What am I to you?

This is a roleplay blog! +18 only. 34, they/them

[theizzybasilicahands]

Rules

I am a role player with fifteen years writing experience, but new to Tumblr roleplay. I also RP on Discord! If you prefer that, message me and I will give you my handle.

Usually, I prefer multi-para literate style, with a minimum of two sentences during fast paced back and forth. I don’t expect you to match length.

I’m happy to RP NSFW, dark themes and toxic ships. That’s my jam!

Trigger warnings will be tagged as follows: #trigger tw

Common triggers for this blog will include: alcohol and drug use, injury detail and gore, violence, sexually explicit content, swearing.

OOC will be tagged as follows: #ooc

Please notify me if you drop a thread, I will extend the same courtesy

This blog is multi-muse. Main role is Izzy Hands, but I like to play Stede Bonnet as well. May add more as I get used to things.

I am happy to write ships, as long as we discuss what that means for the characters beforehand. Message me. :) I will add a post about my fave ships and dynamics. Multi-ship and poly-ship is good with me.

I work part time and have a lot of free time to write! I also have ADHD so I might not get around to writing replies right away. Please be patient with me. I don’t expect fast replies but I might check in via message if It's been a week or more.

Happy to work on plotting with you over message. Let me know!

[theizzybasilicahands]

It had been difficult to keep from checking his messages every five seconds, waiting for a reply to his message. They had matched the previous day and Stede had waited until the evening to send his message. So far, no response. It was agony.

Is this how dating was now? Waiting and hoping and worrying? Did he come off too strong? What if his match had swiped right by accident when really he had meant to swipe left?

He pulled out his phone again and read through his own message to check for egregious typos that changed its meaning.

Stede Bonnet (21:07):

Hello! I hope this isn't too forward of me, but I noticed we matched earlier today and we are both in Wellington. Gosh, it's been a while since I've done anything like this. Are you amenable to perhaps meeting up for a coffee some time?

Stede

It was too much. He threw his phone down on the sofa and ran his fingers through his hair. Maybe he should have gotten Mary to read it through first. She was always better at online stuff. Apps and the like. Even at work he left all of the social media stuff to the younger members of the team. He had little patience for it all.

He let out a slow breath and glanced at his phone again. Traitorous thing. He needed to get up. Move around and distract himself. Go to the gym maybe. Instead he picked up his phone and googled tips on how to improve the likelihood of getting a date through a dating app. Maybe he could put up a shirtless picture. People still did that, didn't they?

[theizzybasilicahands]

Agreeing to train Stede Bonnet in the art of sword fighting hadn't been his best decision. But it also hasn't been his worst, either. He was an annoyingly attentive student. Eager and curious and willing to put in the work, even if just to prove Izzy wrong. He was also a sore loser, which was pretty amusing considering he had lost every sparring match they had attempted so far.

His grasp of the basics was reasonable. His fighting talk was terrible. He always turned up for training in a clean outfit and was upset when it got marked.

It seemed all Izzy could think about at the moment was Stede fucking Bonnet. How his perfect hair bounced with his movements. How his red cheeks and panting breath was endearing and uncomfortably erotic at the same time. How his strong hands felt when he pushed Izzy away after a failed feint.

It was driving him crazy.

"Get your fucking foot back," Izzy barked, snapping the side of his sabre against Stede's thigh. "How many times am I gonna have to fucking say that?"

[theizzybasilicahands]

It was always around this time in the afternoon when his leg started aching. Not just where the prosthetic pinched or the scarring chaffed, but lower than that. Where his shin used to be. His limping gait became more pronounced and he became more and more irascible.

He leaned against a barrel and rubbed at his thigh around the straps to try and ease the feeling. That did fuck all but get his finger a sharp pinch. He stomped his hoof abruptly on the deck and startled Frenchie awake from his nap.

"At least dodge work somewhere fucking secret," he seethed, looking around for something to throw and coming up empty. Frenchie wisely decided that was his cue to escape before any projectiles were found.

Dragging himself up onto the barrel, he worked the straps of his leg open carefully and drew the prosthesis off to lean it carefully within reach. Wee John had shortened his trousers leg for him and the end was tucked neatly around his stump as a bit of extra cushion. Izzy rolled it up now to expose the area to some air and rub gingerly at the sore parts in the hope that it would ease the phantom pain.

[elyrianinspo]

"sometimes your brain will lie to you and tell you bad stuff, but it's not true. it's never as bad as it seems."

[theizzybasilicahands]

His foot throbbed. Wuwub-wuwub-wuwub. He leaned heavily on his cane and tried to focus on something else. Anything else. The memory of crunching through gristle and bone and nail haunted him. Constantly at the forefront of his mind as he went through the motions of his day-to-day.

Marooning the Revenge's crew had felt like a victory at the time. Waving cheerily to them as the tender made its slow trip back to the ship. Back to Ed. Back to this fucking nightmare.

Izzy had wanted this. More than anything. And now he had to lie in the bed he had made. The bed where his oldest friend cut off his toe in the night and fed it to him. Nausea swelled up in his gut and he sucked in a sharp breath to keep his breakfast.

The words had startled him from his introspection and he glanced up at Frenchie with a scowl and tapped his cane abruptly against the deck.

"What are you going on about?" he snapped, tightening his grip on the handle of the cane so that his glove creaked.

[fxckin-blackbeard]

ᒥ🐙ᒧ—        Shnk! Shnk! Shnk! The dagger stabs into the wall, each time he pulls it back out he takes out more splinters. There he stands, one arm propped up against the wall leaning over the spot he repeatedly stabbed, the fearsome Blackbeard. The room is shrouded in darkness, and with the hangover he was battling it was better that way. Brown eyes look glazed over, his gaze focused on the wall where he stuck the dagger in. There was so much on his mind, it was overwhelming, but all he could do was just stare off as he actively destroyed the wall to ease his energy. It wasn't boredom, it wasn't nervousness, no it was him for the hundredth time held up in his quarters by the need to be alone.

You deserve this, the misery...Monster...Edward winces as the thought crosses his mind, and with a feral snarl he puts all his strength into stabbing the dagger into the wall one last time. "Fuck off!" He shouts at the thoughts and shoves away from the wall. The infamous Blackbeard is quick to crumble, approaching the desk to grab a bottle of rum. Each he lifts is empty, dry of any liquid, and he snarls again. "C'mon, c'mon..." His hands are beginning to shake, as is his whole frame. "C'mon!" He grabs another empty bottle and throws it, and it shatters against the door.

Finally, a bottle with a spits worth of alcohol is found and he wastes no time drinking every last drop he can.

[theizzybasilicahands]

It was becoming an increasingly bad idea to knock on the door to the Captain's cabin. The throbbing ache in his foot seemed to get more intense the closer he got, but Izzy pushed through the discomfort. He had asked for this. He wanted this. Blackbeard was back and he should be gleeful with relief. No more silk. No more marmalade. No more Bonnet.

He didn't knock. Just let himself in. Quirking an eyebrow at the yelled "Fuck off," that echoed in the cabin. Blackbeard wasn't looking at him, barely registered his presence. He watches the tall, dark figure of his Captain ferret desperately around for a drip of rum and rolls his head on his shoulders. Finally, he lets out a long suffering sigh and clears his throat.

"Can find you a full bottle, Boss."

[tatteredxsails]

[Open Starter: Stede] - Haven't RPed with me before? Read my Carrd.

Stede looked up at the sails, watching them hanging slack and swaying with the movement of the ocean herself instead of the winds. The crew had done... something... he didn't quite understand, tacking the sails in the hope of a breeze when none was coming.

They were "becalmed". Stede understood what that meant, of course. He'd read about it. But like many things he had read about living at sea and pirating, the words on the page had failed to capture the reality of it.

There was something unnerving about the stillness. Yes, the ship was shifting under foot. The water would move her regardless of the whims of the wind, but it was... different. More subtle. The lapping of the waves against the hull was a hollow sound. He could hear the crew talking to each other without having to strain for it. Belatedly, he realized that he hadn't really strained to hear in awhile. He must have adjusted to the noise of the ship. That adjustment was part of what made the silence creep beneath his skin.

He walked to the side of the ship and set his hand on the gunnel, looking out to sea rather than directly at the person he addressed.

"So...How long does this kind of thing usually last, exactly?"

[theizzybasilicahands]

Izzy had weathered becalmings before. Long ones. The kind where the crew end up eating the leather from their shoes and eventually someone suggests drawing lots. The kind where fresh water is rationed by the spoonful and anyone taking more than their share is sent overboard. The idea of being becalmed is nothing new to him. Being stuck on an aimlessly drifting ship with Stede-fucking-Bonnet, on the other hand. He's never been a godly man, but he considers making the awkward move to his knees to pray for a stiff breeze.

When the man asks how long they will be stuck here, he just laughs and shakes his head. He takes a swig from the dark brown bottle clutched in his hand, then jams the cork back in and sets it down nearby. Never too early to start preserving their valuable liquids.

"Lasts as long as it lasts, Captain," he says somberly, following Stede's gaze out to the horizon. "Why don't you ask your boyfriend to scry the fucking clouds?"

[theizzybasilicahands]

Favourite Ships

Izzy/Ed

Izzy/Jack

Izzy/Stede

Izzy/Lucius

Izzy/Frenchie

Izzy/Hornigold

Izzy/Ed/Stede

Izzy/Ed/Jack

Stede/Izzy

Stede/Ed

Hit me with your OCs, bby.

[theizzybasilicahands]

Muses

Full Name: Israel Hands

Age: 57 (in 1717 verse)

Pronouns: He/Him

Orientation: Gay

Birthplace: Liverpool, UK.

Residence: The Caribbean - Nomadic

Languages Spoken: English

Height: 168cm

Weight: 60kg

Hair Colour: Dark Brown and Grey

Eye Colour: Brown

Face Claim: Con O’Neill

Voice Claim: Con O’Neill

_____

Full Name: Stede Bonnet

Age: 48

Gender/Pronouns: He/Him

Orientation: Gay

Birthplace: Barbados

Residence: The Caribbean - Nomadic

Languages Spoken: English, French (poorly), Latin (academically).

Height: 177

Weight: 67kg

Hair Colour: Blonde

Eye Colour: Hazel

Face Claim: Rhys Darby

Voice Claim: Rhys Darby