Blackbeard Genderfuck

24 || queer || butch || 🔞 omfd era in ‘26 - fashion - london

[thekrakxn]

craving a fic involving a hyper masc attitude, violent Ed (possibly fighting an enemy captain, whatever) in crossdress and a slightly scared, very hotted up Stede

[thekrakxn]

11.30 am

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Ed shuffles through his post. Dropping the unwanted envelopes down his cluttered kitchen table. Letters from HMRC, from Thames Water asking for money, old junk from a furniture shop boating about a sale. He tucks menu for Chinese into a drawer for later - it has little vouchers inside for free spring rolls.

From behind it, a carefully folded piece of cream coloured paper falls delicately to the floor. He stoops to collect it, robe falling open. The paper is stiff and heavy, posh stuff that he imagined the Queen would use to invite people to Buckingham palace. He glanced across the swooping handwriting, finely completed in a fountain pen.

Hello Neighbour,

I live across the road. Second floor window. It seems we keep similar hours! Would you like to pop around for tea sometime?

[thekrakxn]

12.30pm

Izzy tuts audibly as Ed announces he’ll be on the door again tonight. Punters are filing in. The noise ricochets off the office walls from below.

What’s with this obsession with the fucking door lately? You waiting for some pillock to come strolling in? Well it’s been 3 weeks. They aren’t comin’.

His eyes strain as he turns to glare up at Ed, who won’t meet the look. Izzy is told to mind his fucking business. To run the bar. Izzy spits out he’s going home, that he’s sick of this fucking shit day and day out.

His back hits the wall, painful. Papers fly off the desk beside them. The tatted hand around his neck tightens. Strands of hair obscure Ed’s eyes. Izzy swallows with a shuddering half-breath. He winces as his throat is squeezed. Lightening pools in his belly.

There is no substance more addictive than Ed Teach’s attention.

[thekrakxn]

Edward Teach would fucking hate Wetherspoons

[thekrakxn]

7.45am

Stede waters his flower garden out the front of his terrace building. Spring is fading into a stuffy summer and he fears the worst for some of his petunias. His robe tied around his mid-waist. Hair combed but not yet styled.

Across the road, Ed is watching again from his third floor window. Cigarette caught in the tight corner of his mouth. A cup of tea with whisky balanced on the sill. He would have to sleep soon. Nightshift later. But he watches until Stede has to potter back inside.

[thekrakxn]

3.48am.

Ed who wakes in the night to smoke. Shadows casting shapes off the ripped wallpaper of his run-down apartment. Kicking empty bottles out of his way on the floor. Lighting up, leaning out of his window. Leather clad arms folded and set, bracing his weight. Beard unkempt and rum residue staining the sill.

Stede, who is reading peacefully in his box sash window. The glow of amber light from his posh flat, just across the road. All upholstered furniture and paintings. Catching eyes. Staring. Ed’s face only truly visible upon the inhale of his cigarette as the tip burns red. Then he’s gone. Stede left staring at the open window, lungs hollow.

[aciddollpanic]

[thekrakxn]

the wlw horror that is ed/izzy

[thekrakxn]

is there a live OFMD fandom here … I just watched the show twice and it is vital I have a conversation involving the words ‘Ed, Blackbeard and sexual dimorphism’ very soon.

[edwardyouinhere]