

“Ah,” he struggles to find words to assist this shift in tone. Neither of them had ever been great at human emotion, but Aziraphale had definitely been better at comfort. “I’m sorry,” he stutters, half a statement, half a question.

She waves a hand at him with a kind dismissive gesture. “Oh no, it’s okay. I’m trying to own it.” She raises her eyes again to lights twinkling above them, “Took a setback you might say to make me stop and look around, but I am…trying now. For whatever good it might do.”

“Well I’m certainly no expert on trying,” he gives a sardonic chuckle, “seems like all I do is try and fail.” He raises his hand to count off his fingers, “Tried to change things with a few questions, got fired. Spent a few years going my own way trying to do good where I can, ended up homeless and almost killed. Tried to tell my partner how I feel, and instead here I am alone on a Scottish hillside.”

A hand reaches out to pat his shoulder before pulling back, “Better to have tried and failed than to ignore it all, or so I’m learning. It’s so much easier to see the path you’ve built when you at least look up every so often and take an active part with those shaping it,” she gives a heavy sigh, “before you wake up and don’t even know how you got to where you are.”

She trails off, turning her face back up to the sky and for a few minutes they sit in a morose silence. Crowley traces the curve of the Big Dipper, recites the older names for the constellation that have been lost to time in his mind, and tries to imagine ever feeling satisfied with having tried. Wishes instead maybe he’d just ignored everything from the beginning.

Sure as hell would hurt less than this.

“Your partner, you think he’ll come around?” her voice quietly snaps him back to Earth. The dim starlight catches with a shimmer on her short blonde hair, and his unhelpful mind supplies a barrage of comparisons to the softer, paler curls he’s actively trying not to think about missing.

“I…” he hangs his head, clears his throat thickly. He wants to say it’s over, that the angel made his choice, and there is no coming back. That there is no us. After all, it’s never felt so final before. But hope flickers silently in his chest, a timid sensation that he can never quite get to die when it comes to Aziraphale, 6000 years of stubborn push and pull between them that has always somehow circled around to being just enough outside of either side to be their own.

He sighs, and looks back up to find warm, brown eyes fixed on him, “...I dunno, actually”

She shoots him a half smile, “You have faith still then”

“Ha,” he chuckles wryly, and she’s right he does; an existence full of doubts and yet he never could quite shake the habit of belief from his veins, “what d'ya know, I guess I do.”

A sad look flickers across her features even as she smiles fully, gone in a moment as she glances down at her watch and gives a small gasp,

“Oh my, I seem to have lost track of myself and am now terribly late it would seem. Funny thing, time.” She mutters the last part to herself mostly as she gathers her things together and makes to stand.

He nods along politely, feeling slightly bereft at the prospect of being alone with his own thoughts once again. She was warm in a motherly way he didn’t know he missed. Which strikes him as a silly thought really seeing as how demons didn’t have mothers. Well technically, they didn’t have mothers who acknowledged them.

All the same though wasn’t it?

Shaking himself mentally, Crowley makes to stand alongside her smaller frame, handing over her telescope as he goes. She sends him a small smile of thanks before continuing, “It really was lovely to run into you here…er…”

“Ah, Anthony,” he fills in for her, “Anthony Crowley.”

There it is again, the flash of sadness in her features that he can’t place. Maybe she’d lost someone with his name. Humans were always losing someone and rediscovering their grief in strange places he’d noticed.

“Anthony,” she repeats his name with a warm roll of vowels that erases the lines of sorrow from her features, “that’s a lovely name.”

“Thanks…um…”

“Edith,” she supplies with a grin and an extension of her hand, “you can call me Edith.”

He returns her smile with a crooked one of his own, “Well, thank you Edith.”

Grasping her warm hand in his, he can’t resist the impish urge to give an exaggerated shake and earns himself a laugh from his compatriot before she pulls her hand from his. Still grinning, she hoists the rucksack back onto her shoulder and begins to head back down the small slope, before turning back around with a small clang of jostled instruments,

“Oh, and Anthony?” He whips his gaze up from the ground he’d worrying with the heel of his boot,

“Hmm?” He opts for nonchalance, instead of the desperate eagerness he feels at being granted even a minute more reprieve from being left alone with the mess of thoughts he feels bubbling just beneath the surface of his consciousness.

She holds his gaze firmly, “I hope they prove worthy of it. Your faith.”

The lump returns to his throat and his eyes burn behind the dark frames of his glasses; he nods slowly, and she gives him one last small smile before returning to her steady descent and moving out of sight.

He stands unmoving in the resulting silence, before realizing he’s actually dropped quietly to the ground as he takes note of the grassy rock that’s suddenly beneath his fingertips. His vision blurs beyond discerning, and he feels the first few traitorous tears roll down his cheeks as he loses the battle against the hollow knot in his chest.

“Me too,” he whispers, a soft prayer into the night air.

And then for the first time that day he gives in and allows himself to truly cry.

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rotisseries · 1 year

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I'm actually so irritated that the eddie stans are also pissed about this. I would kill and murder for a book about mike or will YOU UNGRATEFUL ASSHOLES

#YOU WOULDN'T SHUT UP ABOUT HIM NOW YOU GET MORE CONTENT AND NOW YOU DON'T WANT IT???#we'll probably get something for byler after s5 I know but also I'm gonna drown myself #but like. I know I'M pissed but why are YOU pissed??#“they're gonna make him straight 😭” girl joseph quinn walked his ass onto the stage at every con in full support of h*llcheer idk #also like. you got fanfic. you've spent the last 9 months pretending he isn't dead idk why you can't just do that with his sexuality #just enjoy your slice of life novel idk what to tell you the plot doesn't sound that different from the fics you're writing anyway #stranger things #byler #<- target audience! if we're being haters we'll be haters together

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bunny-is-cute · 1 month

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Now I have the idea for Husk x Angel Dust dressed up as SPY x Family with their adopted child Freya ((OC child from “Deal with the Devil”))

Angel Dust as Loid Forger

Husk as Yor Forger

Freya as Anya Forger

#hazbin hotel #fanfiction #fanfic #hazbits #hazbin hotel husk #husk #angel dust #hazbin hotel angel dust #OC Freya #need help #I need sleep #need fan art #I’m gonna drown in debt #husk x angel dust #angel dust x husk #spy x family

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abrthephantomq · 7 months

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Writing in Progress

Apparently my draft either didn't save or I did it wrong.... but.

Started my first attempt at writing fanfic. Or well, second, but the first one was handwritten and I'm lazy and not typing it up.

The beginning of it is underneath the cut. ~400 words, TW for child abuse. I have noooo idea how long this piece'll actually be.

The brainrot is fucking real - Cas

Nick is in trouble, again.

Lord Davis towers over him, fire in his eyes. "What is this I've heard of you breaking into Isaac's library?" He brandishes a thick, dusty tome. "This was found among your things."

I don't need to read the words on the spine to know that the book is about Merlins. About mesmers.

Nick's reckless mother no longer remembers him. She had kidnapped him; had endangered him, and for her trouble, every memory of her only son had been wiped from her mind.

The "Scion of Arthur" doesn't agree with the punishment his mother received for her crimes. Honestly, I feel that she got off easy. She tried to kidnap him. Steal him away from everything, stop his training, treat him like a normal boy.

Nothing about the Legendborn is normal. The training is necessary. The Shadowborn won't go easy on him, and he needs to be prepared for the possibility of Camlann. As the Scion of Arthur, that is his duty.

It is mine to protect him.

When Lord Davis raises his hand and brings it down upon Nick's cheek, I turn my head. Stare at the wall and keep my spine utterly straight, my feet planted where I stand. Stepping in would only make Nick's punishment worse -- Lord Davis would claim I was interfering in the much needed correction, and then turn his ire on me, instead.

At least with his own child, he stops at one, sound hit.

My stomach twists. My Oath itches along my skin, the anger and pain a momentary blight on my vision until Nick gets his emotions under control.

What kind of Merlin won't protect their charge from his own father?

What kind of Kingsmage?

The guilt rises into my throat, but I tamp down on it. Stomp it out as I look over at Nick once more. Take in the way his fists are curled at his sides, the redness forming on his pale cheek --

The tears beading on his lashes, threatening to spill over.

Beautiful.

It's not the first time I've thought that. I'm sure it won't be the last as Nick slides through puberty with the same grace he does everything else. The girls at school have noticed; he may only be thirteen, but he is nearly as tall as his father, now. Taller than I am.

He doesn't even have the decency to be done growing. I swear I can hear his bones still lengthening.

#selwyn kane #nick davis #legendborn #fanfic #in progress #sel is my favorite #so of course I'm trying to write in his POV #and I'm probably drowning but oh well #this much was hard but I'm gonna keep going...

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you-will-return · 5 months

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#i just noticed that i've been suuuper inactive on this blog #for which i'm sorry #but also uni has been hell #one of my professors has decided that we should do two courses worth of reading for her seminar every week #and i've been stuck in group project planning hell for like three weeks now #i also might have put a bit too much pressure on myself when it comes to project so besides correcting the new Hot Mess chpt #i've also been working on three other projects and still need to do work for my uni classes #i really wanted to put out the new chapter this week but that has.... left the realm of possibility #i want to write so so badly but i have to finish like 30 stickers/ finish 2 other chapters/ knit 2 scarves/ hand in 3 more projects #all before christmas #i read a post yesterday that was like name one thing that you're gonna do for yourself this week #and i came up blank #eveything i'm currently doing is either for class or for other people so they're happy #don't get me wrong i enjoy writing/ drawing/ knitting but...#i don't know #Hot Mess used to be my self-indulgent project but now #the seasonal mentol illness hasn't been helping either #all my friends are miserable and all i do is either drown myself in work or be miserable too #my last short story made my bff tell me to go talk to my therapist about it #so that's how my non-fanfic efforts have been going #there's another story i need to write a date chapter for but I haven't been able to write actual romance for about a year now #idk what's wrong #maybe nothing is wrong and this is just what i'm like when i'm off my meds and i simply forgot #i've been forgetting a lot of things

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captainsweet · 7 months

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I actually finished writing something for once!!! You can read it right there teehee

#AHHHH I'm out.#Peace #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #ao3 #tmnt fanfiction #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #fanfic #my writing #Omg me drawing AND writing in just BARELY the same day?? I goddamn miracle that's for sure #Okay I'm gonna go drown in my water bottle now.#Sigh.. I feel both accomplished snd utterly drained

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illiana-mystery · 2 years

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I really loved your “Blind Date” story! I’ve re-read it a few times lol… Will we have more stories involving Sunny and Vincenzo? 🥺

Aww, thank you! I'm glad you really loved it! 😊💙

That being said, I have to apologize...

My brain is so weird when it comes to my writing. Like it's not even really writer's block, like sometimes it's just I have a brand new idea which makes me forget all about my other WiPs. 🙃

Now, I have been writing the next chapter of The Blind Date, it's just I also started writing like seven thousand other stories on top of that one, so it got pushed to the side a bit.

And I'm also wrestling where I want the plot to go. I know the basic premise of the story, but I'm struggling on how to set everything up.

I hope I can get passed that real soon because I would love to have the next chapter out before mid-September. (I'm having the same issue with Rose-Colored Glasses, and I apologize to those who have also been waiting for that story to continue).

But since I've been making y'all wait, here's a snippet from the next chapter:

The next morning, you woke up alone in your bed, draped in a sheer white robe. You were confused by your attire, but also panicked by his absence. You looked around to see if you could find Vincenzo, but there was no trace of him around.

Did he just leave you as soon as you fell asleep?

You were about to get upset before you heard Mittens loudly meowing. Quickly, you get up to see what was troubling her, before you heard footsteps shuffling from the kitchen.

"Oh, I'm right here, Mittens," you heard Vincenzo softly say. "I only stepped out for a little while. Would you like to help me cook for mommy?"

She purred.

"Hmm, what should I make her? Maybe some crepes? Blueberry or Strawberry? Maybe both."

That's exactly what you were craving. Weird.

You peered out of your bedroom door to find Vincenzo leaning over your stove, clothed only in a pair of crisp, Egyptian cotton lounge pants that had golden embroidery on the side of his visible pant leg.

Then you observed how the light in the kitchen beamed over his olive skin as he gathered all the ingredients needed to make your breakfast.

He gently yawned after everything was collected and looked down at Mittens before he placed her on his shoulder.

"It's a little drabby in here," he observed. "We should probably open the curtains and blinds, right?"

Mittens purred against his forehead before he opened all of the blinds and curtains in your kitchen and front room. And once they were opened, the sunlight seemed to beam even harder against his skin, causing a bit of a reflection that made him glow.

"That's better," he hummed before going back to the kitchen. "Needed a little more energy."

You were a little confused by what happened, but just shook it off and went back to bed. You figured he would bring breakfast to you, so you just got comfortable again under your warm sheets.

Not too long later, you heard his footsteps coming towards your door. You happily anticipated his return and quickly sat up before he came back in.

You smiled as you saw both the plate with your crepe in his hand and Mittens hanging off of his shoulder. His face became redder and he smiled wide at you as he placed the plate on your lap.

Looking down, you saw that he decorated the outside of the crepe with a sun that looked like your necklace made of honey. But that wasn't the only thing that you saw that reminded you of your necklace.

No, you also saw a faint tattoo above Vincenzo's left man breast that looked like your sun necklace. And it confused you since you didn't see it last night.

"Is something wrong?" he gently asked.

"No, I was just admiring your tattoo," you started before you reached out to caress his skin underneath the marking. "It looks like my necklace. Did you get my necklace custom made?"

"Yes, I did," he chirped. "I did say I paid a pretty penny for it."

"Yes, I remember," you answered back with a faint smile. "Did you hide it last night?"

"I'm afraid so," he moaned, smiling at your with his eyes. "I feel comfortable around you so now I'm willing to show it."

"It looks really nice on you," you complimented him.

"Thank you, my love," he hummed before he gently kissed your cheek. He had to bend down to do so, so Mittens jumped off his shoulder and into your bed, cuddling up next to your leg.

Hope you enjoyed that! Thank you so much for your support and kind words and patience with me. I promise the rest of this chapter and the subsequent chapters will be worth the wait. 😉

#i'm probably just gonna start posting wips more often #because i feel like i'm always falling into this trap #but i do appreciate yall #a lot #and i'm so glad you're patient with me #thanks for the ask #the italian/reader #the italian #drowning in the shallow end #fanfiction #fanfic #wip #work in progress #current wip #asks #alfred molina

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same-crazy-art-girl34 · 9 months

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so i've been on twitter mostly to read smaus and there's one specific smau that got me good but a few days ago the author announced that they will be discontinuing it (for whatever reason idk but i understand, i respect their decision)

but like

what the hell am I supposed to do with my life now?

#i've been drowning myself in ao3 but i can't stop thinking about ittt #that cliffhanger??#ended me #gonna throw myself off a cliff #smau #smau series #fanfics #ao3 #it was about warrior nun btw #warrior nun

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stanfordscrush · 2 years

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Okay but what if season 2:

Episode 1-5, stede and the crew fighting their way back through storm and fuckeries to chase the revenge while stede gets his "im in love" and "for once in my life i have a purpose" arc. Blackbeard can have the "im moving on" and "this is fine, im coping just fine" arc where he basically try to make peace of stede leaving him and i am more than my heart thing.

AND THEN AT THE END OF EP5

Blackbeard gets the info of stede's (fake) death and believes it because its stede

Now, he just realized that his heart was always there. Always yearning for stede, always hoping one day stede will comeback and it'll be alright.

But he cant

....

Cuz stede is dead

....

Queue the next 5 episode for a deep exploration of grief and ed's different personality show as a response to the situation (ft. The auxiliary wardrobe because i love that room)

Ed, the heart, in denial of the loss of his hope, his love, his joy-bringer (he cries, he cocoons himself in stede's clothes, pretending that stede is just away for a bit. He'll comeback, right? Edward just need to comfort and entertain himself for a bit before stede opens the auxiliary wardrobe and say "there you are! I've been looking for you")

The kraken, lashing out at anything because how dare stede left him, permanently this time, without facing the wrath and revenge of the kraken (he rips stede's clothes and fabrics from the auxiliary wardrobe because stede is not there so his items will substitute and bear the anger)

Blackbeard, the strategist, bargains an impossible deal with the universe to feel the warmth that stede brought once again. Just a glimpse, anything at all. (He prayed to the stars, to the sea, to anyone listening. To bring stede back, he'll do anything. Finding a sea witch and getting a bad solution resolves him to the next step)

depression, blackbeard even hollower than before he met stede, than after stede left him on the dock. ed feels numb, loosing purpose once again. the kraken’s subdue, with no target and no justice to serve. (the auxiliary wardrobe is either empty that its taboo to enter or edward never left the room and just bask in the sorrow)

Acceptance, from every facet of him, that stede is gone. The time with stede was great and will be cherished, but he is dead. Forever. (The memory of stede will be carried as long as edward lives because he now lives for two person. Its time to move on. Its time to face the reality of loss and growth that comes with it. A piece of torn fabric from the auxiliary wardrobe now fills the space in Edward's pocket where the red silk used to be, as a memento and as a piece of stede that he will always carry till he meets his end)

Last shot of s2ep10, ed sees with his own eyes that stede is back and, most importantly,

Not. Dead.

#edward teach #our flag means death #blackbeard #blackbeard x stede #blackbonnet #ofmd stede #stede bonnet #ofmd #ofmd fanfic #maybe ill write a 2nd part for stede's ep5-10 cuz i think he'll need to face the damage he caused to the world around him #omg think of him finally doing damage control to the crew #and a half drowned lucius with water ptsd #and recon with izzy and finally looking from loyal first mate pov and seeing eye to eye (pun intended)#im gonna stop before i accidentally write a 2nd part rm in the tags #my writing #season 2 predictions #meta #omfd meta #can this count as a meta? i have no clue

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